Neal Barrett Jr. - The Prophecy Machine

“I never heard that,” Finn said.

“Likely much you've never heard, boy. I doubt your knowledge extends too far beyond your craft. Few men have the will to extend themselves past their meager needs.”

“You might be wrong in that, sir.”

“Oh, now don't take offense. From what I've seen of your work, I'd guess you're a bloody genius in your field. Likely know your numbers, but I doubt you've read a book. Damn you, Sabatino, I loathe things that live in the sea. Squeen! Get me something else, you mange-headed brute! Bring me some food fit to eat!”

“Father, if you intend to stay, sit.”

“Not that chair, sir,” Letitia warned, “I understand it's unfit.”

“Nothing works in this place. You can thank my worthless son for that.”

Calabus found another chair, pulled it up and sat. Downed a mug of turnip wine, and filled it up again. Squeen limped in, looking like old clothes left out in the rain. He set something down in front of Calabus and hastily left. Finn stared at the old man's plate, and never looked that way again.

If the son, he thought, had abused every color in nature, and many that were not, the father had balanced the books. Calabus seemed content with shredded tones of gray from head to toe. Whatever he'd been drinking upstairs, most of it had dribbled down his vest.

“The answer to your question, miss,” the old man went on, as if not a moment had passed, “is that people act the way they do in this sorry country because they don't know any better. Yokels and fools, every one. I ought to know, I'm a former fool myself. Pass that wine around, will you, Master Finn? Damned if this isn't a vintage year.

“Used to be just ceremony. Flog your neighbor, punch an eye out. No one minded that. Now you've got to pay the bastards off. Richer you are, the worse it gets. I've been taken twenty-two times, you believe that? Nobody else has got any money here.”

Calabus took a bite of something brown, and glared at his son. “Took you long enough today, boy. Don't let it happen again. That Newlie you got there, Master Finn? Could she take off her clothes? By damn, I'd like to see that.”

“What?” Letitia turned three slightly varied shades of white.

“I don't much care for the manner of your speech,” Finn said. “It scarcely seems polite.”

“True, Father. You don't ask questions like that.” Finn thought Sabatino spoke with little conviction at all. He seemed to have a vision in his head.

“She's a Newlie,” Calabus said, spitting a morsel on the floor. He grinned at Letitia as if he'd truly seen her for the very first time. “You're a Mycer, right? You and me are going to talk, girl. We're going to get along fine.”

“No sir, you're not.” Finn pushed his plate aside. He'd eaten a bite of bread, and scarcely anything else. “Letitia, if you're finished?”

“I haven't even started, Finn. Do you imagine I'm going to eat a fish?”

“You can eat tomorrow, dear. When we get back to the ship.”

Letitia thrust out her chin. “I'll die before that. And I don't care what he says, all right? It doesn't bother me.”

“Well, it bothers me. If you're not going to eat, we're leaving, dear. I don't care for the company here.”

“I hope you and he are going to fight,” Calabus said, grinning at his son. “That's another thing I'd like to see.”

“Master Finn and I will settle our differences,” Sabatino said. “I loathe the lout, and he feels the same about me. Tonight, though, we won't go into that. As much as I despise it, I'm in the fellow's debt.”

Sabatino turned to Finn, offering a wide, and thoroughly insincere smile. “I insist, sir, before you leave our table, you give us a little display of your, ah-”

“Lizard. We've been through this before.”

“I'd like to see that,” Calabus said, his mouth not working right, his eyes beginning to cross.

“There's really very little to see. It's simply a mechanical device. Mostly made of copper, iron and tin. As you mentioned, it bites.”

“It speaks as well,” Sabatino said. “Might it do that?”

“No, it will not.” Finn made no effort to hide his growing irritation. “As you said, we do not care for one another. I don't see why we must play this ridiculous charade. My lizard is none of your concern. Neither is Letitia Louise. We are grateful you have taken us in, but I don't see we owe you an evening's entertainment for that. If you wish to satisfy our quarrel, I'll oblige you in the morning before we go.”

“I've got a-a marfel-marvelous invent-invention of my own, you know,” Calabus said, soup dribbling down his chin. “A craf-craf'sman like yourself would 'ppreciate seeing it, I know …”

“Father, shut up. Now! ”

Finn had seldom seen a man filled with such rage. Sabatino's whole body trembled, and his features turned a brilliant shade of red, a color that did nothing to enhance his ghastly attire. Whatever the old man had said, his son wasn't far from a full-blown seizure or a stroke.

Calabus, however, had missed his son's fury, and gone to sleep instead.

Squeen William chose this moment to drag himself past the kitchen door.

“Desssert be ready, sssir. I be ssserving now?”

“Get out of here,” Sabatino shouted, shaking the table with the ball of his fist. “Out, or I'll skin your filthy hide!”

“What are we having?” Letitia said. “I mean, if it's not impolite to ask.”

“Whatever it is,” Sabatino said, “it isn't alive. At least I've cured the fellow of that …”

“Whatever they're having for breakfast, I intend to eat it,” Letitia said. “I've never been so hungry in my life.”

“You won't be here for breakfast, love. We'll be out of this asylum at first light. At 4:47, I believe.”

“With nothing to eat.”

“We shall eat aboard ship. The food there was no great treat, but it consists of things I've put in my belly before. Great Bees and Trees, did you hear what that fellow said? ‘Whatever it is, it isn't alive?’”

“That fish was all right,” Letitia sighed. “As long as you didn't peer into its eyes. Of course, I wouldn't eat it, but it didn't look as bad as the soup. There was something most peculiar in there, Finn.”

Finn turned over, reached across Letitia, and snuffed the smelly candle out. He didn't care for sleeping in the dark in such a place, but at least the night masked the bizarre decor of the room. He hoped there weren't many bugs about. Maybe they stayed away. Maybe the house was too dirty for them as well.

He touched Letitia's shoulder, and she folded herself against him: head, back, tummy and legs. It was always a marvel how perfectly she fit. Apparently, this had been planned in advance. A great many things seemed to work that way, one part matching the next. Like the tiny cogs and gears he put together to make a lizard go. If you did it just right, it looked as if it had simply grown that way.

It always made him feel grand to think of that. He had put a great many things together, and even one-Julia Jessica Slagg-that actually seemed alive. There was no question of that in Julia's “mind,” though Finn still harbored a few doubts himself.

Across the room on a table by the door, he could see the ruby glow of Julia's eyes. Julia didn't sleep, but Finn knew she “napped,” if you could call it that. It wasn't anything Finn had planned. It was simply something Julia did.

He felt a touch of apprehension, a little fear and doubt about the wisdom of bringing her along. Nearly everyone thought she was just a clever toy, a very fine machine. Now and then, though, someone gave her more thought than that. A seer at the far end of Garpenny Street had told him there was magic involved. The reason he'd said it, Finn was certain, was because it was something the man couldn't do himself.