Neal Barrett Jr - Treachery of Kings

Finn imagined a tear ran down the King's cheek, but surely it was only a trick of the light.

“I-had not realized the great responsibility you bear for us all, Your Grace. May I say that you handle it rather well.”

“No, no I don't. Nice of you to say, but I fear that I don't. I should pray for those who will ever be awake, but I seldom have the time.

“At any rate, nothing I can do about that, is there now? I am pleased you were able to meet me, and show me that marvelous machine as well. Where'd the damned thing go?”

“My honor, sire.” “Yes, it certainly is.”

“You have so many-truly unusual rites, sire. Anyone aware of the Deeply Entombed, as I am now, can understand why it is the only true path.”

“Very astute of you, boy,” the King said, stifling yet another yawn. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important functions to perform.”

“I don't see how you handle the load, Your Grace. Your eternal parades, your intense devotion to sleep, the Millennial Bell. I must tell you I'm honored to have been present here when that sonorous instrument struck again. Would I be overstepping my bounds, sire, if I asked what occasion you are commemorating now?”

“Which what?”

“The occasion, sire. The bell celebrates a, ah-theo-logical moment of some sort. From the word, I would guess, something a thousand years ago. That would have been about-”

“Wendon's day.”

“Sire?”

“Last time before this. About noon, I recall. I rose and ate three fowl hens. Two jugs of wine.”

“Your Grace-”

“Time before that was the middle of Madge. Tootsday the fifty-third. I think I told you, Finn, I have a lot of things to do.”

He stood, then, downed his ale, and ushered Finn to the door.

“Well, it's been a pleasure. Get out of here, I've had enough of you.”

“Sire, if you don't mind-” Finn saw at once the King was nudging him toward the door where he'd first come in-away from the portal where Julia still waited outside.

“If I may suggest… “

With a somewhat rude gesture, the King gave him a push outside and closed the door.

Finn muttered to himself, nothing so loud that the rigid Badgie guards might hear. They might, every one, be Maddigern's cousins or brothers, as far as he knew.

Five minutes, then another ten. No sign of First Servant Dostagio at all, no way to find Julia without simply asking the King. That didn't seem like a good idea.

“Trees and Bees,” Finn said, with no small touch of irritation. “I don't have the slightest idea where I am, or where I ought to be!”

Fine. One course is better than none, and far better than standing here…

With that, he walked confidently down the hall, turned left, followed the torches away, and turned right again. Lost, at once, but what did that matter? Every path was wrong in the House of the Perpetual Nap.

At least, he thought, his time had been fairly well spent. He had learned a great deal about the spiritual life of King Llowenkeef-Grymm, even though none of it made a bit of sense.

The one point he hadn't dared touch upon was the one that concerned him the most. A sorcerer had knocked him senseless. That same seer belonged to the King, and what was His Grace's part in that? Did he know about it, or not? And, wasn't it even more disconcerting if he wasn't aware of it at all?

He was anxious to share this with Letitia, and even Julia, though he wouldn't admit to that.

“They are each, in their way, extremely good at puzzles such as this. They will toss a tricky question around until it gives up and rolls over and tells them what they want to know-”

“Talking to yourself, are you, sir? They say it's a sign that dark forces whisper in your soul… “

The voice came out of shadow, and Finn's heart nearly stopped, this time without the aid of a spell.

“Sacks and Tacks, you gave me quite a fright. Come out and show yourself now!”

She stepped into the half-light, then, no longer a phantom, but a person fully formed. Formed so nicely, in fact, she took Finn's breath away. A woman, though very lately a girl, slender and slight, with citron hair to her shoulders, a narrow face and wide-set eyes of the very palest blue.

The eyes of a girl who has drowned and lies beneath the sea…

Finn was stunned by this disturbing thought, and set it quickly aside.

“I'm sorry,” the woman said, in a voice that brought vague, unwholesome thoughts to mind. “I like to walk in this hall, for there's scarcely ever anyone here.”

“I don't suppose there is. I don't imagine anyone unfamiliar with the place could find it twice. I am quite lost myself.”

The woman gave him a lazy smile. “I'm DeFloraineMarie, and I'm the daughter of the King. You're the one who makes lizards that talk, and you're not lost now, Master Finn…”

Finn resisted, politely declined, said he was certain it wasn't the thing to do. The woman, the girl, the sprite insisted, wouldn't take no, and, she made it clear, she was a princess, and people did what she told them to do.

Her quarters weren't far. When they arrived, she slid past the door and he followed her through, certain, now, he was somewhere he shouldn't ever be.

He had seen her only as a dim and hazy vision as she hurried him through the shadowed hall. Even then he'd been dazzled by her beauty, by the lightness of her being, by her effortless grace.

Now, she stood before him in the glow of a hundred candles of crimson, tangerine and gold, clad in some pale and vaporous gown, something more a whisper or a mist that circled round her than a garment of any kind.

Finn felt as if his knees would give way. As if, in her presence, he would simply come apart. And, in a corner of his mind, there came a growing specter of shame, guilt, remorse and deep regret. How, he wondered, could he ever make up for the things he hadn't even done? For, in truth, when he faced Letitia again, he would surely stand condemned for his wicked thoughts alone, for the visions that heated his soul when he gazed on DeFloraine-Marie in this candle-scented room.

“Please, Master Finn, you mustn't stare. That is not the proper thing to do.”

“I surely didn't mean to,” he said. “Coming in from the dark, into the light, you see… “

“Yes, I expect that's so. I hope you don't have a fever. I keep it rather warm in here.”

“No, truly, it's very nice, just right for me. Some people like it cooler, I like it-warmer than others do. Not overly warm, you understand, sort of, what it is now… “

“Make yourself at ease, Master Finn. I'll see to some hot spice tea.”

Just what I need, some hot spice tea…

Finn watched her vanish past a veil of fabric fine as spider silk, watched her disappear past another cloudy weave, and another after that, each no more substantial than a lance of morning light.

Watched, and wondered if creatures of the female persuasion were endowed with some fine hydraulic parts, some wondrous gears than made them move like that.

Finn sat.

There were colorful pillows spread about the room. No table, no chairs. Only a sea of soft cushions and walls of airy veils. Some sweet aroma of the East lingered upon the air.

Candles, pillows, rare exotic scents, and a very leggy nymph. What happened, Letitia, is I got lost from Julia, I can explain all this…

"Tell me about yourself, Master Finn. I am so pleased you're here. We never have guests. Father doesn't like anyone, you know.”

She was there, close beside him, before he could blink. She might have drifted in on a breeze. A gnat could sneeze, he thought, and make more noise than DeFloraine-Marie.

“There's not much to tell, truly. I'm just-you know, me. I make lizards, that's about it. Lizards that pick up about the house, lizards that-”