CHAPTER 6
in which Cabal makes an unplanned stop and talks about the war
So the carnival moved on and moved on, and it left a thin line of misery and discord behind it at town after town.
Cabal lifted the unsigned contracts from their box, placed the signed ones at the bottom, and replaced the blanks on top of them. Then he put the lid back on, placed the box in the top right-hand drawer of his desk, and locked it. One day, and it had better be some day within a year after he’d started on this whole ridiculous wager, the topmost form would be signed as well, and he would have won. Then he could have his soul back.
And, a small, still voice said within him, you can spit in Satan’s eye, because that’s really what this is all about now, isn’t it, Johannes? It might have started with your soul, but it’s all about your pride now.
But Johannes Cabal didn’t have a great deal of time for small, still voices. He ignored it, and in that small, deliberate inattention, he summed himself up.
Cabal arched his fingers and rested his chin on their tips while he carried out a rapid mental calculation. Providing they stayed on schedule, and providing the other communities they visited were as base and venal as Merton Pembersley New Town, Carnforth Green, and Solipsis Supermare had proved to be, then the target would be reached comfortably within the time limit.
At which point, the train shuddered to a halt.
Cabal jumped down onto the track and looked around. This couldn’t be right; the track was in only slightly better condition than the line on which he’d originally found the train. They were in a long cutting that ran through the countryside, and Cabal couldn’t see an end to it in either direction. The embankments were overgrown with straggling bushes and well-established trees whose branches loomed almost into the train’s path. To one side, Cabal could see a family of rabbits sunning themselves while they watched the carnival with mild interest. This definitely couldn’t be right. This was supposed to be a main line they were on. Cabal made his way to the locomotive but was met by Bones coming the other way. The unnaturally thin man was carrying a rolled-up map.
“Bad news, boss. We are on the wrong line.”
“Really?” said Cabal, looking at the healthy growth of weeds along the track bed. “You do surprise me.”
“It’s true,” replied Bones, long inured to Cabal’s easy resort to sarcasm. “It’s a definite done deal.”
“How did it happen?”
“Dunno. Those smart folk on the footplate didn’t notice anything was wrong for an age, far as I can figure. I’m guessin’ some kids tripped the points and we just” — he planed his hand through the air — “whoosh into the middle of nowheres.”
“How do we get back?”
“Depends on where we are. Look.” Bones unfurled the map on the gravel and weighted its corners down with stones. “We could be on this spur here, or that one there. See? Now, if we’re on that one” — he pointed at a thin line that branched off a thicker one — “well, that’s cool. We just go on till we reach the main line again, there, and we don’t hardly lose no time. If we’re on
“And there’s no way of knowing which one we
“Not without some sort of landmark, no.”
Cabal pursed his lips. Kids tripping the points? He doubted it. Far more likely it was the handiwork of one of Satan’s avatars. Anything to make things difficult. Without a word, he went back to the train and hoisted himself up onto an external ladder.
“Where you goin’, boss?” asked Bones, shielding his eyes against the cold sun.
“Looking for a landmark. Pass me the chart, would you?”
From the top of the car, Cabal still couldn’t see very far. The sides of the cutting were simply too high. Discarding the options of jumping up and down or standing on tiptoes as both pointless and damaging to his dignity, he looked up and down the length of the track instead. Ahead he could see nothing beyond the long, gentle curve. Looking back, however, he could just make out the roof of a building that must lie beside the track. Checking against the chart proved fruitless; both potential lines had assorted unidentified buildings along their lengths. Still, perhaps he could get a clue there. He dropped the chart back to Bones and climbed quickly down.
“There’s a house or something back there,” he said, pointing. “I’ll go and make enquiries.”
Bones looked along the track without enthusiasm. “You want me to come with you?”
Cabal was already walking along the sleepers. “Unnecessary. I’ll be back shortly.”
As the impatient huffing of escaping steam grew quieter behind him, Cabal began to feel oddly alone. He had spent the vast majority of his life alone, of course; both his temperament and profession had made that a given. This, however, was different. Every step he took away from the train made him feel more isolated from all humanity, and the sensation, combined with its very unfamiliarity, was becoming more than disconcerting. He stopped and was alarmed, as well as slightly disgusted, to feel a shiver travel through him. Then, worse still, the hairs on the nape of his neck rose.
