Grasping the cage firmly in her foreclaws, her incomplete afterparts dangling in midair, the lizard used her strong iron teeth to slice the cords that held her tail captive within the cage.
Letitia heard the bonds snap and breathed a sigh of relief as Julia's nose appeared, the severed part hanging limply in her jaws.
“Hi god id,” Julia muttered, or words to that effect.
Letitia could not recall a more aconizinc pain, as the blood flowed back into her limbs like a rush of liquid fire. And, when it was done, she felt as if all her strength had drained away with the pain, as if there was nothing left of her at all.
“I understand the concept of suffering,” Julia said, “but only in a distant sort of way. If you don't mind me saying, we do not have a lot of time for you to experience this feeling, Letitia. You're going to have to put it aside and get on your way.”
Letitia had an answer to that-several, as a matter of fact, but she kept them to herself.
Finn, ever the cunning craftsman, had constructed his greatest triumph in such a manner that every part of Julia, large or small, interlocked with strength and flexibility with the next. Once a part was rejoined with the others, the whole was as good as new. Julia could only vaguely comprehend that this system did not work as well on humans or Newlie folk.
Julia walked off her kinks, stretching her legs, whipping her tail about. Letitia took one cautious step after the next, swallowing the pain that lingered there, then started all over again.
To a spider on the wall, a curious fly, Julia and Letitia must have seemed a peculiar couple in a most bizarre dance.
And, when the dance was done, Letitia felt she might, in time, function once again. It was then that Julia Jessica Slagg waited in the shadow of the door, waited for Letitia to make very worrisome sounds within the room, sounds that might attract a Badgie in the hall.
When the door opened, the Badgie saw Letitia, apparently bound in a stool across the room. Then, he glanced at the cage where the fierce, mechanical horror ought to be, and wondered, for an instant, why it wasn't there.
Wondered, for a blink, and then ceased to wonder or worry at all.
"The other one will likely be back,” Letitia said. “He'll expect to find his friend.”
“And he will,” Julia said, scrambling about, iron claws a'rattle on the hard stone floor. “He simply won't be where he was, and he won't be feeling too well.”
“They'll go right to Maddigern, you can count on that. We don't have much of a start, Julia, and I'm a bit concerned about my legs.
“I hope you didn't hit him too hard, Julia. I know what he did, but I don't want anyone hurt. Not too badly, anyway. Unless you can't avoid it, of course. When it comes to that, I suppose those brutes have it coming, there's not much question of that. They weren't too gentle with us, you know. The Mycer folk have a saying: ‘Strike me once and I'll strike you back. Strike me twice and they'll find your bones in a phlack.’”
“What's that?”
“Sorry. It's a Mycer word. Means a hole, a pit, a very deep well. It also means if you're really feeling down, one could say you're in a blue phlack. It comes from the sound an egg makes when you drop it on the floor. Phlack! Like that. The Mycer tongue is very descriptive, you know. I could tell you a number of words that-”
“Letitia, you're rambling, raving, running off at the mouth. Believe me, I know. You're worried, concerned, completely strung out, and I don't blame you for that.
“I don't know where that seer took Finn. I'm trying to sniff him down. I cannot tell you how many creatures have walked these halls and left their foul scent. Well, I could, but there's no sense in that. Just stay close and let me try.”
“I don't care for that seer,” Letitia said, running a hand through her hair, glancing warily down the dim hall. “You can't tell what a sorcerer will do. They're as sly as they can be.”
“I guess that's part of the trade. People don't want some simple, plain-speaking fellow they can trust. Not if he says he's a seer.”
“That's so true. You couldn't depend on a magician like that…”
The trail was so thick with the smells of countless passersby, that more than once Julia was certain she would never find Finn's path. The sorcerer himself had passed this way a hundred times before, but not, it seemed, with Finn.
“You're lost, aren't you?” Letitia said, for the Mycer folk have keen insight into the emotions and fears of all creatures, even one of the mechanical persuasion with a shrewd ferret's brain.
“Not lost, really. I know where I am. We're not looking for me, we're looking for Finn.”
“You know exactly what I mean. Don't play your silly lizard games with me.”
“Actually, the lizard game is the only one I know. I should think you'd be aware of that.”
Letitia glared. “Stop it, right now. When you get like this you drive me out of my mind. Find Finn. That's all you have to do!”
“Ah, well, of course. Beings with wheels and springs inside instead of gooey things should keep silent and out of the way unless they're called upon to- Get down, Letitia, now. Not that way-over here!”
Letitia scurried quickly after the lizard, her heart in her throat. Crouching down in shadow, pressed against the cold wall, she could hear them now herself. Badgies, more of them than two, jabbering at one another in the harsh, clacking tones of their native tongue.
“They don't have to be quiet, they know we're here. Do something Julia, please!”
“They know where we might be, that's not the same as knowing where we are. Left, I should say. The odds are quite good they'll follow the hallway to the right.”
“Wrong,” a voice whispered from the dark. “That's exactly what they won't do. They must be total idiots where you come from, Mycer, to listen to an ugly hunk of scrap. This way, and don't ask me any stupid questions; we don't have time for that!”
For a moment, Letitia was too startled to move. Then, getting her wits about her, she knew she had very little choice than to do what she was told. Thus, she followed the slender figure of the King's daughter into shadow, and didn't look back…
FIFTY-ONE
He had to touch it, then touch it again. And even then he could scarcely believe it was real.
Wait, think, use your head, Finn. Just because you see something, just because you can touch it, doesn't make it real
He closed his eyes, opened them again, lay perfectly still. Not much help. The thing was still there, still chill to the touch. It loomed above him, impossibly far, impossibly high, there was no end to it at all. Only that couldn't be, nothing could be as big as that, certainly not a bell. Where would you cast the damned thing, how could you haul it up here…
Finn squeezed his eyes shut again, took a deep breath. When he let it out, it turned to frost. It was cold, chilling cold, still and cold as a midwinter's eve.
“What am I thinking? Haul it up here, haul it up where? Where is here supposed to be?”
Logic, reason, ordinary common sense. That was the only way to approach this thing. It was all a sorcerer's trick, of course, none of it was real. An illusion could seem real, though. That was the point. That's what a trick, a fake, a fancy was all about.
Somehow, Obern Oberbyght had woven a spell around him, made him imagine he was a gnat, a speck, a mite inside a vast, enormous, inconceivable bell. A Millennial Bell, no less. One of those famous, thousand-year, every Wednesday and Friday sorts of bells.
Finn laughed aloud at the thought, but the sound that came out was empty, hollow and dead, a sound that left him full of fright.
And why not? It was all an illusion. Why should a sound be real when everything else is a sham?
Finn came to his feet, taking it slow and easy, watching every step. What if the magic didn't work unless you were flat on your back? What if you just stepped off into nothing at all?