Treachery of Kings (27 page)

“Bucerius?” Finn sat up so quickly his head began to spin. “Hooks and Crooks, what are you doing here?”

“I be askin’ you the same. You lost your fool mind, or what? Wouldn't nap in Coldtown was I you. It irritates the dead. They be entitled to whatever peace they's got.”

Finn's back gave him fits. His feet were frozen bricks.

“I'd challenge that. I feel those who've passed away miss talking to folks more than anything else. Besides food and ale, that is.

“I chatted with a fellow who'd been to sea. Bliek was his name, as I recall. Then I met a former king. Gruesome chap, but he set me straight on a number of things, and I'm grateful for that.”

“I'm right pleased to hear it. Now you don't mind, I don't be feelin’ real easy standing ‘round here.”

“You, Bucerius? Why, I can't believe you're afraid of the dead.”

“Afraid!”
Bucerius seemed to swell to half his size again. “There's not a thing on earth I be a'fearing, human person, and you'll not be sayin’ such again. What I be somewhat
uneasy
‘bout is the day comin’ on real soon, an’ half a hundred Badgies out there sniffing after one Master Finn. I'd not care to be standin’ real close when those rascals lop off your head. …”

T
HE BULLIE'S WORDS WERE DISTURBING ENOUGH
to shake Finn fully to his senses again. It was, as Bucerius said, getting close to dawn, light enough to see the stark shadows of houses and shops against the lowing sky.

Bucerius was puzzled that Finn was surprised to see him there. His presence did not seem at all peculiar to him.

“Have you no sense at all, then? There scarcely be a soul in Heldessia Town don't know you're wanderin’ about. Me, I'm getting a fair night's sleep, and there's a pair of stuck-up Dobbins be rapping on my door. Two dandies in their gaudy jackets and such.”

“I talked to those two,” Finn said, astonished to hear this news. “They said they'd never heard of you.”

“And best they be a'sayin’ it, too. They got their big noses in the air, but they'd not be pleased if their neighbors
was to know what kind of goods from foreign lands they be buyin’ off of me.

“Now, if I might be askin’, what kind of mischief you be up to at the palace, friend? And don't be makin’ up lies and fancy tales, for I'll know for certain if you do.”

Finn stopped and scraped something awful from his shoe. “Why, I haven't done any sort of
mischief
, as you put it, none at all. In fact, I was given quite a large decoration from the King. I did encounter several problems at the palace, but I shouldn't call it mischief at all.”

With that, Finn gave the Bullie a brief account of events that had occurred since they'd seen each other last. The Bowsers’ two assaults, his visit to the hall of irritating clocks, his encounter with the seer, and the fact that he didn't get along too well with Maddigern.

Lastly, he explained that Oberbyght had given him the staggering news that he, Finn, was stuck in this country for life—which is why he'd plowed through a pack of Snouters and made his getaway, determined to find Bucerius—who, luckily, had managed to find
him.

“That's about it,” Finn said, “except for minor incidents, which I won't bore you with now. And, I'm sorry I didn't ask, how have you been, friend?”

Bucerius pressed an enormous hand on Finn's chest, and though this gesture was gentle enough, it nearly knocked Finn to the ground.

“You need not tell me more, Master Finn, for I be quite aware of most of them deeds, and some you was reluctant to tell.”

“Indeed? Then why do you bother to ask?”

“Don't get your blood up, friend. I'm not surprised you're keepin’ the worst part to yourself. For worst indeed is what it be, if you're dallyin’ about with that sly and cunning spawn of the King.”

Finn felt the color rise to his face, and was thankful for the morning's pale light.

“I chanced to meet this person, through no fault of my own. What I have to do with her is nothing at all. And since you and I haven't spoken since I entered the palace, how would you know who I came across in there, and what I've seen? Perhaps you have a nest of
spies
inside, friend?”

This last was meant in jest, but it was clear the Bullie saw no humor in Finn's words at all. Instead, he grabbed Finn's shoulders in his two immense hands and lifted him off the ground.

“Never
even be thinkin’ such thoughts, you hear me plain? If you had your wits about you, you'd see it's in a trader's favor to know what be goin’ on in that damp and dreary place.

“And what I be knowin’ is there's danger and peril afoot in there, things you couldn't guess, things a crafter of lizards don't
want
to know, if he values his skin and the safety of his Miss.”

“Put me down, Bucerius. Right now.”

The Bullie lowered him to the ground, muttered to himself and ran a hand across his face. Finn had seen Bucerius in a simple huff before, but this was something else. The Bullie was anxious, clearly out of sorts. His face was dark and somber, like the onset of a storm.

“Listen to me, Master Finn,” Bucerius said, “and listen clear. I can't answer none of the questions be whirlin’ about in your head, for there be danger enough in knowin’ what you do. Might be I can get you out of this mess if our luck'll hold a bit, but there isn't no chance if you be goin’ back in there.”

Finn started to protest, but Bucerius raised a restraining hand. “Don't have to say it. I know you'll not be leavin’ without the Mycer and that damn device of yours.

“I be telling you what you knows yourself. You knew the risk you'd be takin’ when you took off runnin’ through Heldessia Town.”

The Bullie sniffed the air and looked solemnly at Finn. “I'll show you a safe way in and out. I doubt it'll help, but it's all I can do. Don't be trustin’ no one in there. And ‘specially that brazen witch you be pantin’ after.”

“Will you quit saying that? I
looked
, all right? Anyone would.”

Bucerius gave a throaty laugh. “Any fool
human
person would. By damn, I can't see why. One of you's as ugly as the next. For the life of me, I don't know how you tell each other apart.

“Do like I say, and you might get out of here in one piece. Though I be havin’ grave doubts about that. …”

G
RAVE DOUBTS, INDEED…”
If Finn wasn't certain the Bullie had no place for whimsy in his life, he'd accuse the fellow of a play upon words, and a meaningful play at that.

The air was chill with the damp scent of raw, unfinished stone, for this passageway bore no kin to the King's polished granite halls. The twisting corridor was hewn from the earth itself, a course so narrow and close it was all Finn could do to hold back the panic that threatened to crush him, choke him in its grip.

Would it be better, or worse, he wondered, if he could see, instead of feeling his way in the dark?

“No torch, no light at all,” Bucerius had warned him in no uncertain terms.

Why? Finn had wanted to know. If this was a secret way, who would guess that he was there?

“Didn't say that
no
one knew, now did I, Master Finn?”

Thus, another chill to add to his growing list of fears, things to remember, things to brood about as he made his way through the smothering dark. For Bucerius had given him a map, a map he couldn't see, a map he must carry in his head:

Twenty-seven steps, then right…

One hundred nine, then left, and left again…

Finn had a good head for cogs, gears, springs and silver wheels, minuscule wires that wandered this way and that. He could keep a dizzying array of lizard devices in his head, but he wasn't fond of numbers at all.

And why
, he asked himself,
if Bucerius has my interests at heart, why not share the dire secrets he knows about Llowenkeef's court? Why not give me a better chance to get out of here alive, with Letitia and Julia Jessica Slagg
?

He had no answer to that. It did occur to him, however, that a good way to get rid of meddlers was to dump them in a tunnel where they'd never get out, and bid them fond farewell. He shook his head and cast the thought aside. That sort of dark speculation made little sense at all.

F
OR A FACT, IT WAS NO GREAT SURPRISE TO FINN
that the Bullie knew a lot more than he liked to tell. He had known about this secret way all along, and had never said a word when he'd ushered him into the palace with the “help” of Devius Lux.

When Finn had confronted him with that, the Bullie had merely laughed. “An’ why would I be tellin’ you ‘bout that? You don't be sneakin’ in a place when you can go politely in the door.”

“That's not what I was asking,” Finn said.

“No, you be askin’ why I don't be tellin’ you everything I know. …”

D
ID THE TUNNEL SEEM SOMEWHAT WIDER THAN
before? Was it slanting deeper now?

“Pikes and Spikes, how am I supposed to keep all this in my head. There's enough churning about in there as it is!”

There was much he had to tell Letitia Louise. He wished he could recall all the amazing things the Coldie
king had told him before he disappeared. Letitia would surely have a great deal to say about Prawn-Wallis’ revelations, for she firmly believed there
was
an afterlife. All the Mycer folk did, and many other Newlies as well.

And, though he wanted very much to share Letitia's beliefs, he had grown up among his own kind. Most everyone of the human persuasion believed what they could see: You became a Coldie when you shed the mortal coil. Period. That's what you did.

“This is all there is, right here!” as the specter king Prawn-Wallis had said.

So why were there no Newlie Coldies about, no wispy Bullies and Snouters gathered in the night? Letitia had an answer to that: “Why, because they pass on to a greater Being when they die.”

“Nonsense,” most any human would say. “You're not going to see no Newlie specters, ‘cause they're not the same as us. They're
animals
, still. They don't go anywhere at all. …”

T
HIS WAY OR THAT? LEFT, HE WAS NEARLY CERTAIN
, though it could be right as well. The breeze from the left seemed more intense, as if the inner winds, the earthen streams of air, were coming from a source closer to this labyrinth's end.

And, scarcely a moment after that, the wind brought a sound, a sound so faint Finn could not be certain it was more than a deviation of the current itself

He stopped, listened for a moment, heard nothing more and moved on, his fingers feeling the way ahead. Almost at once he paused again, certain that a pale luminescence had appeared past the tunnel's subtle bend. That, or the constant darkness was playing tricks on his eyes.

“It's not in my head, it's a light, and it's damn well there… “

He moved very slowly, counting each breath, determined to keep his wits about him now, for light meant danger as well as release from the dark.

That light, though faint and indistinct, was very real, he no longer doubted that. The sound was real as well, no trick of the wind, though he wished that were so, for it bore such sorrow, such deep and terrible loss, it filled him with a sadness he couldn't explain.

He was struck, then, by a chilling premonition, a feeling of such dread he could hardly bear to look past the corridor's end, for fear of what he might see. And when, at last, he made himself peer upon the scene, he could not begin to comprehend what lay before him there…

T
HEY WERE SILENT, STILL, IN THE FAINT AMBER
light, amidst that awful sound of desolation and regret. Eleven, in all, the Royal Family of Llowenkeef-Grymm. Each solemn, naked form dozed in its carven stone vault, and each was attended by a robed attendant, one of the Gracious Dead.

Near each of the vaguely deceased was a low stone table, and upon each table sat an array of jars, bottles, salves and glass vials of liquid in varicolored hues. Some of these containers were fitted with coils of copper tube, and each tube ended in a small ellipse, much like one might see on a flute or a fife.

As he watched in horrid fascination, Finn saw what these bizarre devices were for. One of the Gracious Dead bent down and gently lifted the head of a royal cousin, niece or noble aunt, parted her lips and thrust his fingers in her mouth. Then, he inserted some instrument designed to keep this orifice agape.

When he was satisfied, he lifted one of the copper-tubed vials, and slowly fed some dark and turgid soup into the royal's mouth. Finally, the task done, he laid the
woman's head gently down and moved along to the next naked form.

Farther along the row of vaults, another robed figure turned a heavyset man on his ample belly and carefully kneaded the fellow up his legs, his buttocks and his back. It might have been the King himself, for all Finn knew, and he was much relieved that it was too dark to tell.