The Prophecy Machine (Investments) (32 page)

“That night when the Foxers came to call. Your grandfather was on the loose then. Squeen took him off somewhere. Does the Vampie know about this place, then?”

Sabatino forced a nasty laugh. “Of course not, don't be a fool.
I
didn't know about it till he brought me here. I used to play between the walls when I was a child. The radiations from the cellar hadn't yet filtered up here. Squeen got the old man out of the hall before he could kill someone.”

“A Foxer, you mean. That's what he was after.” Finn didn't need to ask. He knew from Sabatino's expression it was true.

“This quarrel goes back a long way, does it not? Back to your grandfather's time? What started it, Sabatino? Why do the Foxers want the Nuccis dead?”

Sabatino turned away as if he found Finn a crashing bore.
“I haven't the foggiest idea. I doubt those idiot creatures know any more than I do. That was too long ago.”

“I don't believe that.”

“Well, the devil with you, then. I couldn't care, Finn.”

“Is it the Prophecy Machine? What do the Foxers have to do with that?”

Sabatino turned back to Finn and glared. “We discussed this, I believe. It isn't a machine that
does
anything. It's a toy for fools, is what it is.”

“It does something,” Finn said. “It grows all by itself, and it apparently drives people mad.”

“Well, that should be enough, don't you think? What more could you ask? If we really must pass the time together, Finn, I'd rather spend it doing something else. Like getting out of here, before Grandfather comes back. You don't happen to have a blade handy, do you? The old man took mine away.”

Finn had to laugh. “No, I don't have a blade. Would I be lying here talking to you?”

“No, I don't suppose you would.” Sabatino lifted his head, a great and painful effort, wrapped as tightly as he was.

“Left, not too far from your head. It's hard to tell in this feeble excuse for light, but I think there's a scrap of metal over there.”

“Why didn't you bring this up until now?”

“I didn't
see
the thing until now, damn you. Do you want to argue, or get out of here?”

“I'm bound the same as you. Everything's gone numb, I can't feel my toes.”

“You're closer than I am. It has to be you.”

“I told you—”

“Think about the pretty Newlie, Finn. That should warm you up. It would certainly do it for me.”

Finn refused to be annoyed. There was no use wanting to batter someone if you were both paralyzed.

He was sure he couldn't make it. He could feel everything from his head to his waist, but that didn't seem to help. One needed hands and feet. Limbs separated Man from the lower forms of life. No wonder larva never did a thing.

“Undulate,” Sabatino suggested. “Sort of scoot, you know? Push and then pull, push and then—”

“Shut up,” Finn said. “I can undulate without your help.” And he did exactly that. Pushed with his shoulders, then pulled, raising his belly off the ground, dragging his useless limbs behind. How long could one cut off circulation without ill effect? The word
gangrene
came to mind.

“A bit more, Finn.”

“Just be quiet. I'm over here and you're not.”

“Well,
do
excuse me.”

“I'm not even sure what you saw is metal at all. The closer I get, the worse this corner smells.”

“I'm sure it's metal, Finn.”

“It damn well better be. It better not be what I think it might be.”

Sabatino chuckled to himself. “Wouldn't that be a cruel jest? A fine tale to spin at
TAVERN
some time.”

“If you were there to tell it, you mean.”

“Do get on with it, Finn.”

Finn muttered to himself, cursing every Nucci from the present to the past.

Fits and Mitts, what a frightening thought … dozens, generations of Nuccis I've never heard about … !

“I've got it,” Finn said. “I'm happy to admit that you're right. It's a scrap of iron as broad as my hand. Rusty, but it
still has an edge. There's some other pieces here, copper and some tin. But this should do quite well.”

“Excellent. Undulate over here, Finn. Let's do get out of here.”

“I don't care for that word. Try not to use it again.”

“Well,
scamper
won't do, and it's surely not
scurry
, not at that pace. Don't linger, Finn. I shall think of something on the way …”

I
F HE GOT OUT OF THIS, WHICH SEEMED UNLIKELY
at best, Finn would count it as the third, or even the second, most humiliating moment of his life. Scooting across the grimy floor, putting undulation out of mind, he managed, after a torturous, never-ending time, after forever had passed him by, to reach Sabatino against the far wall. With the scrap of rusty iron in his teeth, he moved quite close to the fellow's rather ponderous rear.

“If you cut me, Finn, I'll hold you accountable for it,” Sabatino said. “On my oath I will.”

“If I cut you,” Finn told him, “if your blood comes spurting like a fountain in the square, you'll never feel a thing. Your hands are a most unsightly shade of blue.”

Sabatino went silent after that. The cord the old man had used was older than Finn, but there was plenty of it. Finn's jaw was weary. Sweat poured down his brow to sting his eyes. He wanted to rest, but wasn't sure he could raise the scrap of iron again.

“I think you'd best hurry,” Sabatino said. “I don't feel we have a lot of time.”

“A keen observation. I wish I'd thought of that.”

“I'd remind you of the lovely Letitia, how she may, at this very moment, be in dire straits. I would, but I'm sure you'd take offense, you nearly always do—”

“Get up.”

“What?”

“Move your arms, roll about.
Undulate
, you ungrateful lout, your hands are free.”

“Oh, my good friend, I am in your debt. I shall never forget this most charitable act.”

“Yes, you will. Almost at once. Now get about it, damn you, before some crazed relation comes along. Your hands and your legs are going to hurt. Swallow the pain and get me out of here.”

Sabatino sat up and groaned, gritted his teeth as the blood rushed back into his limbs. He flexed his fingers, pounded his fists, then quickly tore the ropes from his feet.

He turned, then, and looked down at Finn. “I want you to never forget I could easily leave you here. I'm sure that thought has crossed your mind.”

“Never once,” Finn said, meeting Sabatino's eyes. “You are a scoundrel, a liar and a rogue. One of the most disgusting men I've ever known. Still, I never imagined you a coward, a man who'd leave his comrade, his brother in arms behind.”

Sabatino looked pained. “We are not comrades, Finn. Please don't use such a word referring to you and me. I despised you on sight. Nothing has happened to change my mind since.”

“Until this is over, we're brothers in arms. Hate, loathing and disgust have little to do with the matter till we're out of here.”

“I'm thinking about it.”

“Don't. Do it now. Before some family trait comes to mind …”

Grandfather Nucci had not left their swords where they might be easily found. For weapons, Finn and Sabatino ripped planks of wood off the floor as quietly as they could. Sabatino had a suggestion that Finn felt was sound. Removing sheets of tin from the wall, they fashioned hats that would cover their heads, leaving only slits for the eyes. These devices were ugly and crude, not at all like the helmets of old, but they would have to suffice.

“If it worked for Grandfather, it will surely work for us,” Sabatino said, with less assurance than Finn felt himself.

Before they left the room, he glanced at the plated walls again. There was something there he hadn't noticed from the floor. Crudely scratched upon each scrap were symbols that gave Finn a chill. Runes, spells, clear signs of sorcery, and none of it, Finn was dead sure, close to benign.

Grandfather Nucci had built this protective metal wall—and someone, the old man or someone else, had added some very dark magic as well.

He turned and waited as Sabatino opened the door a crack, then waved Finn to follow behind.

At once, Finn breathed a grateful sigh. He could still feel the awful tug of the machine, hear the faint, ever-present howl, but the makeshift helmet offered welcome relief. Without it, he knew that deadly thing would strip him of his senses, of his will.

He wished, now, that he had taken time to fashion one for Letitia herself. Whatever effects the emanations had upon the mind, they seemed to vanish when one was out of range, or wore some protective device.

Letitia is different, though … that horror has a strange hold upon her, some unwholesome sway … when I find her, she may be lost, nothing but a shell …

Finn swept the frightful thought from his mind. It wouldn't be so—she'd be his Letitia, she'd be just the same.

While each of the two had stubby candles scavenged from the grandfather's room, their path was treacherous and dim. Ceilings sagged abruptly, giving little time to duck. Floors tilted from one dizzy angle to the next, with scarcely any warning at all.

Finn tried not to think about Julia. He'd heard the terrible, sickening sound when the crazed old man had hurled her at the wall. Finn had built Julia with all his heart and skill, lovingly crafted every part. She was solidly made, but not meant for blows like that.

He couldn't, wouldn't, let himself dream that she'd survived. Julia was his glory, the height of his art, a thorn in his side, and he felt a great emptiness now that she was gone. All his thoughts were on Letitia now, for Letitia was not a machine. Letitia, he was certain, could still be alive.

“Watch yourself,” Sabatino said, gripping Finn's arm, holding him back. “Where do you think you're going now, man?”

Finn shook himself free of his thoughts, blinked, and found himself staring at a wall.

“Sorry. I was off somewhere.”

Sabatino's grip tightened. “You have judged me right, Finn. I have no affection for you. I would have left you bound back there, but I'd like to get out of here with all the same parts I brought in. You were fool enough to let me go. I'm smart enough to let you live. Get your mind off the Newlie. She's lost for good. Now you can watch over me.”

Finn couldn't see the fellow's features behind his tin mask, but he could read Sabatino's eyes.

“Brothers in arms, you know. Your words, I believe.”

“And don't mention her again. I won't put up with that.”

Sabatino turned away, holding his candle high, and ducked into a passage at his right.

“I don't suppose you have any idea where we are,” Finn asked. “This is your house, you know, not mine.”

“I told you before. I played in these corridors when I was a lad. I don't remember where. My guess is we're just above the main floor. I believe the library is right under here. Was, I mean. The bugs ate the books long ago.”

Finn stopped. “Then, if we tried to break through the floor—right here, we might be out of this place.”

“And again we might not. We might be on the bloody roof, or back in Grandfather's hidey hole.”

“I don't think so. I've tried to keep a sort of map in my head.”

Sabatino laughed. “Have you now? A lizard maker who conjures up maps on the side.”

“I did not mean my words as a jest.”

“No, you never do. Fools are more certain of themselves than their betters, I've always found it true.”

“And that
better
, that would be you …”

“A delightful thought occurs. Since Father has clearly broken his command to treat you well, I'm no longer bound to cancel our duel. Now I
know
we'll get out of here. I feel much better, Finn. The very thought of running you through—”

Sabatino's smile fell away. He stared at Finn as the lizard maker raised his plank of wood, and brought it down in a swift and deadly arc.

Sabatino cried out, threw up his arms in defense. Finn's blow missed him by an inch, but struck home soundly on the old man's skull.

The grandfather roared like a beast in pain, staggered back and slammed into a wall. Dust and rotten wood drifted in a veil from overhead. Sabatino turned quickly,
pounding the fellow with his club.
Families
, Finn considered, don't always get along.

The old man shrieked, a horrid, mindless sound. Sabatino wouldn't stop. Finn was uncertain what to do. It wasn't right to kill one's kin, yet the grandfather would surely slay Sabatino if given half a chance.

Before Finn could make up his mind, the old man, seemingly helpless at his grandson's feet, reached out a bony arm and yanked Sabatino to the floor.

Sabatino cried out in surprise, dropped his club and clawed at the ground. Finn saw cold, unspeakable horror in the younger man's eyes. He knew Sabatino feared this ancient, mad relation, but he'd never seen, never even imagined, the kind of terror he witnessed now. Sabatino's face was frozen in a rictus of dread, lost, caught in hopeless desperation. His eyes had nearly disappeared, with only the whites revealed, and his face was the pallor of the dead.

The old man had taken so many brutal blows to the head, Finn couldn't bear to strike him there again. Instead, he kicked him soundly in the ribs. Clearly, this was the thing to do, for the savage let his grandson go, and whimpered off into the darkness again.