The Prophecy Machine (Investments) by Neal Barrett Jr Page A

fool, a buffoon who could do nothing right. A weak and trusting dolt helpless to stand against the vagaries of chance.”
    Finn sat on the edge of the bed and motioned Letitia to his side. “I have come to see, love, that even the Fates couldnot contrive to dump such an odorous load of dung into my life. No, there is something else at work here, something I have completely failed to see.”
    “What, Finn? What is it you're trying to say?”
    “I'm certain I must be wrong in this—yet, equally sure that I'm not, for it is the only thing that smacks of reason in this whole bizarre set of events.”
    He reached over and took her hands, finding them suddenly icy cold. “You know I steer clear of mystic arts, Letitia. I wear no amulets, I have no use for spells. Yet, after all that has happened, I have to say our troubles smack of magic to me.”
    “Oh, Finn …” Letitia drew her hands away, stood, and looked at the shabby wall. “I feel you're out of sorts, my dear. We are under a great deal of strain, and I cannot blame you for thinking as you do. Still, I have to say I don't know who would go to the trouble of buying a curse as troublesome and—and as threatening as this.”
    “Nor do I. But that's what it feels like to me.”
    “Who, then? I ask again, who could it possibly be?”
    “Who would spend the money to fill my life—and yours—with chaos and misfortune? Why, several names come to mind.”
    “Name one.”
    “Count Onjine. He tried to use one of my lizards to murder the prince. You surely remember that.”
    “Of course I do. But Onjine is dead. I remember that as well. Done in by the very trap he set for the prince.”
    Finn made a noise in his throat, a deep and thoughtful noise, if one is familiar with sounds such as that.
    “He has friends, Letitia. Friends, brothers and uncles and other wealthy kin. None as mean-spirited as Onjine himself I grant you, but still …”
    “Name two. Name another who would do the same.”
    “Teklo Amakin, he'd do it,” Finn said, slightly irritated at the need to pursue this.
    “What?” Letitia did her best not to laugh, but a slight burst escaped all the same.
    “I'm glad you're amused.”
    “I'm sorry, but Teklo the Toother? This is the Teklo we're talking about?”
    “I don't know any other Teklos. It is not a common name.”
    “He took out your tooth.”
    “He took out the
wrong
tooth. That is a different matter than simply taking out a tooth. I refused to give him a pence. He's never forgotten that.”
    “Really, Finn …”
    “No, not
really Finn
—the man puts on a kindly face, but he's full of bile. They're all like that, it goes with the toothing trade. Some are simply more vicious than the rest.”
    “All right.”
    “And that means what?”
    “It means I'm sorry to have to say it, but I think you're overly tired. I feel you need some rest.”
    “You feel I'm raving, possibly out of my head.”
    “Don't be like that. I just don't think you're right.”
    “So I see.”
    “We don't need to argue about it. We simply have different opinions.”
    “Yes.
Quite
different, I'd say.”
    Finn stood abruptly, went to the darkened window and peered out at the night. If anything was there, he failed to see it. The window was so coated with years of grime, it could easily have hidden a horde of Hooters dancing naked on the lawn.
    “I didn't say there
wasn't
a curse over you, Finn. I never said that.”
    “You said I was overly tired. It's the polite way of saying I have a disorder of the mind.”
    “Stop this. Please.”
    “All right. It's stopped.”
    “Your tone of voice says it isn't. I'm hungry, Finn. Do you think we could talk about this some other time? I'd rather not faint on this floor, which hasn't been cleaned in several years.”
    Finn went to her at once. “I've been thoughtless, Letitia. I shall insist they bring you some soup. Soup or a stimulating broth. Broth is very good for the vapors, I understand.”
    “
Solid
food is