“If I may ask, I know Letitia's quite weary, and I wonder if there's somewhere she could rest. I seldom tire, but I confess I could use a break myself.”
“Of course,” Sabatino said with a courtly gentleman's bow, or at least a parody of such. “You'll find lovely quarters upstairs. There is every convenience one could ask. Squeen William will show you the way.”
Finn followed the fellow's glance and saw no one at all, nothing but a shadow on the wall. He glanced at Letitia, but she clearly saw nothing herself.
“Been with the Nuccis for years. A quite reliable servant, none better, as a fact. Loyal, quick, part of the family, I'd say. A dear, dear fellow, he-
“-by damn, you worthless, cunning bastard, you've been in the spirits again, I can smell your foul breath from here! You take advantage of my gentle nature, you miserable lout. If I didn't have guests, I'd flail you bloody, strip the skin off your back. Damn your heathen soul, I'm talking to you!”
“… And I be lissssen to your worthy, as isss my pleassure, sssir….”
Letitia screamed, backed up and ran into Finn, tried to push him off and get away.
“It's all right, love, I'm right here.”
It wasn't all right, for his heart had nearly stopped, and he'd almost shouted himself. You scarcely ever saw a Vampie, unless you were fond of the night. They were creatures of the Nine, but likely more frightening-and far less human-than any of the rest. Gaunt, hairy creatures with ebony eyes, a flat, ugly nose, and hairy ears. From their narrow shoulders to their wrists, they carried a band of dark leathery tissue, vestigial wings from what they'd been before.
Though few in these days knew why, it was more than their appearance that frightened humans. Long before they took Newlie form, they had been perceived as creatures akin to magic of the very darkest kind.
“… Ah, Squeen my boy, there you are, then. These are our honored guests. Finn, master of-what did you call the thing? And this lovely creature is his, ah-able companion, Mistress Letitia Louise. See that you answer their every need, or I'll pluck your eyes out and feed you to the eels. Now take these good people to their room before I forget I'm a patient, most forgiving man …”
Letitia drew in a breath. “Squeen, I hope you'll accept my apology. I was startled, I guess, and I didn't mean to scream.”
“Isss all right, misss. Squeen be unner'sssstan.”
“Quite, ah, unnecessary, that,” Sabatino said with a frown, “no need at all.”
“You will follow, pleassse?”
“Thank you,” Finn said, in an effort to further irritate their host. “That's most kind of you, Squeen.”
“Impertinent lout,” Sabatino muttered to himself.
Finn, holding Letitia's hand, followed the creature up a narrow, winding staircase that rose into the dark.
“Damn the fellow … doesn't miss a chance to cause others discomfort if he can …”
“What's that, my dear?”
“Nothing. Mumbling to myself.”
“Well, it was certainly a very angry sort of mumble, I have to say.”
Finn didn't answer. He kept his eyes on the worn wooden stairs, praying they wouldn't give way and plunge them into some dark and endless abyss.
Squeen William with his dim tallow candle up ahead was not a pretty sight. He waddled like a duck, dragging one foot painfully behind, the motion causing him to sway from side to side. And in odd countermotion, his head bobbed from front to back.
At the top of the stairs, Squeen proceeded down a long and dusty hall, past dark foreboding doors, past scabby papered walls, past corridors that clearly led nowhere at all. Finn ran into a thick spiderweb, and no matter how he tore and pulled and flailed, this graveyard for hapless nits and moths, flutter-bugs and things that buzz about, this coffin for the hollow husks of flies clung to his face and wouldn't go away.
“Here, ssssir and misss,” Squeen said, stopping before a door much like the ones they'd passed before. “Wery fine quarters, you bees warm and comfy here.”
“Thank you, Squeen,” Finn said. “We are grateful for your help.”
“Yesssss.” Squeen offered a ghastly smile to show that he was pleased. “You needin' ssssomething, you bees callin' Squeen.”
Finn waited until the creature was gone, then he turned and took Letitia in his arms.
“Oh, dear Finn, Finn …” Letitia had been holding her breath, and now she let it out in a rush.
“We'll be all right,” Finn assured her. “We'll stay right here until daylight. We won't even go downstairs, that's what he wants us to do. Sit down and listen to more of his pompous, irritating talk. Play the gracious host.”
“I am hungry, dear.”
“Of course you are. And I shall demand that he send food up to our room. He can't deny us that.”
Letitia sighed. “Yes he can, Finn. He can, and he surely will.”
Finn looked away, angry at Sabatino Nucci, but mostly angry at himself, for he knew Letitia was right. The damned fellow had them in a box. There was nothing they could do, nowhere to go. Certainly not out into the night.
“Ah, love,” Letitia said, her hands about his neck, “you're worried about me, as ever, and you really mustn't be. I'm perfectly fine, I'm just a bit-scared, is all. Scared and awfully tired.”
“This is not the vacation I had in mind, my dear. I never dreamed we'd be caught up in something like this. Damnation, it's been a disaster from the start. One thing after another. That ship, the crew, that maniac Magreet, and then-him. Scones and Bones, what did I do to deserve Sabatino Nucci in my life?”
“It's not your fault now, Finn. There's nothing you could have done.”
“Yes, you're right.” He turned to her then, a sudden flash of understanding in his eyes. “You're right, I've been telling myself I was a fool, a buffoon who could do nothing right. A weak and trusting dolt helpless to stand against the vagaries of chance.”
Finn sat on the edge of the bed and motioned Letitia to his side. “I have come to see, love, that even the Fates could not contrive to dump such an odorous load of dung into my life. No, there is something else at work here, something I have completely failed to see.”
“What, Finn? What is it you're trying to say?”
“I'm certain I must be wrong in this-yet, equally sure that I'm not, for it is the only thing that smacks of reason in this whole bizarre set of events.”
He reached over and took her hands, finding them suddenly icy cold. “You know I steer clear of mystic arts, Letitia. I wear no amulets, I have no use for spells. Yet, after all that has happened, I have to say our troubles smack of magic to me.”
“Oh, Finn …” Letitia drew her hands away, stood, and looked at the shabby wall. “I feel you're out of sorts, my dear. We are under a great deal of strain, and I cannot blame you for thinking as you do. Still, I have to say I don't know who would go to the trouble of buying a curse as troublesome and-and as threatening as this.”
“Nor do I. But that's what it feels like to me.”
“Who, then? I ask again, who could it possibly be?”
“Who would spend the money to fill my life-and yours-with chaos and misfortune? Why, several names come to mind.”
“Name one.”
“Count Onjine. He tried to use one of my lizards to murder the prince. You surely remember that.”
“Of course I do. But Onjine is dead. I remember that as well. Done in by the very trap he set for the prince.”
Finn made a noise in his throat, a deep and thoughtful noise, if one is familiar with sounds such as that.
“He has friends, Letitia. Friends, brothers and uncles and other wealthy kin. None as mean-spirited as Onjine himself I grant you, but still …”
“Name two. Name another who would do the same.”
“Teklo Amakin, he'd do it,” Finn said, slightly irritated at the need to pursue this.