There didn't seem to be much distinction between night and day in Hell. When Lanclott finally arose to leave, the landscape was still dark outside. Most of the castle had gone quiet; the gay revery of the night before had given way to a heavy slumber, though three brightly-colored fairies were flitting around downstairs, putting the guards to sleep with quick flicks of their wands.

"Good," Jason Blood said grumpily, as the navigator shuffled out of the door, yawning loudly. "I wasn't particularly looking forward to waiting ninety nine years for you to decide to wake up."

Lanclott shrugged, rubbing at his forehead as he followed the other man outside. "You always could've left without me, matey," he pointed out, shielding another yawn.

His guide snorted, shooting him a look. "That's not the way it works in Hell," he said sourly. "You make an agreement, you'd better stick to it. You ought to learn that, Wheeler." He started down the path away from the castle without another word.

********

The monster from the night before had evidently gotten bored in the intervening hours, for there was no sign of it outside of the castle. Lanclott shouldered his pack, keeping pace just behind the knight-turned-sorceror and warily watching the road around him.

Limbo had been aptly named. There was nothing there, nothing for miles, and the castle behind them quickly faded into the gray fog of nothingness. Minutes slid into hours, and the hours stretched onwards until Lanclott found himself quietly reciting iambic pentameter and watching his companion hopefully for some sort of provoked reaction. Jason, for his part, seemed far more concerned with humming a few lines of a song over and over again under his breath.

When the knight finally halted, it came so suddenly that Lanclott almost crashed into him.

"Hell!" he snapped, stopping so shortly that he nearly lost his balance.

Jason Blood gave a snort. "Very good, Wheeler, I can see that you're gifted with this sneaking around business," he said indulgently, turning back to give the navigator a humoring look. "The second gate is up ahead. Did you have a plan for getting past it, or am I going to be lucky enough to watch them catch you and grind your bones?"

Lanclott frowned, squinting ahead into the darkness. "I dunno, I didn't really think too much about the plan bit," he answered, lowering his bag to the ground. "I was kind o' hoping all the details'd just work themselves out, actually. You don't really think anybody's going to care if I just ask to pass through, do you, matey?"

"So I get to watch them catch you," his guide said dourly, turning back around toward the distant gate, just barely visible through the fog. "I don't think words can express how much I've been looking forward to this moment, Wheeler. It's really going to be a turning point in my life."

The navigator ignored him as he bent to dig through his pack. He straightened again a few moments later with a carefully folded piece of paper in hand, a blood red seal prominent on its front. "All right," he said, examining it for a moment before tucking it into his pocket. "Let's go."

The wall grew bigger as they got closer, until it towered overhead. A line of shades stretched back as far as Lanclott could see, all silent, all waiting to pass through. In the distance, he could hear faint cries of pain, but none of the ghosts he saw seemed to react at all to the hints of their coming fate. He shuddered.

Jason watched him amusedly. "Don't like the atmosphere, Wheeler?" he asked nicely.

"Go to Hell if you've got something to tell," Lanclott muttered. He tried to ignore the increasingly nauseated feeling creeping over him, gripping the letter in his pocket.

His guide just chuckled. "Even the demons can rhyme better than that," he told Lanclott cheerfully. "Just think, Wheeler, it's going to keep getting better. These ones aren't even being tortured yet."

In some ways, Lanclott couldn't help thinking that he would have preferred to see the shades being tortured. At least the nine circles of Hell would give a man something to rail against, as painful as the unending suffering must be. But this, men waiting in line like sheep as the demons decided their fate...

"So, are we just walking up to the gate to announce ourselves, or did you have another plan to call down the wrath of Hell upon you?"

Lanclott ignored his guide's all-too-cheerful inquiry, slipping the letter back out of his pocket. "Just stay behind me," he muttered at the other man, trying not to look at the line of ghosts as he marched up to the front of the gate.

The demons standing guard there looked vaguely human, with only slightly curled lips and sharp, pointed horns to hint at their otherworldlyness. Lanclott looked them straight in the eye, raising the seal on his letter, and walked under the gate, paying no attention to the ass-eared man sitting on a king's throne above him. Jason followed amusedly behind.

"That's good," he said approvingly. "Let them all know you're here. How long do you think it will take all your past associates to realize you've decided to drop in and return your favor to them?"

The navigator directed his gaze upwards, then nearly blanched at the sight of the blood-stained iron of the gate overhead. Swallowing roughly, he slipped the letter back into his pocket and continued into the Second Circle.

********

The wind picked up as they passed under the gate. The next region of Hell was a wide, open plain that stretched as far as Lanclott could see, completely unmarred by any markers save for the powerful gusts that surged across the plain.

He hunched over, pulling his bandanna low and keeping a hand firmly on his bag, clenching his teeth against the blasts of wind. His guide, completely unbothered by the winds, walked upright, still watching him with a vaguely amused expression.

"Not what you thought, Wheeler?" he asked cheerfully.

Lanclott gritted his teeth. "If I'd brought a kite, it'd be all right," he growled.

Jason Blood rolled his eyes, just as a particularly strong gust sent Lanclott stumbling. A bright grin lit up the knight's face, and he started to laugh as he walked forward.

They moved across the plain in silence, the navigator straining against the wind, and Jason chuckling as he watched him out of the corner of his eye. Virgil, Lanclott noted darkly, as he forced himself forward against another blast, had not found Dante's fainting fits nearly so amusing.

They had walked for quite some time before they came across the first of the spirits. The ghosts were pale figures, shrieking as they were dashed back and forth across the sky, like a ship caught in a sea of violent waves. Lanclott stopped, straightening slightly even against the wind, and squinted up at them, shielding his eyes against the gusts.

His guide, who looked as if he were enjoying the entire situation far too much for Lanclott's liking, shot him an amused look. "Expecting to find an old girlfriend here, Wheeler?" he asked nicely.

"No," Lanclott growled back, deciding it was far safer to ignore the other man as he returned to scanning the skies.

Whirling in the hurricane, along with the other souls that flitted back and forth on the air, was a woman whose long, blond braid whipped through the air restlessly. Her features were barely recognizable from a distance, but she seemed to have changed little in twenty-five years.
The navigator straightened, squinting through the wind, then bent to slide his knife out of its sheath.

Jason watched him with an air of bemusement, crossing his arms as he took a step back. "If you summon up something you can't handle, Wheeler, I'm not going to help you out of it this time," he informed him nicely.

Lanclott made a face, ignoring him as he raised the weapon. "Did I ask you?" he grumbled, slicing the blade across his palm. "Helen Glass!" he called clearly into the whirling maelstrom. "I'd like a word with you!"

The blonde woman was dragged toward the navigator and his companion, like a falling leaf being tugged by an errant breeze, until she stopped, just a few feet away from Lanclott, crossing ghostly arms over her ghostly chest as she whipped her braid over her shoulder. "I'm flattered by the attention," she informed Lanclott in a matter-of-fact tone. "Do I know you?"

"Old flame," Jason observed, looking immensely entertained by the situation.

Lanclott ignored his guide. "You did, once," he replied, keeping one hand on his bandanna to keep it in place as he straightened and flashed the ghost a crooked grin. "You and Glass did both. I was just a young lad, always cluttering up the bookstore and keeping out the paying customers."

Helen raised both eyebrows at the man. "Lanclott?" she asked. "I didn't recognize you. You need a shave," she informed him, before giving the navigator a long, studious look. "You haven't gotten yourself killed yet?" she asked. "Did running off to sea suit you, then?"

The navigator shrugged. "Suited me better'n staying at home would've," he said noncommittally. "No, I'm just passing through. Figured I might as well look a few folks up while I was in the neighborhood, though."

The ghost smiled back. "Well, that was very kind of you," she answered. "And what about my husband? Has he managed to get himself killed yet, or is he still bumbling along as always?"

"Figure he would've turned up here if he had," Lanclott replied, rubbing at his forehead. "No, he's still all right. I, uh..." He hesitated, then gave the shade a sheepish look. "I've got a ship now, and he's signed on it, he and Annabel both. He asked me to pass on a word, if I ran into you," he said, nodding to her. "Just, uh, to let you know that they're all right, and that the lass grew up well, and that he loves you."

Helen looked thoughtful for a moment. "My daughter?" she asked, tilting her head at Lanclott with a look of recognition. "And Glass, both working for you? It's a blessing he didn't get her killed as well, although I expect she's turned out like her father. How long has it been?"

"Dunno," Lanclott said, hunching over slightly against the wind, as he crossed his arms. "Twenty years, a bit more? I think she's more like you'n she is him. They were both still chasing treasure, up until they signed on wit' me."

The ghost smiled slowly, beaming at the navigator as she flitted in place. "Well, he couldn't do too much damage, then, could he?" she asked delightedly. "You'll watch out for them, won't you? Make sure Glass doesn't do anything senseless. If Annabel takes after me, that's hardly a concern."

"I try to," Lanclott said with a shrug. "He gets on all right, all he does is look after her. I'm not planning on letting anybody else get killed."

"That's what people do, Lanclott," Helen answered, shaking her head. "They all get killed, sooner or later, and then they come here. You can't stop that."

"Oh, no, I can," Lanclott said, raising his eyebrows at her. "That's what I'm doing here now, I'm getting a mate out. I'm not letting folks rot ferever if I can help it."

The blonde shade blinked at Lanclott. "But that isn't how it works, Lanclott," she replied. "You're not supposed to stop it. People don't come back out of here; that's not the way of things." She glanced at the navigator's companion briefly, before shaking her head and looking back to Lanclott. "Have you been listening to Glass' stories again?"

"Been living Glass's stories," the navigator replied with a shrug. "I figure you only get stuck in here if folks let you. It's just like signing on wit' the Devil - they tell you what there's only two choices, and everybody just goes along like sheep instead o' trying to find the third."

"You always took his stories too seriously, Lanclott," Helen informed the man, shaking her head at him. "Are you trying to tell me I'm only here because my husband didn't care enough to get me out? My daughter? You?"

"I'm trying fer one now, we'll see how that goes," Lanclott said non-committally, leaning back a step. "I didn't take the stories too seriously. I learned what I need to from 'em and went on about it. What was I supposed to do, live at home fer all o' me life?" he asked sharply.

"Now, Lanclott, I hardly think we need to argue after all these years, do you?" Helen asked. "I only mean that you believed them; you put the same sort of faith in them that he did. It never got him anywhere, Lanclott." She paused for a moment, eyeing the navigator curiously. "Do you mean that if you succeed, you'll come back?"

"I dunno, does that count as taking a story too seriously?" Lanclott asked, crossing his arms. "I might try to," he said, giving her a nod. "I don't know. I don't know if I can, if this is the only one I can get, or if it's even me place, if I can do it twice. I'd like to come again."

"I'd like the company," Helen assured Lanclott. "It's been a long time down here, and nothing ever changes. This, this one thing, this hasn't happened before in all the time I've been here, and it makes all the difference," she said with a smile. "We don't have visitors. I think the others might like to have visitors, too, if they could," she said, eyeing the ghosts that flitted above them in the whirwind.

"We'll see," said the navigator, glancing down at the ground. "I won't make any promises, and I can't make an offer. There anything you want me to tell Glass, or the lass, after I get back again?" he asked.

The woman smiled slightly. "You can tell him he's still an idiot, and to make sure his conscience is clear before he gets himself killed," she answered. "Can you see Glass surviving down here? He'd go mad in about a week. Anyway," she said with a smirk, "he'll know the message is really from me. I don't know what to say to the girl; I barely know her. Tell her that if her father's being a fool, not to listen to him." The shade rubbed at her chin. "Do you suppose that's all right, or will Glass be hurt if I don't convey missives of undying love?"

"He'll be hurt, but I was planning on making up most o' the message anyway," Lanclott said with a shrug, turning back away from the shade again. "I just wanted to make sure I got the tone right. Stories don't work if you mess up on the details."

"Give it to him exactly, not that he'll listen. And come back when you can!" the ghost called to Lanclott. "People still talk about when that Italian came through here; we don't get many guests."

*******

They walked silently for some time. Lanclott huddled against the wind, and Jason Blood left him to his thoughts, though it was with an odd thoughtfulness and not his usual sullen glower.

"Did you get her killed?" he asked at last.

Lanclott shot him a look. "Aye, when I was eighteen and getting hauled off to the Caribbean," he said darkly. "No, her husband wa-- is a good mate o' mine. He asked me to check up on her," he said with a shrug.

Jason was silent for a moment longer. "If that's what you're telling people, there's no way that Hell is going to let you pass," he said at last. "They don't want to lose souls, Wheeler. You might think you can get your friend out, and you might even be right, to a point, but if they think they're going to lose even more Damned out of this, they'll hunt you down before you even get the opportunity to try it."

"Oh, aye, and I figure there's a good reason not to try it right there," the navigator replied, shaking his head. "Hell's either going to let me pass or they're not. I don't care. I'm not planning on dying here. If there's a chance to get folks riled, maybe break 'em out o' that bloody stupor they're all in," he said, kicking at the ground with the heel of his boot, "I'm going to try it. Let Hell try and stop me. It's been six years, they haven't been able to yet."

A sort of grim amusement crept over his guide's face, and he skipped a pace to catch up. "Ah, yes, but if there's a chance in Hell that they're going to be able to, you ought to remember where we are," he said chidingly, as he led the way into the gray mist again.