Free Johannes Cabal The Necromancer by Jonathan L. Howard

Kewpie doll. A cheap doll that you can give away on the concessions as a prize.”

    “Concessions to what?”

    The thing shook its head slowly. “You’re going to have to rewrite your loser’s speech, Johannes. Get rid of the bit about coming pretty close. You haven’t the faintest idea what you’re doing.”

    “I know,” Cabal accepted. “That’s why I need you. You know what goes on in places like that. I don’t. I need your expertise.”

    “Expertise? I never worked on anything like that.”

    “But you visited some. I remember that you visited some.”

    The thing heard the note of desperation in Cabal’s voice. Somewhere deep within itself, something human softened just a little. “Well, yes, I went to carnivals whenever I could. Used to hang around them. Even considered joining one. Perhaps I should’ve. I wouldn’t be here now.”

    Cabal shrugged. “For all the good it does, I’m sorry I left you. I thought you were dead. Or worse.”

    “Right on both counts,” said the thing bitterly. “I still don’t see why you’ve come to me, though. So I visited a carnival or two. It hardly makes me an expert. There must be people who can be hired to do this, who actually have some real experience?”

    “I don’t think that degree of knowledge will be necessary. In many respects the carnival will run itself. It has few overheads—no wages, and the prizes, food, and drinks are provided. We don’t even have to worry about taxes, as the place will cease to exist before the end of the next tax year, and—despite their reputation for tenacity—I doubt even tax collectors will descend into the Infernal Pit just to collect the revenue. What I really need is somebody who understands people. What they want when they come to a carnival. Besides, finding somebody with a better curriculum vitae might well founder on the vexed ‘Incidentally, the carnival’s sponsored by Satan, and we’re far more interested in stealing a hundred souls than in making money’ issue.”

    The thing grunted in amusement. “I take your point.” It crouched in silence for some moments, before raising its head to look Cabal in the eye. “Do you really think you can undo”—it gestured hopelessly at itself—“this?”

    Cabal found he couldn’t lie. Not this time. “I don’t know. But you have my solemn word I’ll try. I think I have an insight into your condition that has only recently been vouchsafed to me. I’ll try. I’m sorry. That’s all I can promise.”

    The thing looked closely at him and, after a very long moment, smiled. A rapacious smile to be sure, but one Cabal knew was honest. Even so, the sight of those yellow-white teeth and the thought of what flesh they’d torn made him uncomfortable.

    “That’s about the only thing I ever admired about you, Johannes. You’re a man of your word. Or at least you used to be. I’ll take the risk that you still are, soul or no. Very well, I’ll run your carnival for you. Decide what’s fun, lose what’s not. That’s what you want, yes?”

    “Yes, exactly.” Cabal couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice. “I need somebody to attend to the day-to-day …” The thing looked hard at him. “I’m speaking figuratively, of course. The diurnal?—nocturnal?— nocturnal running of the carnival. While I attend to the winning of this ludicrous wager. Are you agreeable?”

    “Not as a rule, but, yes, you know me, anything for a laugh.”

    “Excellent. There just remains one thing. The matter of my personal safety.”

    The thing’s eyebrows raised in all innocence. “Why, Johannes. Do you really think I’d hurt you?”

    “Yes,” replied Cabal levelly. “Sitting down there in the darkness for eight years …”

    “And thirty-seven days.”

    “… may have made you feel uncharitable towards me. You may have thought I was somehow responsible for what happened. To you.”

    “Oh, heaven forfend that I have such unpleasant thoughts. Just