by Steven Brust
“I don’t think I like this,” said Michael.
Raphael only shook her head.
“What happened, Beelzebub?”
“Thou hast taken a blow to thy head, milord.”
“Well, that explains why it hurts so much. From whom? Or what?”
“The star of Raphael, milord.”
“Oh. Yes, she was sort of on top of me, wasn’t she? Did I do anything to Abdiel?”
“Naught more than affrighting him, milord.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Verily, milord.”
“How did you make out?”
“I spake with the Lord Michael, milord. We did argue upon thy body, and where it should be.”
“I see.”
“We did compromise our differences, at the end.”
“Compromise?”
“He left, thou didst remain, and Abdiel didst escape with an whole throat.”
“I think you did well, Beelzebub.”
“As best I could, milord.”
He looked around, and nodded at Harut and Mephistopheles. “What are these two doing here?”
“Mourning, milord.”
Lucifer found a stone beside a fast-flowing stream. He lifted it up, and, from a pocket in the sand beneath, he picked up a rod of scarlet light by its handle of gold. He looked at it, nodded his approval, and attached it to his belt.
Lilith studied it for a moment. “What is happening, Lucifer?”
“I don’t know, Lilith. But I was threatened in Yaweh’s Palace. As-modai was also threatened. I’ll not allow myself, or you, to be threatened and harassed.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Now? As I told you, we’re going to visit Asmodai. Beyond that I don’t know. Whatever we’re forced to, I guess.”
“This is worse than a Wave.”
“I know.”
“Will it end?”
“It’ll have to end.”
“I wish it were over, then.”
He shrugged, looking through the forest that separated him from Asmodai’s home.
“Welcome, Michael, Raphael. And you as well, Abdiel, though I wonder about your behavior.”
“Yaweh, what does this mean?”
“What, Michael?”
“This!” He gestured around him at the impassive angels who surrounded the throne, each holding a long, heavy, double-bladed sword.
“It means, Michael, that I no longer feel safe. I need to have angels near me to protect me from those who would destroy the Plan. I don’t think I need to name names.”
“Do you really think they would harm you?” asked Raphael.
“I know they would. Two of them, Asmodai and Lucifer, tried to force their way in.”
Michael and Raphael looked at each other. “Are you sure they would have harmed you?” asked Michael.
“If they’d wanted to talk, they had the opportunity to do so when I requested to see Lucifer. And if you’d seen them, you would have known that they had no intention of talking. For a moment, Asmodai was in here. I won’t try to describe the look he gave me.”
“I see,” said Raphael.
Michael’s lips tightened. He turned away from the throne and covered the distance to a glass case in three long strides. With a sweep of his fist, the glass shattered. Heedless of the damage he did to his hands, he swept away the remaining pieces, reached in and took the sword. Still without a word, he strode out of the throne room.
Yaweh, Abdiel, and Raphael watched him leave.
“I suppose,” said Raphael, “I’d better tell you what happened.”
Mephistopheles left without committing himself to anything or giving a definite answer as to where he was going. His last words were to warn the others away from the road itself, thus leaving them with the impression that he was with them.
Mephistopheles couldn’t commit himself yet. Not only did he not know which side was right, he wasn’t sure what the sides were.
That, he decided, was the first thing to find out. He felt free to leave because Harut had promised to tell Leviathan about Ariel. For that he was grateful. That was a task he didn’t care for.
On reflection, he realized he might have many tasks ahead of him that he wouldn’t enjoy, no matter which side he ended up on.
He set himself one task, however, that he would relish, and all it would take to perform would be a minute, alone, with Abdiel.
“I understand most of what you have told me,” said Yaweh at last. “But, Abdiel, how did you come to leave here, where you were safe?”
“I don’t know, Lord. I just had the feeling that I should be with Michael and Raphael—that they were going into danger without knowing it.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, I found Satan first. Fortunately, he hadn’t found them.”
“Raphael,” Yaweh said, “is there anything to add?”
“No, Yaweh. That’s everything.”
“All right. Raphael, you can go if you like. Abdiel, please stay for a while.”
“Of course, Lord.”
Raphael bowed her head a bit, then left.
“How may I serve, Lord?” asked Abdiel.
“First, know that from now on, you will be taking over the task of the Lord Satan, who has refused it.”
“Then the Plan goes on?”
“Yes!”
“I am glad, Lord. And I’ll do my best to live up to the trust you have shown in me.”
“Good. And I have another mission for you.”
“I am ready, Lord.”
“Gather together the two hundred angels that I call Thrones, whose chief is Raziel. Tell Raziel to come and see me, for I have something special for him to do. You will be the new chief of the Order of Thrones.”
“Yes, Lord. “
“The first thing I want you to do is to find Satan.”
Abdiel swallowed. “Find Satan?”
“Yes. And bring him to me, whether he wishes to be brought or not. Find a way to secure him, if necessary.”
“Very well, Lord.”
“Good.”
“May I make a request, Lord?”
“Of course, Abdiel.”
“I’d like to rest, first. The events of the day. . . .”
“Of course. Tomorrow will be soon enough, Abdiel.”
“Till tomorrow, then, Lord.”
“Till tomorrow, Abdiel.”
He made a deep bow and left. He had gotten what he wanted— and, unfortunately, more than he wanted. But, at least for the moment, he had survived.
“Well, not bad, eh, Sith?”
“What do you mean.
“From the bottom to the top in one day?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Seraphim. I like it. It has a nice sound to it.”
“Did you see the look on Asmodai’s face, Kyriel?”
“How could I miss it?”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t sure about the whole thing.”
“Why not? There were ten of us, plus Uriel. Why worry?”
“I don’t know, but I was worried.”
“There’s strength in numbers, Sith. Remember that.”
“I suppose. What do you think about the Thrones setting out after Satan?”
“Well, I wouldn’t like to be there, I’ll admit.”
“Oh? What about strength in numbers?”
“It isn’t that. It’s—well, I still think of him as on our side, if you know what I mean.”
“Hmmmm. Kyriel?”
“Yes?”
“You’re right.”
“Yeah.”
“But you know what it means, don’t you? We aren’t on our side anymore.”
Lucifer and Lilith met Mephistopheles outside of Asmodai’s door. They looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, Lilith said. “Good day, Mephistopheles. What brings you here?”
He shrugged, never taking his eyes off Lucifer. “Oh, the usual. War, rebellion, strife, death. That sort of thing, And you?”
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br /> “Answer her question, dark one,” said Lucifer.
“Answer mine, light-bringer.”
“I’ll answer it this way: if you intend to harm Asmodai, you will have to deal with me first—or afterwards. Is that clear to you?”
“Clear enough. If you intend to harm Asmodai, I’ll look the other way. But if you don’t, I have news for him that may concern you, too. Okay?”
Lucifer spat. He took a step toward the door and yelled down, “Asmodai!”
They waited for a moment, then the small, strong archangel appeared from below.
“Hello, Asmodai,” said Lucifer. “This one,” he gestured toward Mephistopheles, “says he has news for us. Do you want to let him in?”
Asmodai shrugged. “Sure. All of you can come in. Find chairs. Get as comfortable as you can, considering.”
They did this. Lucifer turned to Mephistopheles. “All right, speak.”
Mephistopheles studied his thumbnail. Then he said, “Do any of you know Ariel?”
There were nods from all around.
“Then you should know this: Abdiel destroyed him today.”
“What?” cried Lucifer, standing.
Lilith and Asmodai registered shock.
“As near as we can tell, Abdiel was trying to get Beelzebub, and Ariel interposed himself. He used his own illiaster to send out a blast of some kind. I wouldn’t know much about that. It destroyed Ariel instantly.
“If it matters to any of you,” he added bitterly, “it was over quickly. “
There was silence. Then Lucifer said, “What happened to Ab-diel?”
“Nothing,” spat Mephistopheles. “Michael and Raphael helped him get away from Satan and Beelzebub. Raphael struck Satan as he was attacking Abdiel.”
“What I’d like to know,” said Asmodai slowly, “is how Abdiel learned to control his illiaster that way. There aren’t many other than Firstborn who can do that.”
Lilith looked at Lucifer, her face without expression. Lucifer hung his head and was silent.
Yaweh studied Raziel. Raziel met his gaze honestly and frankly. Yaweh nodded after a while and spoke: “I am told that I am now called King of Heaven.”
Raziel nodded. “Yes, Lord. You are.”
“Whose idea was that?”
Raziel blinked a couple of times and brushed a blond forelock out of his eyes. “It just seemed to happen,” he said.
Yaweh nodded. “I do not wish to be King of Heaven, Raziel.”
“Lord?”
“I do not wish there to be a king in Heaven, Raziel. We’ve never needed one.”
“Excuse me, Lord, but—may I speak?”
“Of course.”
“If there are those who oppose you—”
“Exactly! If there are those who oppose me, and who oppose the Plan, then we need a king, If there are those who oppose me.”
“I don’t understand, Lord.”
Yaweh leaned forward. “I feel that I can trust you, Raziel. That is why I made you Chief of the Thrones, and that is why I now want you to do something else for me.”
Raziel studied him. “Anything I can do, Lord,” he said.
“Then go out, using whatever wits and skills you have, and find the truth for me. Is there opposition to the Plan? From how many? Is it organized? How does Satan really feel about all of this? What about Lucifer and Asmodai? Are they really trying to kill me?
“I need to know, Raziel. I must know. I want you to find out for me—whichever way it is.”
Raziel nodded. “I’ll do it, Lord.”
“Thank you, Raziel,” he said, feeling a semblance of peace for the first time in days.
The seas raged. Waves the size of the Southern Hold built themselves up and crashed into nothingness. Valleys of the same size opened up, almost showing the bottom. All along the shores, great waves swept up and drew trees, rocks, and flowers into the deep.
Sometimes, far out in the middle, a great head would appear and then plunge beneath again, with a flickering as the tail showed above the waves for a moment. After a time, the sound would drift back—a long, mournful wail.
Harut, high upon a rock wall above the worst of the waves, heard these sounds. Someday they would become part of a song called “The Grief of Leviathan,” and it would evoke pain and beauty at once, as if they could be a single thing.
In this way, songs can lie. There was nothing of beauty in the grief of Leviathan as she sundered the ocean wishing she could have her small friend back, if only for a moment, and understanding death as only one can who has lived from the beginning and seen it from every side.
Silently, Harut mourned with her. Perhaps she knew this, and perhaps it comforted her somewhat.
SEVEN
I’m only a dream but I’ve come from on high,
To free you from the chains that bind you tight.
To give you the freedom of the clouds in the sky;
It is simpler to run than to fight.
—Nate Bucklin, “The Road”
Satan and Beelzebub wandered away from the road, not going in any particular direction but heading more or less westerly. For long, slow hours they walked without speaking, each lost in his own thoughts.
They rested at times by unspoken mutual consent, and they both seemed to know when it was time to get up again and continue.
At last Beelzebub spoke: “Milord,” he said, “perchance ‘twere best to consider where we walk.”
“All right, Beelzebub. Consider. Where should we walk?”
“Harut hath said that Leviathan wisheth to speak with thee.”
“Yes. But I’m not sure she wants to speak to anyone just now.”
“Mayhap thou’rt right, milord. And yet will come a time when she shall desire conversation, e’en more than she did ere this.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Well, if you think so, we can go that way.”
“We do so walk, milord.”
“Eh? Oh. All right, then. Do you know where to find her?”
“I think so, milord.”
“All right, then.”
“Milord, I. . ..”
“Yes?”
“’Tis nothing, milord.”
“I guess I’ll be going, then.”
“Where to, Mephistopheles?”
“I don’t know, Lilith,” he lied, “wherever I end up. I’m going to think all of this over.”
“Where do you stand?” asked Lucifer suddenly.
“I’m sitting, now.”
“I meant—”
“I know what you mean, Firstborn. You’ll know sooner or later, but not until I do. If that isn’t good enough,” he shrugged, “here I am.”
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. Lilith set a hand on his arm. Asmodai stood up smoothly and opened the door. He stepped to the side and waited.
Mephistopheles rose, inclined his head to Lilith and Lucifer, turned his back and went out the door, nodding to Asmodai on the way out.
After shutting the door, Asmodai returned to his chair.
“I don’t trust him,” said Lucifer.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Asmodai.
“No, I suppose it doesn’t. And, in any case, he did give us news, as he promised.”
“Yes.”
“Although, in fact, I think he got more from us than we got from him.”
“He’s like that,” said Lilith.
“That’s why I don’t trust him.”
“In any case,” said Asmodai, “what should we do?”
“About what?” said Lucifer. “About Yaweh? About Satan? About Ariel? Which one?”
“I think it’s all one problem,” said Lilith.
“In some ways, yes,” said Lucifer. “But—never mind. All right, then; what should we do?”
“I think,” said Asmodai, “that we have to find Satan.”
“Find Satan! Find Satan! My whole life seems to be one long day of finding Satan! I think all of Heaven is spending its time finding Satan!” Lucifer shook his head.
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“Whether he meant to or not, he started it all. We can’t do anything without at least speaking to him—it would be wrong.”
“I suppose. But whatever we do—”
“My Lord.”
They turned to her. “Yes, Lilith?” said Asmodai.
“You both continue to avoid the subject. You keep saying, ‘whatever we do,’ or ‘we can’t do anything,’ without saying what it is you’re talking about.”
Asmodai shrugged. “We can’t—”
“Put it this way. I’m Satan. You’ve tracked me through all the trails and paths of Heaven. Finally you’ve found me. I say,” she lowered her voice into a fair imitation of Satan’s low, melodious tones, “ ‘Greetings, my lords, may I do something for you?’
“Now,” she continued, “what do you answer?”
Asmodai opened and shut his mouth, then did it again. Lucifer smiled. “I think she has you,” he said.
“Well, what’s your point?”
“That what we have to decide is this: What are we proposing here? You were right when you said that all of these things were tied together, but tied together how? What do they have in common?”
“The Plan, of course,” said Lucifer.
Lilith nodded. “The Plan; yes. Then what? I’ll put it another way: What is Satan threatening that Yaweh is trying to protect, which led to Ariel’s death?”
“Power!” cried Asmodai.
“Yes,” said Lilith.
“Power?” said Lucifer. “I don’t understand.”
“Take the long view. The First Wave—all it was, was the seven of you against the flux, right? There was no confusion, no time for thinking about it, or for conversation, or art, or anything else we prize. But then there was a pause, and things started to develop. After the Second Wave there were only a few hundred of us—that much I remember. We all knew each other; we got along pretty well. But now, after the Third Wave, there are too many for that.
“Before, we were living from Wave to Wave. You know how many of us are destroyed each time—that’s a big price to pay for living peacefully in between. But now, with all of the angels created during the Third Wave, we have the potential to end that—as Yaweh knows. But at the same time, that brings up the question of who tells whom what to do when. Yaweh simply did it—he was the obvious one. But now, Satan has called all of that into question. Now, the angels aren’t sure just who is telling whom to do what, or who has the right to. So the real issue, when you strip away everything that’s just a facade or a side point, is—”