“Finn, no… “
Letitia placed herself firmly in his path. “Please. Let it be.”
“If you'll stand aside, Letitia. This does not concern you.”
“Oh, but it does, does it not? It very much concerns me. And I say let it be.”
Finn looked over Letitia's shoulder. The Badgie stood his ground, showing no emotion at all. Then, turning away, he closed the door behind him.
Letitia looked at Finn, but he could do nothing but turn away.
“I had every right. You should not have interfered.” “I had every right as well.”
“I didn't fear him. I'm sure he's quite practiced, but I feel I can handle myself.”
“I have never doubted your courage,” she said, reaching up to touch his chest. “Look at me, Finn. Don't turn away.”
Finn faced her as she asked. In spite of his displeasure, he found it hard not to look into her eyes.
“It is not your courage at issue. Must I tell you that again?”
“There are times… “
“There are, indeed. And I hope you see that this was surely not one of those, my dear.”
“I can't help but wonder,” said Julia Jessica Slagg, “if it's possible to disembowel oneself twice. The first time, it seems, would strongly discourage attempting the act again… “
TWENTY-NINE
Though his rage, his anger, his wounded pride, were somewhat abated by suppertime, an ember still smoldered here and there, and he was more than ready to pounce on Dostagio when he arrived-ready to impale the fellow with a quiver of questions on Badgies, bells, Bowsers and seers.
Especially seers, the kind that stunned perfect strangers with a spell, damn near knocked them dead.
But, in spite of this fervent intent, Finn had drifted back into restful sleep by the time Dostagio arrived. He woke, somewhat later, grumbled for a while, then fell onto the feast of thorncake, clutter soup, peppered kale, and a jug of nutty dark ale.
“Did he say anything?” Finn asked at last, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin, bearing the arms of the King. “I wish I could have talked to the fellow. There's plenty these people have to answer for.”
“He didn't say a thing, dear. Only that the Bowser scare is likely over, and the palace is secure.”
“That's something, then. If it's so, we can get out of here early. I think I can find Bucerius. He knows that shopkeeper, what's-his-name, the one that sells greens. If he's not there, I expect he's at the balloon grounds. They surely have one here…
“Letitia, I don't mean to be rude, but that seer's chicanery has left me weak as a child. I cannot seem to stay awake, I'm shamed to say. I'm not at all certain what I was talking about before I dropped off. Was it anything I ought to recall?”
“Nothing that won't wait till the morrow, Finn. I'm sure you'll feel stronger by then.”
“Yes, well, if you think so, tomorrow's fine with me.”
It must be a most delicious dream, he decided, one granted to the weary and oppressed, the anxious and the stressed, those who deserve a lovely treat in the deep, deep hours of the night.
The room was dark, except for the dim, pleasant glow of a candle against the far wall. There, the light flickered on golden scales, shimmered in ruby-red eyes, as Julia practiced her imitation of a nap.
That image vanished in a blur, as a finer, far more dazzling vision took its place.
There was, to say the least, passion in this dream, wild and joyous moments that took his breath away, swept him up to dizzy, incredible heights. And, just as quickly, took him gently into sweet and lazy bliss.
A thousand sensations assaulted his body, burned into his soul. There were tantalizing scents, elegant caresses, and secret delights. There were hollows, hills, slender limbs and iridescent eyes. There was love remembered, and whispers in the night.
“That was most elegant and fine,” Finn muttered to himself, “truly the loveliest dream I ever had.”
“Call it what you like.” Letitia smiled. “Now go to sleep, dear… “
Finn was woken by the sound of a gentle, but quite persistent tap, the kind you know simply won't go away. He pulled on his breeches, grabbed up his Eastern blade, in case it was the Badgie again, and stumbled to the door.
“I do hate to bother you, sir,” said Dostiago, “I know it's not a decent hour, but I must ask you to dress and come with me.”
“Where and what for? What new foolery is this? I have followed you before, and it always leads to trickery and deceit, lunch on a battleground, a cardiac attack.”
“I am appalled that you would think I do not hold you in the highest regard, Master Finn. I am deeply pained, sir.”
“I strongly doubt that.” Finn peered around the fellow, checking to see if any rogues or rascals were about.
“I don't believe I've ever seen you pained, Dostagio. Or, for that matter, delighted, saddened, concerned with anything at all.”
“Yes, sir. The King would like your presence at once. You are to bring your gift to His Grace, and the device you call your lizard. Do hurry, sir. The King is anxious to get to sleep… “
THIRTY
After the awesome sight of the Holy Place of Emperors, Tyrants and Kings, the splendor of the Great Dining Hall, Finn was prepared for anything that might lie beyond the great oaken door. The portal was fully nine feet tall, and nearly twice as wide, intricately carved with legend and myth from Heldessia's ancient times.
He would have liked to study this fine example of talented artisans’ work, but there was clearly no time for that. Moreover, the door was guarded by seven green-robed Badgies, stout and grim-faced fellows at rigid attention, gripping enormous pikes. And, to Finn, they all looked closely related to the fiery, wild-eyed, Maddigern himself.
“Just go in, sir,” Dostagio said. “His Grace is expecting you.”
“So I do what? Bow, grovel, fall on my face? They always have rules about this sort of thing.”
“Oh, nothing like that tonight. Enjoy your visit, sir.”
“I'll do that,” Finn said, certain that would not be likely at all.
"Cakes and snakes,” he said aloud, somewhat rooted in his tracks-certain, now, Dostagio for some bizarre reason had led him to the wrong door.
Instead of a great and vaulted chamber, a stately columned hall, he was facing a small, unimpressive room with bare, chiseled stone walls. The monarch himself was a spindly, ruddy-faced fellow in a pink-and-orange nightshirt that came to his knobby knees. Perched on his head was a tasseled cap to match.
So why am I surprised? Finn wondered. The only time he'd seen King Llowenkeef-Grymm he was wearing tatters and rags, his features cold as the grave. If he was alive at the moment, why not look cheery and bright?
“Please,” said the King, in quite a pleasant tone, “sit, Master Finn, and pour yourself a cup of ale.”
“Why, thank you, sire, I will. And let me say I am grateful to be in your presence. It's an honor to meet Heldessia's King. I shall treasure this moment for the rest of my life.”
The King waved him off, for he heard this a hundred times a day.
The ale was very nice, much like the nutty brew Dostagio had brought to his room. He was greatly relieved to find there were comfortable, cushioned chairs in the King's small chamber, as well as a sturdy table and several frosty pewters, in case they ran low.
No grim, funereal vaults here, only the homey surroundings of a middle-aged fellow who liked a comfy chair instead of a miserable throne. And, wonder of wonders, Finn and the King were alone. There were no guards or toadies about, unless they were hiding somewhere.
“You're the fellow who brought me a present from that scoundrel, Aghen Aghenfleck. Would I be right in that?” “Yes, sire, you would indeed.”
“Nasty, witless boob is what he is. Nitwit, soft in the head. Useless lout. Scatterbrain. Dull, shallow, mean-spirited wretch. A scalawag, a sneak. Worthless, sniveling beggar, not fit to call himself a prince. Ought to be working in a sewer, you ask me. I expect you'd agree, Master Finn.”