She didn't stop, but flatly shot back, “What?”
“Do you spend much time here?”
“Not as much as I would wish. Do you think I want to get caught out in the open by those demons?”
“Ah.” Dawkins was silent for a moment, then spoke again. “Rahab, do you think you can answer a few questions for me?”
She audibly rolled her eyes. “All right.”
“Do you know what kind of ants those are?”
“Ants?” Rahab sounded genuinely surprised. “What ants?”
“The ants we just stepped over.”
For a moment, Rahab cast about her memory. “Ah, those ants. There are a lot of them around here. What about them?”
“Do you know anything about them?” Dawkins asked.
“Not really.” She paused for a second, looked at him, then continued walking forward. After another few minutes, she asked quietly over her shoulder, “What do you care about ants?”
Dawkins, busy scanning the ground for insects, said after a few seconds, “Well, the ecosystem here is fascinating. Those ants aren't like anything back on Earth. So I'm trying to find out about them, and about all the other plants and animals, to learn more about Hell and what its history must have been.”
Rahab frowned. “You can tell the history of the place just by looking at its plants and animals?”
“A little bit,” said Dawkins. “We can make some surmises as to the evolutionary history of the ecosystem by studying the plants and animals. For example, we can tell how long ago their ancestors came here from Earth, and how much has occurred since then.”
She’d looked at him, bewildered, and shown him the way back to his room. And he’d been here more or less ever since. It was comfortable enough although if Dawkins made it back to Earth, he would never complain about a Ramada Inn again. He’d had nothing to do other than watch the insects and try to work out if any of them were dangerous. He was still mulling over the options there, contact poisons, bites, spitting, when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Rahab entered the room, two men behind her. Dawkins recognized the type instantly. Heavies. Muscle. The names varied from country to country but their kind never did. He didn’t know whether this was a good time to get scared or already too late for that. But, they didn’t look hostile. More curious than anything else.
“Our leader would like to speak with you. We will take you to him and then we must go outside. Do you need help?”
Dawkins relaxed. A little. “No, Rahab, I’m recovered now.” He turned to the two men. “I’m Richard Dawkins.”
“Good for you.” The fair-haired man grunted the words out.
“Don’t mind him. He’s always a bit irritable when Caesar’s alone. I’m Titus Pullo, he’s Lucius Vorenus.”
“The Titus Pullo and Lucius Vorenus?” Dawkins was stunned.
The big man laughed. “So, you’ve read Caesar’s book then. Spins a good yarn doesn’t he.”
“I’ve read the book, but you’re the stars of a television program as well.”
The big man looked confused. Rahab cut smoothly in. “Don’t worry Titus, none of understand what he’s saying most of the time. He likes ants though, if you see any, take him to them. They’ll keep him happy for hours.”
Chapter Fifty Five
Belial’s Study, Adamantine Fastness of Tartarus, Hell
Of course, Belial never sat with his back to a door. No demon made it past squad leader without learning such basic common sense. Thus when Euryale entered she was immediately met by the count’s calculating stare. She made no sign of having noticed it though, instead concentrating on bringing the food she had prepared for him to his table. She’d made certain that the tray held everything he liked and nothing that he did not, that wasn’t just being seductive, that was simple self-preservation. Once Belial’s meal was laid out, she sat quietly on the couch beside him, saying nothing. Belial was very familiar with this game, but still drunk on success he was in the mood to let it play out. He continued to stare at the meal laid out on the table, aware that the Euryale’s tail had curved around his leg and its tip was caressing the back of his thigh.
“Satan Mekratrig is pleased at my success. He has named me as one who stands beside him and is in his favor.”
“My Lord. The Baroness Yulupki is in position with her chorus. The second attack, on Dee-Troyt, will commence when you give the word.” Her voice was quiet and respectful but her tail continued to move suggestively up his leg, its tip now reaching his knee. The torchlight was glittering off her smooth bronze scales. Conniving little harpy. Belial thought, though the constantly-moving tip of tail curling around his lower leg was rather distracting. Still as comely as ever though.
“And then Satan will indeed reward me and grant me back the power I once had. Which raises the question of what to do with you, Euryale. Your display tonight was unforgivable.” Mentally, Belial gulped, the top of her tail had now reached his groin and thinking straight was becoming every more difficult. “You must be punished for your insubordination.
“I am in great fear of your punishment Belial.” Euryale put a distinct tremor into her voice, one that was either lust or fear and there was no way of telling which was which. In fact, of course, the answer was neither but that didn’t really matter. She twitched the tip of her tail and saw Belial jump slightly. You ignorant oaf, half your court want to rebel against you, the other half just want to assassinate you. The only thing stopping them is they don’t regard Tartarus as being worth the risk. As soon as you have something worth usurping, they’ll be at your throat. If it didn’t suit me to have you on the throne… the tip of her tail had reached up and now was circling Belial’s penis.
Any hope Belial had of thinking straight had long gone. Ah well, may as well go with the flow was the one thought that was running through his mind. He lurched upwards, getting to his feet and dragging Euryale up with him at the same time. Then, he pulled the demoness off the couch, and slung her over his shoulder before he carried her through an archway and flung her onto a sleeping pallet. Euryale landed heavily on her back, splayed out on the matted fungus. The briefest flicker of fear crossed her face before her features melted into a look of unbridled lust. Belial couldn’t tell if she was faking that or not, but his matching expression was certainly genuine.
Outside, the listening orcs heard the intense screams and were indeed convinced that a most horrible tortures were being inflicted. By the time the story had been elaborated and repeated, it was enough to chill the blood of even the most ruthless of Belial’s minions.
Half an hour later, Belial was back in his study, staring dreamily through the window (or rather, trident firing loophole). This owed less to the massage Euryale was giving him than to the drugged dart she’d managed to administer while the count was quite thoroughly distracted by her claws raking his back. It was a tactic she used most sparingly, due to the likely horrible consequences of him realizing what she was doing, but in this case she’d considered it justified.
“Yes, such a shame really, losing brave Lasee-urk-nasee.”
Euryale sighed mentally. “Actually Lakheenahuknaasi survived. She made contact with me just an hour ago, of course I came to see you immediately. She says that she was intercepted by a human sky chariot and gravely wounded. Lakheenahuknaasi thinks we must minimize the time between sending the pathfinder and the strike itself. If we do that, her sister will have a much better chance of survival..”