Jonathan L. Howard - Johannes Cabal the Detective

For Louise

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Interludes

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Other sins only speak; murder shrieks out.
The element of water moistens the earth,
But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens.

JOHN WEBSTER

Chapter 1

IN WHICH DEATH AWAITS AND A PLOT IS HATCHED

The condemned cell stank of cats.

There were no rats and no cockroaches, for which Johannes Cabala necromancer of some little infamywas grateful. But the cost of vermin control was an army of cats who crept in and out of his cell and wandered throughout the dungeons of the Harslaus Castle with complete impunity. Even the cell doors had cat flaps cut into them. It was no secret that the warders had a much higher opinion of the animals than they did of the inmates. When Cabal was given his introductory tourwhich took the form of being thrown down the stairs and shouted athe had been left in no doubt that any harm that he might cause the cats would be returned to him, plus interest.

So now he sat and waited for the authorities to find a window in their very busy schedules to execute him, and he did so covered in cat hair in a cell that countless generations of toms had proudly and extravagantly claimed as their own. Things could probably be worse but, despite some careful thought, Cabal couldnt put his finger on how. So, instead, he considered how he had come to be in such a circumstance. Strictly, necromancy was the telling of the future by summoning up the spirits of the dead and asking them searching questions. This, Cabal believed, was a singularly poor way of finding out anything. The dead were moderately strong on history, weak on current events, and entirely useless for discerning what was to come. They were, after all, dead. Still, that was the dictionary definition of necromancy.

Over the years, however, it became apparent that necromancy, necromancer, and necromantic were fine words wasted on useless definitions, and the lexicological group consciousness gently slid them over a few notches so that they now pertained to something interestingi.e., magic involving the dead. This was far more satisfying: summoning up the ghost of Aunt Matilda for an insight into next weeks lottery numbers was dull; a maniac with a pointy beard unleashing an army of skeletal warriors, however, was fun. Thus, we see the evolution of a languageand a gratifying sight it is, to be sure. Johannes Cabal had no time for the Aunt Matildas of this world or the next. He fitted neatly into the newer definition of necromancerhe dealt with raising the dead (although skeletal warriors he left to those of a more theatrical bent). First and foremost, he considered himself a scientist embarked upon a search for a cure for a terrible disease. Death. This would seem laudable if it were not for his methods, his manner, and his failed experiments, the latter tending to hang around the countryside, dismaying the yokels. Even this might have been forgivablepharmaceutical companies have done worseif it were not for the bad reputation that the more melodramatic necromancers have given the profession. Skeletal warriors are all very well when theyre chasing Jason and the Argonauts around on the silver screen, but when theyre battering down your door Well, thats a different matter altogether. So the necromancers were all besmirched with the same gory brush, and Cabal, who just wanted to be left to his research, found himself in a profession proscribed in the most capital terms. It was very galling. Especially when you got caught.

C abal had been caught trying to check out a book from the library of the Krenz University. The book was in the Special Collection, and Cabal had intended the loan to be of an extended, open-ended sort of period. Anticipating resistance from the library authorities, he had made the loan at half past one in the morning of a national holiday and might have got away with it, too, if it hadnt been for an enormous mastiff that patrolled the corridors and of which his contacts had unaccountably failed to warn him. When the library was reopened, theyd found Cabal pinned down by 180 pounds of overfriendly dog in the reading room, half drowned in slobber. Just out of reach was a well-travelled Gladstone bag that was found to contain an enormous handgun, a collection of surgical instruments, a closely written notebook, a padded case holding several sealed test tubes full of murky fluids, and the librarys own demy-quarto copy of