Neal Barrett Jr - Treachery of Kings

The guard looked startled. He blinked at the Bullie's boot, staggered back and went for his blade.

“Don't,” Bucerius told him, poking a big finger in the fellow's chest. “It be a bad idea, puttin’ your hand on that.”

“What is this, now? Remove your foot and leave at once!”

Some errant emotion tried to make its way to the First Servant's face. Struggled there a moment, and gracefully went away.

“Take this,” Bucerius said, drawing something from the packet at his belt. “I shoulda give it to you ‘fore we be talking at all. Doesn't nothing get through to your kind, all you got is rules.”

The fellow scarcely looked at the Bullie. He took the item and withdrew a step into the light. Finn saw it was a very small scroll, sealed with a smear of purple wax.

“What's that, what did you give him there?”

“Royal Warrant. It's what you use to be getting past stuffy fools like him.”

“You've got a Royal Warrant? From Aghen Ag-henfleck himself?”

“Your hearing be all right, human person? Just said I did. All them noble types, they be despising each other, but they got to do business like war and peace and such.

“I be carrying a sack of these things from princes, kings, sheiks, nabobs an’ tyrants you never heard of before. Can't get nothin’ done in my trade, you don't be having one of these.”

“Why didn't the Prince simply give it to me?” Finn asked, somewhat taken aback. “I could have presented it as easily as you.”

“Oh, now, he couldn't do that.” Bucerius granted Finn a kindly smile that galled him no end, a smile reserved for infants and others too dense to comprehend.

“You could be havin’ one of these, but wouldn't do you no good.”

“Oh, and why is that? I think I have my wits about me, much of the time.”

“Surely you do. What you don't know, ‘cause you never be in the trade like me, is how many gold crowns you got to be stuffin’ inside that scroll.”

Devius Lux gave a hearty cackle at that, and drew a frown from Finn.

“I don't know why I should be surprised to hear this. There's no one more venal, more eaten up with greed, than the toadies at a royal court.”

“None, as a fact. Unless it be the royals theyselves.”

At that moment, Dostagio stepped into the entryway again. If he had heard the talk between Bucerius and Finn, he gave no indication of it now.

“Master Finn, I know I express the feelings of His Grace, Llowenkeef-Grymm, his esteemed family, and the royal court itself, when I welcome you to Heldessia Land.

“If you and your, ah, serving creature, will kindly follow me, I will see you to comfortable quarters now.”

Bucerius hid a grin behind his big hand.

“I be seeing you again,” he told Finn. “Have a care, friend. These fellows is all of noble blood, but all your nobles be thieves. That's how they get to be princes and kings.”

Again, Dostagio seemed to have a deaf ear to anything spoken in his presence. Before Finn could bid the Bullie and the old man farewell, the door closed behind him, and he and Letitia Louise were within the walls of Heldessia's King.

Julia Jessica Slagg was there, too, but she was curled tightly against Finn's shoulders, under his heavy cloak. For once, she had kept her silence for a while, and Finn was most grateful for that. Getting in the palace was trouble enough. Explaining a golden lizard with silver jaws and ruby eyes was something else again

" It would be my guess,” Finn said to Letitia, as they followed Dostagio down the long hallway, “that these will not prove to be the jolliest folk we've ever met. When the decorator color is black, one cannot expect the circus to appear.”

“It is certainly not inviting,” Letitia agreed. “And I am getting a chill, dear. I wish I had a wrap of some kind.”

“It isn't cold in here, it's really quite warm. You're likely just affected by the somber atmosphere.”

“I am cold, Finn. Please don't tell me how I feel. This is one of your most irritating habits, dear. I believe I have mentioned it before.”

Finn was taken aback by Letitia's sudden show of discontent. Nerves, likely, reaction to the day's quite troublesome events. Still, he had the good sense to keep this opinion to himself.

“I'm dreadfully sorry, Letitia, I meant no offense. You would surely know if you're cold or hot. Here, allow me to put my cape around your shoulders. That will take the chill away.”

“You can't. Julia's under there.”

“Damn. I quite forgot.”

“It's all right. I'll be just fine.”

She wrapped her arms about herself and walked on in silence down the gloomy hall, trembling now and then. Finn felt as if he'd failed her somehow, and didn't know how to make amends.

Indeed, the atmosphere in this dreary place was enough to cause a chill. Gaudy, garish, daring decor were not the proper words for the dark granite floors, the drab, cyclopean walls. Faintly glowing torches, set in iron brackets, appeared now and then, but did little to lessen the pall, for the lusterless stone drank the very soul from every errant beam of light.

Finn tried to remember the many twists and turns of this cheerless maze, but soon was completely lost. Even their guide, Dostagio, added to the task of guessing true perspective, for he was clothed in black from head to toe, and often simply disappeared ahead.

When, at last, the fellow began to slow his pace, Finn had the feeling they might be back to the outer door where they'd begun.

“Your quarters are just ahead,” Dostagio announced. “We don't have many guests at this time, so I am putting you in the Chamber of Celestial Bliss.”

“Oh, that sounds very nice,” Letitia said. “Do you think there might be blankets in there?”

Dostagio appeared not to hear. “There are four hundred twenty-two sleeping quarters in the palace,” he announced. “I am not counting the Royal Wings, of course.”

“No, of course.” Finn wondered when the fellow would actually stop, for they had passed a good dozen dark and unadorned portals now.

“Four hundred twenty-two,” Letitia said, in a hapless effort to keep herself warm. “Imagine that.”

“That's a great many rooms.”

“It is,” Letitia said.

“And our quarters are called… “

“…The Chamber of Celestial Bliss,” Letitia finished. “That could be-interesting, Finn.” In spite of her discomfort, she managed a mischievous grin.

Maybe there will be blankets, Finn thought, delighted at her smile. Big, heavy quilts we can burrow under and generate heat among ourselves.

“We are here, then,” Dostagio said, stopping before a door indistinguishable from the rest. “Just let me find the key. It fits every room, which makes it quite easy on everyone, guests and servants as well.”

“Yes, it would,” Finn agreed. “Can you tell us, sir, when we might be able to see the King? Early is fine, if that's the custom here. Though later is satisfactory as well.”

“Later, I should think.”

“Good. Very well, then,” Finn said, thankful for extra hours of sleep. “So you would say-when?”

“Seven months, I believe. Seven months and three days.”

“What?” Finn stared. “I'm certain I didn't hear you right at all.”

“Yes, sir, I'm sure you did, Master Finn.”

The First Servant paused, as if in thought, then gazed at Finn again. “May I ask your religious persuasion, sir? If I seem impertinent, bear with me if you will.”

“Crafters Tabernacle, now. Though I was raised in First Hammer and Vise. Why do you ask?”

“You are a stranger in this land, sir, and it occurred to me you might be unfamiliar with our beliefs. His Grace and the Royal Family practice the rites of the Deeply Entombed. Toomers, as the common folk say, but I would never repeat that to the King.”