Read Online Treachery of Kings by Neal Barrett Jr - Free Book Online
Authors: Neal Barrett Jr
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yourself.”
“I promise, Letitia. And I will, indeed, make every effort to keep myself wholly intact, and return as quickly as I can.”
“Oh, Finn, I have no doubt you will.”
“And I must tell you, love, and I mean this in the highest regard, you are showing a braver face at my departure than anyone could truly expect. You know I am embarking on a voyage that is rife with hazard, and danger of every sort. Yet, you do not falter, you do not yield to the fear, the dread, the torment that is tearing you up inside. I think no other could show such mettle as you are showing now.”
“I know you will come back, Finn. You have faced adversity before, but you always come through.”
“Yes, that's true. But
this
venture, you understand, is somewhat more treacherous than any I've faced before.”
“Ah, you'll persevere. I have no doubt of that.”
“You don't?”
“You are skillful, deft, cunning to a fault, my Finn.”
“I suppose I am, that's true, but anything could happen, you know. I don't wish you to worry, but—”
“I won't, really.”
“Won't? Won't what?”
“Worry. Not truly, I mean.”
“Well, you should, if I may say so, Letitia. It may be you are taking this all too lightly. As a fact, it would not be unseemly if you were—greatly concerned. Certainly, more than you seem to be now!”
“Give us a kiss here in the hallway, love, where no one can see and turn us in for lust between Man and the spawn of the beast, and be on your way to your balloon. The sooner begun, the sooner done, as some wise sage has said. Or if he hasn't, he very likely will…”
THIRTEEN
I T ISN'T AS IF I WANT HER WAILING AND THRASH ing about,” Finn mumbled to himself, noting that the sun had dropped farther behind a crimson veil. “But I do feel she could have shown a bit more fervor, anguish and remorse. I don't think that's too much to ask”
“What now? What you be mumbling over there? A human person's got such a weaky little voice, they might's well not be talkin’ at all.”
“I was talking to myself, Bucerius. I would have spoken louder if my words were meant for you.”
Finn was surprised he'd let his attention wander so long. The war balloons were closer now—much too close for his liking, and too many of them to boot. Was there any reason they had to huddle together like a school of bloated fish? There was plenty of room to move about, a whole bloody sky.
Some, he noted, had vented their balloons, letting their craft sink rapidly down. Others tossed over bags of sand to rise higher still. The skies were near smothered with clumsy craft, rising up and sinking down. Through sheer dumb luck, most seemed to pass each other with room to spare.
“Fate is truly kind,” Finn said, “or we should see a dozen dire disasters before our very eyes—
“Kites and Mites,” he suddenly shouted, squeezing the wicker rail, “
look out, you damn fool!
”
No one heard him above the constant shriek of air. Bucerius saw it too, and cursed beneath his breath, jerking a line that sent his vessel swooping dizzily away.
It happened in a wink, in the blink of an eye. A great, dun-colored sausage, patched, pasted, fiddled and darned, rose straight up into four enormous spheres, linked together as one. It struck the wicker baskets suspended from the vessels, struck them cruelly hard, and sent grenadiers, archers, fusiliers with purple pantaloons, crimson-clad dragoons, shrieking down in a deadly colorful array. Some went straight to the ground, some bounced once, some bounced twice on other balloons, before they went down. Several poor fellows plummeted through another craft and disappeared.
As one cart collides with another on the ground, as each slams another, and another after that, so it is with vessels of the air. Finn looked on in abject horror as one balloon tore itself apart and spun dizzily to the ground, a basketful of doomed soldiers trailed by a string of tattered rags.
A tragedy greater
“I promise, Letitia. And I will, indeed, make every effort to keep myself wholly intact, and return as quickly as I can.”
“Oh, Finn, I have no doubt you will.”
“And I must tell you, love, and I mean this in the highest regard, you are showing a braver face at my departure than anyone could truly expect. You know I am embarking on a voyage that is rife with hazard, and danger of every sort. Yet, you do not falter, you do not yield to the fear, the dread, the torment that is tearing you up inside. I think no other could show such mettle as you are showing now.”
“I know you will come back, Finn. You have faced adversity before, but you always come through.”
“Yes, that's true. But
this
venture, you understand, is somewhat more treacherous than any I've faced before.”
“Ah, you'll persevere. I have no doubt of that.”
“You don't?”
“You are skillful, deft, cunning to a fault, my Finn.”
“I suppose I am, that's true, but anything could happen, you know. I don't wish you to worry, but—”
“I won't, really.”
“Won't? Won't what?”
“Worry. Not truly, I mean.”
“Well, you should, if I may say so, Letitia. It may be you are taking this all too lightly. As a fact, it would not be unseemly if you were—greatly concerned. Certainly, more than you seem to be now!”
“Give us a kiss here in the hallway, love, where no one can see and turn us in for lust between Man and the spawn of the beast, and be on your way to your balloon. The sooner begun, the sooner done, as some wise sage has said. Or if he hasn't, he very likely will…”
THIRTEEN
I T ISN'T AS IF I WANT HER WAILING AND THRASH ing about,” Finn mumbled to himself, noting that the sun had dropped farther behind a crimson veil. “But I do feel she could have shown a bit more fervor, anguish and remorse. I don't think that's too much to ask”
“What now? What you be mumbling over there? A human person's got such a weaky little voice, they might's well not be talkin’ at all.”
“I was talking to myself, Bucerius. I would have spoken louder if my words were meant for you.”
Finn was surprised he'd let his attention wander so long. The war balloons were closer now—much too close for his liking, and too many of them to boot. Was there any reason they had to huddle together like a school of bloated fish? There was plenty of room to move about, a whole bloody sky.
Some, he noted, had vented their balloons, letting their craft sink rapidly down. Others tossed over bags of sand to rise higher still. The skies were near smothered with clumsy craft, rising up and sinking down. Through sheer dumb luck, most seemed to pass each other with room to spare.
“Fate is truly kind,” Finn said, “or we should see a dozen dire disasters before our very eyes—
“Kites and Mites,” he suddenly shouted, squeezing the wicker rail, “
look out, you damn fool!
”
No one heard him above the constant shriek of air. Bucerius saw it too, and cursed beneath his breath, jerking a line that sent his vessel swooping dizzily away.
It happened in a wink, in the blink of an eye. A great, dun-colored sausage, patched, pasted, fiddled and darned, rose straight up into four enormous spheres, linked together as one. It struck the wicker baskets suspended from the vessels, struck them cruelly hard, and sent grenadiers, archers, fusiliers with purple pantaloons, crimson-clad dragoons, shrieking down in a deadly colorful array. Some went straight to the ground, some bounced once, some bounced twice on other balloons, before they went down. Several poor fellows plummeted through another craft and disappeared.
As one cart collides with another on the ground, as each slams another, and another after that, so it is with vessels of the air. Finn looked on in abject horror as one balloon tore itself apart and spun dizzily to the ground, a basketful of doomed soldiers trailed by a string of tattered rags.
A tragedy greater
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