Treachery of Kings

by Neal Barrett Jr

  “Why, whatever made you think so, dear?”

  “If I may interrupt,” said Julia Jessica Slagg, making her way up Finn's back, iron claws digging at his cape, “those men are looking at us again.”

  “I can't be responsible for that. They can look if they like.”

  Finn squeezed the arms of his chair. His feet had gone to sleep, and he wanted to stomp.

  “I don't see anyone leaving. Do you suppose we all have to sit here till the King's finished his lunch? Maybe he'll toss more fruit at the common folk to let us know.”

  “Finn…Those two men, they aren't looking at us. They're looking at him.”

  Finn twisted halfway around. The stranger was coming toward them over the fragile bridge that linked their dining pad to the outer wall. The bridge swung perilously as the fellow crossed, until the wooden slats began to clatter and roll in dizzy oscillation, like waves upon a beach.

  The being coming at them clearly didn't care. He was a short, stumpy creature, but every muscle, every limb, spoke of great power and strength. His body, clothed beneath a dark green robe and chain mail, was totally at ease.

  It looked as if he paid little heed to the busy world about, yet anyone but a fool knew a Badgie was ever alert, that any rude encounter with this sleepy-eyed fellow would be over and done, scarcely before it had begun.

  As Letitia had guessed, this stout creature, one of the Newlie Nine, was the reason the villains across the way had grown cautious and aware.

  “Forgive the disturbance,” the newcomer said, in a voice somewhere between a hiss and a growl, “I would simply like a word, if you will. My name is Koodigern, colonel/sergeant of the King's Third Sentient Guards.”

  “A pleasure,” Finn said. “It's nice to run into someone of the sentient bent around here. Most everyone seems to be dead.”

  If the Badgie saw a jest in this, he didn't let it show. His dark, bearded lips didn't move. His eyes seemed nearly as black and fluid as Letitia's, but any resemblance ended there.

  There was kindness and love in Letitia's eyes, while those of Colonel/Sergeant Koodigern absorbed, swallowed, every beam of light that came their way. Everything went in, and nothing came out.

  “I mean no offense of a personal nature, you understand. But I have been informed by Dostagio that His Grace commands that you leave Heldessia as soon as conditions allow. He is, in spite of the fact that he springs from humankind, prone to an indulgent nature from time to time.”

  “Tales of his compassion are legend,” Finn said, “and we will be pleased to follow his desires. I expect Dostagio has told you that as well. Have you some idea when this great storm will arrive, and when it might pass?”

  “I am not a student of weather, myself. I would have no knowledge of that. I should add, in case it's not clear, that you are to take this gift you speak of when you leave.”

  The Badgie looked curiously at Julia Jessica Slagg. “Is that it? Your present to the King?”

  “No, it is not, I am not anyone's gift, sir, have no doubt of that.” Julia shook her claws and snapped her silver snout, motions that startled even the wily Badgie himself.

  “Amazing. I imagine that's the pizzard Dostagio's been talking about. I have never seen one before.”

  “Lizard,” Finn corrected, “and I cannot imagine why everyone has such trouble with the name.”

  Still, he was pleased to be off the subject of the damnable present, which lay in its bundle at his feet, an object he was determined to leave behind, in spite of what anyone said.

  The Badgie let his gaze rest briefly upon Letitia, a look that showed only idle interest and no expression at all. His head was rather broad, and his face was somewhat flat. His bristly hair was black, centered with a streak of white, the whole coming to his point above his brow. Features, in all, Finn noted, ill suited for more than the slightest emotion of any kind.

  Letitia showed no alarm at the Badgie's gaze. Before the Change, when Newlies were in their animal form, Koodigern's kind had been the hunters and Letitia's the prey. Bowsers, Yowlies, and the leathery Vampies were former foes as well, but Mycers feared only the Yowlies now, for these fierce creatures with pumpkin-seed eyes had not lost their ancestors’ hatred, though they were close, now, to humankind.

  “Those fellows over there have no more liking for you than for me,” Finn said, “though I never saw the pair before.”

  “They are Diggers, Rooters. They follow the charnel arts.” The Badgie leaned in to Finn. “You won't be in Heldessia long, but while you're here do not make friends with anyone dressing in garish colors, unfamiliar wear of any sort.”

  Finn was taken aback. “What do they want with me? I'm not dead and don't intend to be.”

  “Not yet, you're not. These fellows plan ahead, and competition's fierce. Let ‘em get close and they'll mark you with their sign. Can't rub it off. Anything happens, that's it.”

  “That's what?”

  “The marker's got call on your carcass. Bones, organs, whatever they can sell, whatever's left intact.”

  Finn looked at Letitia, and was grateful she was distracted by the storm clouds darkening the skies above the dome. Lightning sizzled, and distant thunder rattled the leaded glass.

  “Is that why they're watching you, then?” Finn asked. “They, ah—want your remains as well?”

  “No, sir. If they ever get close enough to me, I'll mark them with this.”

  Koodigern held his cloak aside to show Finn a short, wicked blade, gracefully curved in the fashion of the East.

  “That's why they're watching me. I got two of their kind last week. They're sly fellows, but not too bright.”

  The Badgie paused, then, as if gathering his words, to be certain they'd come out right.

  “Will you think it improper if I ask if you have a weapon, friend? I cannot help but notice your belt seems rather bare.”

  “I had one, yes. A Bowser blade, but I fear I lost it somewhere.”

  “Lost your weapon. Truly so?” His tone said he'd never heard of such a thing before.

  “You had best take mine, then. No—do not protest, please. I can get another. I have to see you safely out of Heldessia. I would be remiss if I allowed you to come to harm in any way. I would never be promoted again.”

  Once more, the Badgie paused in thought. “I have already been remiss in another fashion. I know what you are doing here, but Dostagio failed to tell me your name.”

  “Finn. Finn of Ulster-East in Fyxedia. Our countries have been at war for some seven hundred years, though I couldn't tell you why. I am a Master Lizard-Maker. Such as the one you see here. I make them, for various purpose. And I am pleased to get the chance to meet you, sir.”

  Then, as Finn thrust his hand across the table, the Badgie shrank back in alarm.

  “The Badgie kind don't do that, Finn. Someone should have told you. It is an obscenity to touch another male's hand. It means, in our tongue, ‘Your private parts are infinitely small.’ “

  “Sorry,” Finn said. “Of course I didn't know. I really feel it is much too difficult to travel. It's best to stay at home.”

  “I cannot answer, as I have no experience in that. I was born here, and I have never—”

  Koodigern's words were cut short as a deafening sound ripped through the dome, a clatter, a shudder, followed by shrieks and shouts of pain. A shower of glass rained down upon the diners below. A body plummeted from the heights.

  At first, Finn thought lightning had hit the top of the dome and shattered the panes of glass. Then, staring in disbelief, he saw a thin rope drop from the jagged hole above, then another, and a dozen after that.

  “Bowsers! By damn, it's those yappers again!”

  A great horde of the bow-tied louts slid down from the dizzy heights, armed to the teeth with muskets, blades, and weapons of every sort.

  “What is this,” Finn shouted above the din. “I thought these rogues came on Tuesdays and Thursdays, what are they doing here now?”

 
; “Bowsers drink, quite heavily, are you not aware of that? These dunderheads don't know one day from the next.”

  With that, Koodigern was off, waddling across the treacherous bridge, his green robe flapping at his heels. …

  TWENTY-FIVE

  FROM FINN'S PERCH BELOW, THE BATTLE RAGING in the heights seemed a blur of great confusion, chaos, awesome disarray. There was no way to sort intruder from defender, no way to gain true dimension of the dying and the dead. From this poor perspective, there was only a flat, muddied canvas of devastation, a clatter, a frenzy, a horrid bloody stew.

  And, to further distort this grisly quarrel, much of the action was lost in the blinding sheets of rain that lashed through the cratered dome of glass.

  Still, after a moment, after the shock of this bold invasion had passed, he could see there was indeed a kind of pattern and intent, that the Bowser attack had some sort of structure after all. It was clear that more than one set of lines descended to the royal dining pad. After an initial assault to the right, which drew the defenders to the fray, another horde of yappers slid down from the left.

  The Badgies saw this danger at once and rushed troopers into the seething mass, determined to upset the Bowser plan.

  “Amazing, if you think about it,” Finn shouted over the din, guiding Letitia quickly under the table, away from flying debris.

  “Bowsers, as a rule, have little use for method or direction. Disorder is usually the manner of the day. A two-pronged offense is something to see.”

  “Who cares, Finn? I'm going to die down here when one of those idiots falls on me!”

  “I'd say the odds are against it,” Finn said, though a Bowser's boater and his musket had just tumbled by, followed by a liveried servant of the King. “Really, these tables seem extremely sturdy to me.”

  It wasn't the answer Letitia cared to hear, and she let Finn know it with a look that said “that's two, dear, don't try for three.”

  Though this was not at all the time to show it, Finn was entranced, delighted by the careless, disheveled appearance of Letitia Louise. Huddled so close, pressed against her now, he was keenly aware of the blush of pink flesh beneath her fine, downy features, by her tiny lips and pointy nose, by her dark, enormous eyes, now deeper, larger still.

  This rush of desire, he knew, was born of fear and apprehension, but no less real for all of that, and he longed to repeat these feelings in calmer times.

  Just at that moment, something shattered against the alabaster column that held their dining pad aloft, something large enough to shake the table and rattle the dishes overhead.

  Letitia covered her mouth and stared. Julia bounced once and turned over on her side.

  “Now this isn't good,” Finn said. “This may not be the safest place to be.”

  “You always go right to the heart of things,” Julia said, flipping herself aright again. “I admire that in you, Finn.”

  Finn didn't answer. Instead, he lifted the white tablecloth in time to see that the King's Third Sentient Guards were still driving fiercely into the yapper foes, steadily pushing them back, away from the lofty royal pad. Colonel/Sergeant Koodigern was likely in the midst of the battle, though Finn couldn't possibly single him out this far away.

  “Our best bet's the bridge,” Finn told Letitia, clutching her hand in his. “Julia, up on my back. No use taking chances out there.”

  “If you fall, you'd like to be certain that I go too…”

  “Exactly. No need for you to survive without me. Stop gabbing and do as you're told.”

  “I don't like it,” Letitia said. “It's narrow, and it's swinging, Finn.”

  “It always swings. That's the nature of the thing, it's supposed to do—Watch it, stay back!”

  A cart of desserts tumbled by, trailing curds, compotes, pastries and puffs. Tarts, tortes, crullers and pies, puddings of every sort. And, still clasping his enormous cook's hat to his head, the hapless chef himself. For an instant, as he passed, he caught Finn's eye, and seemed to say he understood his plight, that it came as no surprise.

  “I'm going to be sick, Finn.”

  “Don't watch him, Letitia. Don't look at anything, stay close to me!”

  A veil of rain whispered by, diluted by the fall. Finn made his way to the edge of the pad, Letitia in tow, his package secure beneath his arm. Julia's claws dug into his flesh, but there was little he could do about it now.

  The bridge swayed and trembled, somewhat worse than ever, it seemed. Finn took a cautious step forward, placed one boot on the thing, and turned to Letitia Louise.

  “Easy now, go very slowly. This may look flimsy, but everything in this dome was carefully engineered by masters of their trade. I expect these suspensions have been in service for quite some time. Once we get to the outer wall, we'll be fine, secure as a—”

  Finn's words were lost as the bridge literally exploded in the very center of the span. Two bodies, hurtling from different angles, met, like ill-fated comets, with a most revolting sound, then tumbled like a single horror toward the ground. There was nothing left of the bridge, not a plank, not a strand.

  “The odds of two masses, meeting precisely like that, are not all that great,” Finn said, unable to take his eyes from the sight.

  “I think I could work it out if I had the math,” Julia said.

  “It would take some time.”

  “Indeed it would.”

  “Finn… “

  “What, love?”

  “If you two would cease your chatter, you'd notice it has grown quite still in here. It's over, I believe. They're done. Will you excuse me, please?”

  Letitia turned away, knelt under the table and retched.

  For once, Finn wisely pretended nothing had happened at all.

  “It didn't slow down,” he said when she returned, “didn't grind to a halt. It simply—stopped.” “I believe I mentioned that.” “Yes, indeed you did.”

  In a sense, he felt that the sudden silence was a sound unto itself. A ghostly echo, a distant refrain that rose up out of the clamor and the din, out of the babble and the clash of only moments before.

  He reached out then, to bring Letitia close. She didn't hesitate, but came into his arms.

  “I hope we won,” she said. “I hope it came out all right.”

  “Yes, for everyone except those damned yappers in their awful straw hats. I can have no feeling for them. I regret my suggestion, Letitia. I don't like to think how close we came to crossing that bridge.”

  “We didn't though. Don't think about it, dear.”

  “I could work out the math,” Julia muttered to herself, “but I doubt you'd care to hear… “

  TWENTY-SIX

  THE STORM, DESPITE ALL ITS FURY, MOVED SWIFTLY past Heldessia and on to northern climes. The people of the steppes, fierce Jihaulers and apathetic Roons, would get a soaking soon. Weary, then, the tempest would rend itself on the ragged peaks of Krak-Balu.

  Perhaps, Finn thought, the mighty Grizz, the largest, and most elusive of all the Newlie kind, would look up from their fires and listen to the thunder roll by.

  “I should like to see a Grizz sometime,” Finn said. “Sit down with some burly fellow, have a cup of ale, and learn what they're all about.”

  “I don't think a Grizz likes to sit and talk with strangers,” Letitia said. “I think they like to keep to themselves.”

  “I know that, but they could if they wanted to. They have, sometimes. Lord Gherick talked to one.”

  “Gherick did?”

  “Oh, yes. On a mission for his brother, Prince Aghen Aghenfleck. A Grizz came out of the woods at Port Agony and looked up at Gherick, who was leaning on the rail of his ship. The Grizz said he wanted to trade. He had some nice carvings done in wood. He wanted to trade for hats.”

  “Hats?”

  “He said they needed hats. Gherick told him they didn't have any to spare. Apparently, the Grizz looked quite dismayed, then turned and walked away.”

  “I woul
d have found a hat. It would be quite nice to have one of those carvings.”

  “I think I would have, too. Gherick said they smelled awfully strong. The wind was from the shore, and Gherick said it was rather bad.”

  “Well, it might have been,” Letitia said, running her fingers through her hair, wishing she had a brush. “I expect if that Grizz had smelled a bunch of royals, he'd take offense, too.”

  Finn didn't doubt that. For some peculiar reason, those of noble birth thought silk, satin, ruffles and lace served as well as a tub of hot suds. Court, on a very warm day, could take your breath away.

  FINN FELT THAT THE RESCUE TEAMS, THE BADGIES, the black-clad crew of the Gracious Dead, and servants in the livery of the King, were moving at quite a swift, efficient pace, cleaning up the mess the battle had left behind.

  He and Letitia were not the only diners marooned on their pads. Many of the swinging bridges that had linked the massive structures together had been destroyed by entrees, servants and soldiers falling from above.

  Below, there were bodies and debris to cart away. Above, beneath a clean, azure sky, craftsmen were already replacing the leading and broken glass destroyed in the Bowser attack.

  Finally, a team extended a makeshift bridge from a dining pad nearby, and Finn and Letitia were led safely to the broad walkway that spiraled the inner dome.

  “I am most pleased that you have survived,” Dostagio said, as they arrived. “You have had so little time to see the marvels of the King's palace. I would regret it if you had perished before you had the chance to leave.”

  “I may be wrong,” Finn said, “but it did occur to me that since the King was—awakened unexpectedly, as it were, there might be some chance he'd change his mind… “

  “None, Master Finn. I had hoped Colonel/Sergeant Koodigern had properly relayed that to you.” “Yes, as a fact, he did, I just—”

  “Excellent, then. Although he is no longer among the fully aware, he was able to complete the task he was given. And that is our purpose on this plane, is it not? Are you quite well, sir?”

  “No, no I'm not. Are you telling me something has happened to Koodigern? I pray that's not what you said.”