Legum servi sumus ut liberi esse possimus - We are slaves of the law so that we may be able to be free. (Cicero)


Chapter 3

The madmen came for Guille,
They dragged him out of bed.
They broke him on the wheel,
And then they cut off his head.

"The world must burn," They said,
"If, it is to change!"
How this helps the dead,
I find it very strange...

The madmen run and shout,
That all men are free.
Can't tell what's novel about,
A fact so obvious to me.

They burned the city to the ground
And bade us children to laugh.
Chuckling at the smoldering mound,
Such a silly, epitaph...

-A Planh for Guille, Death and Bad Poetry


Death, the Merchant and a 1906 Columbian, Casa del Luker... darkly distinguished


The man whistled a haunting tune as he rode in the back of a carriage. A dark, wide-brimmed hat was perched jauntily on his head, obscuring his face in shadow.

The carriage was drawn by two horses. One was an elderly black gelding, the other, a seemingly younger pale white stallion. The driver was enveloped in a thick black cloak, covered so completely that the reins vanished into the darkness of his sleeves.

The black coach was travelling down a slight slope in winter. A mild blizzard shrouded the world in white, yet still the horses were pressed onward. They did not stop as the turnout crossed onto the surface of a frozen lake, headed toward a small island shrouded in white. The rider absent-midedly scribbled away in the pages of a small brown diary.

A while later, the carraige pulled to a stop before a small thatch cottage. The rider descended and turned to the driver, staring unflinchingly into a pair of eyes like hot coals.

"Do you want to come in for some hot chocolate?" The rider asked, "You can put the horses in the stable and stay the night if you wish."

Though covered from head to toe, in black cloth, the ominous-looking driver was still able to give off a feeling of amiability. Eyes like flickering flames flared as if stoked before a voice that sounded like grinding rocks spoke.

"HOT CHOCOLATE... THANK YOU BUT NO, I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT TO KEEP." The figure said as it gave a respectful nod. "ANOTHER TIME, PERHAPS; GOOD NIGHT."

"Good night." The man replied as the horses began to trot away from his doorstep. Without further ado, the man opened his front door and quickly stepped inside before the driving winds could do much damage. Fom outside, the lights from the cabin was the only spot of illumination on the entire island.

Inside, was a cluttered room, filled with displays of miscellaneous items, stored in groups. There were crystal glasses, goblets and plates on shelves along one wall. a collection of swords in a bin beside the hat-stand. Some pistols lay in a glass display, next to an array of jeweled necklaces. Maps were stacked next to charts and scrolls in a pile upon a back table, Bookshelves dominated one whole corner of the room.

The single room must have been larger than it at first seemed, for books, crystals, guns and jewelry was not the end of what was contained in there. Everything from abaci to zebra hides, crystal eggs and globes, vials of medicines, perfumes and bundles of feathers upon heaps of leather and textiles. In a special place of honor there lay a bit of bone, it was next to a shard of wood, a rusted, blood-encrusted nail and a box containing six pieces of silver...

The figure weaved his divested himself of hat, cloak and scarf. Revealed was a head full of dark unruly hair, green eyes and a lithe frame. The diary was carried into the back of the store, where some rummaging could be heard being carried out. The young man reappeared, deressed in a short-coat and suit. He stopped for a second to put on a shopkeepers apron before moving behind one of the counters next to the door.

Reaching up, he grabbed a pull-rope and tugged...

There was the chime of a bell, before darkness turned to light, and the moaning sound of wind vanished.

On a Parisian street, the door to a store opened a a shop-clerk stepped outside carrying a sign. The man hung it on the door before hurrying back inside.

It read:

MSSR. DISPATER

PAWN BROKER

NEEDFUL THINGS BOUGHT AND SOLD

WISHES GRANTED FOR A PRICE

Oddly, to all but a few, the last line seemed to swim from one corner of the eye to the other, remaining unseen...


Paris, 1806


And so time passed. The eighty odd years since leaving Marseille behind with Trivia and Sentia. Those days were lived peacefully for the most part. I moved behind the scenes of the mystical world. I claimed for myself an island of the coast of Brittany, and another in the New World, linking the two in my own special way to form a personal sanctum.

From then on it was a simple matter of doing as I wished until my darling soul returned to me. I'd tried my hand at quite a few trades in the Plague City, and pretended to be a wandering journeyman craft-worker during my travels. It was fun for a time, I was a scribe in the court of a king, a haberdasher for a noble, a cobbler in Italy, a blacksmith in England, I was a guide in Egypt and an archeologist's apprentice.

I had a busy life...

But in the end I decided that it would be best to settle down for a while. Trivia still flitted about, in the guise of Luna, and Sentia was often a regular visitor to my humble abode. All across the world, I created linked pathways through the Nevernever. At each entrance and exit I built a store, each one hidden and protected using my knowledge of the mystical arts.

Thus Dispater's International was born...

There was another reason for me to do as I did. In a few more years that brat Gatekeeper would be ready to challenge the Time Gate. And then...

Joy...

I know I've never truly explained just why I hate the Gatekeeper. In truth hate would be far too strong a word, and it's not as if I hate Al-Rashid in particular...

Thou shalt not swim against the Currents of Time

Hypocrite...

I comes down to this, there's only one real way to travel through time without seriously screwing with cause and effect. People may speak of Fairy travel sending one into the distant future or past, but that's actually quite different from real time travel.

What I speak of, is not journeying to other realities, or being held in stasis beyond the real world. I mean using the so-called 'Time Gate' to travel back in time, into the past, your past and change it.

The reason why I'm pissed has to do with the simple fact that the Time Gate in another reality, would probably be called...

The Veil of Death...

Thou shalt not reach beyond the Borders of Life

Now are you starting to understand?

Once upon a time, the first Gatekeeper sought to stave of the inevitable (Stirke One).

To do this the wizard summoned forth innocent old me and TRIED TO BIND ME TO A NAME!

(That's strikes Two and Three right there...)

Of course he didn't succeeed and I have since taken steps to avoid such a thing recurring. Unfortunately, the whole affair did allow the Gatekeeper to discover a way to temporarily transfer his consciousness through time to his past self using the sacrifice of his own life in order to do so.

It's a loophole in the system that every Gatekeeper has taken advantage of since.

They pay for their crimes by dying a thousand deaths, a thousand times, again and again until inevitably, they pass into my hands...

Perhaps it's childish of me, holding a grudge... but that still won't stop me from letting Death and Binky get some exercise... I have them chase down the Gatekeepers every time they try for the Time Gate.

The old man breathed in the desert wind once more before falling still. The younger man at his side will have to perform the ritual soon but for a moment, he wept. "This death is not fair!"

He was therefore startled when a cloaked figure spoke up from behind him, halfway to the door, carrying an empty hour-glass in one hand.

He quiverd as a burning gaze settled upon him and spoke in a voice that thundered without sound, echoing unnaturally.

DEATH IS FAIR. DEATH IS VERY FAIR. IT IS LIFE THAT IS UNFAIR. IT IS IN LIFE THE GOOD LIVE IN PAIN WHILE THE EVIL PROSPER. IN LIFE SOME SUFFER ATROCITY AFTER ATROCITY WHILE OTHERS ARE PAMPERED. IT IS IN LIFE THAT MEN SUFFER. YET IN DEATH, ALL MEN ARE EQUAL. IN DEATH, REGARDLESS OF WEALTH, AGE AND POWER; REGARDLESS OF WHETHER ONE IS GOOD OR EVIL... ALL ARE ACCORDED AN EQUAL MEASURE OF DEATH.

And as it walked out the door, Death paused again, I'M HOPING THAT YOU ARE A GOOD RUNNER, It said, BINKY NEEDS THE EXERCISE...


One of my employees, Hugo, came over to me and laid out a collection of object on my desk. There was a set of crystal vials containing what I surmised to be Spanish fly from the label, a flagellation set consisting of whips, chains, gags, anal-plugs, blinder, binders, blindfolds, O-rings, pins and harness. And then there was the jewel.

I looked at it and smiled...

When these things come by I always ask my people to ensure that they have the genuine article, so breathlessly I said, "Proof?"

What Hugo had brought to me was a nine inch long piece of ivory, slightly curved and carved in exquisite detail from the smooth cap at its head to bulbous base. Hugo pointed to an inscription midway down, at the top of a series of rings forming parallel ridges that continued on until two inches shy of the base of the object.

My mouth dry, I retrieved a letter from a hidden strong box and compared the writing.

As I saw that they matched, all that I could numbly saw to my workman at first was, "I love you..."

To which he shuffled uneasily and replied, "Um, I love you too sir?"

Of course by then I had caught myself and responded, "An extra Billy goat at the end of the day Hugo, good work!"

And my faithful employee's Troll ancestry shone through in the truly horrific grin that confounded even the most powerful of veils that I had cast upon the most un-human of those in my employ. "Thank you sir!" Hugo grunted with relish as he lumbered back to the front after leaving behind the deed of reciept.

In case you were wondering the french pun that was inscibed in distinctly feminine script upon the dildo in my possession could be loosely translated to mean...

"NOT TRUE TO LIFE, SADE TO SAY."

I set it down next to my collection of Royal Crown Derby bone china plates and vases...


Speaking of the Derby...


Al-Rashid now understood why his predecessor had been so insistent on mental and physical fortitude...

HIGH HO BINKY, AWAY!

Death was in the lead in the race after the young Gatekeeper followed by War and Pestilence, while Famine lagged behind. Advised by the memoirs of his predecessors the wizard chose a carrening path down a steep, densely overgrown embankment.

Even as a spirit and moving literally at the speed of thought, Rashid still felt the slight bite of Death's scythe as it brushed just slightly against the back of his neck before he tumbled over the abyss into oblivion, merging for a time with his past self.

Coming to a stop in mid-air above the vast unending chasm in an impossible feat of equestrian handling. Death remarked...

NEXT TIME A SMALLER HEAD START FOR YOU...

It was a close thing, but Rashid managed to alter events as he had been shown for the benefit of the future. Quietly he stood in the shadows as the Merlin growled out the that the sentenced would endure under the Doom of Damocles. "Du Morne..." The wizard growled, "As all your kin, slippery as ever..."

And so time passed for me and Dispater's prospects grew over time. I'm sure that an adequate student of history with knowledge of where to begin, could probably plot a chart of our course through history.

There were wars of course, whether the 'World Wars' or the 'Six Day War' and a variety of other struggles. I had no part in that business with the Jews, Death does not cause death humans are good enough at what they do.

I did on a number of occasions provide the 'W' service to a number of desperate families in those days. They and their grandchildren are frequent customers now. I was at Berlin and Hiroshima at the waning of the hour, as I was at the beginning...

MSSR. DISPATER, NEW YORK

And so it was that time moved on until one evening I had the dubious fortune to meet a delightful young woman called La Fey...


AN: Yep, another one that started out as a blog post, I'll put the disclaimer here, the last chapter was a bit mangled by the editor, it should be fixed now. Unfortunately the content editor doesn't allow me to put in all the effects I'd like eg. Death's distinctive speaking front from Discworld but it gets the message across. And recently I've been having trouble with certain features so if something looks odd let me know.

I own neither the Dresden Files nor Harry Potter those works are the genius of authors I don't hold a candle to. This story is not for profit and is a work of fanfiction, no animals were hurt in the creation of this story and any real world similarities to the demonic entities depicted herein, both real and imagined is simply a coincidence. TTFN