Free A Long Spoon by Jonathan L. Howard Page A

shuttered metalwork business in a railway arch. In reality, it was one of Hell’s sundry backdoors, known as “Kemch” amongst those who tabulated such rarities. Beyond the breezeblock and corrugated steel wall was a cavern that in no way correlated with the dimensions of the arch in which it was based. The cavern was some twenty yards wide at its narrowest point, the outer entrance sealed by the inconsonant urban wall, but the inner trailed off to a tunnel that pitched into a slow descent. Torches burned eternally in sconces there, fuelled by the souls of hedge fund managers and other such low creatures.
    Given all the space, Cabal had decided to allow a larger than usual circle for the summoning, and the serendipity of that action he now appreciated. The torch light glimmered from the dark armour of Zarenyia’s body and legs, and it occurred to him that she was not an exact analogue of a true spider; there was something mechanical about the abdomen and limbs that made them perhaps even more disconcerting than simply being an unfeasibly massive arachnid. Her forebody would have made her stand at least as tall as Cabal’s six feet and one inch had she been possessed of more conventional legs. The spider-like aspect of her made her stand a good yard taller than him, and the tips of her legs circumscribed the inner edge of the broad summoning circle in all its five yards easily.
    â€œPoik,” said the great spider-woman devil. She sighed at such fun. “What’s this all about then? Which particular whim would you like me to fulfil, O mortal?”
    â€œI abjure thee, O spirit, to be bound by this covenant!” said Cabal in a firm voice that brooked no shenanigans. One had to be firm with demons and, he presumed, devils. “By the power of the great Adonay, I…”
    The devil was looking at him in astonishment. “Are you trying to bind me? You are, aren’t you? You’re trying to bind me!” The expression gave way to a flirtatious wink. “You naughty boy.”
    â€œThere is no trying about it, madam,” said Cabal. “You’re not leaving that circle until I have guarantees as to your obedience and my safety.”
    â€œWell, here’s the thing, darling. You don’t mind me calling you ‘darling,’ do you?” Without waiting for Cabal’s opinion on the matter, she continued, “If I were a demon, you’d be doing the right thing. They are all mixed up in fealties and duties to one another. Terribly feudal, I know, but it seems to work for them. So, you call in favours from the higher-ups to gain power over those lower in the chain, yes? The rub is, I am a free agent. That’s what a devil is, at least by my understanding. The upshot of it is that the great Adonay can whistle for all I care. You can’t bind me. Sorry.”
    She shrugged and seemed genuinely saddened by events.
    Cabal was nonplussed. His plan depended on having a devil as an agent. He could not see how to proceed if such a simple prerequisite was unavailable to him. “Oh,” he said, and sat on a boulder. “This is disappointing.”
    Zarenyia shrugged sympathetically once more, but offered no suggestions.
    â€œI don’t entirely understand how devils are bound, in that case,” said Cabal. “If there is no fulcrum upon which to bend your obedience, how is it done? I have read of devils helping sorcerers many times.”
    â€œAh!” said the devil, raising her index finger to nail the important point Cabal had inadvertently raised. “Did you hear what you just said? ‘Helping.’ It’s just a thought, but you could always try asking nicely.”
    â€œNicely?” Cabal shook his head wearily. “Madam, I am tired and dismayed. Do not mock me. I am very much not in the mood.”
    â€œI’m not mocking you, sweetheart,” she said, slightly offended. “I’m being perfectly serious.