Sabatino cried out, threw up his arms in defense. Finn's blow missed him by an inch, but struck home soundly on the old man's skull.
The grandfather roared like a beast in pain, staggered back and slammed into a wall. Dust and rotten wood drifted in a veil from overhead. Sabatino turned quickly, pounding the fellow with his club. Families, Finn considered, don't always get along.
The old man shrieked, a horrid, mindless sound. Sabatino wouldn't stop. Finn was uncertain what to do. It wasn't right to kill one's kin, yet the grandfather would surely slay Sabatino if given half a chance.
Before Finn could make up his mind, the old man, seemingly helpless at his grandson's feet, reached out a bony arm and yanked Sabatino to the floor.
Sabatino cried out in surprise, dropped his club and clawed at the ground. Finn saw cold, unspeakable horror in the younger man's eyes. He knew Sabatino feared this ancient, mad relation, but he'd never seen, never even imagined, the kind of terror he witnessed now. Sabatino's face was frozen in a rictus of dread, lost, caught in hopeless desperation. His eyes had nearly disappeared, with only the whites revealed, and his face was the pallor of the dead.
The old man had taken so many brutal blows to the head, Finn couldn't bear to strike him there again. Instead, he kicked him soundly in the ribs. Clearly, this was the thing to do, for the savage let his grandson go, and whimpered off into the darkness again.
Sabatino struggled to his feet, brushed off his vest and patted a welt on his cheek.
“I must thank you for that, Finn. I had him under control, but your help enabled me to release him without further harm. He's quite insane, but one hates to kill one's blood.”
“That's very thoughtful of you,” Finn said.
“Besides, it's said to be bad luck. Or at least I think it is. Let me get my bearings again. We were headed that way, I feel.”
“No, just the opposite, as a fact.”
“Of course. Navigation is one of your skills, I believe. I'm sorry, but you're quite wrong again. It's this way. I think that's why we were attacked at that precise moment, at that very point. Grandfather knows this place like the back of his festered hand. He knew we were close to finding our way.”
Finn held his ground. “You're wrong. I'm quite sure of that. The emanations are strong here. My hat isn't doing much good.”
Sabatino smiled with total disdain. “As it happens, sir, we are over the kitchen right now. I can smell dinner on the stove. Do stand back if you will.”
“No, now don't do that …”
Almost before he could get the words out, Sabatino brought his boot down hard upon the floor. On the third or fourth kick, the wood began to splinter.
“You see,” Sabatino said, “we're nearly out of here.”
#x201C;I don't think so, something's wrong here-”
On the fifth kick, the floor gave way …
Sabatino stumbled back, nearly knocking Finn down. A bright burst of energy seared Finn's eyes, tugged at his flesh, tore at his bones. Sabatino cried out, but Finn couldn't hear. The Great Horror shrieked, thundered and roared, clattered and howled, twisted and tangled in tortured convolutions, as if it might rip itself apart….
… and, once more, Finn was frightfully aware of the foul, obscure distortions, the sluggish bits of darkness that wound their fearsome way through the vile crusted entrails of Calabus' hellish machine. Even this close, he could not tell what those shapeless forms might be. And, he was more than thankful he could not.
He and Julia had guessed that Calabus' strange device was, indeed, prodding, pushing, thrusting itself blindly through the Nucci mansion as it grew.
And where might it go after that, he wondered. What might it want to do …?
40
Finn could only vaguely recall the struggle to escape the thing's grasp. Crawling, gasping for breath, the terrible emanations howled in his head. Sabatino had bragged that he was scarcely bothered by the awful emissions from below. Still, it was Finn who dragged the fellow free, up the dizzy floors, down the crooked halls, until they were far enough away.
Sabatino muttered and thrashed about. Finn would have bound him up again if he'd had a piece of rope. Instead, he cursed Sabatino every step of the way, even the step that found another dead end, one exactly like the rest.
Finn stopped and sank wearily to the ground. Sabatino slept on. Now and then, bubbles appeared at the corners of his mouth. Finn looked away in disgust. Maybe he could leave the lout here. Go back and find Letitia, gather up poor Julia's parts. Come back and find Sabatino again. He wasn't likely going anywhere, not for some time.
“If I had another piece of rope,” Finn said to himself, “one like the one that I don't have now, I could tie one end right here, and find my way back. All right, no rope. I'll have to just-hah, indeed!” Patting desperately at his pockets, he found the small coil of silver wire he'd bought at market. He could use a rope of any sort, but wire, to a craftsman, was a comforting thing to have around.
His legs were shaky. He laid his hands flat against the wall to pull himself erect. Sabatino's candle was gone, but Finn still had a stub. Not much of a light, but better than groping in the dark. Better than-
Finn stopped. A small patch of brightness suddenly appeared. Or maybe it had been there all along, and he simply hadn't seen it from the floor. It was only the size of a half-penny coin, but it was bright, brighter than anything he'd seen in this miserable maze.
“Bright,” Finn said aloud, his heart fairly pounding in his chest, “bright as it can be. Snails and Whales, it's bright as day itself, we've been in here all night, though it doesn't seem that way at all!”
“Whu-huhsa?”
“It's daylight,” Finn laughed. “Daylight, sunlight, I'd forgotten what a marvelous thing it is!”
Sabatino opened his eyes to that. “I told you I'd get us out of this, but you had no faith, you'd given up hope, you wouldn't listen to your comrade in arms. You were too busy thinking about yourself …”
Finn didn't hear him at all. He was pounding on the wall, ripping boards free, letting the harsh, beautiful light into the gloomy room. He could see clouds now, white and pure and clean, see the sunlight blazing on the earth, shining on the sea.
“I'll help in a moment,” Sabatino said. “I seem to have bruised myself a bit. Damn me, Finn, I don't recall this place at all, what are we doing here?”
Finn had a proper hole now, big enough to stick his shoulders through. He was two stories up, maybe three. There was no way to tell in a house such as this, where height had no meaning at all.
He could see one edge of the town, a piece of the winding road. And, directly below, dead trees and yellow weeds.
Now, he could really use that rope, the one he didn't have for Sabatino, the one he meant to use to find his way. Still, they were out, they were free, he could get proper lamps and provisions, go back in for Letitia Louise. And anyone who tried to stop him, anything that got in his way-
Something splintered, and he suddenly felt the wall give way beneath him. Finn grabbed for a hold, tried desperately to stop. Then he was gone, down and on his way without a rope of any kind …
41
She dreamed about the sea. It was not a sea she'd ever seen, not the sea they'd crossed, the sea that had brought them to this strange and deadly land. This was a sea that had likely never been, the kind that lives in dreams.
The sea was jeweled, a thousand shades of green, a million shades of blue. Sapphires, emeralds and lapis lazuli had melted when the earth was very young, and formed this tranquil deep so she could share its beauty now.
How could she have such a dream? She had never ventured anywhere at all. She had never heard a tale of such a place, or seen such an image anywhere. Yet, it was there, as real as it could be …