Prospero in Hell
Authors: L. Jagi Lamplighter
PROSPERO IN HELL
TOR BOOKS BY
L. JAGI LAMPLIGHTER
Prospero Lost
Prospero in Hell
Prospero Regained
(forthcoming)
L. Jagi Lamplighter
A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK
NEW YORK
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
PROSPERO IN HELL
Copyright © 2010 by L. Jagi Lamplighter
All rights reserved.
Edited by James Frenkel
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
Tor
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
ISBN 978-0-7653-1930-2
First Edition: August 2010
Printed in the United States of America
0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Orville, Roland Wilbur,
Ping-Ping Eve, and the Elf King,
the best children in the universe
THE FAMILY PROSPERO
Eldest to youngest
T
HE
D
READ
M
AGICIAN
P
ROSPERO
carries the
Staff of Eternity
M
IRANDA
carries the
Staff of Winds
M
EPHISTOPHELES
carries the
Staff of Summoning
T
HEOPHRASTUS
carries the
Staff of Devastation
E
RASMUS
carries the
Staff of Decay
C
ORNELIUS
carries the
Staff of Persuasion
T
ITUS
carries the
Staff of Silence
L
OGISTILLA
carries the
Staff of Transmogrification
G
REGOR
carries the
Staff of Darkness
U
LYSSES
carries the
Staff of Transportation
TWO
:
The Marvelous Mansion of Mephistopheles Prospero
FIVE
:
Of Secrets and Revelations
TWELVE
:
A New Year’s Night Dream
EIGHTEEN
:
Alone in Dreams of Sorrow
TWENTY-TWO
:
Abandon All Hope, Ye …
TWENTY-THREE
:
The Doves of Oblivion
TWENTY-FOUR
:
Bridge over the River Styx
PROSPERO IN HELL
The three of us hurtled through the night on the back of the winged horse. Miles of ice and pine flew by underfoot, glimmering in the moonlight. The Arctic night was bitterly cold, but even the biting chill could not dim the joy of flight, the crispness of the air, or the power of Pegasus’s wing beats. How easy it would be to forget earthly life and dwell only in the sky!
Behind me, Mab shouted something, but his words were whipped away by the wind. Leaning over, I freed my flute from where I had secured it to the saddle and held it up for Mab to see. He nodded grumpily and inserted a pair of orange hunting earplugs with one hand, his other hand holding onto his fedora. Raising the four-foot length of polished pinewood to my lips, I played a quick trill.
The freezing northern winds grew gentler. Their constant roar muted; I could hear the steady flap of our steed’s wings and the singing of my brother Mephistopheles, who sat before me. Mephisto had been keeping up a running narrative in song, ever since we left the North Pole. I thanked my Lady that the noise of the winds had previously protected me from his impromptu recital.
I secured my flute again, and Mab pulled out his earplugs. We were on our way home from the North Pole, heading for Mephisto’s home in the wilds of North Canada. Our plane had gone down on the way to visit Father Christmas, so we were constrained to travel by one of Mephisto’s many supernatural beast friends. Currently, we flew on Pegasus, the horse that once carried the Greek hero Bellerophon up the heights of Mount Olympus. Bellerophon was struck down with lightning for his impudence; I prayed that our journey would not meet a similar fate.
“There’s a storm brewing, Ma’am. Snow’s coming.” Mab spoke with a heavy Bronx accent so that his “there” sounded like “dare.” How an incarnated
Aerie One came to have a New York accent, I did not know, but a lot of things about Mab defied explanation. “Might not be good for us”—his voice grew heavy with sarcasm—“considering our mode of travel.”
“Hey! You be polite, or Pegasus will hear you!” my crazy brother cried, interrupting his aria. “It’s not his fault you crashed your stupid plane. Is it, Peggie?” He leaned over and stroked the winged horse’s smooth neck.
“I’ll take care of it,” I interrupted before they could start sparring with each other. “Earplugs again.”
Mab obliged, and I began to play again.
My flute sang with the voice of the cold wind. It was as if speech had been given to cloud, and night, and the chill of winter air. The song lightened my spirits. So glorious and enchanting was the melody that I nearly forgot my purpose and gave myself to the music and the night sky.
The winds I summoned dispersed the gathering clouds, and we flew on, unobstructed. Unhindered, Pegasus sped along, making good time. This cheered me. It was important we get back to civilization. A great deal of work awaited me at Prospero, Inc. Also, I had not yet finished carrying out the orders from my father’s last letter, instructing me to warn my brothers and sister that the Three Shadowed Ones were after our staffs. On top of all this, I still had no idea what doom was supposed to befall my family on Twelfth Night. The demon had not been specific.
