Fantasy fiction; Hell -- Fiction; Magic -- Fiction
"I thought no one ever died here."
"Nobody ever does, naturally, but accidents or violence can distribute
an individual to the point of helplessness. Since you seem to hate Yero
like the rest of us, we thought you might like to throw in with us."
The hospitality of the two did not permit him to refuse immediately,
but more and more he was sure he did not want to be involved in any
project of theirs. Bell's picture of what the Outside's substitute for
death was like revolted him; and in addition, the thought occurred to
him that it would be dangerous to take any positive steps while he was
still ignorant of the error that had brought him here.
"I'd like to sleep on that," he said cautiously. "Do you mind if I
defer judgment for the night? I haven't had any sleep for thirty-six
hours, and I'll just pass out, if I don't get some."
"All right," Bell said. "You think it over. With The Enemy out of the
way it might be easier to find your Atavars, too, you know. Nothing
ever works right while he's in power."
* * * * *
When Hugh awoke his brain did not function properly for quite a few
seconds. The bed had had fleas in it, and the changeless brilliancy of
the "daylight" had kept him awake a long time despite his exhaustion.
The sight of the black-clad figure seated on the nearby stool did not
register at first.
"Good mornin'," he said muzzily. Then, "You!"
"Me," the man in the top hat replied ungrammatically. "I had to wait
for the two Princes to get out of the house before I could see you.
I've been looking for you."
"_You've_ been looking for _me_," Hugh repeated angrily, sitting up
in bed. He noticed with only faint surprise that the wall of the room
was plainly visible through the visitant's stiff shirt bosom. "Well,
you'll have to solidify a minute if you're going to do me any good. I'm
supposed to touch you."
"Not yet. When you do, this image will vanish, and I've got a few
things to talk to you about before that happens. I got bounced back
two hundred years in time just on account of a fool mistake you made,
and I'm as anxious to see you straightened out as you are myself." He
hiccuped convulsively. "Luckily I'm a book collector with a special
bent towards Cruikshank. I had sense enough to consult Dr. Dee while I
was behind the times, and found out where you were. Do you know?"
"Where I am? Why, I'm Outside."
"Use your noggin. How much does 'Outside' mean to you, anyhow?"
"Very little," Hugh agreed. "Well, the only other place I know where
people go that make mistakes is--awk! Now, wait a minute! Don't tell
me--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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