Henry consulted the book again. 'It says you need a blasting wand, but if you read ahead that's just so you can control the demon. I don't expect Pyrgus will cause us much trouble.'
'If it works properly.'
Henry looked at her. 'What's that mean?'
'If it works properly,' Blue repeated. 'If your idea works. If we call up Pyrgus. If we don't end up calling up Beleth or some other demon by mistake.'
Henry felt a sudden tightness in his lower abdomen. 'You think we might?'
'It's possible.'
'So we do actually need a blasting wand, just to be on the safe side?'
Blue licked her lips. 'Well, to be on the safe side.'
'Do you know where to get one?' Henry asked.
'No.' She stared at him. 'I mean, if we had more time I could probably send one of the servants… but not if we're going to do this now; soon, I mean. No.'
After a moment Henry said, 'We'll just have to do without the blasting wand then. I'm sure it will be OK.' He glanced back at the book. 'The only other thing is something called…' he stumbled over the pronunciation. '… asafoetida? Asafoetida grass? Do you know what that is?'
'Yes, of course,' Blue said. 'You use it in cooking. I can get some from the kitchens.'
'Oh, no, wait,' Henry said. 'You burn that to dismiss the demon you call up. We don't want to dismiss Pyrgus – that's the whole point.'
'Maybe we should get some anyway,' Blue said. 'Since we don't have a blasting wand.'
'Great idea. Yes, get asafoetida. Get lots of asafoetida.'
She was only gone fifteen minutes collecting the things they needed, but it was the longest fifteen minutes of Henry's life.
Henry held the book and called out instructions while Blue painstakingly drew the circle and the triangle. 'Like that?' she asked as she placed the candles.
'Bit closer, I think,' Henry said.
'Like that?'
Henry said, 'They need to be nearer to the triangle.'
'If they were any nearer they'd be in the triangle,' Blue snapped. She looked ready to throw them at him.
'OK,' Henry said.
They finished eventually and stood back to inspect their work. 'Oh,' Henry said.
'Oh? Why are you saying Oh? Is something wrong? Have I somehow managed to get it wrong despite your detailed instructions?' She glared at him.
Henry licked his lips. 'It's just that you've drawn the full circle.'
'Yes, Henry,' Blue said. 'I have drawn a full circle. You told me to draw a circle, so I drew a circle. Odd thing for me to do, but there it is.'
'It's just that you're not supposed to complete the circle until you're inside it. Otherwise it isn't proper.'
For a moment he thought she was going to hit him, but she only said, 'Tell you what: I'll rub out a bit of the circle with my kerchief – it's only chalk. Then we get inside the circle and I'll draw it back again. Will that do?'
'Yes,' said Henry quickly, although he had no idea whether it would or not.
In a moment they were both standing inside the circle, carefully redrawn where Blue had rubbed it out to make them an entrance. Henry licked his lips. 'Which of us is going to do this?'
'The ceremony? You are.'
'Why me?'
'You're the one holding the book,' Blue said.
He couldn't believe he was actually doing it. He was actually going to attempt some sort of black-magic rite to rescue his friend from Hell. It was ridiculous. What was even more ridiculous was that it might go wrong and leave them facing something nasty. Something very nasty indeed. He didn't want to do it. But he didn't want to chicken out either, not in front of Blue. The thing to do was overcome the sheer terror and get on with it. He took a deep breath. 'OK, you – oh…'
'If you say oh to me just one more time…' Blue began. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. 'What is it? What's gone wrong now?'
'We're supposed to light the charcoal and burn some camphor, but I forgot to tell you to get matches. Or a lighter.' Or a tinderbox or whatever they used to start fires in this world: he realised he didn't have the least idea.
'Fortunately I sometimes find it possible to think for myself,' Blue said. She touched the charcoal with a slim rod about the size of a pencil and a blue flame sprang up briefly before the charcoal began to glow red. She added camphor without a word.
Henry opened The Book of Beleth, turned to face the direction of the triangle, rolled his fear into a tiny ball so it couldn't interfere with what he had to do, and started to read aloud the opening prayers.
When he came to the name Beleth, he carefully substituted Pyrgus. He hoped to heaven it would work.
It couldn't work. It was absolutely ridiculous. Standing in a circle calling something out of Hell? How weird could you get? Nobody believed in this sort of thing any more. Nobody had believed this sort of thing since the Middle Ages.
Same as nobody believes in fairies or portals to another world, a voice whispered in his head.
Henry closed his eyes. 'I call upon thee, Be – Pyrgus – I call upon thee Pyrgus to come forth within the Triangle of Art, fair of form in such shape as will be pleasing to me, so that we may – ' And so on, following the heavily repetitive instructions laid out on the page before him.
After a while, he found the camphor fumes were getting to him. Blue had fed a lot on to the burner and he was beginning to feel a little dizzy. At least he thought it must be the camphor fumes because when he opened his eyes, the whole room looked funny. All its edges were softened and everything he looked at writhed and shifted, as if they'd fallen underwater.
It had to be the camphor fumes because he was getting nauseous now and there was a ringing in his ears. He thought he might be leaning at an angle, but when he checked he still seemed to be standing upright. Was there a thunderstorm brewing up outside? Something was rumbling in the distance and it sounded just like thunder.
There was a huge amount of smoke in the room. He tried to signal to Blue not to burn any more camphor, but for some reason his arm wouldn't move. He was still chanting the ritual words from the book. Or at least his throat and mouth were still chanting the ritual words from the book because the rest of him didn't feel he had anything to do with it. The rest of him felt as if it was about to pass out or fall over or possibly go blind from camphor in his eyes.
The incense smoke was swirling in a cone above the triangle. It formed itself into a human shape.
Thirty-three
Pyrgus was choking so violently he could hardly breathe. His head felt close to bursting. Sweat was pouring from his face and body. The molten brimstone was less than an inch away from his feet now and the heat was so intense the soles of his boots had begun to smoke. It was a toss-up whether they would catch fire before the cage lurched and sent him into the brimstone itself. Pyrgus was certain it would lurch. Despite Beleth's boast about the slow, gradual death, the cage had twice dropped more than eighteen inches in the last fifteen minutes. Another drop like that and he would begin to burn. He would begin to die.
Through the fumes and the smoke he could see Beleth had come back. Presumably to watch the show. The Prince of Darkness liked to watch people in pain, liked to hear their screams and listen to their pleas. Except Pyrgus was determined to give him as little satisfaction as possible. No screams. No pleas. No show of pain. If possible he would swallow molten brimstone to give himself a fast death. Well, faster. Better than some inch-by-inch burn from the feet up.
'Are you hoping it will lurch again?' called Beleth. He had assumed his horned form once more so that his voice rumbled like distant thunder. 'Are you hoping for a
faster death?' He smiled broadly. 'I'm afraid, Crown Prince, you will be disappointed. I had your cage lowered faster just so I could witness your demise before I-'