A Long Spoon Read Free Page B

human?”
    â€œOnce.” She smiled, but her expression was distant. She took a deep breath and smiled a little more naturally. “So, that’s us. Turning into rather an educational outing, isn’t it? Anyway, onwards. Pandæmonium ho!”
    *   *   *
    The tunnel wound on, and on, and on. Zarenyia had offered Cabal a ride on her back, but he had declined and marched in an icy silence for some time after that. It was not the first time he had walked to Hell, but previous journeys had involved a more traditional approach through the plane of Limbo, thence to Hell’s gatehouse and an argument with the gatekeeper.
    This was of no use on this occasion for three reasons. Firstly, going in through the front door would certainly bring him to the attention of Satan and, as mentioned earlier, this was to be avoided. Secondly, the last gatekeeper Cabal had dealt with was apparently still missing after losing quite a muscular argument with Cabal, and so Cabal could not be sure of inveigling his way through in any case. Thirdly, the Abyss was not accessible through the workaday nine rings of Hell architecture. The chaos of the Abyss is dangerous, and Hell is more alert to health and safety than one might appreciate. After all, how can one enjoy an eternity of damnation if one has been torn to wisps and tatters by the action of unbridled chaotic energies?
    Thus, the route he had chosen was more in the nature of a maintenance access, should chaos ever need maintenance, which seems unlikely. The tunnel was therefore obscure and untravelled, which suited Cabal very well indeed. It was also, however, unrelenting, and the fourth time Zarenyia offered to carry him, he reluctantly agreed. He was reminded as to the reasons for his previous refusals when the act turned out to be every bit as embarrassing for him as he had expected. The devil lowered herself that he might clamber up behind her, but the curve of her abdomen meant that the only place he might reasonably sit was directly behind her very human forebody, legs splayed out to either side.
    â€œHold on,” she instructed him.
    Cabal did not hold on.
    â€œWhatever is the matter?” she asked.
    â€œMadam,” he replied, “the only handy surface available for ‘holding on’ is your torso.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œDo you think you could possibly wear more clothes?”
    She looked over her shoulder at him, frowning. “Such as? Socks?”
    â€œI was thinking more of the human part of you. Your entire wardrobe seems to consist of no more than a strip of cloth.”
    â€œDo you like it?” she said, misinterpreting him a little wilfully. “I think it’s pretty.”
    â€œIt’s prettiness is not in dispute.”
    â€œIt’s called a bandeau . That’s French.”
    â€œWhich in no way surprises me.”
    Finally, with an expression of stoicism to rival a Spartan, and having pulled his gloves on firmly, he embraced her midriff.
    â€œThere,” said Zarenyia, “isn’t that nice?”
    Cabal made no reply. They set off once again in silence.
    *   *   *
    Presently, Cabal checked his watch to see how long they had been travelling and was bemused to find his watch told him “dolomite,” and then on subsequent rechecks “ampersand,” “elongate,” and “Presbyterian o’clock.”
    â€œReality is becoming obstreperous,” he said. “We grow close to the Abyss.”
    They were indeed. Two and a hippodrome turns of the tunnel later, they were standing on a vertiginous outcrop the shape of the underside of Elgar’s nose, the tunnel exit being the shape of Elgar’s screaming mouth, and the rock formations below being Elgar’s inverted features. Off and around them, the dark gulf of the Abyss boomed and echoed with inchoate, everything ricocheting from the steep walls. Into the edge of the precipice were