Johannes Cabal The Necromancer by Jonathan L. Howard Read Free Book Online Page A

an’ all, but you’re screwed, Jack.”

    Cabal ignored him. He was looking at the signs again.

    “I have to work to a budget, so I can’t just start everything. I have to make some management decisions about what to go with and what to leave. Some of these sideshows will be useful; others will just waste my resources. I need advice. Mr. Bones, which sideshows shall I invest in?”

    Bones shook his head regretfully. “I can’t help you, boss. End of the day, I’m just walkin’ dust. You’re the only real person round here. Your call.”

    “I can’t,” replied Cabal conclusively. “I don’t understand people, either. I’ll have to get my advice from somewhere else.” He looked into the distance for a long moment. Then he took a deep breath. “I think I know just the person.” He walked to the exit and jumped down onto the track. Denzil and Dennis were sitting by the train, throwing stones at the crow. None were going even remotely close, but it watched the proceedings with keen interest all the same. “You two,” he spoke sharply. “Obey Mr. Bones’s instructions until I return.”

    They looked up as Bones stuck his head out and looked down on them from immediately above. He grinned. “Howdy!” They smiled dozily and waved back.

    “Crow! Here!” Cabal ordered. The crow flew to him without hesitation and landed upon his shoulder. “You’re coming with me, so I know you’re not up to mischief.”

    “Kronk!” said the crow smugly.

    Bones leaned on the doorjamb. “So what do you want me and the corpse boys to be doin’ while you’re gone, chief?”

    Cabal pointed towards the engine. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. It might be a few days. In the meantime, clean out the locomotive and get together some fuel. Do you know what it burns?”

    “Just about anythin’.”

    “Good. Load up the fuel car with wood, and fill the boiler with water. There are lots of ponds and streams around here. That shouldn’t be a problem. Then see if you can get the line clear back to the junction. We’ll need to be under way as soon as the carnival’s put together.”

    Bones glanced at the trees and pursed his lips. This didn’t look like a small task. “Is that all? Nothin’ else?” Cabal thought hard. Bones sighed. Him and his big mouth.

    “Yes, if you’ve got any time left, I want the name of the carnival painted on the first broad-sided car, both sides. Can you sign-paint?”

    “Sure, I can sign-paint, I can do most stuff if I put my mind to it. What do you want to call it, boss?”

    Cabal told him.

    Bones whistled appreciatively. “Man, you’re just full of surprises.”

IN WHICH CABAL COVERS OLD GROUND AND GETS THE SHOW ON THE ROAD

    Burial: it’s a personal choice. There are, of course, those who don’t care to be buried at all but prefer to be burnt or left in the open for vultures to pick at or something else equally unhygienic.

    They are of no concern here.

    Those who do want their bodies interred have different visions of how they’d prefer the environs, as if it would make a difference to them at this juncture. Some imagine a green churchyard on a spring day, the sound of bells calling the faithful to worship, the immaculate grass verges, the white pebbled paths. Some—usually the ones who wear a lot of black and think that Byron must have been mad, bad, and fabulous to know—dream of tenebrous graveyards in the shades of monstrous Gothic churches, beneath a dark, lowering sky that threatens thunder and lightning any second. Being near a mountainous sea wouldn’t hurt, either. Others would like a tree to be planted over their otherwise unmarked graves, so that their bodies might nourish the roots of a mighty oak or sycamore.

    All these desires can be understood and to a greater or lesser extent sympathised with. It is, however, impossible to have the faintest idea what was going through the minds of the people who bought plots in the Grimpen Burial Ground.