regarded the flagstones across which his
boots scuffed as he moved in her direction.
"Sir, this is a private garden," she stated. He stopped before the
bench and looked down at her. He was beefy, tanned, dark of eye and beard,
expressionless until he smiled. He wore blue and leather.
"Guests do not come here," she added, "but do use the gardens in the
other wing of the building. Go through yon archway-- "
"You were always welcome in my garden, Ratri," he said.
"Your . . . ?"
"Kubera."
"Lord Kubera! You are not-- "
"Fat. I know. New body, and it's been working hard. Building Yama's
weapons, transporting them. . ."/p>
"When did you arrive?" "This minute. I brought Krishna back, along with
a load of firepacks, grenades and antipersonnel mines. . ."
"Gods! It's been so long , . ."
"Yes. Very. But an apology is still due you, so I have come to give it.
It has bothered me these many years. I am sorry, Ratri, about that night,
long ago, when I dragged you into this thing. I needed your Attribute, so I
drafted you. I do not like to use people so."
"I would have left the City soon, at any rate, Kubera. So do not feel
overly guilty. I should prefer a more comely form, though, than this which I
now wear. This is not essential, however."
"I'll get you another body, lady."
"Another day, Kubera. Pray sit down. Here. Are you hungry? Are you
thirsty?"
"Yes, and yes."
"Here is fruit, and soma. Or would you prefer tea?"
"Soma, thank you."
"Yama says Sam is recovered from his sainthood."
"Good, the need for him is growing. Has he made any plans yet -- for us
to act upon?"
"Yama has not told me. But perhaps Sam has not told Yama."
The branches shook violently in a nearby tree and Tak dropped to the
ground, landing upon all fours. He crossed the flagstones and stood beside
the bench.
"All this talk has awakened me," he growled. "Who is this fellow,
Ratri?"
"Lord Kubera, Tak."
"It thou beest he-- then oh, how changed!" said Tak.
"And the same might be said of yourself, Tak of the Archives. Why are
you still an ape? Yama could transmigrate you."
"I am more useful as an ape," said Tak. "I am an excellent spy -- far
better than a dog. I am stronger than a man. And who can tell one ape from
another? I will remain in this form until there is no longer any need for my
special services."
"Commendable. Has there been further news of Nirriti's movements?"
"His vessels move nearer the large ports than was their wont in the
past," said Tak. "There appear to be more of them, also. Beyond this,
nothing. It would seem the gods fear him, for they do not destroy him."
"Yes," said Kubera, "for now he is an unknown. I'm inclined to think of
him as Ganesha's mistake. It was he who permitted him to leave Heaven
unmolested, and to take what equipment he did with him. I think Ganesha
wanted someone available as an enemy of Heaven, should the need for one ever
arise in a hurry. He must never have dreamed a nontechnical could have put
the equipment to the uses he did, and build up the forces he now commands."
"There is logic in what you say," said Ratri. "Even I have heard that
Ganesha often moves in such a manner. What will he do now?"
"Give Nirriti the first city he attacks, to observe his means of
offense and assess his strength-- if he can persuade Brahma to hold back.
Then strike at Nirriti. Mahartha must fall, and we must stand near. It would
be interesting even to watch."
"But you feel we will do more than watch?" asked Tak.
"Indeed. Sam knows we must be on hand to make more pieces of the
pieces, and then to pick some up. We will have to move as soon as someone
else does, Tak, which may be soon."
"At last," said Tak. "I have always wanted to go to battle at the side
of the Binder."
"In the weeks to come, I am certain that almost as many wishes will be
granted as broken."
"More soma? More fruit?"
"Thank you, Ratri."
"And you, Tak?"
"A banana, perhaps."
Within the shadow of the forest, at the peak of a high hill, Brahma
sat, like a statue of a god mounted upon a gargoyle, staring downward into
Mahartha.
"They defile the Temple."
"Yes," answered Ganesha. "The Black One's feelings have not changed
over the years."
"In a way, it is a pity. In another way, it is frightening. His troops
had rifles and sidearms."
"Yes. They are very strong. Let us return to the gondola."
"In a moment."
"I fear, Lord . . . they may be too strong-- at this point."
"What do you suggest?"
"They cannot sail up the river. If they would attack Lananda they must
go overland."
"True. Unless he has sufficient sky vessels."
"And if they would attack Khaipur they must go even farther."
"Aye! And if they would attack Kilbar they must go farther yet! Get to
your point! What are you trying to say?"
"The farther they go, the greater their logistic problems, the more
vulnerable they become to guerrilla tactics along the way -- "
"Are you proposing I do nothing but harass them? That I let them march
across the land, taking city after city? They will dig in until
reinforcements come to hold what they have gained, then they will move on.
Only a fool would do otherwise. If we wait-- "
"Look down below!"
"What? What is it?"
"They are preparing to move out."
"Impossible!"
"Brahma, you forget that Nirriti is a fanatic, a madman. He doesn't
want Mahartha, or Lananda or Khaipur either. He wants to destroy our Temples
and ourselves. The only other things he cares about in those cities are
souls, not bodies. He will move across the land destroying every symbol of
our religion that he comes upon, until we choose to carry the fight to him.
If we do nothing, he will probably then send in missionaries."
"Well, we must do something!"
"Then weaken him as he moves. When he is weak enough, strike! Give him
Lananda. Khaipur, too, if necessary. Even Kilbar and Hamsa. When he is weak
enough, smash him. We can spare the cities. How many have we destroyed
ourselves? You cannot even remember!"
"Thirty-six," said Brahma. "Let us return to Heaven while I consider
this thing. If I follow your advice and he withdraws before he becomes too
weakened, then we have lost much."
"I'm willing to gamble that he won't."
"The dice are not yours to cast, Ganesha, but mine. And see, he has
those cursed Rakasha with him! Let us depart quickly, before they detect
us."
"Yes, quickly!"
They turned their slizzards back toward the forest.
Krishna put aside his pipes when the messenger was brought to him.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Mahartha has fallen . . ."
Krishna stood.
"And Nirriti prepares to march upon Lananda."
"What have the gods done in defense?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Come with me. The Lokapalas are about to confer."
Krishna left his pipes upon the table.
That night, Sam stood upon the highest balcony of Ratri's palace. The
rains fell about him, coming like cold nails through the wind. Upon his left
hand, an iron ring glowed with an emerald radiance.
The lightning fell and fell and fell, and remained.
He raised his hand and the thunders roared and roared, like the death
cries of all the dragons who might ever have lived, sometime, somewhere. . .
.
The night fell back as the fire elementals stood before the Palace of
Kama.
Sam raised both hands together, and they climbed into the air as one
and hovered high in the night.
He gestured and they moved above Khaipur, passing from one end of the
city to the other.
Then they circled.
Then they split apart and danced within the storm.
He lowered his hands.
They returned and stood once more before him.
He did not move. He waited.
After a hundred heartbeats, it came and spoke to him out of the night:
"Who are you, to command the slaves of the Rakasha?"
"Bring me Taraka," said Sam.
"I take orders from no mortal."
"Then look upon the flames of my true being, ere I bind you to yon
metal flagpole for so long as it shall stand."
"Binder! You live!"
"Bring me Taraka," he repeated.
"Yes, Siddhartha. Thy will be done."
Sam clapped his hands and the elementals leapt skyward and the night
was dark about him once more.
The Lord of Hellwell took upon him a manlike form and entered the room
where Sam sat alone.
"The last ever I saw of you was upon the day of the Great Battle," he
stated. "Later, I heard that they had found a way of destroying you."
"As you can see, they did not."
"How came you into the world again?"
"Lord Yama fetched me back-- the One in Red."
"His power is indeed great."
"It proved sufficient. How go things with the Rakasha these days?"
"Well. We continue your fight."
"Really? In what ways?"
"We aid your old ally-- the Black One, Lord Nirriti-- in his campaign
against the gods."
"I suspected this. It is the reason I have contacted you."
"You wish to ride with him?"
"I have thought it over carefully, and despite my comrades' objections
I do wish to ride with him-- provided he will make an agreement with us. I
want you to carry my message to him."
"What is the message, Siddhartha?"
"The message is that the Lokapalas-- these being Yama, Krishna, Kubera
and myself-- will ride to battle with him against the gods, bringing all our
supporters, powers, and machineries to bear upon them, if he will agree not
to war against the followers of either Buddhism or Hinduism as they exist in
the world, for purposes of converting them to his persuasion-- and further,
that he will not seek to suppress Accelerationism, as the gods have done,
should we prove victorious. Look upon his flames as he speaks his answer,
and tell me whether he speaks it true."
"Do you think he will agree to this, Sam?"
"I do. He knows that, if the gods were no longer present to enforce
Hinduism as they do, then he would gain converts. He can see this from what
I managed to do with Buddhism, despite their opposition. He feels that his
way is the only right way and that it is destined to prevail in the face of
competition. I think he would agree to fair competition for this reason.
Take him this message and bring me his answer. All right?"
Taraka wavered. His face and left arm became smoke.
"Sam . . ."
"What?"
"Which one is the right way?"
"Huh? You're asking me that? How should I know?"
"Mortals call you Buddha."
"That is only because they are afflicted with language and ignorance."
"No. I have looked upon your flames and name you Lord of Light. You
bind them as you bound us, you loose them as you loosed us. Yours was the
power to lay a belief upon them. You are what you claimed to be."
"I lied. I never believed in it myself, and I still don't. I could just
as easily have chosen another way-- say, Nirriti's religion-- only
crucifixion hurts. I might have chosen one called Islam, only I know too
well how it mixes with Hinduism. My choice was based upon calculation, not
inspiration, and I am nothing."
"You are the Lord of Light."
"Go deliver my message now. We can discuss religion another day."
"The Lokapalas, you say, are Yama, Krishna, Kubera and yourself?"
"Yes."
"Then he does live. Tell me, Sam, before I go . . . could you defeat
Lord Yama in battle?"
"I do not know. I don't think so, though. I don't think anybody could."
"But could he defeat you?"
"Probably, in a fair fight. Whenever we met as enemies in the past, I
was sometimes lucky and sometimes I managed to trick him. I've fenced with
him recently and he is without peer. He is too versatile in the ways of
destruction."
"I see," said Taraka, his right arm and half his chest drifting away.
"Then good night upon you, Siddhartha. I take your message with me."
"Thank you, and good night upon yourself."
Taraka became all smoke and fled forth into the storm.
High above the world, spinning: Taraka. The storm raged about him, but
he took scant notice of its fury.
The thunders fell and the rain came down and the Bridge of the Gods was
invisible. But none of these things bothered him. For he was Taraka of the
Rakasha, Lord of Hellwell. . .
And he had been the mightiest creature in the world, save for the
Binder.
Now the Binder had told him that there was One Greater. . . and they
were to fight together, as before.
How insolently he had stood in his Red and his Power! That day. Over
half a century ago. By the Vedra.
To destroy Yama-Dharma, to defeat Death, would prove Taraka supreme. .
. .
To prove Taraka supreme was more important than defeating the gods, who
must one day pass, anyhow, for they were not of the Rakasha.
Therefore, the Binder's message to Nirriti-- to which he had said
Nirriti would agree-- would be spoken only to the storm, and Taraka would
look upon its flames and know that it spoke true.
For the storm never lies . . . and it always says No!
The dark sergeant brought him into camp. He had been resplendent in his
armor, with its bright trappings, and he had not been captured; he had
walked up to him and stated that he had a message for Nirriti. For this
reason, the sergeant decided against slaying him immediately. He took his
weapons, conducted him into the camp -- there in the wood near Lananda-- and
left him under guard while he consulted his leader.
Nirriti and Olvegg sat within a black tent. A map of Lananda was spread
before them.
When they permitted him to bring the prisoner into the tent, Nirriti
regarded him and dismissed the sergeant.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Ganesha of the City. The same who aided you in your flight from
Heaven."
Nirriti appeared to consider this.
"Well do I remember my one friend from the old days," he said. "Why
have you come to me?"
"Because the time is propitious to do so. You have finally undertaken
the great crusade."
"Yes."
"I would hold privy counsel with you concerning it."
"Speak then."
"What of this fellow?"
"To speak before Jan Olvegg is to speak before me. Say what is on your
mind."
"Olvegg?"
"Yes."
"Just so. I have come to tell you that the Gods of the City are weak.
Too weak, I feel, to defeat you."
"I had felt this to be true."
"But they are not so weak as to be unable to hurt you immensely when
they do move. Things might hang in the balance if they muster all their
forces at the proper moment."
"I came to battle with this in mind, also."
"Better your victory be less costly. You know I am a Christian
sympathizer."
"What is it you have in mind?"
"I volunteered to lead some guerrilla fighting solely to tell you that
Lananda is yours. They will not defend it. If you continue to move as you
have-- not consolidating your gains-- and you move upon Khaipur, Brahma will
not defend it either. But when you come to Kilbar, your forces weakened from
the battles for the first three cities and from these, our raids along the
way, then will Brahma strike with the full might of Heaven, that you may go
down to defeat before the walls of Kilbar. All the powers of the Celestial
City have been readied. They wait for you to dare the gates of the fourth
city of the river."
"I see. That is good to know. Then they do fear that which I bear."
"Of course. Will you bear it as far as Kilbar?"
"Yes. And I will win in Kilbar, also. I shall send for my mightiest
weapons before we attack that city. The powers which I have held back to use
upon the Celestial City itself will be unleashed upon my enemies when they
come to the defense of doomed Kilbar."
"They, too, will bring mighty weapons."
"Then, when we meet, the outcome will lie neither in their hands nor in
my hands, really."
"There is a way to tip the balance even further, Renfrew."
"Oh? What else have you in mind?"
"Many of the demigods are dissatisfied with the situation in the City.
They had wanted a prolonged campaign against Accelerationism and against the
followers of Tathagatha. They were disappointed when this did not follow
Keenset. Also, Lord Indra has been recalled from the eastern continent,
where he was carrying the war against the witches. Indra could be made to
appreciate the sentiments of the demigods-- and his followers will come hot
from another battlefield."
Ganesha adjusted his cloak.
"Speak on," said Nirriti.
"When they come to Kilbar," said Ganesha, "it may be that they will not
fight in its defense."
"I see. What will you gain from all this, Ganesha?"
"Satisfaction."
"Nothing more?"
"I would that you recall one day that I made this visit."
"So be it. I shall not forget, and you shall have reward of me
afterward. . . . Guard!"
The tent flap was opened, and the one who had brought Ganesha
re-entered the tent.
"Escort this man wherever he wants to be taken, and release him
unharmed," Nirriti ordered.
"You would trust this one?" asked Olvegg, after he bad gone.
"Yes," said Nirriti, "but I would give him his silver afterward."
The Lokapalas sat to counsel within Sam's chamber at the Palace of Kama
in Khaipur. Also present were Tak and Ratri.
"Taraka tells me that Nirriti will not have us on our terms," said Sam.
"Good," said Yama. "I half feared he would agree."
"And in the morning they attack Lananda. Taraka feels they will take
the city. It will be a little more difficult than Mahartha was, but he is
certain they will win. I am too."
"And I."
"And I."
"Then he will move on to this city, Khaipur. Then Kilbar, then Hamsa,
then Gayatri. Somewhere along this route, he knows the gods will move
against him."
"Of course."
"So we are in the middle and we have several choices before us. We
could not make a deal with Nirriti. Do you think we could make one with
Heaven?"
"No!" said Yama, slamming his fist upon the table. "Which side are you
on, Sam?"
"Acceleration," he replied. "If it can be procured through negotiation,
rather than unnecessary bloodshed, so much the better."
"I'd rather deal with Nirriti than Heaven!"
"So let us vote upon it as we did upon making the contact with
Nirriti."
"And you require only one assent to win."
"Those were my terms upon entering the Lokapalas. You asked me to lead
you, so I require the power to break a tie. Let me explain my reasoning,
though, before we talk of a vote."
"Very well-- talk!"
"Heaven has, in recent years, developed a more liberal attitude toward
Acceleration, as I understand it. There has been no official change of
position, but no steps have been taken against Acceleration either--
presumably because of the beating they took at Keenset. Am I not correct?"
"Essentially," said Kubera.
"It seems that they have decided such actions would be too costly every
time Science rears its ugly head. There were people, humans, fighting
against them in that battle. Against Heaven. And people, unlike our selves,
have families, have ties which weaken them-- and they are bound to keep a
clean karmic record if they desire rebirth. Still, they fought. Accordingly,
Heaven has been moved to greater lenience in recent years. Since this is the
situation as it actually exists, they have nothing to lose by acknowledging
it. In fact, they could make it show to their favor, as a benign gesture of
divine graciousness. I think that they would be willing to make the
concessions Nirriti would not-- "
"I want to see Heaven fall," said Yama.
"Of course. So do I. But think carefully. Just with what you've given
to humans over the past half century-- can Heaven hold this world in fief
much longer? Heaven fell that day at Keenset. Another generation, perhaps
two, and its power over mortals will have passed. In this battle with
Nirriti they will be hurt further, even in victory. Give them a few more
years of decadent glory. They become more and more impotent with every
season. They have reached their peak. Their decline has set in."
Yama lit a cigarette.
"Is it that you want someone to kill Brahma for you?" asked Sam.
Yama sat silently, drew upon the cigarette, exhaled. Then, "Perhaps,"
he said. "Perhaps that is it. I do not know. I don't like to think about it.
It is probably true, though."
"Would you like my guarantee that Brahma will die?"
"No! If you try it, I'll kill you!"
"You feel that you do not really know whether you want Brahma dead or
alive. Perhaps it is that you love and hate simultaneously. You were old
before you were young, Yama, and she was the only thing you ever cared for.
Am I right?"
"Yes."
"Then I have no answer for you, for your own troubles, but you must
separate yourself this much from the problem at hand."
"All right, Siddhartha. I vote to stop Nirriti here at Khaipur, if
Heaven will back us."
"Does anybody have any objections to this?"
There was silence.
"Then let us journey to the Temple and commandeer its communications
unit."
Yama put out his cigarette.
"But I will not speak with Brahma," he said.
"I'll do the talking," said Sam.
Ili, the fifth note of the harp, buzzed within the Garden of the Purple
Lotus.
When Brahma activated the screen within his Pavilion, he saw a man who
wore the blue-green turban of Urath.
"Where is the priest?" asked Brahma.
"Tied up outside. I can have him dragged in, if you'd like to hear a
prayer or two. . ."
"Who are you that wears the turban of the First and goes armed in the
Temple?"
"I have a strange feeling of having been through all this once before,"
said the man.
"Answer my questions!"
"Do you want Nirriti stopped. Lady? Or do you want to give him all
these cities along the river?"
"You try the patience of Heaven, mortal? You shall not leave the Temple
alive."
"Your threats of death mean nothing to the chief of the Lokapalas,
Kali."
"The Lokapalas are no more, and they had no chief."
"You look upon him, Durga."
"Yama? Is that you?"
"No, but he is here with me-- as are Krishna, and Kubera."
"Agni is dead. Every new Agni has died since. . ."
"Keenset. I know, Candi. I was not a member of the original team. Rild
didn't kill me. The phantom cat who shall remain nameless did a good job,
but it wasn't good enough. And now I've crossed back over the Bridge of the
Gods. The Lokapalas have chosen me as their leader. We will defend Khaipur
and break Nirriti, if Heaven will help us."
"Sam . . . it couldn't be you!"
"Then call me Kalkin, or Siddhartha, or Tathagatha, or Mahasamatman, or
Binder, or Buddha, or Maitreya. It's Sam, though. I have come to worship
thee and make a bargain."
"Name it."
"Men have been able to live with Heaven, but Nirriti is another matter.
Yama and Kubera have brought weapons into the city. We can fortify it and
whip up a good defense. If Heaven will add its power to our own, Nirriti
will meet his downfall at Khaipur. We will do this, if Heaven will sanction
Acceleration and religious freedom, and end the reign of the Lords of
Karma."
"That's quite a bit, Sam . . ."
"The first two merely amount to agreeing that something does exist and
has a right to go on. The third will come to pass whether you like it or
not, so I'm giving you a chance to be graceful about it."
"I'll have to think . . ."
"Take a minute. I'll wait. If the answer is no, though, we'll pull out
and let Renfrew have this city, defile this Temple. After he's taken a few
more, you'll have to meet him. We won't be around then, though. We'll wait
till it's all over. If you're still in business then, you won't be in any
position to decide about those terms I just gave you. If you're not, I think
we'll be able to take the Black One on and best him and what will be left of
his zombies. Either way, we get what we want. This way is easier on you,
though."
"All right! I'll muster the forces immediately. We will ride together
in this last battle, Kalkin. Nirriti dies at Khaipur! Keep someone there in
the comm-room, so we can stay in contact."
"I'll make this my headquarters."
"Now untie the priest and bring him here. He is about to receive some
divine orders, and, shortly, a divine visitation."
"Yes, Brahma."
"Sam, wait! After the battle, should we live, I would talk with you--
concerning mutual worship."
"You wish to become a Buddhist?"
"No, a woman again . . ."
"There is a place and a moment for all things, and this is neither."
"When the time and the moment occur, I will be there."
"I'll get you your priest now. Hold the line."
Now after the fall of Lananda, Nirriti held a service amid the ruins of
that city, praying for victory over the other cities. His dark sergeants
beat the drums slowly and the zombies fell to their knees. Nirriti prayed
until the perspiration covered his face like a mask of glass and light, and
it ran down inside his prosthetic armor, which gave him the strength of
many. Then he lifted up his face to the heavens, looked upon the Bridge of
the Gods and said, "Amen."
Then he turned and headed toward Khaipur, his army rising at his back.
When Nirriti came to Khaipur, the gods were waiting.
The troops from Kilbar were waiting, as well as those of Khaipur.
And the demigods and the heroes and the nobles were waiting.
And the high-ranking Brahmins and many of the followers of Mahasamatman
were waiting. These latter having come in the name of the Divine Esthetic.
Nirriti looked across the mined field that led to the walls of the
city, and he saw the four horsemen who were the Lokapalas waiting by the
gate, the banners of Heaven flaring beside them in the wind.
He lowered his visor and turned to Olvegg.
"You were right. I wonder if Ganesha waits within?"
"We will know soon enough."
Nirriti continued his advance.
This was the day when the Lord of Light held the field. The minions of
Nirriti never entered Khaipur. Ganesha fell beneath the blade of Olvegg, as
he was attempting to backstab Brahma, who had closed with Nirriti upon a
hillock. Olvegg then fell, clutching his stomach, and began crawling toward
a rock.
Brahma and the Black One then faced one another on foot and Ganesha's
head rolled into a gully.
"That one told me Kilbar," said Nirriti.
"That one wanted Kilbar," said Brahma, "and tried to make it Kilbar.
Now I know why."
They sprang together and Nirriti's armor fought for him with the
strength of many.
Yama spurred his horse toward the rise and was enveloped in a swirling
of dust and sand. He raised his cloak to his eyes and laughter rang about
him.
"Where is your death-gaze now, Yama-Dharma?"
"Rakasha!" he snarled.
"Yes. It is I, Taraka!"
And Yama was suddenly drenched with gallons of water; and his horse
reared, falling over backward.
He was upon his feet with his blade in his hand, when the flaming
whirlwind coalesced into a manlike form.
"I've washed you clean of that-which-repels, deathgod. Now you shall go
down to destruction at my band!"
Yama lunged forward with his blade.
He cut through his gray opponent from shoulder to thigh, but no blood
came and there was no sign of the passage of his blade.
"You cannot cut me down as you would a man, oh Death! But see what I
can do to you!"
Taraka leapt upon him, pinning his arms to his sides and bearing him to
the ground. A fountain of sparks arose.
In the distance, Brahma had his knee upon Nirriti's spine and was
bending his head backward, against the power of the black armor. This was
when Lord Indra leapt down from the back of his slizzard and raised his
sword Thunderbolt against Brahma. He heard Nirriti's neck break.
"It is your cloak that protects you!" Taraka cried out, from where he
wrestled on the ground; and then he looked into the eyes of Death. . . .
Yama felt Taraka weaken sufficiently to push him away.
He sprang to his feet and raced toward Brahma without stopping to pick
up his blade. There on the hill, Brahma parried Thunderbolt again and again,
blood spurting from the stump of his severed left arm and streaming from
wounds of the head and chest. Nirriti held his ankle in a grip of steel.
Yama cried out as he charged, drawing his dagger.
Indra drew back, out of range of Brahma's blade, and turned to face
him.
"A dagger against Thunderbolt, Red One?" he asked.
"Aye," said Yama, striking with his right hand and dropping the blade
into his left for the true strike.
The point entered Indra's forearm.
Indra dropped Thunderbolt and struck Yama in the jaw. Yama fell, but he
swept Indra's legs out from under him, carrying him to the ground.
His Aspect possessed him completely then, and as he glared Indra seemed
to wither beneath his gaze. Taraka leapt upon his back just as Indra died.
Yama tried to free himself, but it felt as if a mountain lay across his
shoulders.
Brahma, who lay beside Nirriti, tore off his harness, which had been
soaked with demon repellant. With his right hand he cast it across the space
that separated them, so that it fell beside Yama.
Taraka withdrew, and Yama turned and gazed upon him. Thunderbolt then
leapt up from where it had fallen upon the ground and sped toward Yama's
breast.
Yama seized the blade with both hands, its point inches away from his
heart. It began to move forward and the blood dripped from the palms of his
hands and fell upon the ground.
Brahma turned a death-gaze upon the Lord of Hellwell, a gaze that drew
now upon the force of life itself within him.
The point touched Yama.
Yama threw himself to the side, turning, and it gouged him from
breastbone to shoulder as it passed.
Then his eyes were two spears, and the Rakasha lost his manlike form
and became smoke. Brahma's head fell upon his breast.
Taraka screamed as Siddhartha rode toward him upon a white horse, the
air crackling and smelling of ozone:
"No, Binder! Hold your power! My death belongs to Yama . . ."
"Oh foolish demon!" said Sam. "It need not have been . . ."
But Taraka was no more.
Yama fell to his knees beside Brahma and tied a tourniquet about what
remained of his left arm.
"Kali!" he said. "Don't die! Talk to me. Kali!"
Brahma gasped and his eyes flickered open, but closed again.
"Too late," mumbled Nirriti. He turned his head and looked at Yama. "Or
rather, just in time. You're Azrael, aren't you? The Angel of Death . . ."
Yama slapped him, and the blood upon his hand was smeared across
Nirriti's face.
"'Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of
heaven,'" said Nirriti. "'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be
comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.' "
Yama slapped him again.
"'Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for
they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. . . .'"
"'And blessed are the peacemakers,'" said Yama, "'for they shall be
called the children of God.' How do you fit into the picture. Black One?
Whose child are you, to have wrought as you have done?"
Nirriti smiled and said, "'Blessed are they who are persecuted for
righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'"
"You are mad," said Yama, "and I will not take your life for that
reason. Give it away yourself, when you are ready, which should be soon."
He lifted Brahma then in his arms and began walking back toward the
city.
"'Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you,'" said Nirriti, "'and
persecute you, and say all manner of evil things against you falsely, for my
sake. . . .'"
"Water?" asked Sam, unstoppering his canteen and raising Nirriti's
head.
Nirriti looked at him, licked his lips, nodded slightly. He trickled
the water into his mouth.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Sam."
"You? You rose again?"
"It doesn't count," said Sam. "I didn't do it the hard way."
Tears filled the Black One's eyes. "It means you'll win, though," he
gasped. "I can't understand why He permitted it . . ."
"This is only one world, Renfrew. Who knows what goes on elsewhere? And
that isn't really the fight I wanted to win, anyhow. You know that. I'm
sorry for you, and I'm sorry about the whole thing. I agree with everything
you said to Yama, and so do the followers of the one they called the Buddha.
I don't recall any longer whether I was really that one, or whether it was
another. But I am gone away from that one now. I shall return to being a
man, and I shall let the people keep the Buddha who is in their hearts.
Whatever the source, the message was pure, believe me. That is the only
reason it took root and grew."
Renfrew swallowed another drink.
"'Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit,'" he said. "It was
a will greater than mine that determined I die in the arms of the Buddha,
that decided upon this Way for this world. . . . Give me your blessing, oh
Gautama. I die now. . ."
Sam bowed his head.
"'The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north. It
whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his
circuits. All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full. Unto the
place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again. The thing that
hath been, it is that which shall be, and that which is done is that which
shall be done. There is no remembrance of former things, neither shall there
be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come
after. . . .'"
Then he covered the Black One with his cloak of white, for he had died.
Jan Olvegg was born in a litter into the town. Sam sent for Kubera and
for Narada to meet him at the Hall of Karma, for it was apparent Olvegg
would not be long alive in his present body.
When they entered the Hall, Kubera stumbled over the dead man who lay
within the archway.
"Who . . . ?" he asked.
"A Master."
Three more wearers of the yellow wheel lay within the corridor that led
to their transfer rooms. All of them bore arms.
They found another near the machinery. The thrust of a blade had caught
him precisely in the center of his yellow circle, and he looked like a
well-used target. His mouth was still opened for the scream he'd never
screamed.
"Could the townsmen have done this?" asked Narada. "The Masters have
grown more unpopular in recent years. Perhap they took advantage of the
battle frenzy. . ."
"No," said Kubera, as he raised the stained sheet that covered the body
upon the operating table, looked beneath it, lowered it. "No, it wasn't the
townsmen."
"Who, then?"
He glanced back at the table.
"That's Brahma," he said.
"Oh."
"Someone must have told Yama he couldn't use the machinery to try a
transfer."
"Then where's Yama?"
"I have no idea. But we'd better work fast if we're going to manage
Olvegg."
"Yes. Move!"
The tall youth strode into the Palace of Kama and asked after Lord
Kubera. He bore a long, gleaming spear across his shoulder, and he paced
without pause as he waited.
Kubera entered the chamber, glanced at the spear, at the youth, said
one word.
"Yes, it is Tak," replied the spearman. "New spear, new Tak. No need to
remain an ape any longer, so I didn't. The time of departure is near, so I
came to say good-bye-- to you and to Ratri. . . "
"Where will you go, Tak?"
"Td like to see the rest of the world, Kubera, before you manage to
mechanize all the magic out of it."
"That day is nowhere near at hand, Tak. Let me persuade you to stay a
while longer. . ."
"No, Kubera. Thank you, but Captain Olvegg is anxious to get along. He
and I are moving out together."
"Where will you be going?"
"East, west. . . who knows? Whatever quarter beckons. . . . Tell me,
Kubera, who owns the thunder chariot now?"
"It belonged to Shiva originally, of course. But there no longer is a
Shiva. Brahma used it for a long while."
"But there no longer is a Brahma. Heaven is without one for the first
time-- as Vishnu rules, preserving. So . . ."
"Yama built it. If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to him . . ."
"And he has no use for it," finished Tak. "So I think Olvegg and I will
borrow it for our journeying."
"What mean you he has no use for it? No one has seen him these three
days since the battle-- "
"Hello, Ratri," said Tak, and the goddess of Night entered the room.
"'Guard us from the she-wolf and the wolf, and guard us from the thief, oh
Night, and so be good for us to pass.'"
He bowed and she touched his head.
Then he looked up into her face, and for one splendid moment the
goddess filled wide space, to its depths and its heights. Her radiance drove
out the dark. . ..
"I must go now," he said. "Thank you, thank you-- for your blessing."
He turned quickly and started from the chamber. "Wait!" said Kubera.
"You spoke of Yama. Where is he?"
"Seek him at the Inn of the Three-Headed Fire-Hen," Tak said, over his
shoulder, "if you must seek him, that is. Perhaps 'twere better you wait
till he seeks you, though."
Then Tak was gone.
As Sam approached the Palace of Kama, he saw Tak hurrying down the
stair.
"Tak, a good morning to you!" he called, but Tak did not answer until
he was almost upon him. Then he halted abruptly and shielded his eyes, as
against the sun.
"Sir! Good morning."
"Where hurry you, Tak? Fresh from trying out your new body and off to
lunch?"
Tak chuckled. "Aye, Lord Siddhartha. I've an appointment with
adventure."
"So I've heard. I spoke with Olvegg last night. . . . Fare thee well
upon thy journeying."
"I wanted to tell you," said Tak, "that I knew you'd win. I knew you'd
find the answer."
"It wasn't the answer, but it was an answer, and it wasn't much, Tak.
It was just a small battle. They could have done as well without me."
"I mean," said Tak, "everything. You figured in everything that led up
to it. You had to be there."
"I suppose I did . . . yes, I do suppose I did. . . . Something always
manages to draw me near the tree that lightning is about to fall upon."
"Destiny, sir."
"Rather an accidental social conscience and some right mistake-making,
I fear."
"What will you do now. Lord?"
"I don't know, Tak. I haven't decided yet."
"Come with Olvegg and me? Ride with us about the world? Adventure with
us?"
"Thank you, no. I'm tired. Maybe I'll ask for your old job and become
Sam of the Archives."
Tak chuckled once more.
"I doubt it. I'll see you again. Lord. Good-bye now."
"Good-bye. . .. There is something . . ."
"What?"
"Nothing. For a moment, something you did reminded me of someone I once
knew. It was nothing. Good luck!"
He clasped him on the shoulder and walked by. Tak hurried on.
The innkeeper told Kubera that they did have a guest who fit that
description, second floor, rear room, but that perhaps he should not be
disturbed.
Kubera climbed to the second floor.
No one answered his knocking, so he tried the door.
It was bolted within, so he pounded upon it.
Finally, he heard Yama's voice:
"Who is it?"
"Kubera."
"Go away, Kubera."
"No. Open up, or I'll wait here till you do."
"Bide a moment, then."
After a time, he heard a bar lifted and the door swung several inches
inward.
"No liquor on your breath, so I'd say it's a wench," he stated.
"No," said Yama, looking out at him. "What do you want?"
"To find out what's wrong. To help you, if I can."
"You can't, Kubera."
"How do you know? I, too, am an artificer-- of a different sort, of
course."
Yama appeared to consider this, then he opened the door and stepped
aside. "Come in," he said.
The girl sat on the floor, a heap of various objects before her. She
was scarcely more than a child, and she hugged a brown and white puppy and
looked at Kubera with wide, frightened eyes, until he gestured and she
smiled.
"Kubera," said Yama.
"Koo-bra," said the girl.
"She is my daughter," said Yama. "Her name is Murga."
"I never knew you had a daughter."
"She is retarded. She suffered some brain damage."
"Congenital, or transfer effect?" asked Kubera.
"Transfer effect."
"I see."
"She is my daughter," repeated Yama, "Murga."
"Yes," said Kubera.
Yama dropped to his knees at her side and picked up a block.
"Block," he said.
"Block," said the girl.
He held up a spoon. "Spoon," he said.
"Spoon," said the girl.
He picked up a ball and held it before her. "Ball," he said.
"Ball," said the girl.
He picked up the block and held it before her again. "Ball," she
repeated.
Yama dropped it.
"Help me, Kubera," he said.
"I will, Yama. If there is a way, we will find it."
He sat down beside him and raised his hands. The spoon came alive with
spoon-ness and the ball with ball-ness and the block with block-ness, and
the girl laughed. Even the puppy seemed to study the objects.
"The Lokapalas are never defeated," said Kubera, and the girl picked up
the block and stared at it for a long time before she named it.
Now it is known that Lord Varuna returned to the Celestial City after
Khaipur. The promotion system within the ranks of Heaven began to break down
at about this same time. The Lords of Karma were replaced by the Wardens of
Transfer, and their function was divorced from the Temples. The bicycle was
rediscovered. Seven Buddhist shrines were erected. Nirriti's Palace was made
into an art gallery and Kama Pavilion. The Festival of Alundil continued to
be held every year, and its dancers were without equal. The purple grove
still stands, tended by the faithful.
Kubera remained with Ratri in Khaipur. Tak departed with Olvegg in the
thunder chariot, for an unknown destination. Vishnu ruled in Heaven.
Those who prayed to the seven Rishi thanked them for the bicycle and
for the timely avatar of the Buddha, whom they named Maitreya, meaning Lord
of Light, either because he could wield lightnings or because he refrained
from doing so. Others continued to call him Mahasamatman and said he was a
god. He still preferred to drop the Maha- and the -atman, however, and
continued to call himself Sam. He never claimed to be a god. But then, of
course, he never claimed not to be a god. Circumstances being what they
were, neither admission could be of any benefit. Also, he did not remain
with his people for a sufficient period of time to warrant much theological
by-play. Several conflicting stories are told concerning the days of his
passing.
The one thing that is common to all the legends is that a large red
bird with a tail thrice the length of its body came to him one day at dusk
as he rode upon his horse beside the river.
He departed Khaipur before sunrise the following day and was not seen
again.
Now some say the occurrence of the bird was coincidental with his
departure, but in no way connected with it. He departed to seek anonymous
peace of a saffron robe because he had finished the task for which he had
returned, they say, and he was already tired of the noise and fame of his
victory. Perhaps the bird reminded him how quickly such brightness passes.
Or perhaps it did not, if he had already made up his mind.
Others say that he did not take up the robe again, but that the bird
was a messenger of the Powers Beyond Life, summoning him back again to the
peace of Nirvana, to know forever the Great Rest, the perpetual bliss, and
to hear the songs the stars sing upon the shores of the great sea. They say
he has crossed beyond the Bridge of the Gods. They say he will not return.
Others say that he took upon him a new identity, and that he walks
among mankind still, to guard and guide in the days of strife, to prevent
the exploitation of the lower classes by those who come into power.
Still others say that the bird was a messenger, not of the next world,
but of this one, and that the message it bore was not meant for him, but for
the wielder of Thunderbolt, Lord Indra, who had looked into the eyes of
Death. Such a bird as the red one had never been seen before, though their
kind is now known to exist upon the eastern continent, where Indra had held
battle against the witches. If the bird bore something like intelligence
within its flaming head, it might have carried the message of some need in
that far-off land. It must be remembered that the Lady Parvati, who had been
either his wife, his mother, his sister, his daughter, or perhaps all of
these to Sam, had fled to that place at the time the phantom cats looked
upon Heaven, to dwell there with the witches, whom she counted as kin. If
the bird bore such a message, the tellers of this tale do not doubt but that
he departed immediately for the eastern continent, to effect her delivery
from whatever peril was present.
These are the four versions of Sam and the Red Bird Which Signalled His
Departure, as told variously by the moralists, the mystics, the social
reformers, and the romantics. One may, I daresay, select whichever version
suits his fancy. He should, however, remember that such birds definitely are
not found upon the western continent, but seem to be quite prolific in the
east.
Approximately a half year later, Yama-Dharma departed Khaipur. Nothing
specific is known of the days of the deathgod's going, which most people
consider ample information. He left his daughter Murga in the care of Ratri
and Kubera and she grew into a strikingly beautiful woman. He may have
ridden into the east, possibly even crossing over the sea. For there is a
legend in another place of how One in Red went up against the power of the
Seven Lords of Komlat in the land of the witches. Of this, we cannot be
certain, any more than we can know the real end of the Lord of Light.
But look around you . . .
Death and Light are everywhere, always, and they begin, end, strive,
attend, into and upon the Dream of the Nameless that is the world, burning
words within Samsara, perhaps to create a thing of beauty.
As the wearers of the saffron robe still meditate upon the Way of
Light, and the girl who is named Murga visits the Temple daily, to place
before her dark one in his shrine the only devotion he receives, of flowers.