“I'm not being rational, am I,” she said, turning from him then. “I'm making up pretty endings in my head.”
“Somewhat, yes. But there's nothing greatly wrong with that.”
“It is, yes. If it holds no truth at all. Oh, Finn…”
He held her, then, and in a moment she simply turned and walked quickly across the street and opened the latch with her key. She appeared for an instant, before the dim lantern in the hall, and then she was gone. A moment later, Julia squeezed through the portal and followed Letitia inside. There, but a few steps from the door of his house, Finn felt as if he'd never been so utterly, completely alone
EIGHT
With darkness came the usual sounds of night, the boots of a pair of guardsmen on Greenberry Street up the hill, the rattle of a blade against a studded belt. A shout from a fisherman, working on his nets, perhaps, on the river below.
And, at the end of Garpenny Street, a drift of wispy figures, disembodied souls, phantoms in ragged disarray. One might run out of ale in Ulster-East, Finn reflected, or sacks of wheat meal, but there was never any shortage of the dear departed in town. Foul deeds, pestilence-and, of course, the war-took care of that. The pale and spectral lights of Coldtown were a grim reminder that death was truly an alternate way of life.
Someone down the street, likely the Wheelcrafter's wife, had left food out for the Coldies that night. For though the dead no longer fed in the ordinary way, they ever hungered for the savor, the essence, the joyous scents of suppers past.
Letitia might have remembered to leave them something herself, especially on SpringFair, had the day not lingered so long and ended on such an unpleasant note.
A warm evening wind made its way down the hill, past Wesser and Doob and Winkerdown Square, on into Garpenny Street. The sign above Finn's head began to creak, and he knew he ought to grease the thing and give the carven lizard a coat of green and gold. Such thoughts had occurred a dozen times before, and somehow the work was never done.
Truly, it was a task worth his time, for it was the symbol of his trade, and folk judged a craftsman by what they saw outside his shop, not what was done within.
It was not a fair appraisal, of course, for many of the signs on the street that pictured swords, pies, ale and mead and spells, did not reflect the quality of goods and services offered inside.
Take Bickershank the Booter, for one. A man would do better to walk unshod on broken glass, than to trust his feet to the torturous wares of Master Bickershank. Once, Finn had caught a glimpse of the fellow's own bare feet, and he had never passed the shop again
He paused, then, cocked his head and listened, certain he had heard a sound that didn't belong to the ordinary noises of the night. A shuffle and a scrape, a rattle and a shake, something such as that.
Still, after a moment, when it didn't come again, he decided he was simply out of sorts from the misadventures of the day.
And what would be so strange about that? Who wouldn't feel adrift after what I've been through?
And, worse still, the fear, the awful trepidation, the lurch in his belly, the knowledge that tomorrow would be a hundred times worse than today.
As much as Finn loathed Aghen Aghenfleck, he found it hard to work up righteous anger at the Prince. In the face of such unthinking folly, such total unreason, it was like getting mad at a solid stone wall. You could kick it, curse it till you were blue in the face, and the damned thing still didn't know you were there.
Millions of men had died, and death would claim un told numbers more in the brutal, senseless war between Fyxedia and Heldessia Land that had dragged on more than seven hundred years. Finn had no idea what they were fighting for, and had never found anyone who did.
Yet, in spite of the carnage and destruction, the maimed, the mutilated and the dead, Prince Aghen Aghenfleck found the time to send a gift-a birthday present, mind you-a golden lizard with a clock in its belly, to the horrid, despised King of Heldessia, Llowenkeef-Grymm himself.
“Why?” he said aloud, and answered himself at once. Easy enough, as the words were his own, loosed not long before. “Because neither law nor reason applies to princes and kings. They do as they will, and damn the rest of us poor bloody souls!
“And, if a craftsman should tell a prince he does not wish to waste his precious time making lizards with clocks in their bellies, he might find himself some fine holiday on the Grapnel and the Snip.
“Or,” he added, “a mushing, whatever sort of horror that may be”
“Someone told me once, that he who talks to himself is conversing with a fool. I suppose there's truth in that.”
Finn didn't bother to turn around. “I told you that, as you know. I have also said that every adage, every saw, every chestnut of advice, contains its own exception to the rule.”
Julia Jessica Slagg gave a rusty cackle and waddled into sight.
“The exception being when Master Finn babbles to himself. I think I see now.”
“You don't, and no one asked your opinion, as far as I can tell.”
“No one ever does.”
“And might that tell you something? Might it be some kind of clue? Julia, what are you doing out here? Do I ap pear lonely, in need of company tonight? Is this what's whirring about in your head?”
Julia opened her silver snout and showed him a row of razored teeth.
“I was somewhat anxious. I simply couldn't sleep.”
“Of course you couldn't sleep. You're not supposed to. You're a mechanical device.”
“We've discussed this before. You say I don't, I say I do. Finn, I have to tell you Letitia is handling all this much too well. She fell into bed, went right to sleep. She hasn't let herself believe what is happening here. Our imminent departure, the gravity of the event, the danger most apparent in such a voyage, has yet to fully hit her. When it does, I strongly urge you to be prepared for weeping and wailing, hysterics of every sort.”
Finn shook his head. “I had no idea you were qualified to give medical advice.”
“Play me for a fool if you like, but tell me I'm wrong. Tell me she will take your almost certain impending demise with perfect ease.”
Finn looked Julia in the eye. In a set of ruby, unblinking eyes, as it were.
“I grant your concern is well founded. Still, I believe she'll handle this better than you think. And, on two grounds, Julia, I have to say you're quite wrong. One, in spite of the fact that it's suicidal to even get close to a balloon, I intend to survive and get back here intact.
“Two, you mentioned our departure. It's not our departure, it's mine. You're not going, you're staying here.”
“What?” Julia gave a rude and horrid squawk, like the howl of rusty iron.
“You're joking, of course. You'd be daft to embark on such a treacherous journey without my presence. Why, you wouldn't last a day without me at your side. You've lost your reason, Finn, what little wit you have, you-”
“Stop. Right there.” Finn raised a restraining hand. “There can be no argument here. None. Stop squawking for a minute and listen to me. Yes, this is a fool's journey, I've the wit to know that. I feel I'll throw up a lot, and risk death a number of times.
“I could surely use your help. But I need you more here. I'll regret these words the rest of my life, but it's true you have uncanny senses, beyond the ken of any human or Newlie alive. You can hear things, smell things, see things no other creature can.
“What you can do is protect Letitia Louise. Warn her of danger, and fight all intruders, if it should come to that. This is why I need you here. I'm sure you understand, now that I've made it perfectly clear.”
Julia flicked her brass tongue. Her scales seemed to quiver, though the air was perfectly still.