Neal Barrett Jr. - The Prophecy Machine

“You can't offend me, girl, a lot of other people have tried. You'll come around, I'm willing to give you time.”

“I'd cease that suggestive line of talk if I were you,” Finn said. “I don't feel any strong obligation, old man. I wouldn't mind just leaving you here.”

“Don't stop to nap up there,” Sabatino shouted from the rear. “Keep it moving, craftsman , if you want to leave here with your head intact!”

Finn looked back. Sabatino was holding his own, but the horde was on him like flies.

“Letitia, can you hold him up by yourself?”

“No, I can't, Finn.”

“Try. I'll be back when I can.”

With that he was gone, trotting back to Sabatino.

“What are you doing here?” Sabatino said, without looking around, “Get back-where you-belong!”

With that, he swept his heavy weapon in a terrible arc, downing one fellow and slicing another across the neck.

“Fighting is very restful after listening to your father,” Finn said. “It's really quite pleasant back here.”

Moving to Sabatino's right, he left a crimson stripe across a foe's chest.

“He can be a bloody nuisance, you're right about that.”

“I want you to know that I will never forgive you for the trouble you've brought my way. This is in addition to what you did to that lad aboard ship, and your unwarranted attack on me. Our quarrel isn't done, don't think it is-watch it there, on your right!”

Sabatino caught a pole on his blade an instant before it found his head.

“Letitia's doing the best she can,” Finn said, “but it wouldn't hurt if you'd give us some direction. We weren't born in this mudhole of yours.”

“Mudhole, is it? I never imagined it as charming as that. In front of you, craftsman, that skinny fellow's faster than he looks.”

Finn took care of the man with the flat of his blade and moved up to cover a pair coming in from the left. While the enemy were armed with only sharpened poles, there were plenty of them, quite enough to take the pair down if they failed to stay on their toes.

Luckily, he and Sabatino had superior arms, and the other side failed to attack in an organized manner, as a whole, as a unit, as a trained group of soldiers might do. Instead, some would go forward, then suddenly turn to the right or to the left. Some would whip about and go backwards for a while. Some, as Finn had noted in the square, would bump into one another, or crack their skulls on a wall.

It was only by chance, then, that a foe with a cone-shaped hat would be directly in front of Sabatino or Finn. The danger was solely in their numbers, for they lacked all tactical skills.

The battle turned a corner and veered down a roughly cobbled street. Finn's fighting arm began to tire, but he couldn't slow down. Not in front of Sabatino, who seemed to have great reserves of strength, and was having a joyous time.

Where the hell are we, and where are we going? Finn asked himself.

What if Letitia's inborn instincts betrayed her this time? What if that addled old man had led her off another way?

As if in answer to his thoughts, Letitia shouted, her voice high and shrill, loud enough to cut through the noise of battle, and the crowd that squeezed in behind.

“Finn, Finn , this street's come to an end, there's nowhere else to go!”

“Fishes and Fruit,” Finn said, wiping the sweat from his brow, “I knew this would happen, I by damn knew …”

Sabatino let out a yell. Finn turned, ready to come to the fellow's aid, turned to see him go head over heels over some dark object in the street.

“Look at that,” Sabatino said with great disgust, coming quickly to his feet, “some mindless fool left a chair in the street. I could've been crippled for life!”

“Hard to imagine how something like that could happen,” Finn said, fending off another pair. One stared at the neat line of blood across his belly. The other simply turned and walked away.

There were plenty more about-apparently, Finn thought, an endless supply. He and Sabatino held them off, beating a hasty retreat to Letitia and the old man down the alleyway.

Letitia was right. The alley came abruptly to an end. A wooden fence and piles of rubble blocked the way. The fence was too high to climb and even if the three of them could make it, the old man would never have a chance.

“Hold them off as best you can,” Sabatino shouted in Finn's ear.

“And what do you intend to do?”

“I intend to tear down that damnable fence, if it's all right with you.”

“A grand idea. What are you going to tear it down with ?”

Sabatino didn't answer. He left with a look Finn was quite accustomed to: scorn, disdain, and utter contempt. Sabatino had several other “looks,” but these were the three he clearly liked the best.

The assailants, Finn saw, for reasons of their own, had paused at the head of the alley when their foes came up against the fence. Maybe it was lunchtime, Finn decided, and wondered then, just how the fellows ate. Did they take time off, or simply hope they might run into food?

The old man had decided to sit and scowl. A basic mean spirit, or inherent constipation, was apparently a family trait. Finn had seen this sort of thing pass down for many generations before.

“Are you all right?” Finn said, moving up to Letitia's side. “You're not hurt or anything?”

“No, I'm not hurt, Finn.” Letitia slumped against the alley wall. Her hair was in disarray and her cheeks were smudged with soot. Somewhere along the way, she had picked up one of the enemy's broken sticks.

“I'm not having a good vacation so far, but I haven't been injured or killed, if that's what you want to know.”

“Good,” Finn said, “I know this is wearing. I'm extremely sorry, love. As you say, the trip's not going well, but I'm certain our luck will turn soon.”

“Why?”

“What's that?”

“Why would our luck turn soon? It has not turned since we closed the front door on Garpenny Street. It has gotten worse by the hour, and worse than that since your new friend came along.”

“He is hardly a friend, I think you know that. I can't abide the man. Fate has thrown us together, and I can't help that. As soon as we rid ourselves of him, I'm sure our fortunes will change.”

“I know that, dear.” Letitia showed him a weary smile. “I am simply so tired of ships, and those dreadful Yowlies, and now him , and that disgusting, smelly old man. Our chair is still in the street, did you notice that, Finn?”

“I did, yes.” Finn picked up a rag from the alley and wiped the blade of his sword. “They're milling around up there. I expect they'll have another go at us soon.”

Letitia refused to look. “What have we gotten ourselves into, dear? Do you have the slightest idea? Who are these people, and why are they doing this? Why did they want to kill the old man?”

“I don't know. I can't even guess. There is much here I do not understand at all …”

He would have said more if their aggressors hadn't suddenly renewed their advance, shouting and waving their poles about.

“Have a care up there,” Sabatino called out, “they're a witless bunch, but they never give in.”

“I can see these things for myself,” Finn said, more than a little irritated, “I don't need your constant advice.”

If Sabatino had a cutting reply, it was lost as the horde of yellow-hats poured down the narrow alleyway. If anything, Finn thought they were angrier, and even more determined, than before.

Why they had paused at all, he couldn't say. They were no more organized than before. Some ran backwards, some ran into walls. Some tripped and fell, and were trampled at once by their friends.