The door where the Bowsers had held him led down a twisting alleyway back to Market Square. Finn was certain he could never find his way back again. And, if he did, he was certain Nicoretti would no longer be there. A sly and cunning fellow, for sure. Whatever his shadowy designs, they plainly boded no good for Finn.
“Giggle to his coffin, chuckle to his grave, indeed. The man's as daft as everyone else around here …”
He kept his eyes out for Foxers, but luckily none appeared. Finn didn't fancy another encounter. He was certain he'd done in one of the brutes, and maimed several more. They wouldn't be friendly if they found him again. And, though he didn't like to admit it, Nicoretti was right, his fight with the Foxers had left him feeling the worse for wear.
Many of the stalls were closing, and some had disappeared. Finn hastily purchased what he could. Wilted leeks and the last of the bread. Oatcakes hard as river rocks. A potato with a serious condition of the skin.
Now why did I go and get that? Dips and Flips, we'll have to eat the thing raw …
The Dobbin bumped against him, nearly spilling Finn to the ground.
“Sorry,” the fellow said, in a gruff and throaty burr, “my fault entire, I truss yur na' hort, good sir?”
“No, not at all,” Finn said, “I'll be fine.”
“Yur pardon, then,” and he was past Finn and gone.
Finn got only the slightest glimpse before the Newlie was lost in the crowd. Tall, as Dobbins tended to be. Rheumy brown eyes and a great prodigious nose; a nose that seemed to have a twitch. Just beneath the nose, a tiny pink mouth. Plainly dressed, in a smock and floppy hat.
Clumsy fellow, but decent enough. Not like some others I could name around here …
He thought about onions, a vision that was simply unaccountably there, a vision he could taste, a vision he could see. Big onions, small onions, yellow ones and reds. Had he seen any onions when he'd passed through early in the day? So why was the image so strong, so overpowering now? Why, he could almost-nearly-just about-
The essence, the aroma, the reek of an onion was there, not just in his mind, but simply there-
— and when he glanced in his basket, he knew what he'd find, fat and round as an onion ought to be.
Not for the first time that perilous day, tingly little hairs climbed the back of Finn's neck. There was something else, besides an onion there. He stopped, looked to the left, and to the right. Finally, he snatched up the onion and held it close to his vest, quickly, so no one would see.
The note was written on a small scrap of paper tacked to the onion with a pearl-headed pin. In very tiny script, in lines as fine as a spider's silken web, shaky little lines that could scarcely be seen, he could make out the words:
9 past the marrow,
2 past the bell,
keep to the narrow,
fall in the well …
“Trickery, deceit,” Finn said aloud, “and I've had enough of that to last awhile.”
Even if the thing made sense, damned if he'd put himself in harm's way again. Who was behind this-Dr. Nicoretti or the Foxer crowd? Surely neither thought he was simple as that.
The Dobbin-it couldn't be anyone else. The fellow had jostled him and dropped the note there. It didn't matter who, now, it didn't matter why. The night was closing in, the day was waning fast. He didn't want to be in the open when the Hooters came out.
“Why can't people keep their religions to themselves instead of annoying everybody else?”
He'd keep the onion, then, no use throwing it away. You couldn't cook the thing, you'd have to eat it raw. Save the tiny pin, pins could be handy sometimes. Throw the foolish note aside …
Finn drew a breath. The instant he plucked out the pin, the tiny words vanished, faded away.
Magic! Sure as water's wet, sure as dirt's red. Not great, astonishing magic, but magic all the same!
“Great Pies and Skies,” he said aloud, “it has to be the seer, Rubinella herself. It can't be anyone else …”
27
Finn was quite pleased with himself. He wasn't good at puzzles, didn't care for tricks. Letitia was always doing riddles, and he never got them right.
Still, he saw that MARROW was a sweet shop that led off Market Square. NINE streets farther was a bell shop, oddly named BELL. Two lanes more, and he came to an alley so narrow his shoulders scraped the sides. And there-imagine that-was a WELL.
A dry well, and somewhat rank, but a well for all of that. Finn had no intention of falling in as the note said to do. There was no need, he saw, for chalked on the rim was the number 17.
He watched, waited for a moment, but the number failed to disappear. Three doors down was a door with that very same number, small as a flyspeck, but clearly 17.
Finn tapped lightly on the dry and weathered wood. A tap, he reasoned, would surely suffice. A very small number called for a tap, not a knock or a rap of any kind.
No answer, so Finn tried again. Lightly still, but somewhat stronger this time.
In the cramped and narrow way, there was hardly any sky overhead. What little there was, was closer to darkness than to day. Finn was nearly sure he saw a star, and his heart beat faster at the sight. Night, and there he was, caught in an alley, Letitia far away …
The door seemed to open by itself. Magic, Finn thought, then saw it was hanging by a nail, close to falling off, not exactly a spell.
The room was very dim, lit by a single candle against a far wall. The air inside was close, musty, dusty and chill. Finn smelled ginger, nutmeg and pepper, bitterroot and lemon, every kind of spice.
There was also the hint of something else-oils, powders, scents that were musky, scents that were slightly, wonderfully wild …
Finn puzzled to define these aromas, pondered for a second and a half, knew, of a sudden, why each was familiar, why he knew them well-
“Buttons and Snaps,” he whispered to himself, “everything in here smells like Letitia Louise!”
“-All right, you're here,” said a voice from somewhere, “what do you want with me?”
Finn nearly jumped out of his skin, tried, at once, to hide his apprehension, knew it was too late for that.
“I'm sorry I startled you,” the someone said, who wasn't truly sorry at all. A voice with a gentle, soft sibilation, a whisper, a sigh, or possibly a lisp.
“Sit down. There's a stool to your right. You don't have to see it, you can feel it in the dark. Now. Answer my question, and answer it now. I know who you are, I think I know why you're here. I hope to high heaven I'm wrong about that. Not too likely, I fear. Snake pokes his ugly head through the veil if it's something really bad. Takes a great joy in that, though I can't fathom why.”
Snake? Better not ask …
“You've a lot to answer for. Everyone in town's raving on about me, and you're the cause, Finn. Where did you hear that name, I'd like to know that?”
“Rubinella? That's who I'm to ask for. That note, I know it came from you.”
“Of course it did, boy. You haven't answered me. Who gave the name to you?”
“Letitia,” Finn said, squinting to see some movement in the dark, “Letitia Louise. My wife. She's a Mycer too, you see-”
“I know who she is. I didn't know her name, but I know she's with you. Everyone in town knows about you two, don't you realize that?”
The voice from the darkness was harsh, intense, quite out of patience, and not at all happy with Finn.
“It was she, then, who told you to seek me. Snake should have told me this. She said something else. What exactly was that?”
“To tell Rubinella that-To tell her we needed help, that we needed a seer. Letitia-Letitia's mother, was Liliana, of the Phileas Clan. I was supposed to mention that.”
“Yes, I see.”
The voice was somewhat gentler now, not what Finn would call friendly, but neither so cautious, anxious nor strained.
“The Phileas Clan is strong. Good blood. The males are somewhat hasty, irresponsib
le at times. The females somewhat-assertive, I suppose. Too inclined to take up with human men.”
Finn felt the color rise to his face, and wondered if the seer could sense that, too.
A laugh, almost-more than she'd granted so far. Somewhere on the edge, throaty but nice, a bit, Finn decided, like Letitia Louise.
“Do you know, Finn, what ‘Rubinella’ means? You have no inkling, I don't know why I asked.”
“It's a name, I suppose. I wouldn't know what it means.”
“It's not a person's name, and it's certainly not mine. It's a Mycer word that means ‘Lady with the power in her hands.’ Your Letitia Louise knows that. The common tongue has twisted it into something else. Anyone in town, Newlie and human alike, will swear it means ‘Mycer-witch-woman-who-can-make-all-your-privates-fall-off.’”
Finn felt the heat again. “Trees and Bees, I surely didn't know that.”
“There's much you don't know, Master Finn.”
“And can you?”
“Can I what?”
“Make their, ah, you-know-whats fall off?”
“You want an honest answer? I don't think so. Listen to me, Finn. Life is not a jest, and your wit is not appreciated here. Not by me, and not by others who are present as well. Your next question's who, and we won't go into that.
“Again, I strongly suggest you spend your time with me-with us, in an earnest and serious quest.”
“I'll-yes, I certainly will,” Finn said, glancing through the darkness at the walls, at the ceiling, searching everywhere, not as anxious for answers as he'd been only moments before.
“Since you entered, I've been getting an image, a very faint picture, closer to a vapor, closer to a blur.”
The Mycer hesitated, and when she spoke again the tension in her voice was clear.
“What I see is bad. Very bad, I fear. I've known that something was wrong in this town for years. Even a child who has a touch of the gift can see that. Sometimes a portal winks open, and the sound of evil leaks out. I knew it was here, but I didn't know where. Your appearance has given me the answer to that.
“Your Letitia was right. It is in that-in that house. The bad thing is there …!”
“What-what is it?” Finn sat on the edge of his stool. “Tell me what you see.”
“I don't see a thing.”
“What?”
“I can't see anything, are you listening or not? It's there, but it's in a blanket spell. I can't get through it. Neither can Snake, or anyone else.”
“Under a spell …” “Under a blanket spell. A blanket covers everything up. You can't see a thing under there.”
“But it's bad.”
“Oh, it's bad. Bad's a good start. I think it's worse than that. Anyone who can do a blanket spell, one that's keeping me out, that's someone-or something-to look out for.”
“And you don't know who it is. Who's using magic like that?”
The seer let out a breath. “Are you impaired in the head? How did you ever charm a bright and lovely Mycer girl? I-Never mind, let me guess.”
“No, I don't know who cast the spell and I doubt I ever will. Don't you see that? Someone who can blanket a house is good enough to hide themselves.”
“I didn't think of that.”
“I don't suppose you did.”
“Yes, but-” Finn was so pleased with the thought, he nearly stood up. “Listen, I think I can help. I've been there, I've seen what you're talking about. I can tell you what it is!”
The seer was very still. Finn thought he heard her breathe. “Well, I'm listening. Please enlighten me, then.”
“Of course. What it is, and no offense-but I doubt it's that important at all-is sort of a prufa-fuffa-gigeegaaka-geeb-”
Finn froze, horrified by the chaos in his mouth. He tried once more, tried to get it right, but the words got tangled every time.
“I can't,” he said, desperate and truly frightened now. “It's there, but I can't spit it out!”
“I sensed you had the image, and I know you cannot let it go. This is very bad indeed …”
“Would you stop saying that, please? That's not helping at all.”
The seer moved then, and he could almost see her, a shadow against the greater dark.
“There's no more I can do. Not now. But listen to me, Finn. What you see, what you've encountered is not what you think, not what you think it is at all. You must, truly, understand that, above all else. Are you listening to me?”
“Yes. I greatly fear I am.”
“That's all I can say now, except you must try to leave that place, and quickly if you can. You, and Letitia, and the thing with shiny scales.”
“You know about her? About Julia Jessica Slagg?”
“What did I say? You have something else with shiny scales? Here, take this …”
Something slid across the floor and lightly touched his foot. Finn bent to pick it up, felt something small and nearly weightless, metal and stone, something so fine it ran through his fingers like sand.
“Tell Letitia to wear it. Whatever you do, don't try and wear it yourself. Do you understand that? Go now, get back to her as soon as you can.”
“Yes, I will.” Finn rose to leave.
“And by the way … those feelings, when you first came in? Strange, wondrous feelings, possibly passion and desire? That was me. I'm older than your Letitia, but a Mycer woman never forgets how to do that.
“Mycer males are easy. And humans like yourself …”
Another throaty laugh, a chuckle in the dark.
“I don't know about that,” Finn said, deciding though, that possibly he did.
“This, uh, place of yours is quite nice,” he said, the first thing to come to mind. “We have some seers back home, and I always feel their shops are sort of-petrified. Like they keep old papers and crawly things about. Potions, jars and nasty pots. Your place, now, smells like ginger, apples, and maybe cherry pie.”
“You have a good nose for the prurient,” the seer said from the dark, “and you're good with food as well. Not too surprising as you're sitting in my kitchen keeping me from supper right now …”
28
Letitia tried not to count the minutes, tried not to pace, tried to stay away from the fly-specked window that looked upon the sere and somber plain. Each time she glanced at the narrow dirt road, it seemed to grow dimmer, the colors seemed to melt and coalesce. If she looked long enough, everything faded to the same shade of gray.
Closing her eyes, she dug her nails into her palms. If it hurt badly enough, maybe it would wake her from this horrible dream, maybe time would turn around, go back the other way. Night wouldn't come, and Finn would be safely in her arms.
“Why did I do it, Julia? I must have been out of my mind. I was angry, I admit. I took it out on him and it wasn't his fault. Not all, anyway. He didn't know there were Yowlies on the ship. He didn't know about the Hatters, what would happen in the square. He didn't-Damn it all, Julia, he could have done something, seems to me!”
Julia was sprawled on the bed curled up like a snail, now and then whipping her brassy tail.
“Say something,” Letitia said. “I feel like I'm talking to an ugly pile of tin. That's very annoying to me.”
“Well, what a delightful thing to say. And what, exactly, would you care to hear? No, it was not a good idea to send him out looking for seers. And no, I don't know what I would have done, so don't ask. He'll be back, he always is.”
“I don't know how you can be so sure of that. He could be dead right now, lying in a ditch.”
Letitia was sorry she'd spoken so harshly, but Julia really did look bad, not polished and shiny as she should. In the dim and dreary light, her scales were dull and faded, like rust was setting in.
“He's got his faults, Julia, but I do love him so, and he's very dear to me.” She sniffed then, and found a hanky in her sleeve. “We've hardly got started on marital bliss, and we might never have a chance again. Did you really mean that, do y
ou think he's all right? You're not just saying it to make me feel better?”
“That's most of it, yes,” Julia said. “You know I can't stand to hear you whine and blow your nose. The nose thing, that's one of the six most disgusting things meat creatures do. I wouldn't dream of discussing the rest.
“In truth, though, I do feel Finn will pull through. He's really quite bright, though you mustn't tell him that. He also enjoys amazing dumb luck, another meat trait that I don't understand.”
“Stop it, all right?” Letitia curled her mouth in disgust. “You know I don't care for talk like that.”
“What, meat?”
“See, you're doing it again.”
“What am I supposed to say? That's what you are. A sack of blood and bones, squishy stuff and skin. Do I get upset when you say tin?”
“That's not the same. You're not-”
“Not real, huh? I don't have feelings like you. And I'm far too polite to say where you came from.”
Letitia rolled her eyes. “I'm getting sick. Could we possibly talk about something else?”
“Like, is Finn going to rescue us soon, or do I have to go and save him? If I were to guess-”
Letitia jumped back from the window, startled, as lightning sizzled on the road outside. Thunder shook the house, rattled all its seams. Fat drops of rain struck the window sweeping muddy rivers down the pane.
“He's out there in the dark,” Letitia said, wiping away fresh tears. “Now he'll never get back. Oh, Finn, I'm sorry for most of the things I've said. Some, I admit, were not on a totally positive plane. I know I'm not perfect, and neither are you. That's good, I guess, because I don't think marriage would work out if you were always wrong, and I was always right.
“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.”
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