The deck was nearly clear of cargo handlers and passengers when Finn brought Letitia on deck. He carried their small overnight satchel, which Letitia had stuffed near to bursting, even though they would only spend the night ashore.
“It is quite delightful,” Letitia said, gazing at the gray, drab little village that lay beyond the docks. “It looks almost like home, Finn.”
“Ah, yes it does, in a way, I suppose.”
It is nothing of the sort, Finn said to himself, but he knew Letitia would see some beauty in a sewage pool if it was not aboard the Madeline Rose.
As he helped Letitia down the gangway, he looked over his shoulder for the captain, but Magreet was nowhere about. And, though several Yowlies clung to the upper riggings, Letitia, in her elation at going ashore, didn't seem to notice they were there.
The moment Finn and Letitia stepped ashore, the sun dropped behind a bank of clouds, leaving the town in half shadow. Without the harsh and unrelenting light, the crumbling stone and rotting thatch seemed somewhat softer, the drab and muddy shades now partially obscured.
“I don't like it already,” said Julia Jessica Slagg, clinging to Finn's waist beneath his cloak. “It's a damned pesthole is what it is. A canker, a blemish, a dunghill, a dump. A grubby, vile and shabby place, a-”
“Shut up,” Finn said quietly, “There are people all about, I shouldn't have to tell you that.”
Finn hurried Letitia along. As they left the broad wharf for the crowded streets of the town, Finn saw that the grimy shopfronts looked much like those at home, though clearly not as clean.
Finn recognized several passengers among the locals. A fat man who sold bad wine, another, a dealer in jewels who'd shown Finn a glittering array of bracelets, necklaces and rings-all of them, Finn was nearly sure, as false as the man who sold them. He also glimpsed the gaunt, hooded lawyers, now without their charge, the poor lad who now lay far beneath the sea.
And then, for only an instant, at the far end of the street-
Finn felt heat rise to his face. Sabatino Nucci! There was no mistaking that burly frame, startling red hair, and haughty walk. It was, truly, the pompous, arrogant fellow himself. And, as the winds of fortune seemed to shift and blow Finn's way, he saw that Sabatino gripped a heavy piece of luggage in each hand. That, now, was a piece of good news. This horrid little port was, at least for a time, the lout's destination. He would not be coming aboard again!
“What, Finn? Dare I ask what the grinning's all about?”
“Why, nothing but my joy in thinking of our journey to come. Just the happy thought that our holiday will take on a more pleasant mien from now on.”
“How nice of you to keep such thoughts in your head,” Letitia said, pausing to place a hand lightly on his arm. “Are you a man of magic, then? Have you a secret skill I've yet to see?”
Finn caught the sparkle in her eyes, the saucy way she moved her tiny mouth, and knew, at once, she'd put sly meaning to her words with purpose and intent.
“Perhaps,” he told her, “when we find good lodging for the night, I shall show you a most intriguing spell.”
“I would be a most earnest pupil, then.”
“Ah, Letitia …”
Finn stopped. A few steps ahead, a man walked out of an alleyway, boldly in their path. A moment later, another man followed the first. And, from a doorway across the narrow street, another, and still another, appeared.
Each was dressed in drab, filthy tatters, like the rest of the folk about, and few wore shoes of any sort. The only distinction about them-and clearly the only spot of color in their lives-were the high, pointed yellow cones upon their heads. Finn was uncertain whether he should truly name them hats, for he had never seen their like before.
There was one other habit the men held in common between them. Each, independent of the other, walked in a most peculiar way. One walked right into a wall, bloodying his head. After a moment he turned, and walked off to his left. Two of the men walked backwards, then turned and walked forward for a while. One walked three steps forward, then two to the right. This went on until all of the men were out of sight.
“Bottles and Bones,” Letitia said, tightening her grip on Finn's arm. “What do you reckon that's all about?”
Finn didn't have an answer. It was most bizarre to watch, and plainly made no sense at all.
Still, there was one thing he noticed about this strange behavior, and that had nothing to do with the men themselves: anyone who happened to get in their way quickly moved aside to let them pass. It was, Finn thought, as if people feared the touch of these fellows like the very plague itself …
7
“Something is surely the matter with these people, Finn. That is a most peculiar thing to do.”
“Indeed it is,” Finn said. “I have witnessed outlandish behavior before, but nothing quite as odd as this.”
“It might be a rite of some sort. You remember the Kettle Scrubbers Guild, down the hill toward Ranksetter Street? Each would touch his left ear when he chanced to pass another of his kind.”
“I believe it was the right.”
“No, dearest, I am sure it was the left.”
“I expect you're correct,” Finn said, though he knew for certain she was not.
He might have told her, too, though this was not the wisest thing to do, for at that moment, one of the yellow-capped fellows came to a sudden halt in the middle of the street, turned with a jerk, and set his course straight for Letitia and Finn.
Men leaped aside, mothers grabbed their children and held them to their breasts. Finn drew Letitia into the doorway of a shop out of the fellow's path.
“If I lived here,” Letitia said, drawing a startled breath, “I would soon get awfully tired of this.”
“Hmmmmm, yes,” Finn said, more than a little bewildered by the townsfolk's attitude, “but they, it appears, do not.”
With a glance up the crowded street to be certain no other walker was on the way, he turned and opened the shop's heavy door.
“Let's step inside a moment,” he told Letitia, “Perhaps this nonsense will cease in a while.”
The usual sprig of goldberry vine was nailed to the door, a shopkeeper's spell guaranteed to attract those customers with money to spend. As the two stepped inside, they were greeted with the pleasant scent of newly turned wood, the sharp, clear scent of oils and turpentine.
There was little room to stand, as the shop was stacked, racked, overfull with chairs. Big chairs, little chairs, chairs of every sort. Chairs without arms, chairs without backs. Light, airy chairs that would surely shatter if the smallest child were to dare to try and sit. Large, heavy, ponderous chairs designed for the powerful, for emperors or kings, chairs that resembled the trunks of great oaks, carved, chiseled, tangled and entwined with clusters of grapes and strangler vines. Still, with all these chairs about, Finn noticed there was absolutely nowhere to sit.
“May I be of service to you, sir? I am Dalto Frick, Master of Chairs, and I don't mind saying I have the finest chairs you'll find in this or any town.”
Finn turned as a very short, very old man suddenly appeared through the maze of chairs across the room. He was dressed in worn red boots and a lavender smock, too large for his wizened frame. His head was entirely bald, and his face was as flat as a pie. Looking at him sideways, Finn could scarcely find any feature at all.
“Your chairs, sir, are the best I've ever seen,” Finn said, “and I've seen quite a few. However, I must confess, I don't think I can use one right now.”
“You can't?” The old man's smile dropped away. “You don't want a chair?”
“It's not that I don't want a chair, it's just that I can't really use one right now.”
“You come in my shop, you don't want a chair.”
“No, good sir, not now.”
“You stand on my floor, where another, righteous, good-hearted man could be standing right now. A man who truly wants a chair. He can't, though, because you are taking up
his space. You are standing there.”
“Sir-”
The old man was clearly annoyed. His mouth began to tremble and his eyes began to blink. Finn feared he might have a seizure or a fit.
“We are new in town,” Finn explained with care. “We just got off the ship. As you may have guessed, we are not from here.” He stroked the back of a richly grained chair carved in the shapes of creatures of the deep.
“We were on the Madeline Rose,” he added. “We're just stopping and-”
“That chair you're fondling, getting your oily hands on its finely polished grain, rubbing the finish off-that chair is made of Stonewood, comes all the way from across the Misty Sea. You can't hardly get it anymore-”
“Yes, it's quite-”
“You could take an axe to that chair, you'd split that axe in two, that chair wouldn't have a scratch.”
“Amazing,” Finn said, though he didn't believe it for a moment.
“Two hundred droaks. I'll let it go for one-eighty-five.”
“A bargain at any price,” Finn said, “It's a very fine chair. I was wondering, sir-as I mentioned, we are off the Madeline Rose for the night-I was wondering if you might suggest a good place to stay. A decent, not too pricey inn where they serve a nice supper, and have a good lock on the doors …”
The old man blinked. “A what?”
“An inn.”
“An in what?”
“Not in something. I'm afraid I haven't made myself clear. An inn. A place for bed and supper, where one may spend the night.”
The old man's eyes suddenly shifted to Letitia Louise. It occurred to Finn now that the old man had scarcely glanced her way since they'd come into the store. Now, though, he studied her curiously, looking her up and down, from head to toe.
“What sort of thing do you got here?” he asked Finn. “I don't believe I've seen one before.”
Finn silently counted to three. “Are you speaking of-of my associate, Miss Letitia Louise? Is that who you're speaking of, sir? If it is-”
“I'm speaking of the Newlie you brought in my store. I never heard one called a miss. What kind you say she is?”
“I am a guest in your country,” Finn said, as calmly as his anger would allow. “I will pretend I didn't hear that at all, and I will waste no more of your time.”
“You heard me, all right.” The man showed Finn a nasty smile, and three remaining teeth. “And my answer is, people here stay where they're supposed to stay. They stay where they live. That's what decent people do.”
“Whistles and Frogs,” Finn said sharply, “I didn't ask you for a lecture, I asked you where we might get a bed. Someplace to-”
“Stop. Don't say another word. I'll not hear it!”
The old man backed off. His hands began to shake, but not before he plunged one hand inside his smock, and came out with a string of dead beetles painted red. He pointed the charm toward Finn and rattled it in his face.
“Fine, that's it,” Finn said. “Letitia, let's go.”
“I don't know what your game is,” the old man shouted, “but I'll have none of it, sir. None of it at all. Whatever you and your-creature do in a bed, you'll not find one to cavort in here. We stay where we're supposed to stay, and we don't do ins, whatever that is!”
“Huhhh!” Finn grabbed Letitia's arm and started for the door.
“No you don't, heathen, you're staying right here.”
Finn looked at him. “Now what?”
“I'm getting the Volunteers. They know how to deal with the likes of you.”
“I'll ask you to stand aside.”
“Ask all you want. I'll not move an inch.”
“I think I can lift you and toss you about. I don't want to, but I will.”
“You try it, I'll have you hung, strung, drug out and fired.”
“You'll what?”
“I can do it, too. I've got people in high places.”
“Listen, you little imp …”
Finn reached down, grabbed the man's collar and lifted him bodily off the floor. The old man howled and flailed his short legs.
“Finn-Finn, put him down. Put him down this instant!”
“What?” Finn was so startled by the unfamiliar tone of Letitia's voice that he set the man back on his feet.
“How much do you want for the chair?” Letitia asked. “I won't give you one-eighty-five, I'll give you one-fifty, and not a droak more, whatever that is.”
“Letitia-”
“Shut up, Finn.”
Finn shut up.
The old man gave Letitia a wary look. “One-seventy.”
“One-sixty-five.”
“One-sixty-seven.”
“No.” Letitia shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
“You want the damned chair?”
“Not at that price, sir. I wouldn't dream of it.”
The old man muttered to himself. “One-sixty-six.” He folded his arms and stood his ground. “That is absolutely it.”
“I'll take it.” Letitia stuck out her hand.
“Oh, no you don't.” The man backed away. “I've never touched a creature wasn't human-born, and I don't aim to start now.”
Letitia pretended not to hear. “Finn, would you give the man one-hundred-sixty-six trels? I'm sure they're just as good as droaks.”
“I don't recall buying any chair,” Finn muttered, but he reached in his pouch and counted the coins into the waiting palm of Dalto Frick.
“You've made a fine choice,” the old man said, his face wrinkling into a smile. “That chair'll last a lifetime, sir. That chair will be good as new, long after you're dead and gone.”
Finn glared. The old man wasn't mad anymore. Finn was a customer now, and apparently even the feeble-minded and the morally impure were entitled to a chair if they were willing to pay for it.
Finn leaned down and gripped the massive piece. As he raised it off the floor, pain ripped down his spine and dug its sharp claws in the small of his back.
“Guts and Bloody Gizzards,” Finn howled. “Whale-shit pie!”
“Finn!” Letitia pressed a finger to her lips. “I never heard the like.”
“Well, you've damned sure heard it now. Open that door.”
Finn tripped, stumbled and reeled. Took two steps out the door, swayed, staggered, and felt something give down below.
With a terrible groan, he dropped the chair in the street. Cobblestones cracked, but the chair wasn't injured at all.
For an instant, people paused to look, then quickly walked away. Finn didn't even glance back. He staggered up the street, one hand braced against a dirty brick wall.
Letitia ran to catch up. “Will you stop, please, will you please just stop and sit down?”
“No,” Finn said, “I will not. I'm fine. I am perfectly sound.”
“You're angry with me.”
“Angry? How could you possibly imagine that?”
“Stop, Finn. Stop right now.”
Letitia stepped boldly in his path. Finn had to stop or run her down.
“All right, what?”
“I did not buy a chair because I needed a chair. You know that, Finn. You saw that fellow's face as well as I. Did you see the way he looked at me? He was going to get the Volunteers, which I imagine are the constables here. It is quite clear the customs in this land are much like our own, yet not the same as all.
“We do not have louts in yellow hats who roam the streets and scare folk out of their wits. What we do have in common is that-that loathsome attitude toward humans and Newlies of the opposite sex.”
“Indeed,” Finn said. “And, in this case, the Newlie in question is an especially sensual, ah-overwhelmingly lovely Mycer girl who turns heads everywhere we go.”
“Oh, Finn …” Letitia's frown faded and curled into a smile. “What a lovely thing to say.”
“The truth comes easily, my dear. And, I must add, you came up with a brilliant method of getting us out of there, purchasing an ugly, unbelie
vably heavy chair. I only wish I'd thought of it myself.”
Finn looked at the ground and nudged a broken crock with his boot. “It is a failing of the male of the species, I fear. We like to believe that everything of merit surely begins with us.”
“I know that, dear Finn.” Letitia showed him a gracious smile. “The female of every species is well aware of this, and we love you all the same.”
“Well … That is a kindly thing to say.”
“Finn? If we had indeed found an inn, would you have considered-cavorting, as that dirty old man implied?”
“You can be certain that I would,” he told her. “Neither of us were inclined to, ah-frolic and cavort on that damnable ship. I, for one, have-”
“Must I listen to this?” Julia croaked from under Finn's cloak. “Is it possible you could save this twaddle for some more fitting time and place?”
“Julia!” Letitia drew a breath. “I am awfully surprised at you, listening in on other people's clearly private talk. I thought you had better manners than that.”
“I'm not surprised at all,” Finn said, “because I know you treasure those moments when you can sorely irritate. What I'll say, and only once, is we are not on home ground here. We are in a land where fools in pointy hats walk about backwards. A land where you can purchase ugly chairs, yet no one has the wit to think of inns. Thus, I would urge you to have a caution, and keep your rusty, scrap-iron thoughts to yourself.”
“Well excuse me,” said Julia Jessica Slagg, “What did I do?”
“What you always do,” Finn said, “just try not to do it again …”
8
The Port Of Nakeemo in the land of Makasar, Finn decided, might well have been planned by the yellow-hats themselves. Many of the narrow, odorous streets appeared to lead to other avenues, then abruptly disappeared. Order, here, was merely an illusion, a dismal sort of joke. Often, a turn to the left or the right became a circular route, leading one where he'd begun. As an added hindrance, none of the streets had names.
Through pure blind luck, one of the avenues brought Finn and Letitia out of murky shadow into a broad, sunlit marketplace. Finn was more than grateful; he decided markets everywhere were likely much the same, even in so bizarre a land as this.
The Prophecy Machine ftlm-1 Page 4
