Neal Barrett Jr - Treachery of Kings

The room was dark, except for the dim, pleasant glow of a candle against the far wall. There, the light flickered on golden scales, shimmered in ruby-red eyes, as Julia practiced her imitation of a nap.

That image vanished in a blur, as a finer, far more dazzling vision took its place.

There was, to say the least, passion in this dream, wild and joyous moments that took his breath away, swept him up to dizzy, incredible heights. And, just as quickly, took him gently into sweet and lazy bliss.

A thousand sensations assaulted his body, burned into his soul. There were tantalizing scents, elegant caresses, and secret delights. There were hollows, hills, slender limbs and iridescent eyes. There was love remembered, and whispers in the night.

“That was most elegant and fine,” Finn muttered to himself, “truly the loveliest dream I ever had.”

“Call it what you like.” Letitia smiled. “Now go to sleep, dear… “

Finn was woken by the sound of a gentle, but quite persistent tap, the kind you know simply won't go away. He pulled on his breeches, grabbed up his Eastern blade, in case it was the Badgie again, and stumbled to the door.

“I do hate to bother you, sir,” said Dostiago, “I know it's not a decent hour, but I must ask you to dress and come with me.”

“Where and what for? What new foolery is this? I have followed you before, and it always leads to trickery and deceit, lunch on a battleground, a cardiac attack.”

“I am appalled that you would think I do not hold you in the highest regard, Master Finn. I am deeply pained, sir.”

“I strongly doubt that.” Finn peered around the fellow, checking to see if any rogues or rascals were about.

“I don't believe I've ever seen you pained, Dostagio. Or, for that matter, delighted, saddened, concerned with anything at all.”

“Yes, sir. The King would like your presence at once. You are to bring your gift to His Grace, and the device you call your lizard. Do hurry, sir. The King is anxious to get to sleep… “

After the awesome sight of the Holy Place of Emperors, Tyrants and Kings, the splendor of the Great Dining Hall, Finn was prepared for anything that might lie beyond the great oaken door. The portal was fully nine feet tall, and nearly twice as wide, intricately carved with legend and myth from Heldessia's ancient times.

He would have liked to study this fine example of talented artisans’ work, but there was clearly no time for that. Moreover, the door was guarded by seven green-robed Badgies, stout and grim-faced fellows at rigid attention, gripping enormous pikes. And, to Finn, they all looked closely related to the fiery, wild-eyed, Maddigern himself.

“Just go in, sir,” Dostagio said. “His Grace is expecting you.”

“So I do what? Bow, grovel, fall on my face? They always have rules about this sort of thing.”

“Oh, nothing like that tonight. Enjoy your visit, sir.”

“I'll do that,” Finn said, certain that would not be likely at all.

"Cakes and snakes,” he said aloud, somewhat rooted in his tracks-certain, now, Dostagio for some bizarre reason had led him to the wrong door.

Instead of a great and vaulted chamber, a stately columned hall, he was facing a small, unimpressive room with bare, chiseled stone walls. The monarch himself was a spindly, ruddy-faced fellow in a pink-and-orange nightshirt that came to his knobby knees. Perched on his head was a tasseled cap to match.

So why am I surprised? Finn wondered. The only time he'd seen King Llowenkeef-Grymm he was wearing tatters and rags, his features cold as the grave. If he was alive at the moment, why not look cheery and bright?

“Please,” said the King, in quite a pleasant tone, “sit, Master Finn, and pour yourself a cup of ale.”

“Why, thank you, sire, I will. And let me say I am grateful to be in your presence. It's an honor to meet Heldessia's King. I shall treasure this moment for the rest of my life.”

The King waved him off, for he heard this a hundred times a day.

The ale was very nice, much like the nutty brew Dostagio had brought to his room. He was greatly relieved to find there were comfortable, cushioned chairs in the King's small chamber, as well as a sturdy table and several frosty pewters, in case they ran low.

No grim, funereal vaults here, only the homey surroundings of a middle-aged fellow who liked a comfy chair instead of a miserable throne. And, wonder of wonders, Finn and the King were alone. There were no guards or toadies about, unless they were hiding somewhere.

“You're the fellow who brought me a present from that scoundrel, Aghen Aghenfleck. Would I be right in that?” “Yes, sire, you would indeed.”

“Nasty, witless boob is what he is. Nitwit, soft in the head. Useless lout. Scatterbrain. Dull, shallow, mean-spirited wretch. A scalawag, a sneak. Worthless, sniveling beggar, not fit to call himself a prince. Ought to be working in a sewer, you ask me. I expect you'd agree, Master Finn.”

“Ah, well, sire… “

“Loyalty, that's the thing, boy.” The King shook a finger at Finn. “Never speak evil of your master, even if he's unworthy scum, which Aghenfleck surely is. That bundle there, that's for me?”

“Yes, Your Grace. It's a birthday present, I believe.”

“Don't believe in birthdays. Everyone's got one, what's the fun in that? I do not want the fellow's present, don't want to see it at all. Put it somewhere. That thing thrashing about beneath your cloak. That's this mechanical device you carry about. Let's have a look at that.”

At once, before the King's command was scarcely out of his mouth, Julia Jessica Slagg scrambled out of Finn's cloak, onto the floor, and up onto the table in front of Llowenkeef-Grymm.

“Well now, if that's not a splendid thing to see!”

The King leaned forward, hands on his knees, devouring every inch of Julia with his dark and penetrating eyes, taking her in from her spiny tail to her golden scales, iron teeth and shiny silver jaws.

He made no effort to hide his great delight. He clasped his hands together, and his face creased in a joyous smile.

“Amazing, I say. Astonishing device! Truly a work of art, something we appreciate here in Heldessia's halls, which I can't say for that uncultured, illiterate collection of louts in Aghenfleck's court. No offense, of course.”

“None taken, sire.”

“Yes, well. Ah, what is it?”

“It's a lizard, Your Grace.”

“A lizard.”

“Yes, sire.”

“And how did you come to call it that?”

“No reason I can name, sire. While I was working on it, it simply seemed to fit. I liked the sound of it, and it stuck. I called them lizards from that day on.”

“Them?” The King raised a brow. “So you have crafted more than the one?”

“Oh, indeed, sire. It's my invention, and mine alone. I own and operate The Lizard Shoppe in Ulster-East. Lizards are my trade.

“I don't mind saying, in all modesty, sire, I come from good craftsman stock. My father worked in metals as well, and made a number of contributions to the common good. It was he who was responsible for the all-brass lice hammer used in households around the world today. He also did significant work at the Royal Fish Works, though he got little credit for that.

“Proud though I was of his accomplishments, I yearned to go out on my own. I began with a lizard that picks up debris about the house. I followed that with the lizard bellows, which works quite well, though small children are frightened by the noise.

“Then, there is the lizard cleaning rod for muskets of any bore. The special tongue gets in there and sucks out powder and soot that might cause a weapon to explode, resulting in bodily harm. And then-”