As Cliff wandered down the passageway, he ran his hand along the wall. The hallway bulged outward, almost round in cross section. It did seem like the kind of thing a snake would build, and yet it was very elegant.

Smooth, plaster walls with exposed oaken beams extended as far as an eye could make out. Blue carpet on an inlaid wood parquait flooring rounded upwards. Inscribed in gold script along the middle of the walls was some writing Cliff would have recognized, if he were a linguist, as a variant of ancient, Proto-Canaanite Ogham script. Tapestries with the Snakes' seal hung at intervals. Oil lamps hanging from the oaken beams provided a soft, yellow light.

It was soon clear that the cluricaun had no idea where he was going. He just skipped ahead without a care, singing some ancient song after another, puffing on a very long pipe. Occasionally, he would turn his head and bounce his eyebrows at Cliff. Perhaps he was trying to sabotage the mission and get Cliff stuck down here forever.

Fearing that was so, he took out the bird map and tried to read it. What made sense to an avian mind was nearly useless to a human. He could not tell what direction was what. Furthermore, he had lost his starting point when he followed the cluricaun trustingly down one twisty corridor after another. He was lost, and began to feel a mixture of home sickness and poteen sickness. He stopped and bent over.

"What's the matter with you, human?"

"I don't feel well. And I think you're trying to get me lost."

"Now would I do that to you, my friend? I am so hurt by that accusation." He twirled Cliff's wallet in his fingers. "Anyway, how lost can we be in this place? It's just a tiny shack."

One thing you can expect from a nigh-immortal creature is that he is never in a hurry to help you. And if you throw in a penchant for mischief, you can just forget about their help altogether, for it will luxuriate in finding endless ways to annoy, irritate, hinder, sabotage, and even defeat you, depending on its current mood.

"You do realize," said Cliff as gravely as possible, "that there is a time limit to this mission. What time is it anyway?" He looked at his empty wrist. "Hey, what happened to my watch?"

"Don't you know anything about faerie gifts? But don't be too upset. It was a fake Rolex and the hands didn't move anyway."

"Can I have my old watch back?"

"What watch? You mean this piece of trash I've been chewing on?" He pulled a heavily-damaged time instrument out of his mouth.

"All right, you really should stop screwing around. Do you realize the seriousness of this situation? If we don't get the Snakes' cooperation real soon, the ants will overrun the planet."

"Yeah, I heard something about that from the wee bird last night. Not terribly interesting. Do you know any bawdy songs we could sing together? How about a rousing chorus of 'Barnacle Bill'?"

"Feh." Cliff waved off the imp.

Strangely, Cliff did not feel any buzzing from his headband. He expected that the cat and bird would be trying to shock him in the right direction by now. But there was only silence. Could it be, he was headed in the right direction after all? He resolved to continue following the little man for a little while longer. If he still hadn't reached the Snake Kingdom he didn't know what he would do, but would it probably involve screaming and running around.

The wave of nausea came and went. He straightened up, holding out a hand for balance. His hand pushed against a tapestry, but did not find purchase against solid wall like he expected. Instead, it kept going through the wall. He fell over.

Picking himself up off the floor, he was delighted at last to have something new to look at. Behind the banner was a room much darker than the lit hallway. It took a while for his eyes to adjust, but he soon saw that the room was empty. The only feature was a vertical pole running through the center.

"Well, well." Said the little man standing over him. "Looks like you found something."

"Where are we?"

"This would be the spiral stairway. It goes down into the Kingdom."

"Did you know where this was all along?"

"Yeah, but I figured we'd take the scenic route."

Cliff saw that the pole had grooves spiralling down. At the base of the pole was an opening in the floor. Now he realised, this was a serpant staircase. They slither around in a circular motion, gripping the pole with their bodies. It figures they wouldn't use staircases designed for bipeds.

He tested the hole with his foot to see if it was wide enough for his body. It looked awfully tight, but he had no other option. He certainly did not wish to continue wandering around the maze in a search for an elevator. So he squatted down and started to squeeze a leg into the opening. The cluricaun jumped up and sat piggy-back on his shoulders.

It was a very painful and difficult process, but he did finally squeeze through. Bruised and scratched, he was nonetheless ready to descend the pole. Looking down, however, he saw only blackness, which frightened him terribly. He wished he could shout down the tunnel to test the depth by echo, but he was afraid to catch someone's attention down below.

Cautiously, he slid down the pole. The grooves bumped his thighs painfully. He experimented with different techniques, but none worked very well. After a while, he was in tremendous pain, especially in his fingers which grabbed too tightly and was his only support when his shoes occasionally slipped off the grooves. After an eternity, he was very relieved to see a glimmer of light at the bottom.

The light streamed out from another tapestry-doorway. He pulled it back a tiny amount to peer around. The cluricaun leaped down, his patent leather shoes clapping on the flagstone floor, and peered out too.

Cliff inhaled sharply. "It's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful!"

"Yeah, it's all right," the cluricaun agreed.

It was a vivid scene, rich with sights, sounds, smells, and tastes. The huge cavern was warm and humid, with palm trees and water cascading down the walls. Light and heat came from chandeliers hanging on long chains. Hundreds of passages led away from the chamber, some large enough for an elephant troupe, others too small for a human to crawl through.

All was in motion, as thousands of specks moved in rivers through the bazaar. Faeries of all types -- gnomes, elves, imps, trolls, sprites, nymphs, tiny flying things, big heavy things -- roamed around in huge numbers. They were either engrossed in some kind of heavy labor, like carrying barrels and crates, or in a hurry to deliver something or attend to an errand.

Slightly less common were snakes. Some rode bicycles (with one pedal, operated by the tail), and others on little trains. Still others floated along, carried by balloons with little fans. Some were carried along on pillows or inside curtained sedans. Only a few slithered of their own volition through the hot sand on the floor. They were dressed lavishly in turbans, cravattes, and frilled shirts.

"Step aside, lad," growled the cluricaun, rolling up his sleeves. "I'm going to get myself a snake and bite it in half."

"What? No, don't do that."

The little man's chest, puffed out with rage, suddenly slumped as he exhaled. Limply, he stood and looked at the ground. "I haven't got any fight left in me. It's the same with all my brothers and sisters. We just don't have it in us to throw off the yoke."

"Fighting won't solve your problems anyway. We came here to talk to someone in charge, not start a war."

Cliff emerged from the ladder-room and wandered around in a daze. None of it looked real. It was so alien and yet so intriguing. No one seemed to take notice of him. He walked along the stalls and admired the fine rugs, beautiful porcelein, and carved gems. The faeries were even more exciting to watch. The faeries are magical people, radiant with light, very easy on the eyes. But they were all incredibly sad.

"What do I care about your stupid ant thing? Look and see my people, enslaved, miserable."

"Yes, I can see how that would bring you down."

"Bring me down?" The cluricaun looked up, incredulous. "Have ye not heard a thing I said? This is the horror of horrors, hell on earth!"

Cliff shrugged. It was really none of his business. He just wanted to get the job over with and get out. He looked around for an important-looking snake, someone who could take him to the serpent-in-charge, whoever that may be. He spotted one anaconda who seemed like an aristocrat. It sported a monacle, a very wide-brimmed hat, and a necklace of rubies.

"Excuse me," he tried to get the attention of a snake being carried along on a divan. The gnomes carrying it said, "hut hut hut" as they raced over the sand and stones. The snake never acknowledged him, but stared ahead and was soon absorbed by the crowd.

He walked along, determined to find somebody to talk to. He spotted an adder on an ottoman, enjoying a sip of coffee. He cut through the crowd to reach it.

"Sir?" he called to it. "Sir?" he waved his arms and tried to step into its line of sight, but the snake just stared ahead into the crowd. "I am trying to find whoever is in charge here. Can you help me?" It ignored him.

He gave up on this one and saw a younger-looking grass snake riding a bicycle. He jogged alongside it. "Hello, my name is Cliff. I am trying to... I said, I am trying... hello?" He sprinted ahead of it and stood in the way, forcing the rider to stop. Now the snake looked at him.

"That's better. I hope you don't mind me interrupting your ride, but..."

The snake screamed.

It screamed so loud and shrill it made Cliff's ear drums pucker. All the motion in the vast space stopped. At that moment he dearly wished he could turn into a puff of steam and dissipate into the air.

Killory ran forward, about to grab the snake in his tiny hands, when he stopped suddenly and flew backward through the air. "Whaaaa?" he screamed as something pulled him away very quickly. He disappeared in the shadows far up the street.

Before Cliff could act on the impulse to run, something hit him in the side. It felt like being broadsided by a pillow fired from a cannon. Looking down, he saw a pink, rubbery appendage covered in some kind of gooey sap. On the stickiness scale from dog slobber to krazy glue, this stuff was right up around rubber cement. The appendage (known to the faeries as the Sticky Tongue) tugged and he was yanked off his feet.

Being lighter than the cluricaun, he fell to the ground and was dragged through the dirt. It was as humiliating as it was painful. As he slid along, hundreds of snakes gathered to watch. Their little tongues flashed as they tried to figure out the strange smell of this interloper.

He heard whispers: "An elf? He looks like no elf I have seen."

And: "Perhaps a very tall dwarf? Or a troll with an eating disorder?"

And also: "No, a sasquatch, I believe, shaven and without his toolbox."

After a few hundred yards, he heard a loud metallic clicking and turned to see the source. Two burly gray figures turned a crank on a spool, reeling in the long, sticky band. When he was close enough to them, the guards peeled off the sticky appendage and clapped half a dozen chained manacles to him. Weighed down by the ridiculous amount of shackling, he had to be lifted into a cart and wheeled away.

The guards were tall, lanky creatures apparently made of stone, wearing tasteful uniforms of brushed metal and black leather emblazened with the serpentine seal. With faces like loosely cemented gravel, it was difficult to read their mood, but Cliff could sense they were not terribly joyous.

As he was bouncing along in the cart, facing upward, he saw fewer and fewer faces staring which meant he was being carried out of the city proper. Were they going to dump him into a volcanic vent or bottomless crevasse? He decided to try again with the speaking.

"Excuse me, I am here as a representative of the Bird and Cat species and I need to speak to the leader of the Snakes about a serious problem. They gave me these seals to prove I am working for them, though I can't reach them right now. They are in my pocket, so if you will just stop for a moment we can straighten this all out. Um, hello? Hello?"

"Relax, kid," Killory's voice was heard clearly. "The troll ain't interested. You can hit these palookas over the head with a cairn and they keep going."

"Killory! You sound close by."

"I'm on the cart right next to you, ya eejit. And my face is uncomfortably close to your backside. Have you been eating haggis lately by any chance?"

"Where are they taking us?"

"To jail, probably. I been there before. The food is pretty good, but the company is awful."

"Why aren't the cat and bird helping us?" Cliff moaned. "Have they abandoned us altogether?"

"Given a bet," Killory growled, "between the loyalty of cats and birds, and the likelihood of the moon touching down on the earth, I would invest my money in green cheese futures."

The troll put down the cart, unlocked their shackles, and tossed the chains in a pile. Cliff stood up and rubbed his limbs. "Whew! That's a relief. Now maybe we can..."

The troll lifted Cliff by the shirt with one hand and threw him at a wall. A moment before he would have splattered on the stone, a hole opened up and he passed through, landing roughly on a pile of sticks and rotting vegetable matter. As he started painfully to get up, the body of Killory smacked him in the back of the head, hit the far wall, and rolled to the ground where it lay motionless.

As the aperture closed, dimming the only source of light, Cliff looked around quickly. He saw a little round room about 8 feet in diameter. Two portals in the walls, filled with iron bars, led off to other rooms. The walls themselves were something like marble, although it was soon apparent that the veins were of the blood-pumping arterial sort. Everything moved slowly and rhythmically, like a breathing creature.

"Hello! Wait!" Cliff called back through the hole at the receding figure of the jailer. The hole finally collapsed and the place was dark as pitch.

The situation was so dire as to be unreal. Cliff could not convince himself it was really happening. He almost wanted to laugh. He knew the cat and bird would get him out of this. The headband he was wearing would transmit the picture to them on their little screens. So he sat down to wait.

It was difficult to get comfortable in a round room. Not only was it round when viewed from above, but the floor itself was bowl-shaped. He had to plant his feet firmly at all times to keep from falling into the pile of sticks in the center, which was very tiring.

Somehow, he did manage to catch a few short bits of sleep. In that time, he had fearsome dreams. He felt jaws slowly close around his leg, a tongue gently tasting him. He freaked out and whatever it was limped heavily away. There was a constant sensation of things fluttering around him, silent beating of wings. Something dripped from the ceiling, smelling of urine. Whispers in the air, scraping sounds, little scuttling things all around. He felt worms or insects crawling on his legs. When he awoke sometime later, he felt cold. Reaching down, he felt half his pant leg gone. Something had chewed it away.

It began to dawn on him that help was not on the way. He started to extrapolate outwards and realized that no one in the world knew he was hear, and very few actually cared. He might very well die here.

Killory was groaning, slowly returning to wakefulness. Cliff felt around, trying to locate the cluricaun. He put his hand into something warm and slimy. It smelled absolutely awful. He smeared his hand on the wall to scrape it off. He located a pile of tiny stick-things in the corner. Feeling them, he realized with horror they were tiny skeletons. At last he reached Killory and started lightly shaking him.

"Wake up! Wake up!"

"Wh-? Wuzza? Why yer shakin' me?"

"We're in jail, remember?"

"So we are. Let's have a look around."

The cluricaun snapped his fingers and a soft glow appeared. The thousands of little crablike creatures around them all scrambled away to disappear in cracks in the walls.

"Those things were eating my clothing!"

"So I see." Killory stretched out comfortably on his back. He plucked one up and popped it into his mouth, crunching it loudly.

"How are we going to get out of here?"

"What's the hurry? We've got a nice warm little womb to curl up in, plenty of bugs to eat. They taste better than I remembered."

"Can you use your magic to make a tunnel in the wall?"

"Don't be a daft moron. My magic is for making illusions. Though if you like I can give you a powerful feeling that you are passing through stone. For that matter, you could just bang yer head on the wall and achieve the same affect."

"So they are just going to leave us in here to die?"

"Nah, this is just a short disciplinary stint. The sentence for disorderly conduct is rarely more than a hundred years."

Cliff was a few minutes away from losing his mind. He could feel his sanity draining away like sand through a screen. The cluricaun was clearly ready to ride out the sentence. After all, he had been semi-vegetable for 300 years. Now perhaps he was trying to turn into a fungus. Yes, he was turning a grayish color and sprouting little tendrils. Or was it Cliff's imagination? The light now was starting to dim again.

"What are you doing? Turn the light back on."

"Can't, I'm getting tired." He started to snore.

Cliff launched into a primal scream and he collapsed on the ground with dry, heaving sobs.