“Get up, you damn fool, on your feet, boy. I be gettin’ some annoyed with you!”
“Whuka-whoo,” Finn said, or words to that effect, “wudda-wudda-boo.”
A pummel, a yank, a slap hard enough to bring him back from wherever he might have been.
“Ah, it be about time you gettin’ your wits about you, Finn. No one be sleepin’ here but the dead.”
“You mean I'm not?”
“If you be deceased, then I be too, and I'm fair warmer than that.”
The head, the knobs above the brow, the ring in the nose, the massive shoulders that blocked out the sky.
“Bucerius?” Finn sat up so quickly his head began to spin. “Hooks and Crooks, what are you doing here?”
“I be askin’ you the same. You lost your fool mind, or what? Wouldn't nap in Coldtown was I you. It irritates the dead. They be entitled to whatever peace they's got.”
Finn's back gave him fits. His feet were frozen bricks.
“I'd challenge that. I feel those who've passed away miss talking to folks more than anything else. Besides food and ale, that is.
“I chatted with a fellow who'd been to sea. Bliek was his name, as I recall. Then I met a former king. Gruesome chap, but he set me straight on a number of things, and I'm grateful for that.”
“I'm right pleased to hear it. Now you don't mind, I don't be feelin’ real easy standing ‘round here.”
“You, Bucerius? Why, I can't believe you're afraid of the dead.”
“Afraid!” Bucerius seemed to swell to half his size again. “There's not a thing on earth I be a'fearing, human person, and you'll not be sayin’ such again. What I be somewhat uneasy ‘bout is the day comin’ on real soon, an’ half a hundred Badgies out there sniffing after one Master Finn. I'd not care to be standin’ real close when those rascals lop off your head…”
The bullie's words were disturbing enough to shake Finn fully to his senses again. It was, as Bucerius said, getting close to dawn, light enough to see the stark shadows of houses and shops against the lowing sky.
Bucerius was puzzled that Finn was surprised to see him there. His presence did not seem at all peculiar to him.
“Have you no sense at all, then? There scarcely be a soul in Heldessia Town don't know you're wanderin’ about. Me, I'm getting a fair night's sleep, and there's a pair of stuck-up Dobbins be rapping on my door. Two dandies in their gaudy jackets and such.”
“I talked to those two,” Finn said, astonished to hear this news. “They said they'd never heard of you.”
“And best they be a'sayin’ it, too. They got their big noses in the air, but they'd not be pleased if their neighbors was to know what kind of goods from foreign lands they be buyin’ off of me.
“Now, if I might be askin’, what kind of mischief you be up to at the palace, friend? And don't be makin’ up lies and fancy tales, for I'll know for certain if you do.”
Finn stopped and scraped something awful from his shoe. “Why, I haven't done any sort of mischief, as you put it, none at all. In fact, I was given quite a large decoration from the King. I did encounter several problems at the palace, but I shouldn't call it mischief at all.”
With that, Finn gave the Bullie a brief account of events that had occurred since they'd seen each other last. The Bowsers’ two assaults, his visit to the hall of irritating clocks, his encounter with the seer, and the fact that he didn't get along too well with Maddigern.
Lastly, he explained that Oberbyght had given him the staggering news that he, Finn, was stuck in this country for life-which is why he'd plowed through a pack of Snouters and made his getaway, determined to find Bucerius-who, luckily, had managed to find him.
“That's about it,” Finn said, “except for minor incidents, which I won't bore you with now. And, I'm sorry I didn't ask, how have you been, friend?”
Bucerius pressed an enormous hand on Finn's chest, and though this gesture was gentle enough, it nearly knocked Finn to the ground.
“You need not tell me more, Master Finn, for I be quite aware of most of them deeds, and some you was reluctant to tell.”
“Indeed? Then why do you bother to ask?”
“Don't get your blood up, friend. I'm not surprised you're keepin’ the worst part to yourself. For worst indeed is what it be, if you're dallyin’ about with that sly and cunning spawn of the King.”
Finn felt the color rise to his face, and was thankful for the morning's pale light.
“I chanced to meet this person, through no fault of my own. What I have to do with her is nothing at all. And since you and I haven't spoken since I entered the palace, how would you know who I came across in there, and what I've seen? Perhaps you have a nest of spies inside, friend?”
This last was meant in jest, but it was clear the Bullie saw no humor in Finn's words at all. Instead, he grabbed Finn's shoulders in his two immense hands and lifted him off the ground.
“Never even be thinkin’ such thoughts, you hear me plain? If you had your wits about you, you'd see it's in a trader's favor to know what be goin’ on in that damp and dreary place.
“And what I be knowin’ is there's danger and peril afoot in there, things you couldn't guess, things a crafter of lizards don't want to know, if he values his skin and the safety of his Miss.”
“Put me down, Bucerius. Right now.”
The Bullie lowered him to the ground, muttered to himself and ran a hand across his face. Finn had seen Bucerius in a simple huff before, but this was something else. The Bullie was anxious, clearly out of sorts. His face was dark and somber, like the onset of a storm.
“Listen to me, Master Finn,” Bucerius said, “and listen clear. I can't answer none of the questions be whirlin’ about in your head, for there be danger enough in knowin’ what you do. Might be I can get you out of this mess if our luck'll hold a bit, but there isn't no chance if you be goin’ back in there.”
Finn started to protest, but Bucerius raised a restraining hand. “Don't have to say it. I know you'll not be leavin’ without the Mycer and that damn device of yours.
“I be telling you what you knows yourself. You knew the risk you'd be takin’ when you took off runnin’ through Heldessia Town.”
The Bullie sniffed the air and looked solemnly at Finn. “I'll show you a safe way in and out. I doubt it'll help, but it's all I can do. Don't be trustin’ no one in there. And ‘specially that brazen witch you be pantin’ after.”
“Will you quit saying that? I looked, all right? Anyone would.”
Bucerius gave a throaty laugh. “Any fool human person would. By damn, I can't see why. One of you's as ugly as the next. For the life of me, I don't know how you tell each other apart.
“Do like I say, and you might get out of here in one piece. Though I be havin’ grave doubts about that…”
FORTY-TWO
Grave doubts, indeed…” If Finn wasn't certain the Bullie had no place for whimsy in his life, he'd accuse the fellow of a play upon words, and a meaningful play at that.
The air was chill with the damp scent of raw, unfinished stone, for this passageway bore no kin to the King's polished granite halls. The twisting corridor was hewn from the earth itself, a course so narrow and close it was all Finn could do to hold back the panic that threatened to crush him, choke him in its grip.
Would it be better, or worse, he wondered, if he could see, instead of feeling his way in the dark?
“No torch, no light at all,” Bucerius had warned him in no uncertain terms.
Why? Finn had wanted to know. If this was a secret way, who would guess that he was there?
“Didn't say that no one knew, now did I, Master Finn?”
Thus, another chill to add to his growing list of fears, things to remember, things to brood about as he made his way through the smothering dark. For Bucerius had given him a map, a map he couldn't see, a map he must carry in his head: