“Sire, certainly not! Who could imagine such a thing?”
“Just about anyone, I'd say. Don't ever do it. I won't put up with that.”
“No, sire.”
Though Finn betrayed no emotion, he feared he was not out of danger yet. One lie from DeFloraine-Marie and his head would be on a pike atop the palace walls. Royals could turn on you, just like that. A king and a prince didn't have to think twice.
After the somber celebration of the dead, the party in the Great Hall of Tedious Favors and Petitions seemed riotous at best.
Try as he could, he couldn't spot Letitia in the crowd. If she was there, she was caught in a dizzy swirl of crimson, flush, blush and maroon.
Working his way through the colorful crowd, he was hit several times by a flailing arm or an errant foot. At first, he thought this horde of counselors, lords, ladies and loons had been struck by some collective fit. Some seizure or violent distress.
Then, upon reflection, he began to see the cause. The agonized limbs, the cruelly twisted joints, were essential parts of a local dance. All these contortions were in and out of step with an octet in the corner, the same young lads who couldn't play trumpets were now playing other instruments they couldn't play as well.
She's angry, for sure, no doubt about that. But so irate she would flee into a bedlam like this?
“No,” he said aloud, “not Letitia Louise. Noise, chaos, total disarray, turns her keen Mycer senses into mush. She would never linger in a place like this.
“But where is she now? Could she find her way through the halls alone?”
“She's quite safe and sound,” Julia said, guessing Finn's thoughts, suddenly appearing out of nowhere at all.
“Dostagio took her to our quarters. The ones we vacated on our way out of here.”
“We're still vacating, Julia. I'm sorry she's angry, but I am not at fault in this matter, and this is not the time to let personal matters stand in our way.”
“I hope you can relay all this as easily to her, Finn. She got a good look at DeFloraine-Marie.”
“The princess is quite attractive, you don't have to tell me that.”
“Attractive, you say?” Julia laughed, a sharp and rusty chuckle like iron filings with the flu.
“The creature's not attractive, Finn. She's a snare, she's a trap. She has the power to cloud men's minds, to bend them to her will… “
“All right, that's enough.”
“That's scarcely the start. Though any list of her witcherly charms would likely be sorely incomplete. I expect Letita could add to the-”
Of a sudden, Julia stopped and went rigid on the spot. Her golden scales quivered, her ruby eyes blinked.
“Something coming, Finn. Something-over there. Get back, quick!”
Finn needed no further warning. Julia had a sense for such things, knew when trouble was about an instant be fore it began. Before her words were scarcely done, Finn heard the tortured sound of splintered wood, and the great oaken doors at the end of the hall burst open and tumbled to the floor.
They spilled into the hall then, a veritable plague of Bowsers, yipping, yapping, waving their muskets, clashing their swords, tossing their tasteless boaters in the air. They snapped at their comrades, growled at their foes.
And, before the startled courtiers could gather their wits, before the fierce Badgies could resist, the second wave was howling through the broken doors…
THIRTY-SIX
If it hadn't been for the lords, the strumpets, the cowards in colorful array, Finn was near certain the Bowsers would have quickly won the day. As it was, this frantic herd of flunkies, stooges, leeches and fools, fled in such mad disorder, they upended friend and foe alike.
The Badgies, then, won a moment of respite, a moment to bring their ranks to order, to form the famous Badgie Square. The Bowsers threw themselves at the solid block of the King's Third Sentient Guards, and found themselves in trouble from the start.
In spite of his contempt for the sullen Maddigern, Finn found himself cheering for the Badgie and his brave cohorts. Every time the yappers assaulted the green-cloaked warriors, they came up against an unyielding wall.
Some, wiser than their fellows, chose to save their necks, avoid the killer square, and go after easy game- counselors, servants and such, running about like witless barnyard fowl.
A portly duke stumbled by, a lass of lesser rank clinging to his back. Merchants, pages and varied parasites fought each other to escape the barking foes.
“I fear there's no way I can stay out of this,” Finn muttered, “unless it be in shame. Damn it all, Julia, don't any of these louts know how to fight back?”
“They hire people for that. It gives the poor something to do. I suppose you could say there's some good in that.”
“I'm afraid I don't agree at all. You there, stop that, get away from him!”
A stout Bowser halted in his tracks, startled to find Finn in his path. A chamberlain in crimson cowered beneath the Bowser's blade.
“You be mezzin’ mit me, hooman perzon. Don’ be doin’ zhat.”
“I think your burgundy vest is ugly. It doesn't go with the tie. Those straws you fellows wear went out of style thirty years ago.”
The Bowser wrinkled his puggy nose. Without another glance at his victim, he came at Finn, swinging his blade in both hands.
Finn reached for his own blade, and recalled with some dismay that he only had Koodigern's dagger, a weapon considerably shorter than a sword.
The Bowser's eyes gleamed. Fun was only seconds away.
“Julia,” Finn said, as calmly as the moment would allow, “I could use some help here.”
“You're always polite when cornered,” Julia said. “Don't think I haven't noticed that.”
The Bowser hesitated, looked down and stared, astonished to see something gold and scaly streaking right at him, something awful, something talking, words coming out its silver snout.
The Bowser shrieked, shouted, scrambled away as the thing crawled swiftly up his leg, digging with its claws, snapping with its teeth, leaving bloody tears along the way.
The frightened raider dropped his blade, stumbled back, slapped at his trousers as if he'd been ravaged by ants. Julia leaped free, a blue bow tie entangled in her teeth.
The Bowser sprawled on his back, cursed, came to his feet, bent to grab his blade, then rushed at Finn with a will. From the corner of his eye, he saw a shiny blur coming at him with a whisper and a whine. He ducked, too late, and the thing struck him hard across the chest, spilling him to the ground.
He came to his knees, not so quickly this time. Once more, Finn swung the King's deadly decoration in a wide, whistling loop, once above his head, and then again. The gold-chained, gem-encrusted Ninety-Fifth Order struck the Bowser a solid, bone-crunching blow, a blow that would have felled a large tree.
“I only meant to put him down,” Finn said, shaking his head with some regret. “I wasn't looking for a terminal effect.”
“He was, Finn. You might recall from another encounter, these rogues enjoy their work. He'd gladly do the same to you.”
“True enough. And there's no reason we shouldn't bring ourselves down to their level, if they intend to act like this… “
Finn had no time to finish. Two Bowsers broke from the fray and came at him on the run. One was a big, heavyset fellow with a shaggy face and sad, droopy eyes. The other was short and intense. Of all the Bowser folk, Finn disliked the wiry, nervous yappers most of all.
“All right,” he muttered under his breath, “have at it if you must.”
The larger raider stomped in with no finesse at all. He raised his blade and hacked at Finn with all his might. Finn took a quick step back. The Bowser's blade struck the hard granite floor and shattered like glass. The sad-eyed fellow blinked in surprise, then howled as his arms went numb.