Free Oracle by Mike Resnick Page B

can't promise that. But I won't come back down without a reason."
    The man stared at him for a long moment, then nodded his head. “All right, you've got a deal."
    "Lead the way,” said Chandler.
    "I've got to find out where your Blue Devil is first."
    "Can you do it without leaving my sight?” asked Chandler.
    "Yes."
    As the two men conversed, the woman's hand had moved down to her belt and closed over the handle of a knife.
    "Pull it out and you're going to spend the rest of your life with one arm,” said Chandler ominously.
    "Don't be stupid,” snapped the man. “This is the Whistler you're facing!"
    She glared at him for a moment, then relaxed and dropped her hand to her side.
    The man looked around the chamber, picked up two small stones, then walked to one of the corridors and clicked them against a wall in an irregular pattern. The sounds were still echoing in the dank air as he walked to a second corridor and clicked them again. He then repeated the procedure at the entrance to the corridor from which Chandler had emerged.
    "It's our own code,” said the man, returning to the center of the chamber. “If your Blue Devil is anywhere in the tunnels, we'll know it in a minute or two."
    "If you've called for help,” said Chandler, “I want you to know that I have no intention of dying alone."
    "If we all keep calm, nobody has to die at all,” said the man. “You just make sure you take your Blue Devil up top and don't come back."
    They fell silent again, waiting for a reply to the message. About 90 seconds later they heard a faint tapping, followed by a shrill whistle.
    "All right,” said the man, turning to Chandler. “We've got the Blue Devil."
    "Let's go."
    "It's not going to be that easy. They've figured out that you're the one who wants him.” He paused. “They're willing to sell him to you."
    "How much?” asked Chandler.
    "It's negotiable."
    "You're sure this is the one who entered just ahead of me?"
    "It's the only Blue Devil that's entered the tunnels all night. They know what's likely to happen to them down here.” He paused. “So are you willing to bid for him?"
    "I'm willing to pay a reasonable price,” said Chandler.
    "And if we don't agree to your price?” asked the woman, still staring sullenly at him.
    "Why don't we worry about that when the time comes?” suggested Chandler. He turned to the man. “Lead the way."
    The man headed off into the right-hand corridor, and the woman stepped aside to let Chandler follow him.
    "You go next,” he said.
    She glared at him, but fell into step behind her companion, and Chandler brought up the rear.
    They went almost fifty yards, then took a hard left, bore left at another fork, and then began a gradual descent. When they were almost a quarter-mile beneath the surface of the moon, they came to the largest chamber Chandler had yet seen.
    The Blue Devil was tied to a post, and it was obvious that it had been badly beaten. Four men and two women stood near it, and another man, quite burly, with a neatly-trimmed beard and clad in colorful satins, sat on a crudely-constructed stone chair behind a makeshift granite desk at the far end of the chamber.
    "Ah, Mr. Chandler!” said the seated man. “How nice of you to pay us a visit."
    "He's not Chandler,” said the man who had guided him there. “This is the Whistler."
    "That is merely his professional name,” replied the man at the desk. “He is Joshua Jeremiah Chandler and"—he smiled—"he has had a busy day."
    Chandler stared at him, but made no reply.
    "But where are my manners,” said the man, rising to his feet. “Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Chandler. My name is Lord Lucifer."
    "Interesting,” said Chandler noncommittally.
    "Accurate,” was the reply. “Lucifer's domain is the Underworld of Earth, and mine is the underworld of Port Marrakech.” He paused. “Would you prefer that I call you Chandler or Whistler?"
    Chandler shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy."
    "Excellent!” said