Treachery of Kings

TWENTY-TWO

"No, I'm not going to ask him that, and you're not either, Julia. The King's got his church, and I've got mine. It's not our concern. It might be the fellow simply decided to get up early this time.”

“He's right,” Letitia said softly, for sound carried much too well in the vast stone hall. “I'm curious too, but perhaps someone will explain.”

“If I'm not being too impertinent,” Dostagio said, without missing a step, without turning about, “what is the nature of that thing wobbling about at your side? Is it yours? I don't recall seeing it before.”

“It's a lizard, and no, you didn't have a chance to see it when we arrived.”

“A lizard, you say?”

“Yes, that's what they're called. That's what I do. I make lizards of every sort.”

“Very well, sir.”

A twist here, another there, walls, torches, and a myriad of doors. Where these doors might lead, Finn couldn't guess, and wasn't sure he wished to know.

Finally, however, the grim, black-marble walls came to an end. In their place were grim, black-marble stairs, spi-raling up from the depths. A warm, more comforting breeze wafted down from above, driving away the chill of the underground world.

“If I should lose my senses and leave the surface of the earth, ever again-I beg you, Finn, stop me, by whatever means.”

“A promise, my dear.”

Julia, as agile, quick and spry as any creature of flesh and bone, had met her match on the winding marble stairs. At times she simply stalled, iron claws spinning against the slick, unyielding stone. She moved in a blink, in a blur of motion, going nowhere at all.

Neither Finn nor Letitia made any move to help, or even notice she was there. If senses beyond either human or Newlie were a virtue, then pride was Julia's sin.

As they approached the top of the staircase, they could see, ‘round the corner, not the dim flicker of torches, but the first, hopeful beams of nature's light itself. And, a few steps farther into the ascent, a dazzling dome of brightly colored glass came into sight.

“How perfectly lovely,” Letitia said, squinting into the unfamiliar splendor overhead. “What a marvelous thing to see!”

“Finely crafted, indeed,” Finn added, mostly to himself.

He noted, upon a second look, that a face was pictured there, a face of extraordinary beauty, features captured in an instant of unbridled joy, triumph and release.

“It is called The Happy Dead, sir,” Dostagio said, as if guessing Finn's thoughts. “One of our finest works of art. You will see, as we reach the final steps, it is the first of such wonders made to light the Hall of Lengthy Termination, the Holy Place of Emperors, Tyrants and Kings.”

“Oh, dear!” Letitia, first on the heels of their guide, clasped a hand to her breast, as if she could scarcely breathe. “Never have I seen such a marvel in my life. Finn, I can't believe my eyes.”

Finn, too, was stunned by the sight. He felt a pang of both envy and pride, for the artisans who had created these masterpieces clearly possessed skills unsurpassed.

Each magnificent statue stood atop a solid, polished obsidian base. The works themselves, carved of the whitest, purest marble Finn had ever seen, stretched down the long passageway in seemingly endless array, the whole brightened by still more dazzling colored domes arching overhead.

The marvel of these pieces lay in their extreme sense of detail. Each gem-encrusted crown, each fold in a ruler's cape, each vein, each feature of royal countenance, was sculpted with most exquisite care.

And so many, Finn thought, such a long line of kings! Prince Aghen Aghenfleck's forebears, he knew, could be traced for many generations, but nothing so ancient as this.

“His castle isn't that grand, either,” Finn whispered to Letitia. “I wonder if the arrogant fool knows what his foe has over here?

“I must say, Dostagio, I have seen fine art in a number of lands, but these marbles of your kings are most notable, indeed.”

“Oh, no, not marble, if I may correct you, sir,” Dostagio said, pausing to face his charges there. “Crystallization, as it were. Deanimation, wherein one is shifted to an unresponsive state. Awfully painful, I understand, but nobility has its ups and downs, you know. Are you all right, Miss? Can I get you a goblet of water, perhaps a cup of tea…?”