by Steven Brust
“Rebellion,” said Asmodai softly.
“Exactly.”
She looked around the room. “And the Lord Satan is aware of that, whether he’s admitted it even to himself or not. That’s what’s scaring him.”
“Then why,” said Lucifer, “doesn’t he just come out and do it?”
“I can tell you that,” said Asmodai. “The reason that he objected in the first place was because he felt uncomfortable with the idea of coercing the angels into helping with the Plan.”
“So?”
“So he knows that the Plan is necessary. If he leads a rebellion, he’ll only have to do the same thing Yaweh is doing. So, for him, where’s the gain?”
“I see,” said Lucifer. “I think I see. So where does that leave us?” He chuckled. “If we’re going to revolt,” he said, “it would be nice to know what we’re revolting about.”
“I don’t think there is any, ‘if we revolt,’ “ said Lilith. “It’s too late for that. Mephistopheles knew it; I could tell as soon as I saw him. The factor that Satan never thought of was the angels themselves—those of the Third Wave. They see this as Yaweh telling them to sacrifice themselves—you’ve heard the rumors as well as I. No, there’s a rebellion already. If we try to do nothing until it’s so obvious that everyone can see, it’ll be too late to direct it. We can get out of it—maybe—but we can’t stop it.
“So, as I said earlier, my lords, what are we going to do?”
Alone, with a chance to rest for the first time in days, Abdiel found himself thinking. This wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he couldn’t stop it.
Everything had been working well until that owl—he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and shook his head. He covered his face with his pillow, as if he could block out the memory of Ariel being hit, screaming the horrible, horrible scream, and then, nothing.
It was an accident, he told himself. The illiaster would hardly have hurt Beelzebub. How could he have known the owl would be there and misunderstand?
He couldn’t, he finally decided. There was no way. His motives were certainly reasonable, and, with Satan feeling as he did, there was nothing wrong with his methods, either. Certainly, it would have caused Satan some trouble, and there might have been a small falling out between Satan and Michael, but that was natural—they were on opposite sides. Abdiel hadn’t put them there.
He took a deep breath. No, he couldn’t go on beating himself over an unfortunate event that had been beyond his control. He had to go on, and do what he had to do.
But now there was another problem—Raziel! Naturally, he had listened in on the conversation between Raziel and Yaweh. He was a little surprised that Yaweh hadn’t accepted all of the evidence that Abdiel had manufactured for him, but it was too late now. Raziel was going to have to be made harmless.
Ha! All very well to say, but how to do it? Abdiel knew Raziel somewhat, and he would do what he set out to do, if he wasn’t stopped. How could he be stopped?
A thought came to Abdiel quite suddenly. But he rejected it as he remembered, once more, Ariel screaming and vanishing. No, that would be wrong, he decided. And he’d certainly never do anything wrong.
Certainly not that.
Mephistopheles, for one, knew where Satan was going. Whatever Ariel had done after he had found Satan, he hadn’t been near him by
accident. And the presence of Harut confirmed it, if any confirmation was necessary.
Mephistopheles set off at once for the Western Regency. He wasn’t sure where he stood on the larger issues, and preferred not to decide until and unless he had to, but there were loyalties and friendships he respected.
Satan would be going to see Leviathan. Mephistopheles might be needed there.
“Not that it solves anything,” said Asmodai, “but I’m curious: Why hasn’t Yaweh come after us?”
Lilith cocked her head. “He may be so interested in Satan right now that everything else comes second to him. Do we know where Satan is going?”
“I have a guess,” said Asmodai. “Mephistopheles mentioned that Harut and Ariel were there. Does that suggest something to you?”
The others spoke with one voice: “Leviathan!”
“That’s what I thought.”
“So should we go meet them?” asked Lucifer.
“If we’re right about Yaweh,” said Lilith, “he’ll have sent either Michael or Raphael after him.”
“No,” said Asmodai. “You forget the—what were they?”
“Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones,” said Lucifer.
“Right. He’ll send them.”
“Or more like them,” said Lucifer. “He won’t want to leave himself undefended. After all, one of us could break in and kick him in the knee.”
“Speaking of defending,” said Asmodai, “we’re going to have to protect Satan from whoever went after him. Will the three of us be enough?”
“I don’t know. What do you suggest? Trying to raise our own host?”
“It’s a thought,” put in Lilith.
“I don’t like it,” said Asmodai. “It may come to that, but I don’t want to push things to it any sooner than we have to.”
“Do you have another idea?” asked Lucifer.
“Yes. If you and Lilith can stand to be parted for a while.”
“Why?”
“Lilith is the fastest runner I know, and what I have in mind is going to take speed.”
“Tell us about it,” said Lilith.
Raziel didn’t attempt to understand what he had overheard. That would come later.
He had never actually done this sort of thing before, but he felt it was best to learn all he could before trying to understand any of it. Had he thought about it carefully, he would have realized that the stories he had gotten from Michael, Raphael, and Asmodai didn’t quite add up. But he wasn’t ready to think about that yet. No doubt, when all was said and done, the conversation between Lucifer, Lilith, and Asmodai would be important. But not now.
Now, the only important thing about it was that it told him to head west, toward Leviathan, because that was where things were going to happen.
There were no roads, trails, or paths heading from the center to the Western Regency. This mattered little to Satan or Beelzebub, who enjoyed tromping through woods or over bare rocky ground.
They took their time, and spoke little. Leagues fell slowly before them. From time to time, they tested the air for a trace of the sea, but even Beelzebub couldn’t catch the scent.
That was all right. They knew the way, and were in no hurry.
The forces of chaos gathered around them.
Lilith ran north. Her footfalls were a blur, yet her breathing was light and easy.
In a few more hours she would slow to a walk, and after an hour of walking she would stop and rest. Then she would run more.
Time, to her, was everything.
Her friends would be going more slowly, and her enemies as well, but none had so long a distance to travel. She couldn’t run in a straight line; this part of Heaven grew gradually more and more hilly, until at last mountains appeared.
To her, these mountains appeared as far lumps, ahead, when her path took her to the top of hills. This happened less often as time went on, for she began to pick her way between the hills to save energy.
Lilith knew the forces of chaos were gathering around her, and responded to them. Fleetest of all the angels of Heaven, she ran on through the day, through the night, through the mountains of Heaven.
Michael took his time, but not because he wanted to. Had he been Beelzebub, he could have followed Satan’s scent. Had he been Mephi-stopheles, he would have immediately noticed the signs of where they turned off the road. Had he been Yaweh, an effort would have brought forth a vision of them, fleeting and imperfect though it was between Waves.
But he was Michael. His eyes weren’t the keenest, his feet not the swiftest. But he was determined, which counts for much.
Painfully, he read
the signs. After some hours, he became certain of where they had left the road. After a few more hours, he was sure that they were heading west, although not in a straight path. He guessed that they were heading toward Leviathan, but since he wasn’t yet sure, he took his time.
He wasn’t aware of the gathering of the forces of chaos; he was one.
Abdiel marched at the head of two hundred angels.
Well, perhaps “marched” is too strong a word. He walked, and they walked behind him. Before leaving, Yaweh had told him, “West,” so he went west.
He didn’t know if he would find Satan, and more than half hoped he wouldn’t, but he had his assigned task, and the risks of ignoring it were even greater than the risks of carrying it out.
Behind him, two hundred kept pace, through brush and over rocks, each with a tall sword in his hand. Some looked grim, others looked worried, others excited. They were setting out to capture a legend—a Firstborn. As they walked, the chain and the manacles made clanging sounds, so they couldn’t forget why they were there.
It occurred to Abdiel that if Satan (those hands!) or Beelzebub (those teeth!) were waiting for them, he, Abdiel, would be the one in front. And yet, he could hardly lead them from behind. Quite a dilemma.
After some thought, he signaled an angel to come forward. He directed the angel, whose name was Zaphkiel, to walk ahead and keep his eyes open for any traces of Satan. Zaphkiel obeyed without a word.
That much safer for his efforts, Abdiel continued westward.
Mephistopheles negotiated the boulders with lithe efficiency and found level ground again. He surveyed it, pleased with his progress. From here, the way was mostly flat, with occasional rocky areas and scattered small woods until he reached the sea. There were no obstructions in his view of— There was an obstruction. Wasn’t there? Way off, a little to the left? Was it moving? Well, well! Who could this be?
He hurried to catch up, noticing for the first time that there was a faint sea-tang in the air.
“We’re getting close, I think.”
“Aye, milord.”
“Another day?”
“Less, methinks. By dusk, perchance.”
“Good. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her. I hear she’s pretty much adjusted, though.”
“Aye.”
“It was horrible at first. Yaweh, Raphael, Michael, and I were with her nearly every minute after the Second Wave. She tried to destroy herself once. Lucifer stopped her.”
“So I’ve heard spoken, milord.”
They walked a little further.
“Milord?”
“Yes, Beelzebub?”
“It hath been said that thou and she were . . . close, on a time.”
Satan smiled. “That was long ago, Beelzebub. Before the Second Wave. We didn’t know what we were doing, then, if you know what I mean.”
“Aye, milord.”
Nearly exhausted, glistening with sweat, thinner, flushed and drawn, Lilith collapsed inside the cavern. Sounds filled the chamber, as of thousands of angels breathing in perfect unison. It was at the end of a tunnel, massive, yet twisted and convoluted, which burrowed down into the mountain.
There was not the least trace of light.
She lay on her back and tried not to close her eyes. She had come so far, so fast. It would be horrible to fall asleep here and be just that much too late. On the other hand, she thought, her face twisting into a mockery of a smile, it would almost be worse if none of this turned out to be necessary.
Lilith had paced herself during the run, so she was not completely exhausted—quite. She rolled over on her stomach, then fought her way to her hands and knees.
She held herself there until her breathing settled, then grasped a ledge in front of her that she’d felt before falling. She hauled herself painfully to her feet.
From inside her shirt, she removed a small stone that Asmodai had given her. As she brought it forth, a faint glow began within it. Faint as it was, it allowed her to see her surroundings. The chamber was even larger than she had imagined it. The ceiling was far beyond the range of her small light, but extended at least to many times her height. The walls appeared dark grey and rocky and uneven. Yet the floor of the cavern was strangely smooth.
Her eyes were drawn toward the source of the sounds of breathing. She couldn’t quite make out anything, so she haltingly stumbled forward.
After ten paces, she saw the massive object before her—twice her own height in length, half of that in breadth. After another five, she realized that this was only his head.
Her hand began to shake harder, from reasons having nothing to do with exhaustion.
She whispered, almost soundlessly, “Belial.”
“Good day, Michael.”
“Wha—?”
Michael spun and saw Mephistopheles, hands on his hips and smiling, about four paces away.
“How long have you been behind me?”
“Most of the day. I would have spoken sooner, but you kept moving faster. I’d have thought you were trying to get away from me if you’d ever looked back.”
“I see,” said Michael. He’d been marching with his great sword resting on his shoulder. Now he gripped it with both hands and swung it as he advanced, stopping with the blade a hair’s breadth from the other’s chest. Someone with keener eyesight than Michael’s might have noticed Mephistopheles’s face going the least bit pale.
“Does this gesture mean something, Lord Michael?”
“Why have you been following me, dark one?”
“To catch you. It is necessary, you know.”
“You could have hailed me.”
“I did.”
“From farther back!”
“I dislike shouting.”
Michael bit his lips. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, we seem to be going in the same direction, and I prefer to walk with company. If you’re of like mind, we can solve this problem for each other without discommoding ourselves.”
“My business is my own.”
“Of course. I assure you, I have not the least interest in why you pursue the Lord Satan.”
“How did you know?”
“Why, Lord Michael, you just told me yourself. But it doesn’t concern me. I’m here to visit Leviathan. We’re friends.”
“You have friends?”
“Tsk, Michael. Don’t be nasty. Would you mind pointing that somewhere else, by the way?”
“Yes.”
“Suit yourself. Shall we be going?”
“Why do you think I’ll go anywhere with you, dark one?”
“Because if you don’t, you’ll have to destroy me, which you can’t justify to yourself, or allow me to follow you, which you wouldn’t like at all.”
“I could have you walk in front of me.”
“That will be fine. Although, to think of it, Leviathan might be vexed with you.”
Michael spat and lowered his blade. “Walk to my left, and stay at least two paces off.”
“Certainly.” Mephistopheles began whistling tunelessly between his teeth.
“And don’t do that,” added Michael.
“Who’s there?”
“Hello, Harut. It’s me.”
“Well, Lord Satan. Glad you came. The lady, she’s been asking about you.”
“Where is she?”
“Swimming,” said Harut dryly.
Satan and Beelzebub approached the water’s edge. They stood there for several moments before, far out to sea, they saw a long, thin neck with a powerful head break the surface. It scanned the shoreline, and her eyes came to rest upon them. They felt her gaze almost as a physical blow.
The head dived and, almost at once it seemed, reappeared directly in front of them.
“Satan,” she said, affection coming through her rich, thick voice.
He bowed deeply. “Greetings, lady. I’m told you wanted to see me; I’m here.”
Her great head nodded. “Who is this, though? This
must be Beelzebub, whom Harut and . . . and others have spoken of.”
Beelzebub inclined his head until his nose touched the ground. “I do greet thee, lady,” he said. “In all I have heard of thee there is no ill.”
A sound that was probably chuckling came from her as she nodded slightly in acknowledgement.
“Well, what can I do for you, Leviathan?”
She closed her eyes, then opened them and spoke: “I want to know everything that led up to the loss of my friend, Ariel. Everything you know or guess. From the beginning. I ask this as a favor, relying on old friendships which, I know, are falling apart all around. But, please, tell me.”
“And tell me, too, if you would.”
They spun. Asmodai had spoken, and Lucifer was standing next to him.
Leviathan stared at the newcomers, and took in Beelzebub and Satan, who faced them in an attitude of alert anticipation, as if they were expecting an attack.
“Lucifer,” she said, “I withhold my greeting until I know why you are here. You are in my Regency now, and the Lord Satan is my guest. If you mean any ill toward him, you should leave.”
Lucifer bowed. “I mean no ill toward my friend Satan, and I hope I may continue to call him that. I understand why he may think otherwise, but I pledge that this is not the case. I, too, have a story to tell that may have some bearing. I ask only that you listen.”
“And I,” said Asmodai, “ask that you don’t.”
“What?” said the others as one voice.
He turned toward Lucifer. “You aren’t thinking. We don’t have time for this; they’ll be here soon.”
“Who will?” said Leviathan, raising her head higher and looking past them.
“I don’t know exactly, but—well, I think I’d better tell you this much of the story. If we have time.”
Asmodai began speaking, closing his eyes often to remember details. For as much as he was going to tell now, it was important that he got it right.