Neal Barrett Jr - Treachery of Kings

The gaudy, the vulgar, the garish and the crude commit no sin at all in their attire. Often, they simply set the trend. This day, Finn noted, fashion favored the harness, the cassock and a splendid excess of lace. And every soul from the highborn to the Master of the Sewer wore some shade of purple, pansy, plum, orchid, lilac or mulberry hue.

All, that is, except King Llowenkeef-Grymm. He was dressed in tatters, rags and shreds. Torn, ripped, shabby bits of clothing that dragged along behind him in a long and dreary train. The royal colors were soot, smoke, bone and a maggoty tone of gray. The King's face was coated in ash, and his eyes were circled in black. And, though there were surely other members of the Royal Family about, only the King himself appeared to be here.

It struck Finn, then, that fashion in Heldessia's palace was precisely opposed to that of Aghen Aghenfleck's court. There, the Prince wore a bright array of colors, and his court was allowed only black. One ruler adored every shallow path of life, while the other celebrated death.

“Which of the two is more witless than the other,” Finn muttered to himself, “is a mystery to me.”

No one could have heard these words, for they were faint as spider breath. Yet, someone did, indeed. Finn had scarcely spoken before he felt the presence, saw its piercing eyes, felt it clutch his heart in a chill and alien hand.

Finn staggered, reached out in blind desperation for something, anything to keep him from falling weakly to the floor.

“Finn, love, what is it, what's wrong!?”

Letitia caught him and eased him gently to the floor.

“Don't know… hurts, Letitia. It hurts awfully bad…”

Letitia's voice was fraught with alarm. Dostagio, though, showed no concern at all.

“He is quite all right, Miss. Truly. There is nothing you can do.”

“What do you mean he's all right? Look at him. He's white as he can be!”

“The fellow is right,” Julia put in. “I can hear his pulse. It's normal. Or as normal as a pulse can get with Finn.”

“You're a lot of help. He doesn't look normal to me.”

“I'm-all right. Just back off a little. Going to be-sick right here.”

“I wish you wouldn't, sir. Not until His Grace's party passes by. It's not the proper thing to do.”

Finn didn't hear, surely didn't care. He crawled to the rear of the small alcove and rid himself of breakfast, lunch and dinner in the air the day before, and, it seemed, a great deal more.

Still, through the agony and the pain that wracked his bodily parts, the image of those cold and penetrating eyes refused to go away. He saw them, clearly, saw where they belonged, saw the gaunt features and the cruel and pitiless mouth.

And, for an instant, the image expanded, and Finn saw beyond the creature itself. Saw that it walked directly in the shadow of the King…

Are you serious, dear? Truly?” Letitia covered her mouth and stared at Finn, her eyes as black as barley mead. “Oh, I hope you're wrong, I hope you're mistaken, Finn.”

“I am not, though, Letitia. There is nothing wrong with my heart. I must confess I thought for a moment I would soon be a Coldie, but that will have to wait a while.

“I was hexed, my dear, there's nothing else for it. I suppose the fellow could have killed me with his spell if he'd wanted to. I'm sure he could do it still.”

He told her, then, how he'd seen the man's image in his mind, quite clearly, and how he walked very close to the

King.

“I didn't see him as he passed, but I am certain he was there. He's a sorcerer, and a good one. Better than that poor fellow they did in at Aghenfleck's court. You won't find this one hawking cheap charms in the street.”

“Well, as you say, he could have slain you right there, and he didn't. I think that's a good sign, dear.”

“I suppose one could look at it that way,” Finn said, somewhat irritated at Letitia's sudden composure in the matter. She had certainly been quite alarmed only moments before.

He still felt shaky, drained of any strength, though he'd slept through the day. He had been struck just after break fast, and now it was late afternoon. He had no memory of Letitia and Dostagio helping him to this room, or falling into bed. The First Servant had brought Letitia soup, marigold tea and fatcakes for lunch. There was soup left over, but Finn had no appetite at all.

At least, he thought, the simple quarters had a bed and other facilities common to civilized life. No stone floors, no burial vaults in the wall. And, as Dostagio had promised, there were places to wash, and clean and comfortable clothes.

Still, he was shaken by his experience in the hall. Why? he wondered now. Why had the magician treated him so cruelly, why punish him at all, unless he simply enjoyed that sort of thing?

True, he had had a passing thought in which the word witless had come into play associated with Kings…

Cabbages and Kale, if that rogue can pluck tidbits from everyone's head, he'd have to knock out everyone in Heldessia twice a day!

“Why me?” he said aloud. “Just because I'm from out of town?”

“What, Finn? I thought you fell asleep again.” “Well, I'm not. I'm quite awake now. I'll be just fine in a while.”

“Would you like some soup now?”

“No. I'm not as fine as that. Thank you all the same.”

It took several tries, but finally he got his feet on the floor, paused for a moment, then stood, keeping one hand on the bed.

“As I said, I'm fine now, truly I am. A trifle dizzy, but that will go away.”

He made it to a bench across the room, wrapping his cloak about him on the way. He was quite aware Letitia followed him anxiously with her eyes.

The room seemed a little cool, or maybe that was the residue of the spell. At any rate, it lacked the funereal chill of the suite of Celestial Bliss down below.

“Did you feel anything, Julia, anything in the grand parade that seemed-unusual to you? Did you sense the presence of that seer?”

“I didn't, no,” Julia said, in a voice like a rasp on tin, a sure sign she needed oil. “And that in itself is of some concern, Finn. I am able to hear a weevil's breath, the flatulence of fleas. I know when a beetle sneezes, when an ant begins to cry-”

“All right, you didn't get a thing when that sorcerer passed us by, when he knocked me for a loop.”

“No, I did not.”

“Well say that, then. I don't want to hear about your sensitivity to bugs.”

“Bugs make quite a racket. You're lucky to be of humankind. Your perception is somewhat keener than the average rock, and that saves you a lot of pain.

“What that sorcerer did was block me out. It's simply as if he wasn't there. If he can do that to me, small wonder you didn't see him passing by.”

“That's quite frightening,” Letitia said.

“It is. And it's still a mystery why he picked me.”

Letitia stood and paced about, hands clasped tightly to her breasts, clearly lost in thought.

“Dostagio… you won't recall, of course. He said… he said, ‘he's quite all right, Miss. There is nothing you can do.’ “

“He did?”

“That tells me he knew what had happened to you, though Julia and I had no idea. And one thing more. When he helped me bring you here, I asked him what had happened, and he said he had no idea. Which isn't true at all.”

“No, it isn't. Dostagio is full of secrets about this place, there's nothing new in that. I don't suppose, Julia…”

“You asked me before. I don't know what he did, I don't know what he is.”

“Is there anything you do perceive, anything at all?”

“Finn…”Letitia shook her head, a gentle reprimand.

“I am accustomed to abuse,” Julia said. “It's part of what I do. And you forgot one point, Letitia. The bell… “