Treachery of Kings

by Neal Barrett Jr

  “I—had not realized the great responsibility you bear for us all, Your Grace. May I say that you handle it rather well.”

  “No, no I don't. Nice of you to say, but I fear that I don't. I should pray for those who will ever be awake, but I seldom have the time.

  “At any rate, nothing I can do about that, is there now? I am pleased you were able to meet me, and show me that marvelous machine as well. Where'd the damned thing go?”

  “My honor, sire.” “Yes, it certainly is.”

  “You have so many—truly unusual rites, sire. Anyone aware of the Deeply Entombed, as I am now, can understand why it is the only true path.”

  “Very astute of you, boy,” the King said, stifling yet another yawn. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important functions to perform.”

  “I don't see how you handle the load, Your Grace. Your eternal parades, your intense devotion to sleep, the Millennial Bell. I must tell you I'm honored to have been present here when that sonorous instrument struck again. Would I be overstepping my bounds, sire, if I asked what occasion you are commemorating now?”

  “Which what?”

  “The occasion, sire. The bell celebrates a, ah—theo-logical moment of some sort. From the word, I would guess, something a thousand years ago. That would have been about—”

  “Wendon's day.”

  “Sire?”

  “Last time before this. About noon, I recall. I rose and ate three fowl hens. Two jugs of wine.”

  “Your Grace—”

  “Time before that was the middle of Madge. Tootsday the fifty-third. I think I told you, Finn, I have a lot of things to do.”

  He stood, then, downed his ale, and ushered Finn to the door.

  “Well, it's been a pleasure. Get out of here, I've had enough of you.”

  “Sire, if you don't mind—” Finn saw at once the King was nudging him toward the door where he'd first come in—away from the portal where Julia still waited outside.

  “If I may suggest… “

  With a somewhat rude gesture, the King gave him a push outside and closed the door.

  Finn muttered to himself, nothing so loud that the rigid Badgie guards might hear. They might, every one, be Maddigern's cousins or brothers, as far as he knew.

  Five minutes, then another ten. No sign of First Servant Dostagio at all, no way to find Julia without simply asking the King. That didn't seem like a good idea.

  “Trees and Bees,” Finn said, with no small touch of irritation. “I don't have the slightest idea where I am, or where I ought to be!”

  Fine. One course is better than none, and far better than standing here…

  With that, he walked confidently down the hall, turned left, followed the torches away, and turned right again. Lost, at once, but what did that matter? Every path was wrong in the House of the Perpetual Nap.

  At least, he thought, his time had been fairly well spent. He had learned a great deal about the spiritual life of King Llowenkeef-Grymm, even though none of it made a bit of sense.

  The one point he hadn't dared touch upon was the one that concerned him the most. A sorcerer had knocked him senseless. That same seer belonged to the King, and what was His Grace's part in that? Did he know about it, or not? And, wasn't it even more disconcerting if he wasn't aware of it at all?

  He was anxious to share this with Letitia, and even Julia, though he wouldn't admit to that.

  “They are each, in their way, extremely good at puzzles such as this. They will toss a tricky question around until it gives up and rolls over and tells them what they want to know—”

  “Talking to yourself, are you, sir? They say it's a sign that dark forces whisper in your soul… “

  The voice came out of shadow, and Finn's heart nearly stopped, this time without the aid of a spell.

  “Sacks and Tacks, you gave me quite a fright. Come out and show yourself now!”

  She stepped into the half-light, then, no longer a phantom, but a person fully formed. Formed so nicely, in fact, she took Finn's breath away. A woman, though very lately a girl, slender and slight, with citron hair to her shoulders, a narrow face and wide-set eyes of the very palest blue.

  The eyes of a girl who has drowned and lies beneath the sea…

  Finn was stunned by this disturbing thought, and set it quickly aside.

  “I'm sorry,” the woman said, in a voice that brought vague, unwholesome thoughts to mind. “I like to walk in this hall, for there's scarcely ever anyone here.”

  “I don't suppose there is. I don't imagine anyone unfamiliar with the place could find it twice. I am quite lost myself.”

  The woman gave him a lazy smile. “I'm DeFloraineMarie, and I'm the daughter of the King. You're the one who makes lizards that talk, and you're not lost now, Master Finn. …”

  THIRTY-TWO

  FINN RESISTED, POLITELY DECLINED, SAID HE WAS certain it wasn't the thing to do. The woman, the girl, the sprite insisted, wouldn't take no, and, she made it clear, she was a princess, and people did what she told them to do.

  Her quarters weren't far. When they arrived, she slid past the door and he followed her through, certain, now, he was somewhere he shouldn't ever be.

  He had seen her only as a dim and hazy vision as she hurried him through the shadowed hall. Even then he'd been dazzled by her beauty, by the lightness of her being, by her effortless grace.

  Now, she stood before him in the glow of a hundred candles of crimson, tangerine and gold, clad in some pale and vaporous gown, something more a whisper or a mist that circled round her than a garment of any kind.

  Finn felt as if his knees would give way. As if, in her presence, he would simply come apart. And, in a corner of his mind, there came a growing specter of shame, guilt, remorse and deep regret. How, he wondered, could he ever make up for the things he hadn't even done? For, in truth, when he faced Letitia again, he would surely stand condemned for his wicked thoughts alone, for the visions that heated his soul when he gazed on DeFloraine-Marie in this candle-scented room.

  “Please, Master Finn, you mustn't stare. That is not the proper thing to do.”

  “I surely didn't mean to,” he said. “Coming in from the dark, into the light, you see… “

  “Yes, I expect that's so. I hope you don't have a fever. I keep it rather warm in here.”

  “No, truly, it's very nice, just right for me. Some people like it cooler, I like it—warmer than others do. Not overly warm, you understand, sort of, what it is now… “

  “Make yourself at ease, Master Finn. I'll see to some hot spice tea.”

  Just what I need, some hot spice tea…

  Finn watched her vanish past a veil of fabric fine as spider silk, watched her disappear past another cloudy weave, and another after that, each no more substantial than a lance of morning light.

  Watched, and wondered if creatures of the female persuasion were endowed with some fine hydraulic parts, some wondrous gears than made them move like that.

  Finn sat.

  There were colorful pillows spread about the room. No table, no chairs. Only a sea of soft cushions and walls of airy veils. Some sweet aroma of the East lingered upon the air.

  Candles, pillows, rare exotic scents, and a very leggy nymph. What happened, Letitia, is I got lost from Julia, I can explain all this…

  TELL ME ABOUT YOURSELF, MASTER FINN. I AM SO pleased you're here. We never have guests. Father doesn't like anyone, you know.”

  She was there, close beside him, before he could blink. She might have drifted in on a breeze. A gnat could sneeze, he thought, and make more noise than DeFloraine-Marie.

  “There's not much to tell, truly. I'm just—you know, me. I make lizards, that's about it. Lizards that pick up about the house, lizards that—”

  “Tell me about Letitia Louise.”

  That threw him off guard, and the smile at the corner of her mouth told him this was clearly her intent.

  “I have no idea what it is you want to know. Whatev
er it is, I feel you should ask her yourself.”

  The girl threw back her head and laughed.

  “There's no need for that. You've told it all, you see.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “That she is more than your Mycer servant girl. Not that I'm greatly surprised.”

  Finn took a breath. “And if that were so, is it some concern of yours?”

  “It might be, Master Finn.” She leaned in close, so close he could breathe the fresh scent of her hair.

  “I hope you don't hold human ladies in disdain. Do you find some fault, some blemish in me?”

  “Of course I don't. I think you look fine.”

  “Indeed?” She slid one hand across her bare shoulder, across her shapely arm. “I fear I don't have any down, any pink and pointy ears… “

  Finn felt the color rise to his cheeks and quickly looked away to hide his anger. Here was another, then, one of the great horde who lashed out at others to hide the emptiness in themselves.

  “I'm afraid I must pass on the hot spice tea,” Finn said, coming to his feet, “thank you all the same.”

  “Doesn't matter, I'm all out of tea.”

  “Ah, well then.”

  DeFloraine-Marie looked up and held him with her startling blue eyes.

  “I hope you don't take me for a fool. You have looked me up and down, you have scarcely missed an inch, and there's little more to see. You find me sweet, you find me fair. I know your desires, yet you dare not loose them, for you know where they would lead.”

  She smiled, then, a smile that tantalized, teased, tempted and promised, and all the while was only a mask for her contempt.

  “What are you waiting for?” she said, as if she was startled to find him there. “You really must go.”

  “As you said, I do find you fair, lady, I am certain that any man would. But you are right, there is nothing for me here.”

  He stopped at the door. She was already somewhere a thousand miles away. He turned, and vowed he would not look back at her again…

  I SEE YOU FOUND YOUR WAY BACK,” JULIA SAID. “YOU might have let me know you weren't coming, Finn.”

  “The King let me out the wrong door, all right? What are you complaining about? You got here by yourself.”

  “Interesting scent,” Julia said, lifting her silver snout. “My, a veritable garden of new aromas. Silk. Satin. Candles. A great deal of skin…”

  “Go sit somewhere and turn yourself off. It's nearly dawn, I've got to get some sleep.”

  “How were the clocks?”

  “Loud. Irritating. That's the nature of a mechanical device.”

  “I'm sure you don't intend to hurt others with your barbs. I suppose I'll let it pass.”

  Finn shed his clothes and sank wearily into bed. Letitia was sound asleep, and he was grateful for that.

  Not that I've done anything. Not that I have a thing to regret…

  He knew, of course, the truth of the matter was you didn't have to do anything with DeFloraine-Marie to earn a sackful of guilt. Before he'd found true and lasting love with Letitia Louise, Finn had encountered a number of human females of every shape and size, from the loving and the kindly to the outright nasty and mean.

  And, within this gender, he had learned there were some who were a race, a tribe, a breed unto themselves. These were females born to haunt men, to drive them to despair—elegant, sloe-eyed creatures who moved with a careless, lazy grace, women and girls with secret smiles and eyes the color of rain. DeFloraine-Marie was such a one as this, and all they had to do was look at a man to cast their deadly spell.

  Finn had known a woman once who told him this was not a matter of gender at all. That there was a male of that same cunning species who was the ruination of womankind.

  And if he'd been such a man himself? Would he, indeed, have been able to gain such a prize as Letitia Louise?

  “Not a chance,” he muttered to himself, just before he fell asleep. “She would have struck me with something heavy, and that would have been the end of that… “

  THIRTY-THREE

  I SHOULD LIKE TO HAVE BREAKFAST, AT LEAST,” SAID Letitia Louise, yawning for the second time in a minute and a half. “They do serve a very fine breakfast here, Finn. I don't see why we can't wait for that.”

  “Because, love, I have done what I came to do here, and that was to deliver a clock. He doesn't want it, fine. He can toss the bundle out. In truth, I'm rather pleased it turned out the way it did. That wasn't my greatest work, you know. I made it under extreme duress.”

  “I thought it really wasn't all that bad, as a fact.”

  “As a fact,” Julia said, “it really wasn't all that good. What it was was a piece of—”

  “No one asked you, Julia. Letitia, are you sure you have everything, dear?”

  “No, Finn, I don't. I had that red valise you gave me for Winter's Day, but it burned up in that balloon. I really don't have anything at all.”

  “Yes, well, we'll get you another bag quite soon.”

  He looked about the room, though he couldn't guess why. He had nothing himself except Koodigern's dagger, and the clothes he had on, which seemed to be smelling rather stale.

  He supposed he should be grateful for that. Letitia's senses weren't as keen as Julia's, but good enough to catch a hint of candles, say, or scents from across the Misty Sea.

  The hallway was empty, as it ever seemed to be. And, as ever, the faint, slightly chill odor of the underworld was in the air.

  Letitia had suggested they wait for Dostagio or Maddigern to help them find the proper way out. Finn said a definite “no” to that. He'd had enough of them both, especially the bad-tempered Badgie. They could find their own way, even if it took a little time.

  And, once they did, he would find a proper breakfast at an inn and purchase a bath as well. That, and some new, fresh clothing would have their spirits up again.

  “I believe we turn left here,” Letitia said. “I recall this corner quite well.”

  “I have to disagree. We go straight ahead for some time.”

  “We go left,” Julia said.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Who has the compass in their belly, you or me, Finn?”

  “I don't feel your senses are working right.”

  “They were working right last night.”

  “What?” Letitia looked puzzled. “What's all this about?”

  “I haven't the slightest idea,” Finn said. “Julia says whatever comes into her head.”

  “I don't think she always does, Finn.”

  “All right, most of the time. Which has nothing to do with whether we should—”

  Finn stopped. He saw them, from the corner of his eye, both of them, coming from the corridor ahead.

  Dostagio and—to Finn's great chagrin—the odious Maddigern himself. He wondered, again, how the kindly Koodigern could be so totally different from his Badgie brother. Still, families were ever at odds, among Newlies and human folk alike.

  “How nice of you to take your precious time to see us out,” Finn spoke to Maddigern. “Did you fear we'd try to stay, that we might miss your ever-cheerful ways?”

  “I would be pleased to gut you right here,” the Badgie said, with a wary glance at Julia, perched on Finn's shoulder, watching with her bright ruby eyes. “If that'd be convenient, Master Finn.”

  “It would be my pleasure, a fine way to start this lovely day.”

  “Finn—!” Letitia's look was dark enough to bring rain.

  “Maiming and such will not be possible,” Dostagio said, “as you are well aware, Captain/Major Maddigern. Plans have been altered, modified, changed, as it were, by the wishes of His Grace, King Llowenkeef-Grymm. He would have your presence, sir and Miss, in the Great Hall of Tedious Favors and Petitions, which is in endless session right now.”

  Finn shook his head. “I'm sure there's some mistake. We're supposed to be out of here. I doubt if the King has changed his mind about that.”<
br />
  Finn hesitated, turning on the Badgie with a curious eye.

  “This is some doing of yours, isn't it, Maddigern? It has nothing to do with the King.”

  “I assure you it does, sir,” Dostagio said. “We must not dawdle any longer. The King is most frugal about his time.”

  “As I understand it, the Afterworld has its own sense of time. One should be in tune with the Eternal Hour, not the illusion of time as we find reflected here.”

  Maddigern, ever in control of his rigid, sullen appearance, was clearly aghast. Even Dostagio's sober mask appeared to twitch.

  “He quoted scripture,” Maddigern said. “I heard him. He said it aloud.”

  “I'm afraid he did.”

  “We're not supposed to hear this. Damn the fellow, Dostagio, I have to kill us all.”

  “Wait, hold it there,” Finn said.

  “I suppose you do, Captain/Major, but I wonder if the rule applies if we have prior orders from the King. Might not such an order take precedence over Shameful Heresy and Disrespect for the Dead?”

  “You have a point, First Servant.”

  “Well, then. I suggest I take it up with the Forty-Third Elder and get back to you on this.”

  “Good. That's that. Now, Master Finn and Miss, get on to the hall like you're told. And no more foul desecration or such as that. We're religious people here.”

  “Why?” Finn asked. “You're not even allowed to join.”

  “Of course we're not, sir. What kind of church do you think this is…?”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  IF FINN EXPECTED THE COMFY SURROUNDINGS OF the King's private chamber, he had clearly forgotten the awesome Holy Place of Emperors, Tyrants and Kings, with its fossilized rulers of the past, or the grandeur of the Great Dining Hall, and its magnificent dome of leaded glass.

  The Great Hall of Tedious Favors and Petitions followed the theme of Heldessian splendor in all respects. The floor was a sparkling mosaic picturing myth and legend from ancient times. The columns that lined the hall were as massive as the trees of northern climes, where the mighty Grizz sat about their fires.

  The vaulted stone ceiling rose to dizzying heights, nearly beyond the reach of the hanging crystal lights.