by Steven Brust
“It’s Lucifer and Lilith, with two friends,” said Lucifer.
“Why, hello!” Harut said, breaking into a bright smile.
“You’re blind!” said Michael.
“You’re right,” said the other, his expression not changing.
“This,” said Lilith, “is our friend, Harut. Harut, the one who spoke is the Lord Michael, the Firstborn. The other is the archangel Asmodai.”
“Good day, Harut. Your music is pleasing.”
“Hello, Asmodai. I’ve heard of your work. And Michael, I’ve heard of you, too, of course.”
“Thank you,” said Asmodai. “May I see your lyre?”
“Sure! Only it’s a cithara.” He grinned even more and handed it up. Asmodai gave it close inspection, whistling appreciation from time to time. He tapped the wooden base, studied the strings and where they joined to the heads, and handed it back.
“Lovely job,” he said. “Yours?”
“Yeah. Lucifer gave me the wood.”
“Excellent workmanship.”
“May we join you for a while, Harut?” asked Lilith.
“Why, sure.”
Lilith seated herself next to him in a graceful sweep. Lucifer dropped next to her, sitting cross-legged. Asmodai stiffly lowered himself to a stoop, then rocked into a sitting position. Michael moved next to Asmodai, grunted, started to lower himself a couple of times, then creakingly bent over, supported himself with both arms, and maneuvered himself to the ground.
“Quite a company you have here,” said Harut.
“We’re going to visit the Lord Satan,” said Asmodai.
Harut nodded.
“How did it happen?” asked Michael.
“Third Wave done me in,” said Harut. “Raphael pulled me out ‘fore it did a full job, though. She done that for a lot of us.”
“I know,” said Michael. “But couldn’t she heal you?”
“She did, some. It was worse. I was lookin’ away when I got hit. I knew what was happening, and I thought I was going to change, you know? Isn’t that funny? I wasn’t afraid to die, but I didn’t want to lose my shape, like Beelzebub or Ariel. All I could think of was holding myself together. I guess Raphael pulled me out then. There were a lot who needed her, though. By the time she got back to me, it was all she could do to make me hear again. But that’s a lot. I’m thankful.”
There was silence for a time.
“I’m thankful,” he repeated.
Asmodai cleared his throat. “You did change, you know,” he said. “I didn’t recognize you at first.”
“I know. I lost a bit off the top, and I don’t weigh so much now. But that don’t matter. That much I could fix myself, if I wanted to.”
Michael said, “Some of the injured ones from the Second Wave were actually healed in the Third. Do you think. . . .” His voice trailed off.
“The Fourth Wave? Maybe. I’m not expecting anything. I’m not anxious for it.”
“None of us are,” said Lilith. “As you know.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard some folks aren’t happy about the Big plan.”
Asmodai stared. “How did you hear of that?”
Harut shrugged. “I guess it isn’t as big a secret as some would like. For me, I’ll just wait. When it happens, I’ll live, or I won’t.”
“I wish I had your attitude, Harut,” said Lilith.
He shook his head.
“What have you heard about it?” asked Asmodai.
“Lots of stuff. I don’t listen a whole lot, since I don’t think much of that kind of talk. But I know that somethin’ is up, and it has to do with starting the Fourth Wave. And I know that some don’t like it much.”
“I see,” said Asmodai. He looked around at the others. None of them said anything. Michael seemed lost in thought, Lucifer met As-modai’s look, but his face was blank. Lilith seemed amused.
After the silence had stretched across the road and back a few times, Harut said, “You don’t have to tell me nothin’ if you don’t want.”
“No,” said Asmodai, “it isn’t that. It’s just that I had thought it a better-kept secret than it is.”
“I’m not uncomfortable with you knowing,” said Lilith.
“Nor am I,” said Lucifer. “In fact, I’ll tell you that the Lord Satan has doubts, and we’re going to see him now to try to resolve them.”
Harut nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Are you curious, Harut?” asked Lilith.
“Some,” he said.
“Lord Satan isn’t sure it’s right to coerce the hosts into helping, if they don’t want to.”
“Why wouldn’t they want to?” asked Harut.
“I expect,” said Asmodai, “that they will. We want to build a place that will be safe from the flux—forever. Where we won’t have to worry about Waves—ever. Why wouldn’t everyone be in favor of that?”
“I don’t know,” said Harut. “How many will die doing it?”
Lucifer licked his lips, but didn’t answer.
“Abdiel was studying that,” said Asmodai. “I never heard his results.”
“That may be an answer,” said Harut.
“Certainly, it could be a lot,” said Asmodai. “And it might be any of us—we’re not asking anyone to do something we aren’t doing ourselves. We take risks every Wave. But this time, it would be the last.”
“Is Satan the only one who thinks this way? How did he think of it?”
“His task,” said Lucifer, “is to make sure everyone does what he must. So he had to think about it.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Asmodai explained, “they might object, and we have to be ready.”
Harut nodded. “Maybe, if the only way to handle those who don’t like it is to force them, something’s wrong from the beginning.”
Asmodai looked at him and started to say something, then stopped. He remained silent until the four rose to continue their journey. Then he said a brief farewell to Harut and resumed his silence.
“You’ve got something on your tail.”
“Thou mayst bite it off, Lord Mephistopheles.”
“I may, at that.”
“And kiss what doth lie beneath.”
Mephistopheles chuckled. “It’s nice to find you in a good mood, Beelzebub.”
“ ’Tis thy pleasure, Mephistopheles.”
“So, how are the plans?”
“Perchance thou should’st ask nearer the center, where such are made.”
“No, no, not those plans. I mean the ones for the rebellion.”
“What?”
“It’s all over Heaven, Beelzebub. How you and Satan—”
“Lord Satan!”
“Lord Satan, then. How you and Lord Satan are planning to raise the entire region in rebellion and—”
“Hold, thou!”
“Eh?”
“Art thou quicker than I, Mephistopheles?”
“I’m not sure, Beelzebub.”
“Canst thou move faster than these teeth can find thy throat?”
“Well, that would be hard to say.”
“Then know this: the Lord Satan and I have certain doubts and fears. We know not if ’tis right to force upon the hosts risks that they choose not. An these doubts thwart our obedience, we shall go unto the Lord Yaweh and speak them. Naught else shall be done by the Lord Satan or me. He that saith else, shall discover whether he be quicker than these teeth. Grasp thou that?”
“Quite.”
“Then, if thou hast business here, thou mayst enter. Else, get thee gone ere my patience wanes.”
“Perhaps it would be best if I just left.”
“Perchance ‘twould.”
“Farewell, then, Beelzebub.”
“Fare quickly, Mephistopheles.”
Mephistopheles turned from the doorway of the Southern Hold, holding his smile with some difficulty.
“Where can he be going, or coming from?” asked Abdiel. Since he was alone, no one an
swered. He hunched behind the rocks as Mephistopheles passed within fifty feet of him.
“And smiling, too. What has he been up to?” Abdiel watched the retreating figure with some apprehension. He was in the secluded area, and well-hidden, but he was close to the Southern Hold. It wouldn’t do to be seen at all, and it would be disastrous to be seen while he was about this business.
How long? He had nearly a day’s head start, but Gabriel moved quickly.
He bit his thumb and continued walking.
“Well, well, Gabriel! Good day to you.”
“Good day, Lord Mephistopheles.”
“You don’t need the ‘lord,’ Gabriel; my name is too long as it is.”
“Thank you, Mephistopheles.”
“What brings you out here, Gabriel?”
“An errand, Lo—Mephistopheles.”
“An errand? Out here? Nonsense! Admit it, Gabriel, you’re taking a vacation, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not. Really!”
“It’s all right. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Really, I’m on an errand.”
“Who is there to deliver a message to, out here?”
“Lord Satan. I’ve—oops.”
“What, you weren’t supposed to tell me that? Well, don’t worry. And I suppose you can’t tell what the message is, can you?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Well, that’s all right. I can guess it pretty well. All of this fuss about the Big Plan. But I suppose, even being right there, you aren’t told a lot about it.”
“Well, I’m not exactly told. . . .”
“It must be frustrating, after a while.”
“Frustrating?”
“Well, being that close to all of the planning and agitation, and not knowing what is really going on. For instance, I understand that the Lord Satan is angry with Yaweh over some little matter, but I imagine you’d know even less about that than I would.”
“I don’t think that is quite the case, actually.”
“Well, you probably haven’t heard of it.”
“Oh, no. You have it just backwards. I—uh, I shouldn’t say any more.”
“Of course. Well, will it be a while before I see you back at the Palace?”
“Oh, no. We should be returning right away.”
“We? The Lord Satan will accompany you?”
“Yes, he—uh, I must go now, Mephistopheles. My errand is urgent.”
“Certainly, Gabriel. A pleasant day to you.”
“And to you, Mephistopheles.”
Beelzebub padded into the large chamber. Wine and glasses were placed throughout. As he entered, he announced solemnly, “My Lord Lucifer of the Firstborn, Regent of the East. The Lady Lilith. The Lord Asmodai. The Lord Michael of the Firstborn.”
He stepped out of the way as they entered. Satan rose and greeted them, then motioned to the chairs.
This room was done in dark blues, but well lit, so it seemed bright. A painting of Lilith was against one wall. She smiled as she saw it, and exchanged glances with Satan that implied memories.
The other walls were bare, except for a cupboard against one. The total effect was spaciousness, but not enough to make one uncomfortable, and the chairs (soft and white) were close enough together to make conversation easy.
Beelzebub nudged the door closed with his nose, then leapt onto the couch next to Satan.
Satan poured wine and gestured to the others to do the same. Lilith and Asmodai did.
Lucifer said: “This is a continuation of our last discussion.”
“I see.”
Asmodai cleared his throat. “I wasn’t there. Could you fill me in?”
“We didn’t resolve anything,” said Satan. “My feeling was—is— that I’m not sure it’s right to force the hosts to risk themselves in this if they don’t want to.”
“You seem,” said Lilith, “more certain than you were.”
“Hmmmm. I don’t feel any more certain.”
“Why not?” shot Asmodai.
“Eh?”
“You have questions. Why, after all this time, haven’t you resolved them? What makes you—if I may—doubt your doubts?”
Satan nodded. “Good question. Why is it,” he asked suddenly, “that I feel as if I’m being judged?”
The others looked at each other. “I don’t know,” said Lilith at last. “I’m not judging you.”
Satan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. To answer your question, Asmodai, it’s just what Lucifer told me before: How can we sit here, knowing that we can save thousands or millions of lives, and not do anything about it?”
Michael stirred, then spoke for the first time. “I remember hearing about you during the Third Wave, friend Satan. You were holding things along your eastern border when there was a breakthrough far to the west.”
“I remember.”
“As the story goes, you decided, no matter how hard pressed you were, that the western area was in more peril because there were few defenders.”
“I remember.”
“It turned out you were right. Those you abandoned, survived. And you arrived at the western area in time to—”
“What is your point, Michael?”
“That there are times when you have to decide. You’ve shown that you can do so in battle, but—” He fanned the air, as if he could churn the right words from it.
“He is saying,” said Lucifer slowly, “that you must be able to make hard decisions even if there doesn’t seem to be any urgency. Sometimes there is an urgency that you can’t see.”
Satan looked away. “Acting on impulse is fine for some things,” he said. “But there are times. . . .”
Lilith bit her lip.
“Word of your doubt has spread,” said Asmodai. “There is growing unease, Lord Satan. Yaweh is worried. The rest of us are worried. I—”
He stopped. Satan looked at him. “Yes?”
Asmodai sighed. “I’ve been wondering about these things myself.”
Satan chuckled wryly.
“It isn’t funny,” said Lucifer.
“No, it’s sad. So sad I have to laugh at it. Well, what do you want from me?”
“A decision,” said Lucifer.
Asmodai nodded. “Either put aside your doubts and do your task, or declare yourself opposed.”
Satan chewed his lower lip for a while. “It sounds so easy. But it isn’t that easy, it’s—” He stopped. The others remained silent. At last, Satan said, “I realize what you mean, Asmodai. Yesterday, Mephi-stopheles came by to worm some information from us, and in doing so he spoke of talk that we were plotting rebellion.”
Next to him, Beelzebub growled softly.
“There is no truth in it, but it is interesting that he chose that approach. Now, I’ve known him since long before the Third Wave—I know him as well as I know any angel in Heaven. I’m not worried about Mephistopheles, but I recognize that, though he made up that story, there are seeds there that I can’t ignore.”
Asmodai nodded. “That’s what I meant.”
“I know. But what you four are doing to me is what I’m afraid of doing to the hosts. Now that I see it, I like it even less than I did when I was just imagining it.”
Asmodai shrugged. “Is that your decision, then?”
“I’m not sure.”
Asmodai slammed his palm against the arm of the chair. Then he poured himself a glass full of wine and tossed it down.
“Lord Satan?” said Lilith.
“Yes.”
“It isn’t by our desires that we are doing this—forcing you to decide.”
“I know.”
“We are being forced as much as we are forcing you. By the Plan, yes—but more: by the flux itself.”
Satan turned to Beelzebub. “Sound familiar?” he asked wryly.
Beelzebub nodded without speaking,
“All of this is beside the point,” said Asmodai, his lips tight with anger. “You must decide now. You must—”
>
“Why all the heat, Asmodai?”
“Because—” he stopped, looked away, and shrugged.
“Methinks,” said Beelzebub, “that Asmodai doth fear his own doubts, and would have thee as target that he need not have himself.”
“I see,” said Satan.
“Whatever Asmodai’s reason,” said Michael, “he is right.”
Satan shrugged. “Telling me ‘decide’ doesn’t help me do it. Which way? Why? What are the effects? Can you answer these questions? Can you answer them for yourselves, if not for me?”
No one spoke.
“I thought not. Then here is my decision: I will leave tomorrow, and travel to the center, and speak with Yaweh. If he can’t give me the answers I want I’ll . . . do whatever I do. Does that satisfy you?”
Michael nodded thoughtfully. Lilith said, “Yes.” Lucifer nodded once, abruptly. Asmodai remained silent and unmoving.
“Perhaps,” Lucifer told Asmodai, “you should go along and get your answers at the same time.”
“No,” he said. “I’ll get my own answers, in my own way, or live without them.”
“An thou canst live without them, thou art better than I.”
“Good day to you, Kyriel.”
“And to you, Sith.”
“I’ve been hearing things.”
“It’s as I told you, isn’t it?”
“Worse, if anything. They don’t care about us, it seems. They need angels to work on the walls, and whatever happens to them doesn’t matter.”
“It isn’t the walls.”
“It isn’t?”
“What I’ve heard is that. . . .”
“Why did you shudder, Kyriel?”
“I’ve heard that . . . that we’re to go out there and—build something. I don’t know what.”
“Go out there?”
“You know, outside, “
“Oh.”
“Now you’re shuddering, Kyriel.”
“I know. It’s hard to believe. I’ve heard the stories.”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember your creation, Kyriel?”