The trouble with doors...
Dying was, altogether, a messy and prolonged business, but the Marquis de Carabas knew that, in most cases, death was considerably more prolonged than his had been, if not quite as messy.
He tried not to think about it, especially not on dark nights, and given that most nights - and days for that matter - in the Underside were dark, this was rather difficult. Occasionally, he would see the faces of Croup and Vandemar in his dreams, but usually they were vanishing backward into a sucking, swirling portal, screaming, and so that was all right. Sometimes, though, they were looking up at him as they crucified him, and cut him with various instruments, and were generally being unpleasant. And that wasn't all right. It still stuck in the Marquis' craw that he'd had to get himself killed in the first place, but it was over and done with now and the Lady Door, not to mention Hunter (though she was dead now, and thus he could not collect on it) and the Upworlder, owed him considerable favours.
The Upworlder; ah, yes, Richard Mayhew. He'd been a thorn in their collective sides during the whole journey, and yet, he'd proved himself useful in the end, hadn't he? And then he'd gone back to his old life as if nothing had happened. De Carabas knew it wasn't as simple as that, so always when he strayed near London Above he kept an ear cocked, just in case.
One day, he heard Richard Mayhew calling for Door, and he smiled.
He stepped through the door, expecting to find the Upworlder on the other side, but instead he found himself somewhere...else. Somewhere that decidedly wasn't London Above. London had considerably less jungle, for a start.
The Marquis de Carabas looked around, intrigued. He stroked his chin with long, dark fingers. He took a compass out of his jacket and scrutinized it, and put it back, unsatisfied. Then he said, ‘Well. Isn't this interesting.’
The Upworlder certainly had a lot to answer for.
He tried not to think about it, especially not on dark nights, and given that most nights - and days for that matter - in the Underside were dark, this was rather difficult. Occasionally, he would see the faces of Croup and Vandemar in his dreams, but usually they were vanishing backward into a sucking, swirling portal, screaming, and so that was all right. Sometimes, though, they were looking up at him as they crucified him, and cut him with various instruments, and were generally being unpleasant. And that wasn't all right. It still stuck in the Marquis' craw that he'd had to get himself killed in the first place, but it was over and done with now and the Lady Door, not to mention Hunter (though she was dead now, and thus he could not collect on it) and the Upworlder, owed him considerable favours.
The Upworlder; ah, yes, Richard Mayhew. He'd been a thorn in their collective sides during the whole journey, and yet, he'd proved himself useful in the end, hadn't he? And then he'd gone back to his old life as if nothing had happened. De Carabas knew it wasn't as simple as that, so always when he strayed near London Above he kept an ear cocked, just in case.
One day, he heard Richard Mayhew calling for Door, and he smiled.
He stepped through the door, expecting to find the Upworlder on the other side, but instead he found himself somewhere...else. Somewhere that decidedly wasn't London Above. London had considerably less jungle, for a start.
The Marquis de Carabas looked around, intrigued. He stroked his chin with long, dark fingers. He took a compass out of his jacket and scrutinized it, and put it back, unsatisfied. Then he said, ‘Well. Isn't this interesting.’
The Upworlder certainly had a lot to answer for.