retaliated by punching Drekavac in the jaw. Drekavac, dazed, swung back, but missed his attacker entirely and stumbled into another demon. Soon the entire group was embroiled in the fracas, each demon punching and kicking whoever happened to be nearby. The quarrel between Pazusu and Gurien had merely been the match on the pile of oil-soaked rags; demons—particularly those who had been locked in a cage for several years—didn’t really need an excuse to engage in violence.
“Who?” asked Azrael, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the fracas. “The new guy?”
“Indeed,” said Lucifer. “Believe it or not, our longsuffering Dungeon Master over there is something of a savant with interplanar physics.” He motioned toward Drekavac. “I pulled some strings to get him thrown in here with us. If anyone can figure out how to get off this plane, it’s him.” Drekavac had only been in the cage with them for the past week; an archivist at the Heavenly library, he had been shocked to find himself dragged away from his job without warning, arrested on trumped-up charges and thrown into a cage with Lucifer and his minions. He’d been doing his best to fit in since then, but it was clear he didn’t belong with this gang of miscreants.
“I thought he was a librarian,” said Azrael doubtfully.
“He was,” replied Lucifer. “But five hundred years ago or so, he worked for Balderhaz. They had a falling out, and since then he’s worked at the Heavenly Library. At one point, though, he was intimately familiar with the workings of the planeport.”
“And you think he has the expertise to build another planeport?”
“Not an entire planeport,” said Lucifer. “Just a single portal generator, with a single destination.”
“I assume you have another plane picked out,” said Azrael. “Where do you plan to go?”
Pazusu had managed to turn the tables on Gurien, having gotten him into a headlock. The other demons continued to brawl around them. Malcazar was now only about twenty paces away, but the acoustics in the cavern were such that even though Lucifer and Azrael were speaking at normal volume, the guard would have a hard time making anything out over the bickering going on behind them.
“Not where,” replied Lucifer with a grin. “ When .”
Azrael snorted. “Time travel? It’s a myth, Lucifer.”
“Not true,” said Lucifer. “Balderhaz figured it out. The authorities have suppressed most of the evidence, but I’ve managed to determine, in theory, how it could be done.”
“You’re a liar, Lucifer. If you knew the secret of time travel, you wouldn’t be stuck in here with us.”
Malcazar, flaming sword in hand, stopped in his tracks and turned to study escalating melee, frowning as if he were uncertain whether to intervene. Lucifer and Azrael continued to take no notice of him.
“I said I know in theory how it could be done, not that I can do it at will,” Lucifer said, a hint of irritation in his voice. He was doing his best to be tactful with Azrael, but he was more accustomed to intimidating his underlings into submission than having to cajole them into action. He calmed himself and went on, “I’ve always suspected it was possible, but I never had time to look into it before.”
“So that’s what you’ve been doing?” said Azrael. “Researching time travel?” Lucifer had spent much of the past two years poring over ancient tomes from the Heavenly library that he’d bribed guards to deliver to the prison. In fact, it was—ironically—these deliveries that had gotten Drekavac tossed into the pokey with them. Lucifer had arranged for one of the guards to get caught with a sensitive book on the metaphysics of interplanar energy channels, and the guard had rolled over on Drekavac, blaming him for not following proper security procedures. Drekavac was thrown into prison and the guard was replaced by Malcazar—evidently another element in Lucifer’s escape plan.
“In
Learning to Kill: Stories