Eighth Circle

The troll rocked back on its huge haunches.

'I did, indeed, Professor. It was fully functional then but, for some reason, it is no longer as reliably as it should be. Nor is mine for that matter. People like you and I can come and go as we please and no one will be any the wiser unless they are keeping a good watch on us.'

It was strange to hear such a refined voice coming from such a brutish mouth. Tom wondered how the troll's vocal cords had been modified to produce the desired effect. When they last met, the doctor had spoken through the lips of a human surrogate and had sounded just the same.

Was he friend or foe?

Tom decided to be affable.

'When we last met, you spoke about your different persona. I must say I was hugely impressed by the way you, and your colleagues, can lead a variety of rich and diverse lives through surrogates. I had previously thought that being confined, as you are, would place severe constraints upon your ability to participate in the evolving world beyond ...'

'Don't mock me!'

The troll bore down on him.

'I have listened enough to your fatuous nonsense, Professor. There are idiots amongst us who were so stupid as to believe your ridiculous nonsense about coming from another realm. There aren't any such realms, Professor. You know that and I know that.'

The troll produced a ray gun.

'You will die if you use that here,' Tom cautioned.

'No. Professor. You will die and my surrogate body will die. The blast of energy will kill both of you and knock a big hole in Prince Crispin's laboratory. I doubt if the young prince will survive but I am confident that I shall remain alive in the confines of my jar.'

The troll glared at him through bloodshot eyes. Tom had the impression that the brain in the jar was savouring the moment and hanging it out before squeezing the trigger. The ranting voice rose an octave.

'To immature persons, like yourself, I might appear as nothing. You are wrong, Professor. You make jokes about brains in jars and have no idea of the power we wield. Nothing happens that we do not ordain ...'

The voice died when Tom's dagger rode up under the troll's rib case and pierced the heart. Blood spurted as the creature gasped its last breaths and collapsed onto the floor. Tom wiped the dagger on the troll's cloak and returned it to its sheath.

The troll was dead but the guardian lived on in his jar. That couldn't be allowed to continue. The doctor had been foolish enough to give his position away when they first met.