by Steven Brust
But she has the capacity to be happy with what is. She learns to enjoy the water, and life goes on.
Thrumb thrumb thrumb.
The Regent of the West heard it, distantly, through leagues of water, and recognized it at once.
Thrumb thrumb thrumb.
She rolled over, dived, and headed for it, her tail flipping and her enormous eyes alight.
Thrumb thrumb thrumb.
She broke the water and he was there—very dark, small, stooped, seated on a rock along the southeastern shore of her Regency. His head was covered with a small hat, narrow brimmed and of dark grey. His eyes were covered by a brown bandage, almost matching his skin. In his lap was a device made of mahogany from the forests of Lucifer. It was strung with silk wrapped over fine steel.
He heard her approach, and he began humming along with his playing. His fingers moved as fast as the Emerald of Satan, as his lips emitted a string of nonsense sounds that took her back to the brief moments before the Second Wave, when she had been whole and healthy, yet not aware of it.
She waited, perfectly still, and let voice and instrument transport her to places she’d wished to be—the Southern Hold, Yaweh’s Palace, the meadows of Lucifer. Slowly, his voice faded, and his hands were still.
She sighed. “Welcome, Harut.”
“Thank you, Leviathan. Been a long while.”
It was strange, she reflected, but when he wasn’t singing, his voice sounded harsh and raspy. “Yes, it has. Have you been happy, Harut?”
“Hard to say. Been making music. People seem pleased to see me. I think I’m gettin’ better. Yeah, I guess that makes me happy. You?”
“I’m at peace with myself. It took me a long time, but I’m not bitter anymore.”
“I’m glad,” he said.
“Have you heard news?”
“Yeah. I visited with Yaweh himself a while ago, and with Michael, and an archangel named Asmodai, and an angel named Ab-diel. They’re planning something big, honey.”
She was instantly alert. “Is another Wave coming?”
“I don’t think so. It sounded more as if they were gonna start one themselves—well, not exactly, but something like it. All I heard were bits and pieces of the talk.”
Leviathan was silent for a moment, then she said, “Harut, will you be seeing Ariel?”
“I see him from time to time. Pretty often, I guess.”
“When you see him next, would you send him here?”
“Sure, honey.”
“Thank you.” She relaxed. “Play me something, Harut. I think I’m going to need it.”
His answer was not with words.
Thrumb thrumb thrumb.
An owl circled over the vast expanse of water, hooting loudly, and then flew back to the shore. Soon Leviathan’s head broke the water. She looked around and quickly spotted the bird on the rock that Harut had occupied a few days before. A lash of her tail brought her close.
The owl spoke. “O mighty one of salty sea, word has come you’ve need of me.”
“Hello, Ariel. Yes, I’d like a favor. And your scansion is off, by the by.”
“This life would be both hard and droll, took everyone the critic’s role.”
“I suppose. Well, I’ve heard strange things are happening in the center. I’d like you to find out what you can and, in particular, why no one mentioned it to me.”
Ariel snorted at this last. “If your time were spent upon dry ground, perhaps you’d be more easily found!”
She shrugged with her eyes and lashed her tail a bit. “I’d suggest you get help.”
“Your every wish and whim to please, I’ll speak to Mephi-stopheles.”
“And you might want to consider some form other than rhyming couplets. They do get dull, after a while.”
Ariel ruffled his feathers with displeasure, and cleared his throat.
“The judgments that you tend to pass,
On poets you wish to harass,
Would give me to swear,
Were I unaware,
That you are naught but an asset to the Heavenly throne, wherefore I leave you alone.”
And, having gotten in the last word, he spread his wings and departed, just too late to miss a deluge of sea water.
After the Second Wave there is a pause, and a naming of names. It is a time of creation. The Seven Firstborn, called Yaweh, Satan, Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Leviathan, and Belial, fear another Wave, but can only wait and watch.
They are given tasks, by each other and for each other.
Yaweh takes the center of Heaven, where he can took out at everything during the Waves and influence the illiaster everywhere.
Michael stays nearby, ready to protect Yaweh with his strength and power.
Raphael also stays near the center, for it is her task to heal those who are injured by the flux and save those she can.
Leviathan is given a Regency in the West, most of which is her sea.
Belial—indrawn and quiet, yet nearly as powerful as Michael— takes the North to watch, and finds pleasure in the barren rocks and crags there.
Lucifer, during the Second Wave, found himself in the East, and had accidentally discovered how to make the soil of Heaven produce things that grew. Now the eastern lands are covered with grasses and shrubs, which are spreading to the rest of Heaven. So Lucifer takes the East, and he is content.
Satan was in the South, where the battle was thickest. It is the most populous area of Heaven save for the very center, because so much was done there that many were created.
It is a time of learning, and the beginning of art. It is found that those who came from the Second Wave are weaker than those who came from the First, and have less control of their own illiaster. It is also found that as time passes, all use of illiaster is limited. It is, at least in part, due to this that the angels stop varying their forms, unless there is some need to change.
Lucifer discovers that many of the growing things of Heaven, when eaten, bring sustenance to angels—restoring illiaster to those who are tired. Eventually, farming becomes a major occupation in Heaven.
Raphael discovers that those damaged by the flux cannot be fully healed, or resume their old shapes. She travels among them, healing as best she can, but the maimed remain maimed.
Asmodai, who came into being during this Wave, discovers how to shape the textures of Heaven. He envisions Michael, who has more raw power than any other of the Firstborn, cutting through the cacoas-trum and leaving a wake of illiaster behind him. He creates a tool for this.
Others see and admire it, so Asmodai makes more, and is still making tools when the Third Wave begins, with no warning, as the southeastern side of Heaven begins to yield.
The Sword of Michael does as it was intended. Yaweh holds a sceptre, which forces shape and order upon chaos. Satan bears an emerald, which turns cacoastrum in upon itself, burning until it is consumed. And other tools are used, as well.
The Seven Firstborn lead the hosts into battle.
Mephistopheles strode up to the doors of Yaweh’s Palace, an almost-smile upon his lips. Inside, he found a page and asked said page to announce him to Uriel, who dwelt within. The page scurried off, pagelike; Mephistopheles placed his hands behind his back and studied the huge entry-way of the palace.
The archangel Mephistopheles wore only black. After Bethor had invented whiskers he had adopted the custom. He sported a thin mustache that curled just a little around his lips. His face was high and angular; his eyes slanted upward a bit beneath thick black brows that nearly met over his nose. As he waited, he began whistling tunelessly between his teeth.
Uriel appeared behind the page, saw the dark angel in his usual carefree attitude, and didn’t quite gnash his teeth. Mephistopheles saw big, somber Uriel in his purple and silver, and didn’t quite laugh. Nor did he quite hide his desire to do so.
Uriel dismissed the page with a nod, and led the way to a small sitting room with a pair of comfortably padded beige chairs
against walls of mushroom. He offered wine because it was expected; Mephistopheles accepted to be difficult.
“Cool,” he announced, as he tasted the wine, “and yet it warms the heart. Sweet, and yet an almost bitter aftertaste.”
Uriel was stubbornly silent.
“It reminds one of Heaven, nearly.”
Uriel opened his mouth a couple of times, but didn’t say anything. Mephistopheles decided that he was trying to find a way to say, “What do you want?” that didn’t sound quite so rude. He took another drink, closing his eyes to further enjoy the coolness and the sweetness.
“This place is a bit degenerate, you know,” he remarked. “I mean, not to cast aspersions on anyone in particular, but one would think that a few things worth doing would get done from time to time, rather than this continuous revelry—”
“You don’t consider our studies worthwhile?” interrupted Uriel.
“Ah! So you can speak after all! I’d started to wonder.”
Uriel’s lips compressed. Mephistopheles continued. “As to studies, I don’t know. It depends. What are you studying? For what purpose? To satisfy idle curiosity?”
Uriel scowled. “Who are you to belittle the efforts of anyone? So far as I know, you haven’t done anything of any benefit to anyone since the Third Wave.”
“As opposed to whom?”
Uriel shrugged and looked away. “I doubt any of this was what brought you here.”
“Why shouldn’t it be? I just thought I’d stop by and find out how you and my other friends are.” Uriel opened his mouth as if to say, “What other friends?” but didn’t. “I thought,” continued Mephistopheles, “that I might give you news from other parts of Heaven. Did you know, for example, that Lilith had been seeing Lucifer since—”
“Enough!” cried Uriel, the shadow of pain crossing his features. “If all you came to do is distribute and collect petty gossip, you may leave again. I have no wish to hear such things.”
Mephistopheles’s face softened, and he bit his lip. His voice was lower as he said, “I’m sorry, Uriel. I’d forgotten that perhaps you wouldn’t wish to know how Lilith fares just now; after all—”
“Please!”
“Certainly, my friend. I have no wish to torment you.”
Uriel scowled.
“No, I mean it. I enjoy bantering, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.” He stood and crossed to Uriel. The big angel looked up at him, suspiciously. Mephistopheles sat in a chair next to him and touched his shoulder.
“I know I joke too much,” he said. “Maybe I do hurt people, but I’m not malicious—at least, I don’t think I am. I’d forgotten about— things—or I wouldn’t have brought up what I did. I hope you can believe that.”
Uriel’s eyes softened, but he still said nothing.
“Perhaps,” Mephistopheles continued, dropping his voice still further, “I’m a bit jealous of you. I try not to be, but here you are, always next to Yaweh, seeing Michael and Raphael every day, getting in on their plans, speaking to them all, while I always seem to be on the outside and—never mind. I guess I’ll be leaving now.”
He stood up, but Uriel held out a hand to stop him. “Please,” said Uriel. “I overreacted.”
Mephistopheles paused, half-turned toward the door. Uriel touched his arm, and Mephistopheles nodded and sat.
“You have little cause to be jealous, believe me,” Uriel continued. “Yes, I live here, but Yaweh spends his time with Asmodai of late, and Lucifer and Abdiel, as well as those others you mentioned.”
Mephistopheles studied him. “Do you feel left out, Uriel? I doubt that you should. I’m sure it’s just that his plans require—”
“Oh, I know that. No, I’m not hurt. And yes, there are good reasons for it. Lucifer understands more about cacoastrum than anyone else; Asmodai will be planning the construction of the globe itself. And Abdiel is helping to organize it.”
Mephistopheles appeared uninterested in these details. “You have your role, though, do you not?”
“Oh, yes. I am content. I’ll be working with Satan.”
“Ah! That will be good. I’m told that he’s pleasant to work with.”
“I expect it will be well. Although, to be honest, Satan has been worrying of late. His task, and mine, is to make sure that everyone involved in the work does his job, and Satan worries that we may have to coerce some of the younger angels.”
“Oh, but that’s foolishness, isn’t it?”
“I think so,” said Uriel. “Who could fail to want this? A safe, Per-manent haven from the flux? A place large enough for, literally, hundreds of billions of angels? But come, this isn’t what you came for, Mephistopheles. What can I do for you?”
Mephistopheles shook his head. “I really only came to see how you were. I had no particular errand.”
“Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you?”
“Yes. But thank you, Uriel.”
Uriel stood. “Certainly. And, about our problems before—”
“I’m sorry. It was my fault. Don’t think on it.”
“Thank you. I’ll walk you out.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll see you soon.”
“And I, you.”
“Fare well.”
“Fare well.”
Mephistopheles strode evenly out of Yaweh’s Palace. As he left to report to his friend, Leviathan, a small, cynical smile came over his lips; a dry chuckle escaped his throat.
“Ah! Kyriel! What is this I hear of you and Bath Kol?”
“I don’t know, Sith. What is it?”
“Be that way, then. Where are you going?”
“I’m helping out the Lord Michael, around his home. You know, keeping the fires going, and all.”
“He’s away, then?”
“Not gone on a trip, if that’s what you mean, but he’s spending most of his time at the Lord Yaweh’s palace. I hear there’s something big going on.”
“I have heard that somebody is planning something. I haven’t heard what, though.”
“Neither have I. How are things with Raphael?”
“Slow. Just as well, though. I’m glad to see the illiaster wear down—not so many getting hurt.”
“I suppose. Well, Sith, duty calls.”
“A pleasant day to you, Kyriel.”
“And to you. And if you hear any more about the big doings, let me know, will you?”
“Sure.”
“Fare you well, then.”
“Fare well.”
Satan and Beelzebub met Lucifer and Lilith in a small, wooded area amid the grasslands near the southern border of Lucifer’s dominion. For a while they walked in silence along a shallow stream, or through thick woods. Satan strode next to Lucifer, the former’s long easy gait matching the athletic stride of the latter. Lilith held Lucifer’s arm as Beelzebub trotted along beside her.
Lucifer was tall and strong and bronzed, and most of the mysteries of Heaven and creation that were known, were known because of his work.
He had explained how the angelic bodies had formed in response to the conditions of their creation, how illiaster had a tendency to become stagnant and thus rob them of their powers, and why it required two eyes in a single direction to see properly. It was through the arts of Lucifer and the devices of Asmodai that light had been brought to Heaven.
Lilith was small and dark—lithe, yet full-bodied. Her eyes, as black as Mephistopheles’s, shone with energy and enthusiasm. Where Lucifer was indrawn and contemplative, she was outgoing and exu-
berant. Lilith it was who had invented differentiation of genders, and then taught the angels why. It was because she was female that most of them chose to be male.
After some little while of walking, Satan seated himself on a rock in the middle of a stream. He found a small stick and began tapping it on the stone.
Beelzebub looked up at Lilith and whispered, “Certes, he’ll be at it, anon.” She nodded agreement.
For a moment, t
he only sounds were the tapping of the stick, and the soft burbling of the stream. Then Satan gave a sigh.
“I’m not sure how to begin this, friend Lucifer.”
“Is it about the Plan?”
“Yes.”
Satan continued tapping the stick. Lucifer sat facing him in the middle of the stream, the clear water running over his crossed legs. Lilith sat behind Lucifer and rubbed her palm over his back. Beelzebub sat next to her, and occasionally leaned down to lap up water.
Satan began again. “Actually, it’s about my own role in it.”
Lucifer nodded. “Go on.”
“I’ve been given the task—”
“I know. It suits you.”
“Eh? Explain that.”
Lucifer shrugged. “You may not know it, but you’re the most respected of the Firstborn, excepting Yaweh himself. To have you leading them—”
“Leading them? I’m not leading them. I’m—”
“It amounts to the same thing. As I was told, you’re to keep account of the work and make sure each angel does his job. That means that they’ll be looking to you for guidance and inspiration—”
“And a good kick, when needed.”
“Yes, that too.”
Satan was silent for a moment, tapping the stick against the rock. “I admit, you make it sound better than Yaweh did.”
“That’s natural,” said Lucifer, somewhat amused.
“To hear him describe it, I’m supposed to sniff around finding angels who aren’t doing their job, and do whatever I have to do to make sure they perform.”
“I’m sure there’s truth in that, also.”
“But—I guess it bothers me that he, and you too, think we might need it. It never used to be like that. We fought when we had to, to survive. No one had to force us to do anything. You remember how it was.”
“I remember,” said Lucifer softly.
Once again, for a while, the only sound was the stick, tapping rhythmically against a rock.