Must Love Hellhounds

“Back,” Batanya ordered. Abruptly, they were hurrying as fast retracing their steps as they had been going forward. The first tu

It was like a baby tu

“The slugs don’t seem to be sentient,” Batanya said, keeping her voice low. “That is, I don’t think they’re smart enough to be working for the King of Hell. I think the slugs made the tu

Crick said, “Lucifer adapted the idea from the slugs. When the surface planet was growing uninhabitable, he began exploring down here; or at least, he sent his creatures and hirelings down here. Many of them died because they underestimated the sheer power of the slugs. The nasty things don’t think much, but they’ve got very strong instincts, and they can attack with surprising speed when they’re angry.”

This was a flood of information. “What makes them angry?” Clovache asked.

“Anything blocking their way,” Crick said.

“What do they eat?”

“Anything blocking their way.” Crick looked apologetic. “They seem to take nutrients from the soil. But when they run over someone, they generally pause on top of them, and suck up everything they can.”

That was much worse than Batanya’s mental image, and she felt quite sick for just a moment. “Then we’d better not get under them,” she said, in the toughest voice she could manage. “Why don’t Lucifer’s warriors clear them out of the tu

“Lucifer needs the slugs too much,” Crick explained. “They do most of the digging for him. Of course, he can’t really direct where the slug tu

“You know a lot about this.” In the dim light, Batanya couldn’t read their client’s expression, but she had the impression he flinched.

“Yes,” he said. “I was a prisoner here for quite some time. Lucifer enjoys talking.”

“This is information it might have been good to have before,” Batanya said. “Not so much about your imprisonment, though that’s interesting, of course.” Batanya could be polite when she chose. “This stuff about the slugs… We needed to know that before now.”

“Why don’t you tell us something else we might need to know?” Clovache suggested. “Just in the interest of keeping you alive.” Another slug was coming. They could hear the distinctive dragging sound, inhale the noisome smell. They were stuck here for a few minutes.

“Belshazzar heard from an informant that the conjuring ball was in the private cabinet of the King of Hell,” Crick said. “It was a commission steal. I was hired by Belshazzar partly because I’m good, partly because I owed him a lot of money anyway. But I did succeed in getting the ball, though it was in the darkest corner of the darkest cabinet in Lucifer’s apartment…”

“Less with the colorful and more with the facts,” Batanya said firmly.

Crick was a bit disconcerted to be knocked out of his storytelling groove, but he nodded obligingly. “Actually, it was in a special room off the king’s bedroom. His, ah, toy room, so to speak. Belshazzar was pretty sure I’d get to see that room when Lucifer found out I was actually one of the last of the Harwell Clan.”

Batanya’s eyes widened. Clovache looked bewildered.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means our client here has special physical attractions.”

Clovache looked him over, couldn’t see it. She liked her men big and burly. “Like what?”

When Crick just shrugged, Clovache looked at her lieutenant. “What?” she asked.

Batanya said, “Crick here has two penises.”

“Get out of town,” Clovache said. “Really?” She sounded both admiring and intrigued.

Crick nodded, trying to look modest. “There are few of us left. We don’t tend to be model citizens, according to the rules of other societies, so the Harwell Clan has been decimated in the last decade.”

“Is there anyone who doesn’t want to hurt you?” Clovache asked.

“Sure. You two.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Batanya muttered. She pulled her hood down and ran her fingers through her short black hair. “Okay, so how’d you get the conjuring ball into the barracks?”

“They didn’t know I had it,” Crick said. “When I decided it was time to take my leave of the king-his demands got rather tiresome-I ran away, taking the conjuring ball with me. When it was obvious I was going to be captured, I concealed it.”

“Where?” Batanya asked bluntly.

“Ah, in the only available place.”

“And they didn’t search you thoroughly?” Batanya was professionally astonished. “It wouldn’t get by us.”

Crick half-bowed to them. “I have no doubt,” he said politely. “However, they thought I might have stolen one of Lucifer’s big pieces of jewelry or some of his coins, which could not be concealed in the same ma

“So you want us to take you back into the barracks, find the room where you were held, extract the conjuring ball, and get you out again alive. To return you to Spauling. Where you have to seek sanctuary because Belshazzar wants to kill you. Or perhaps you want to send the ball to Belshazzar in the hopes that he’ll honor his original contract with you. And King Lucifer wants you back in his playroom.”

“I suppose all that’s true,” Crick said. For the first time, when he tried to sound cheerful, he failed.

“Belshazzar is angry because of your tardiness and your loss of the ball, and Lucifer is angry because you ran away before he’d finished playing with you.”

“That’s a fair summary,” Crick admitted.

“How’d you get the fee for the witches at the Collective? I’m just curious,” Clovache said. “It’s not my business. But I know they don’t extend credit.” Batanya’s shoulders heaved with silent laughter at the idea.

“Ah, well, I may have lifted a few things from the houses of various nobles in Spauling.”

“A few things? Must have been more like a cartload, to have afforded us.”

“You’ll be interested to know I got a price break as long as I specified the two guards I wanted to hire.”

Both the women became very serious instantly. “Trovis,” hissed Batanya.

“He really has a big hate against you,” Crick said. “When he heard where I needed to go, he jiggered around the duty roster so that your names came up.”

Batanya and Clovache looked at each other. “When we get back,” Clovache said, “we’ll take care of him. This has gone on long enough.”

“Why does he hold such a grudge?” Crick asked. The two turned as one to stare at him. “Oh, ladies, come on! We’re in this together. If I make it back alone, I’ll kill him for you.”

“Good enough,” Clovache said. “My esteemed senior, here, turned him down so forcefully she broke his arm.”

Crick whistled silently. “I take it a plain refusal wouldn’t suffice?”

“He wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Batanya said. “He was waiting in my room when I came home one night. I tried being tactful, which doesn’t come easily to me. I tried being firm. I tried being rude. He persisted. The time came to try force.”