“Julia, do you think the Hooter persons will be out on a night like this? I went to Mycer Mass until I met Finn, but no one expected you to go if it was storming like this. Julia? Julia … ?”
“If you're looking for that mechanical device, you'd better find it quick. I won't have it running loose around my house.”
Letitia gasped, turned around quickly and found the old man standing in the door, standing there watching her with little black eyes and a ghastly toothless grin.
Calabus smiled even wider, clearly pleased with the effect.
“Didn't mean to frighten you, girl. We don't have a lot of knobs in this house. They're inclined to fall off, and that useless servant of mine won't ever put 'em back. If I wasn't cursed with a kindly nature, I'd flay him to the bone, roast every strip of that stinking flesh and make him choke it down …”
“Please,” Letitia said, as her stomach lurched, as everything began to float around. “I beg you not to talk like that, I feel I'm about to be ill. And will you get out of here, I did not invite you in!”
“Don't have to. I can go anywhere I like. Where'd that ugly thing go? I heard you talking to it, know you've got it hid somewhere.”
“She's not hidden at all. She's right here. Aren't you, Julia?”
Letitia frowned. She peered in the closet and under the bed. Under the only chair. She looked at Calabus, genuinely puzzled now.
“I don't know where she is. She was here a moment ago. I expect you frightened her away.”
“Don't try any foolishness, girl, it won't work with me.”
Calabus jerked around, his face the color of plums.
“Squeen William! Get your sorry carcass in here before I bind you with hooks and wire, pour hot coals in your ears and pull out your eyes. Find that lizard thing and get it back here!”
“Yesssss, bes doin' thisss quickly, sssir …”
Lightning turned the room a blinding white, and Letitia saw a ghostly face and sharp little teeth disappear behind the door.
“What—what do you want with Julia, anyway? Why are you telling that thing to bring her here?”
“ 'Cause that's what I came for, pretty. I intend to take it apart, see what it's got inside.”
“Why, you'll do no such thing!” Letitia stared, her heart skipping half a dozen beats. Was this why Julia had so abruptly disappeared? Did she sense, somehow, what the old fool had in mind?
“You lay a hand on her, and Finn will—he'll do something awful, I promise you that.”
“Master Finn's not here. I expect you noticed that.”
“I know he's not here, but he'll be right back.”
“And what makes you think so, my dear?”
Calabus showed her a sly and totally goofy smile, a smile that made her skin crawl.
“What are you talking about? Of course he'll be back.”
“Shouldn't have ever left. Damn fool thing to do.”
Letitia took a breath. “If there's something you're not telling me, you'd better do it fast. I will not put up with this.”
Calabus spread his hands. “Don't know a thing, girlie. Don't have to. I know this town, though. Know there's not a soul with half a wit's gonna be out there after dark.”
“Well, at least those Hooters of yours won't be rummaging about. There's no way they could possibly start a fire.”
“That isn't all we used to start …”
“Just what do you mean by that?”
“Don't mean a thing. Just sayin' there's mischief folks can start, it don't have to be dry.”
“Then why,” Letitia said, “did you say everyone would be in? Why don't you make up your mind?”
“You don't listen real good. I said folks with half a wit. There's plenty of the other kind about.”
Letitia stood straight, rigid as a reed, and spoke as boldly as she could. “If you're finished, you can go. I don't care for your presence in here.”
“I want to see that lizard. I mean to find out what makes it tick.”
“No you don't,” she said, surprised to hear what was coming from her mouth, uncertain how she knew, but certain that she did. She'd caught the man before he looked away, caught the blink and the wary glance, knew at once he didn't want to meet her eyes.
“That isn't what you want, don't try and tell me that. You're after something else, and it better not be what I think it is!”
“Huh!” Color rose to mottle the old man's face, but it quickly went away. “That's my worthless son you're talking about. He's the pervert in the house, not me. I got needs, all right, and I'm sure there's a couple you could fill …”
“Will you get to it? I'd rather listen to the rain, it makes more sense than you.”
“Can I sit?”
“What for? All right, that chair's got three good legs. Don't come near this bed.”
Letitia waited, arms across her breasts, back to the window. Ready, if she had to, to leap through the dirty glass out into the rain. And what was Julia thinking, disappearing on her like that?
“I want to talk to you,” Calabus said, “you weren't wrong in that.”
“First, let's get something straight. If that smelly cook brings any harm to Julia, he'll wish he never had.”
Calabus looked at the floor. “If that man of yours doesn't come back, I'd like you to stay here with me …”
“You what?” Calabus wouldn't meet her eyes, and Letitia was glad of that.
“I don't expect you to fully understand. Not right off, anyway. It'll take a little while to settle in.”
“Get out of here. I'm going to throw something at you. As soon as I can find anything in one piece.”
“It's not what you think. I already said that.”
“And what is it you think?”
Calabus faced her. It seemed to Letitia he looked older and dirtier by the minute, as if the ancient flesh, the shaggy hair, the awful rags he wore were sloughing into dust, even as she watched.
“You've seen my invention down below. I don't feel you were comfortable at the time, but I think you'd come to love it there. You'd throw up awhile, but we can overcome that. There's herbs and potions you can take.
“I did my best to make young Finn see the value of my work. I tell you what, I'm quite disappointed in him. You'd do better, I'm sure of that. You could be a great help to me, girl. I strongly doubt you'll ever get a chance at something as big as this.”
Calabus rested his hands on his knees and showed her a loony smile. “What do you think, dear? If that fellow doesn't make it back—and I surely doubt he will—I could give you a good position here. You can keep this room. That window's the best in the house. I don't get a lot of light in mine.”
Letitia counted to three. Stopped, and counted once again.
“I'm going to be perfectly calm about this. I don't want you coming at me with a piece of that chair. No. I won't stay here with you, I'd just as soon die. And Finn's coming back, no matter what you've got in your head. No offense, and you stay right there, but this is the worst, most disgusting offer I've ever had in my life. Perhaps you can't tell, but I am shaking all over right now.
“Aside from all that, how on earth did you get it in your head that a Mycer girl could help you with that frightful machine? I mean, if you could chain me up and toss me screaming in there? I've just got to hear that.”
“I mumle-dumle-loo …” “Look at me, all right?”
Calabus did, then glanced away at once. “I had this dream. You were down there—helping me with things.”
“I was not. That was somebody else.”
“It was you, all right. You did some—some stuff I don't know how to do …”
“What—what kind of stuff?” Somehow, these words scared Letitia more than anything else the man had said.
“I don't know, all right? Things …”
Calabus looked anxious, miserable and full of dread. It was all he could do just to get the words out.
“You already said it, girl. It doesn
't make sense, but it's real. It's a Telling Dream, I'm certain of that. I've had dreams of every sort, you won't believe what goes through my head. This one, though, was real. You'd best be nice to me. We're going to be friends. You want something to eat? I'll have Squeen William cook you something up.”
“I'd rather eat dirt. I'd rather eat a bush.”
“Up to you, girl.” Calabus pulled himself up with a long and painful sigh. “I'll run down and see if he's caught that slippery lizard yet.”
“You heard what I said. You harm her in any fashion, and you'll regret it, old man.”
Calabus grinned. He looked past her at the storm outside.
“Even if your man gets back—which I don't guess he will—that pesky boy of mine's got a nasty surprise waiting for him at the door. You and me'll talk some more after that …”
THE STORM CAUGHT UP WITH FINN AN ALLEY PAST the Mycer seer's door. He ran for cover quickly, under the arches by a shop called SHIRT. He thought he knew what they sold there. He'd been in town long enough to guess. Maybe there was one called FROCK nearby, where he could get something for Letitia to wear.
If there really was a shop, if there really was a FROCK.
If it was day now instead of dark.
If it wasn't raining hens and frogs.
If there weren't any Foxers or Hooters on the prowl.
Maybe the storm was a piece of luck. Even villains of the very worst sort would likely stay home on such a frightful night.
Finn wrapped his cloak about him and ran into a fierce, punishing rain that came at him in chilling and penetrating gusts, and nearly swept him off his feet. A rain that moaned and howled, a rain that stung his cheeks, a rain hard as peppercorns, hard as little daggers, hard as little stones. A rain, Finn decided, that could drown a man standing if he dared to raise his nose.
He didn't have a plan, at least not one that made sense. He didn't know east, he didn't know west. He knew, though, the town had to end. When it did, he could walk in a circle till he found the Nuccis' house. The place wasn't all that big. The odds were one in four he was, at that very moment, headed the right way.
Even as these thoughts crossed his mind, as his boots began to slosh and the rain began to trickle down his neck, the houses and the shops began to thin. Ahead lay lone and shadowy remains, dark skeletal structures, blurred and indistinct, warped and distorted by the unremitting gusts from overhead.
Finn ducked beneath his chill and sodden cloak, dashing through the storm to the cover of a nearly roofless frame, the sad and darkened bones of some hapless farmer's barn.
It was very little shelter, but better than being drowned. Maybe he could take his boots off, pour the water out, let his socks dry.
“So where am I, then?” he asked himself aloud. He remembered, roughly, how far the Nuccis were from town. The ruined barn seemed near enough. If he knew which way to go, to the left or to the right …
Finn turned swiftly, suddenly alert, suddenly aware. Someone, something, was in there with him in the barn! Nothing he could see, nothing he could touch, but the overwhelming presence was something he could feel.
For a moment, he froze, stood perfectly still. Hand on his weapon, eyes on the dark. Saw them as they slowly, silently appeared, saw them of a sudden, saw them growing near, figures made of vapor, vague and indistinct. And with this spectral vision came the chill, musty odors of days unremembered, lives lost and spent …
“Oh, it's you fellows, then,” Finn said, with a great sigh of relief. “You had me there a minute, I'm somewhat jumpy tonight.”
“Food for the departed, sir?” said a voice like winter, like gravel in a can.
“I've got this basket,” Finn said. “I'm afraid it's not as full as it used to be.”
“Good enough it is, we're grateful as can be.”
Finn set the basket on the ground and stepped back. There were five of them, five or maybe ten, phantoms, chill apparitions frail as smoke. They gathered round the basket, drawing out the essence, the dream of oatcakes, the vision of leeks. They hummed off-key as they fed, wraiths with old memories of bread. Some people said you shouldn't eat anything sniffed by those who'd passed on, but Finn knew this wasn't so.
He'd been so absorbed in his troubles with the living, he'd given little thought to the dead. There would be a Coldtown here, of course, like anyplace else …
“I'll bet you don't remember me at all, Master Finn. It's been quite a spell.”
“I'm not certain,” Finn said, peering at the ghostly shape that had suddenly appeared, trying to recall. Shades had feelings, he knew, like anyone else.
“I waved at you from the ship,” the figure said. “I thought you waved back.”
“Now, I do remember that,” Finn said, recalling the phantom schooner he'd seen from the Madeline Rose.
“And I know who you are. It's Captain Pynch, yes? Kettles and Pots, Captain, what are you doing here?”
A wispy smile told Finn the fellow was greatly pleased.
“I'm here to see a dear departed aunt who crossed some time ago. It's not a very lovely town. Not like the one we know. Still, in my condition, it matters little anymore. Death and corruption's not all it's cut out to be, Master Finn. It's a worrisome thing at best. And not all the living are as tolerant as you, sir, not by a mile they're not.”
Finn would never say it, of course, but Pynch looked even worse than he had when they'd seen one another before, not long after the officer's tragic death, back on Garpenny Street. The parts he had lost were missing still— the arm and the foot, the eye and both ears. His ghastly flesh was a pale and tattered gray.
Only a shade of himself, so to speak, Finn thought. A soldier without a purple vest, without crimson pantaloons. A warrior stripped of crested helm, and a dashing plume of tangerine.
So, too, were the others in his group—so wan and indistinct there was little way to tell what any might have been.
“I have found no consolation in this foul circumstance,” the captain said. “I miss the war, I do, the bracing thrill of combat in the air. I was with the Royal Balloonist Fusiliers, as you recall.”
“I do indeed,” Finn said.
“And how is the lovely Letitia Louise? I took quite a fancy to the lass back then.”
“Yes, I know you did.”
“Didn't take offense? You, I mean, Master Finn.”
“Not at all,” Finn said, though in truth, the captain's attentions had annoyed him at the time.
“She used to give me tea.”
“I recall that as well.”
“And spicecakes, too,” Pynch said with a spectral sigh, a chill and fetid breath that nearly brought Finn to his knees.
Moments before, a wraith had detached itself from the crew above Finn's basket. Now, he stood just behind Pynch.
“I hope I'm not intruding, sir. I'd speak if you've the time.”
“Damned impolite, I'd say,” said Pynch, “but no one has manners these days.”
With that, the captain floated over to the basket to whiff some emanations himself.
“I am Lucas D. Klunn,” the misty figure said. “I lived here all my life, and I have to say the town is as dreadful for the living as the dead.”
“I can only speak for the former. But I'd likely agree with that.”
“I felt the need to speak when I learned who you were. You're in great danger, sir. I don't suppose I have to tell you that.”
Finn was taken aback. “You know me? You know who I am? From Pynch, I suppose. You overheard our talk.”
“No, there was no need for that. A Coldie hears things, sir. There's little else to do, you know. It takes up the time, whatever that is, the meaning's slipped my mind.”
The wraith had a grisly, terrifying demeanor. Worse, even, than the gruesome Captain Pynch. Very little head, and the features that were left were awful to behold.
“I think I said I'm Lucas Klunn, which will have no meaning to you since the Fates have kindly set your life in other real
ms. I was a merchant, once, and made a small fortune in the export of peas. My church affiliation was Hatter, though I seldom went full-time.
“In my early middle years, I was struck with dread disease. Either that, or poisoned by my wife, I've often wondered which. She left soon after, with a fellow who dealt in beans.
“But I digress, sir, and apologize for that. What you'll want to know, or maybe not, is that I feel you've little chance of leaving here alive. If things come to that, you're welcome in our little band. Or, if you'd care to go home, the vessel Irrational Fears should be putting in soon, the one Captain Pynch came on—”
“Master Klunn!”
Finn was greatly startled, stunned, and given a turn by the apparition's words. “If you could get to it, I'd be pleased. I'm anxious to hear what dangers I face, besides those I know about myself.”
“Oh, well then …”
Klunn, what there was of him, looked disappointed that his dire and dreadful tidings might not be news at all.
“You know, I guess, that the Foxers here have posted a reward for your fingers and your toes …”
“For my what?”
“Fingers and toes. They're not your ordinary folk, you know. They have their own manner, their own peculiar ways.”
Finn tried to set this disturbing image aside, but it failed to depart.
“I know they have a quarrel with me, I'm quite aware of that. We had a run-in the other night, which you've likely heard about. Apparently, everyone has. I had thought they were angry merely because I was on the scene. I'm no longer certain of that. I don't know if there's more to this or not. If anyone else is behind this thing, someone using Foxers to get me out of the way …”
The shade began to fade, flicker, shake and shiver all about. Finn looked away before he got terribly sick.
“That I can't answer, sir, but I can tell you this. You got the Foxers on your trail, you don't need anyone else.”
The Prophecy Machine (Investments) Page 18
