A Long Spoon by Jonathan L. Howard Page A

staring wildly at Cabal. “The demon! Where is it?”
    Some prickling premonition made him look up.
    â€œHello, darling,” said Zarenyia as she descended on a silken cable, death in angora. She was not smiling. “Guess what? You really should have apologised when Johannes asked you to.”
    *   *   *
    The departure from Pandæmonium was leisurely. Cabal observed the first stages of Zarenyia’s feeding process out of scientific interest, and made a few notes. Then he smoked a cigarillo, but it seemed that Zarenyia really did intend to drag out Luan Da’s quietus to great lengths, so he wandered off to do what he usually did when he found himself in the home of a rival necromancer or sorcerer, which is to say he looted it.
    The guards they had fought earlier still hung pathetically from the web above the staircase. Luan Da had made no attempt to rescue them. Perhaps he would have got around to it later, perhaps he wouldn’t have. He seemed to have had a very inflexible attitude to failure, and Cabal imagined it was perfectly in character for him to leave the sluggishly writhing bodies up there as a warning to the new intake of guards when he recruited them.
    It took several hours, and netted him some useful items, yet Zarenyia was still nowhere near done with Luan Da when he got back. Cabal might have felt some pity for him, but the memory of a loofah prevented even the faintest kindling of sympathy. Instead, Cabal went off to find a bed, and slept for a while. He was awoken by being prodded by a giant spider leg. “Up and at ‘em, sleepy head!” said Zarenyia.
    â€œLuan Da?”
    â€œLuan done.” She smiled a smile that was not in the least part nice. “Grab your kit and we’ll be on our way. I’m bored with this place.”
    Cabal rose, and noticed a couple of man-sized bulges firmly webbed to the underside of her abdomen. Through the threads at the end of one, the lines and metallic glint of a guard’s helmet could just be discerned. “Snacks for the trip,” explained Zarenyia. “If I get peckish.”
    *   *   *
    The thread she had used to reach Pandæmonium was still in place, and she climbed with astonishing agility along it with Cabal clinging to her back, hugging her around the waist and putting up with a commentary on the glories of angora wool the whole way. At least he had developed the mental skills necessary to avoid making the transit as some variety of fish/human hybrid, which was a relief.
    The return journey was otherwise uneventful. Several hours of ascent passed with occasional conversation, and a long period during which Cabal accepted a lift, his dignity less affronted by the offer than on the downward trip.
    Finally they were back where they had first met. They looked at the summoning circle, its candles long guttered. Zarenyia said, “Ah, memories. It seems such a long time ago, now.”
    â€œIt appears we are at a parting of the ways, Madam Zarenyia,” said Cabal. He seemed awkward and unsure.
    â€œIndeed,” she said. “I’ve had a lovely time, Johannes. I’m not sure I’ve ever had such fun.” She regarded him fondly, as one might a stalwart companion, or perhaps an amusing pet. “I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for.”
    Cabal smiled wanly. “Yes, Luan Da’s ‘great secret’ was something of a disappointment. Living castrated in chaos isn’t really a helpful avenue for me. Still, it was an adventure, to be sure.”
    Zarenyia spoke abruptly, the words coming quickly as if she’d just rehearsed them. “I just want you to know, if you ever have need of a devil again in future, think of me, will you? You won’t have to muck around with binding rites and all that rigmarole, either. I won’t hurt you, Johannes. You’re too much fun to hurt. I promise I shan’t.” She