Stumbling to his feet, the fellow rubbed his jaw, spat out a tooth, and looked curiously at Finn. Then, as if to further irritate his betters, he turned to Letitia again.
“I'm askin’ your pardon,” he said, backing off a step with half a bow. “I hope you'll be forgiving a poor unlettered fool, Missy, what's got no proper ways, but I was borned in Sessia-Troat, where there's many a Mycer folk, as I'm certain that you know.
“That's why I acted how I did, for your kind's got a way of heatin’ a fella's fires. A sinful thing it is, but the head can't stop what the body's set to do-”
“Kettles and Pots, that's more than enough of you!”
Finn came at him, hand on his hilt, ready to give the lout the flat of his blade, to see him on his way.
“Stop him, help me,” the man cried out, stumbling back in terror, arms flailing at the air. “Murder it is, an’ I've done no harm at all!”
The act was a poor one, worse than Finn had seen in some time, but it took no talent to draw a good crowd on such a day.
“Murder, you say,” said a farmer stopping by, “who be killin’ who?”
“The ugly one, there, he be the one gettin’ kilt,” said a merchant with a great enormous nose. “That's what I heard him say.”
“The other one goin’ to murder him.”
“I believe he is.”
“One gettin’ kilt, he ugly for sure.”
“I seen folk dead an’ buried a week, lookin’ better than him.”
The merchant was bald as a stone. The farmer had a thatch of yellow hair, cut, it appeared, by a madman with a saw.
In scarcely a moment, the pair were joined by another, and another after that. Finn was appalled to see that he and Letitia were suddenly surrounded by a curious, and somewhat surly crowd.
“All right, clear a way, please,” he said, “no one's killing anyone, nothing's happening here.”
“You hear him,” the ugly said, “you hearin’ what he say? Don't listen to him, friends, look what he done. Look what he done to me!”
With that, the fellow thrust one grimy hand at the crowd, poking the thing in their faces so everyone could see.
The folk there gasped and rolled their eyes, shrinking back from the awesome sight. Some grabbed their amulets, thrusting them at Finn.
For an instant, Finn was stunned as well. The brute's hand was no longer a hand-suddenly it appeared to be a twisted, broken thing, fingers frozen at tortured, horrid angles, a talon, a claw, caught in the throes of death.
“Damn me,” he said beneath his breath, “this fool's a better actor than I thought… “
“This man is a trickster,” he called out to the crowd. “There's nothing wrong with his hand a little work wouldn't cure. He's a lowborn fellow who lives by his wits, while the rest of you follow an honest trade.”
“And what do you do, sir,” the farmer with exploding hair wished to know. “How do you earn your bread?”
“Rumbley-rumbley-roo…”the crowd added to that.
“Hah!” shouted the lout, making his hand even uglier than before. “I'm the trickster, am I? Look at what he did to me. There's your trickster, good friends, there's your seer, for he did this with merely a single touch!”
“Nonsense! Foolery!” Finn said, his words quickly lost in the anger of the mob.
“And is that not enough? Is there more to this we've yet to know? There, men of County Ploone, is the rest, right there, behind the villain who's crippled me for life.”
With that, his twisted hand stabbed out at Letitia Louise. The crowd surged forward, each man stretching for a look.
Letitia, who'd stood behind Finn, near paralyzed with fear, praying this horror would vanish quite soon, suddenly found herself the center of it all. Faces white as moons, moons with raggedy mouths and crater eyes, seemed to take her breath away, seemed to block out the sky.
“Finn,” she said very softly, “may we leave now? I fear I don't want a sugar-pear or corn on a stick anymore.”
“Easy, dear,” he told her, “stay right beside me, I'll let no harm come to you.”
He hoped she didn't notice he was not near as confident, not near as bold as he might sound. He was good enough with a blade, good as any man with an honest trade, but there was quite a pack now gathered about, more than a throng, say, less than a horde. Still…
“Back now,” he said, loud enough for all to hear, only the slightest irritation in his speech, “there's no trouble here, clear away, if you please.”
“Clear away, is it?” The pock-faced rogue stepped in Finn's path, close enough to loose a foul exhalation, a stench, a rank and awesome thing that could bring a strong man to his knees.
“There, you see what I'm saying? The pretty hiding behind him there? I swear to one an’ all, I seen him touch her in a sinful way, I did. A Newlie, mind you, a Mycer girl!”
The crowd came alive, a storm appearing from a clear and empty sky, a beast, aroused from sudden sleep into unthinking ire. Finn scarce had time to draw his blade fore they were on him, pounding on him, kicking at him, knocking him about. He shouted a warning to Letitia as they drove him to the ground.
“It's him what ought to be hangin’ today,” the grimy lout crowed, “oughta be him on the Grapnel and the Snip. Consorting with a beast is a crime against nature, a mortal offense, a- Rawwwwwk!”
Later, some would say they saw it, caught it in a blink as it slid, quivered, rustled down the back of Finn's cloak, a blur of shiny metal, a splash of brass and copper in the sun, a thing, all agreed, quite agitated, clearly disturbed, not at all pleased with the turn of events.
Only seconds after that, no two men agreed they'd seen the same. One saw iron claws rake across his boots, tearing them to shreds, one saw his trousers disappear under snapping silver jaws. One later said, he was sure a razored tail had whipped about his crotch, not an inch from his precious private parts.
Everyone agreed they'd heard a rusty cackle, heard a rattle and a hiss, heard a croak like a saw ripping through a sheet of tin. Many saw and heard things that never even happened at all…
Finn got to his feet, and helped Letitia off the ground.
“I trust you're all right,” he said, brushing her off as best he could. “I'll see someone is severely punished for this, I promise you that. The Prince himself will hear of this, love. If a person's not safe in the royal courtyard…”
“Finn, stop it, will you? Just quit!”
She smiled, pushing his hands gently aside, fussing with her gown. “I don't need any help, I can brush myself off. You look like a fool doing that.”
Finn shrugged. “I would, perhaps, if there was anyone about. We're quite alone, it seems.”
He was right, of course, she'd have to admit to that. SpringFair was crowded as ever, but there was a visible gap where a pressing mob had been before.
“I find that a great relief,” Letitia said. “For a moment I was not at all certain we would make it out of there.”
“There was never really any doubt,” came a rasp, came a creak, from under Finn's cloak. “My senses, as ever quite acute, read that brute's intentions the moment he appeared. I would not have let him do any harm.”
“Fine,” Finn said. “You certainly let everyone in the county know you were there. Only no one asked for your help, Julia, no one asked you to make a spectacle of yourself.”
“Please, don't shower me with gratitude. I cannot abide that.”
“She did help,” Letitia put in.
“I could have handled the matter myself. In scarcely a moment, those dolts would have melted under my will.”
He glanced at the great clock in the royal tower overhead. “We have important things to do, and we've scarcely time to grab a bite to eat.”
“If it wasn't for me,” said the raspy voice again, “you'd likely have a hole in your belly, and no place to keep your lunch at all”
“Quiet,” Finn said, “I didn't ask you.”
“What else is new?” said Julia Jessica Slagg. “You hardly ever do… “