the very darkest kind.
“… Ah, Squeen my boy, there you are, then. These are our honored guests. Finn, master of—what did you call the thing? And this lovely creature is his, ah—able companion, Mistress Letitia Louise. See that you answer their every need, or I'll pluck your eyes out and feed you to the eels. Now take these good people to their room before I forget I'm a patient, most forgiving man …”
Letitia drew in a breath. “Squeen, I hope you'll accept my apology. I was startled, I guess, and I didn't mean to scream.”
“Isss all right, misss. Squeen be unner'sssstan.”
“Quite, ah, unnecessary, that,” Sabatino said with a frown, “no need at all.”
“You will follow, pleassse?”
“Thank you,” Finn said, in an effort to further irritate their host. “That's most kind of you, Squeen.”
“Impertinent lout,” Sabatino muttered to himself.
Finn, holding Letitia's hand, followed the creature up a narrow, winding staircase that rose into the dark.
“Damn the fellow … doesn't miss a chance to cause others discomfort if he can …”
“What's that, my dear?”
“Nothing. Mumbling to myself.”
“Well, it was certainly a very
angry
sort of mumble, I have to say.”
Finn didn't answer. He kept his eyes on the worn wooden stairs, praying they wouldn't give way and plunge them into some dark and endless abyss.
Squeen William with his dim tallow candle up ahead was not a pretty sight. He waddled like a duck, dragging one foot painfully behind, the motion causing him to sway from side to side. And in odd countermotion, his head bobbed from front to back.
At the top of the stairs, Squeen proceeded down a long and dusty hall, past dark foreboding doors, past scabby papered walls, past corridors that clearly led nowhere at all. Finn ran into a thick spiderweb, and no matter how he tore and pulled and flailed, this graveyard for hapless nits and moths, flutter-bugs and things that buzz about, this coffin for the hollow husks of flies clung to his face and wouldn't go away.
“Here, ssssir and misss,” Squeen said, stopping before a door much like the ones they'd passed before. “Wery fine quarters, you bees warm and comfy here.”
“Thank you, Squeen,” Finn said. “We are grateful for your help.”
“Yesssss.” Squeen offered a ghastly smile to show that he was pleased. “You needin' ssssomething, you bees callin' Squeen.”
Finn waited until the creature was gone, then he turned and took Letitia in his arms.
“Oh, dear Finn, Finn …” Letitia had been holding her breath, and now she let it out in a rush.
“We'll be all right,” Finn assured her. “We'll stay right here until daylight. We won't even go downstairs, that's what he wants us to do. Sit down and listen to more of his pompous, irritating talk. Play the gracious host.”
“I
am
hungry, dear.”
“Of course you are. And I shall demand that he send food up to our room. He can't deny us that.”
Letitia sighed. “Yes he can, Finn. He can, and he surely will.”
Finn looked away, angry at Sabatino Nucci, but mostly angry at himself, for he knew Letitia was right. The damned fellow had them in a box. There was nothing they could do, nowhere to go. Certainly not out into the night.
“Ah, love,” Letitia said, her hands about his neck, “you're worried about me, as ever, and you really mustn't be. I'm perfectly fine, I'm just a bit—scared, is all. Scared and awfully tired.”
“This is not the vacation I had in mind, my dear. I never dreamed we'd be caught up in something like this. Damnation, it's been a disaster from the start. One thing after another. That ship, the crew, that maniac Magreet, and then—
him
. Scones and Bones, what did I do to deserve Sabatino Nucci in my life?”
“It's not your fault now, Finn. There's nothing you could have done.”
“Yes, you're right.” He turned to her then, a sudden flash of understanding in his eyes. “You're right, I've been telling myself I was a
“… Ah, Squeen my boy, there you are, then. These are our honored guests. Finn, master of—what did you call the thing? And this lovely creature is his, ah—able companion, Mistress Letitia Louise. See that you answer their every need, or I'll pluck your eyes out and feed you to the eels. Now take these good people to their room before I forget I'm a patient, most forgiving man …”
Letitia drew in a breath. “Squeen, I hope you'll accept my apology. I was startled, I guess, and I didn't mean to scream.”
“Isss all right, misss. Squeen be unner'sssstan.”
“Quite, ah, unnecessary, that,” Sabatino said with a frown, “no need at all.”
“You will follow, pleassse?”
“Thank you,” Finn said, in an effort to further irritate their host. “That's most kind of you, Squeen.”
“Impertinent lout,” Sabatino muttered to himself.
Finn, holding Letitia's hand, followed the creature up a narrow, winding staircase that rose into the dark.
“Damn the fellow … doesn't miss a chance to cause others discomfort if he can …”
“What's that, my dear?”
“Nothing. Mumbling to myself.”
“Well, it was certainly a very
angry
sort of mumble, I have to say.”
Finn didn't answer. He kept his eyes on the worn wooden stairs, praying they wouldn't give way and plunge them into some dark and endless abyss.
Squeen William with his dim tallow candle up ahead was not a pretty sight. He waddled like a duck, dragging one foot painfully behind, the motion causing him to sway from side to side. And in odd countermotion, his head bobbed from front to back.
At the top of the stairs, Squeen proceeded down a long and dusty hall, past dark foreboding doors, past scabby papered walls, past corridors that clearly led nowhere at all. Finn ran into a thick spiderweb, and no matter how he tore and pulled and flailed, this graveyard for hapless nits and moths, flutter-bugs and things that buzz about, this coffin for the hollow husks of flies clung to his face and wouldn't go away.
“Here, ssssir and misss,” Squeen said, stopping before a door much like the ones they'd passed before. “Wery fine quarters, you bees warm and comfy here.”
“Thank you, Squeen,” Finn said. “We are grateful for your help.”
“Yesssss.” Squeen offered a ghastly smile to show that he was pleased. “You needin' ssssomething, you bees callin' Squeen.”
Finn waited until the creature was gone, then he turned and took Letitia in his arms.
“Oh, dear Finn, Finn …” Letitia had been holding her breath, and now she let it out in a rush.
“We'll be all right,” Finn assured her. “We'll stay right here until daylight. We won't even go downstairs, that's what he wants us to do. Sit down and listen to more of his pompous, irritating talk. Play the gracious host.”
“I
am
hungry, dear.”
“Of course you are. And I shall demand that he send food up to our room. He can't deny us that.”
Letitia sighed. “Yes he can, Finn. He can, and he surely will.”
Finn looked away, angry at Sabatino Nucci, but mostly angry at himself, for he knew Letitia was right. The damned fellow had them in a box. There was nothing they could do, nowhere to go. Certainly not out into the night.
“Ah, love,” Letitia said, her hands about his neck, “you're worried about me, as ever, and you really mustn't be. I'm perfectly fine, I'm just a bit—scared, is all. Scared and awfully tired.”
“This is not the vacation I had in mind, my dear. I never dreamed we'd be caught up in something like this. Damnation, it's been a disaster from the start. One thing after another. That ship, the crew, that maniac Magreet, and then—
him
. Scones and Bones, what did I do to deserve Sabatino Nucci in my life?”
“It's not your fault now, Finn. There's nothing you could have done.”
“Yes, you're right.” He turned to her then, a sudden flash of understanding in his eyes. “You're right, I've been telling myself I was a
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