The Demon and the City

at his bride-to-be, whose expression was warring between complacent and unhappy. Complacent, because she had finally found a husband, and unhappy, because of the amount of the dowry on which Paravang had insisted.
    "It is a lot of money," she muttered. Her fleshy face still bore faint traces of the illness that had carried her off: some kind of psoriatic epidemic, or so Paravang understood. Her skin had a curiously mottled appearance, reminiscent of a stormy sky.
    "Well, that may be, but I'm afraid I can't get married without it. There's a price on my head, you see."
    "Yes, I understand that." The woman, Mahibel Wing, appeared remarkably unfazed by the news that her intended was a target of the Assassins' Guild, which said much for the kind of men she must have been dating in Hell. She sighed. "If that is what you insist upon, then I suppose that is what I will have to pay."
    "And the circumstances of the marriage," Paravang said. "As I understand it, the wedding will take place here and you will then return to Hell."
    "Yes, to await your arrival in due course. You do understand, do you not, that this contract means that you will not be able to enter Heaven upon the event of your death?"
    "I'm aware of that. It's a sacrifice I'm prepared to make." Paravang managed a saccharine smile. He did not add that the chances of entering Heaven were, in any case, somewhat remote: he had not lived a good enough life for that, despite the necessary offerings to Senditreya. You had to believe in the essential goodness of your fellow man and that, for Paravang, had proved to be the sticking point.
    "In that case," Mahibel said shyly, "we need to set a date."
    "As soon as possible would be good," Paravang said, adding, "otherwise I'll be joining you in Hell rather sooner than expected, in which case I'm afraid the wedding will be off."
    "Suits me," Mahibel said with a terrifying attempt at being jaunty. "I will return now—I can't stay long here. I'll call you."
    "I'll look forward to it," Paravang said, thinking that an attempt at gallantry wouldn't go amiss. She whirled out of the room in a silent column of dust, leaving Paravang to sit at the table and stare at his hands. The summoning contract that the butcher had drawn up for her had obviously been much less extensive than that arranged with his mother, for the latter was still very much present. He could hear her now, humming tunelessly in the next room as she did the vacuuming. Paravang rose from the table, slipped past the door of the lounge and into the bathroom, where he locked himself in. Apart from sleep, it was the only privacy he'd managed to obtain over the last forty-eight hours. Did she never stop talking? Who did she talk to in Hell, or were there battalions of middle-aged, gossiping dead ladies who all entertained one another? It was almost worth making a final effort to get into Heaven, Paravang thought, but somehow he didn't think that things would be much different there.
    He stared at his reflection in the mirror, somewhat horrified. He looked so much older . . .his unshaven cheeks sunken and hollow, his hair stringy. He was certainly a fitting bridegroom for poor Mahibel, if looks were anything to go by. And the coldness she had brought with her was still there, sipping gently at his will to live. Was that the idea, perhaps? Get him into her clutches and then debilitate him so that he ended up in Hell several years too early? Just like a woman, Paravang thought bitterly. It struck him that if this were the case, then he might as well just give up and succumb to the Assassins' Guild. After all, they could only kill him as well, and they'd probably be a lot more efficient about it.
     

Forty-Five
    As he had expected, Zhu Irzh was not getting on well with Heaven. They had now been taken ashore and led up a pretty cliff path through fields of blossoming trees and into a pavilion. Here, someone so august had been waiting that Zhu Irzh had been unable to look at him and was obliged to stumble outside. It was quite some time before the dazzle had faded from his eyes and, when it did, he looked up to see Chen standing beside him. The badger was at his feet.
    "You too, eh?" the demon said.
    "It didn't affect me as badly, but yes, the sight of the Jade Emperor is a bit much, I agree." The badger grunted, as if in agreement. "How are you feeling now?" Chen added.
    "Weak. This place is sapping me. I can't even think about sex."
    Chen looked a little pained, but said