The Prophecy Machine (Investments) (5 page)

He woke up flailing, thrashing, and kicking about in a pool of salty sweat. He sat up with a start to find a lizard patiently gnawing on his leg.

“Custard and Clams,” Finn exclaimed, kicking out at Julia, sending her skidding across the room. “What in holy hell's wrong with you?”

“You break it, you fix it,” Julia said. She flicked her scaly tail, shook her tinny head. Everything seemed to be in place.

“You snore like a storm, and sleep like the dead. If it wasn't for me—Custard and Clams, indeed. Get your big feet on the floor. Look out that porthole and tell me what you see.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Don't, then. Lie there and roast in the heat.”

Finn muttered to himself, then padded across the floor and squinted out the small, salt-encrusted window at the hot and brassy sea. He blinked and looked again. Unless his eyes deceived him, there was no sea in sight. Neither brassy nor hot, not any sea at all. Instead, he saw a rotting wooden wharf, piled high with barrels, boxes and crates. Scattered with garbage, overripe fruit, swill, slops and waste of every sort. The smell was a horror, and the air was thick with swollen green flies.

Beyond the sordid dock was a grim and dirty town full of narrow, high-roofed houses, all crammed and choked up together like weeds. A great horde of people, none more attractive than the next, crowded the cobble alleyways. It was, truly, an awful sight to see. It made Finn yearn for the simple but clean byways of Ulster-East, the quiet of his own Garpenny Street. He even missed the dull sound of cannon down the bay, the colorful war balloons soaring overhead.

“Great Apples and Pears,” Finn said, “What sort of place is this? We're not supposed to
be
anywhere, we're supposed to be at sea!”

“Well, I'm certain that we're not,” Julia said. “Land and water are not at all alike.”

“As ever, I'm grateful for your help,” Finn said, frowning at the ruby-eyed creature who'd climbed atop a chair. “I don't know where we are, but I mean to find out.”

Struggling into trousers while hunting for his shirt, he glanced at Letitia Louise. She was still sound asleep, her fine ashen hair a silken veil across her cheek. The sun painted golden stripes across her bare and lovely back.

“I'll talk to the captain,” Finn said, turning away from the sight, “I'll get an answer to this.”

“Good idea,” said Julia Jessica Slagg, “that's what I'd do myself.”

The deck was crowded with people. Cargo and luggage were scattered all about. Enormous, hulking Bullies, broad-shouldered Newlies with short, stumpy knobs atop their heads, glassy eyes and massive necks stalked up and down the gangway bearing heavy barrels and crates. Many wore golden rings in their noses, many had lewd tattoos.

Finn found Captain Magreet on his quarterdeck, shouting, shaking his fists, cursing at everyone in sight. His officer's hat was askew, feathers and plumes sagging limply in the heat.

“I want to know exactly where I am,” Finn demanded. “I want to know why we're stopping here.”

Magreet gave him a single sour glance. “Get away from me, sir. Get out of my sight.”

Finn stepped in front of the captain, blocking his view of the bustle down below.

“I merely asked, Captain, where we are and why. As a paying passenger, I have every right to information such as that.”

“Hah! That's what you're thinking, now, is it? What damn fool told you that?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Move it there,” Magreet shouted, pushing Finn gently aside, “Get busy, you vile, odorous, good-for-nothing beast, or I'll have the flesh peeled off your back!”

One of the Bullies made a deep, rumbling sound in his chest, gave the captain a murderous glance, and moved no faster than before.

A pair of Yowlie crewmen teased the big fellow, scampering about in his path. The Bullie lashed out with one stout foot, but the Yowlies were too quick for that.

“Can't stand the ugly brutes,” Magreet said, “They'll turn on you faster'n a southern squall. Damn me, are you still here, Finn? What the devil is it now?”

“Same as before, Captain. I'd like to know where I am, why we're stopping here.”

“Makasar. Port of Nakeemo. Sour oats, red beer. Tar and fertilizer, plus a couple dozen other lovely scents, is what you're smelling now. That, and the local damned un-bathed population out there.”

Finn shook his head. “My ticket says nothing about a port of call. Not anywhere at all.”

“ 'Course it doesn't.”

“What?”

“You deaf or what, boy? Your ticket's going to say where
you're
going. You aren't going somewhere, it isn't going to say.”

“That's ridiculous. If the ship's going to stop somewhere—”

Magreet granted Finn a patient sigh. “A passenger coming here don't have a ticket says where
you're
going, sir. None of his damn business. Isn't your business where
he's
headed for.”

“Captain, my—servant-companion is not overly taken with the sea. How many more stops will we make before we reach Antoline Isle? I would simply like to know that.”

“You would, would you? An' why's that?”

“Why? Because I—” Finn took a breath. “All right, how long will we be here? When will we leave?”

“Overnight.”

“Overnight?”

“What did I just say? I believe that's what I said. We sail again on the morrow, out with the morning tide.”

“Fine. That is what I asked. You could have said that in the first, sir, and I'd have been long gone.”

Magreet didn't answer. He was scowling at a large Bullie who had dropped a barrel on the rocky quay. The barrel burst open, and something dark and oily ran out.

“You'll pay for that, you lout,” Magreet yelled, “It'll come right off of your back!”

“In that case,” Finn said, “we shall be spending the night ashore. It will be a great relief to get out of the heat for a while.”

… It'll give poor Letitia a chance to settle her nerves
, he said to himself,
and get something decent to eat.

“I don't suppose there's some rule you haven't bothered to tell me about,” he said aloud. “I won't have to buy another ticket to get back on again.”

The captain looked bewildered. “Are you daft, man? Who ever heard of such a fool thing as that? Meanin' no offense, Master Finn, but I don't see how you landsmen have the wits to piss and eat, and keep yourself clean. Damned if I do …”

“Oh, how I adore you, Finn! Finn, my sweetness, my darling, my very own love. You are truly the most wonderful man in the world!”

“I appreciate the thought,” Finn said, making no effort to fend off the moist and tender kisses Letitia showered upon his face. This, in spite of the fact that a passenger or crewman might walk into the cabin at any time, leaving Finn to explain a human and a Newlie in fond embrace.

“In truth, though, I did nothing at all.”

“Nothing?
Nothing
, dear Finn?” She twitched her pretty nose and rolled her ebony eyes. “What you have
done
, my love, is save me from—from gross despair and madness. You have given me reason to live!”

“No, really, I—”

Letitia suddenly let him go, caught up her skirts and whirled about the small cabin, for an instant baring her lovely legs, always a pleasant sight to see, though Finn had
seen them many times, and certainly a great deal more than that.

He was pleased with this sudden leap from the depths of despair to unending joy. Still, he couldn't help but think about getting her
back
aboard the ship on the morrow. Letitia had chosen to ignore that part of his tale. She would, he knew, recall it soon enough again.

The deck was nearly clear of cargo handlers and passengers when Finn brought Letitia on deck. He carried their small overnight satchel, which Letitia had stuffed near to bursting, even though they would only spend the night ashore.

“It is quite delightful,” Letitia said, gazing at the gray, drab little village that lay beyond the docks. “It looks almost like home, Finn.”

“Ah, yes it does, in a way, I suppose.”

It is nothing of the sort
, Finn said to himself, but he knew Letitia would see some beauty in a sewage pool if it was not aboard the
Madeline Rose.

As he helped Letitia down the gangway, he looked over his shoulder for the captain, but Magreet was nowhere about. And, though several Yowlies clung to the upper riggings, Letitia, in her elation at going ashore, didn't seem to notice they were there.

The moment Finn and Letitia stepped ashore, the sun dropped behind a bank of clouds, leaving the town in half shadow. Without the harsh and unrelenting light, the crumbling stone and rotting thatch seemed somewhat softer, the drab and muddy shades now partially obscured.

“I don't like it already,” said Julia Jessica Slagg, clinging to Finn's waist beneath his cloak. “It's a damned pesthole is what it is. A canker, a blemish, a dunghill, a dump. A grubby, vile and shabby place, a—”

“Shut up,” Finn said quietly, “There are people all about, I shouldn't have to tell you that.”

Finn hurried Letitia along. As they left the broad wharf for the crowded streets of the town, Finn saw that the grimy shopfronts looked much like those at home, though clearly not as clean.

Finn recognized several passengers among the locals. A fat man who sold bad wine, another, a dealer in jewels who'd shown Finn a glittering array of bracelets, necklaces and rings—all of them, Finn was nearly sure, as false as the man who sold them. He also glimpsed the gaunt, hooded lawyers, now without their charge, the poor lad who now lay far beneath the sea.

And then, for only an instant, at the far end of the street—

Finn felt heat rise to his face.
Sabatino Nucci!
There was no mistaking that burly frame, startling red hair, and haughty walk. It was, truly, the pompous, arrogant fellow himself. And, as the winds of fortune seemed to shift and blow Finn's way, he saw that Sabatino gripped a heavy piece of luggage in each hand. That, now, was a piece of good news. This horrid little port was, at least for a time, the lout's destination. He would not be coming aboard again!

“What, Finn? Dare I ask what the grinning's all about?”

“Why, nothing but my joy in thinking of our journey to come. Just the happy thought that our holiday will take on a more pleasant mien from now on.”

“How nice of you to keep such thoughts in your head,” Letitia said, pausing to place a hand lightly on his arm. “Are you a man of magic, then? Have you a secret skill I've yet to see?”

Finn caught the sparkle in her eyes, the saucy way she moved her tiny mouth, and knew, at once, she'd put sly meaning to her words with purpose and intent.

“Perhaps,” he told her, “when we find good lodging for the night, I shall show you a most intriguing spell.”

“I would be a most earnest pupil, then.”

“Ah, Letitia …”

Finn stopped. A few steps ahead, a man walked out of an alleyway, boldly in their path. A moment later, another man followed the first. And, from a doorway across the narrow street, another, and still another, appeared.

Each was dressed in drab, filthy tatters, like the rest of the folk about, and few wore shoes of any sort. The only distinction about them—and clearly the only spot of color in their lives—were the high, pointed yellow cones upon their heads. Finn was uncertain whether he should truly name them
hats
, for he had never seen their like before.

There was one other habit the men held in common between them. Each, independent of the other, walked in a most peculiar way. One walked right into a wall, bloodying his head. After a moment he turned, and walked off to his left. Two of the men walked backwards, then turned and walked forward for a while. One walked three steps forward, then two to the right. This went on until all of the men were out of sight.

“Bottles and Bones,” Letitia said, tightening her grip on Finn's arm. “What do you reckon
that's
all about?”

Finn didn't have an answer. It was most bizarre to watch, and plainly made no sense at all.

Still, there was one thing he noticed about this strange behavior, and that had nothing to do with the men themselves: anyone who happened to get in their way quickly moved aside to let them pass. It was, Finn thought, as if people feared the touch of these fellows like the very plague itself …

“S
OMETHING IS SURELY THE MATTER WITH THESE
people, Finn. That is a most peculiar thing to do.”

“Indeed it is,” Finn said. “I have witnessed outlandish behavior before, but nothing quite as odd as this.”

“It might be a rite of some sort. You remember the Kettle Scrubbers Guild, down the hill toward Ranksetter Street? Each would touch his left ear when he chanced to pass another of his kind.”

“I believe it was the right.”

“No, dearest, I am sure it was the left.”

“I expect you're correct,” Finn said, though he knew for certain she was not.

He might have told her, too, though this was not the wisest thing to do, for at that moment, one of the yellow-capped fellows came to a sudden halt in the middle of the street, turned with a jerk, and set his course straight for Letitia and Finn.