Lord of Light

by Roger Zelazny

  "Perhaps I was just curious to see how such a countercurrent would flow," replied the other.

  "No, Sam, that is not it," answered Yama. "I feel it is only part of a larger plan you have laid, and that for all these years — while you pretended to be a saint and preached sermons in which you did not truly believe yourself—you have been making other plans. An army, great in space, may offer opposition in a brief span of time. One man, brief in space, must spread his opposition across a period of many years if he is to have a chance of succeeding. You are aware of this, and now that you have sown the seeds of this stolen creed, you are planning to move on to another phase of opposition. You are trying to be a one-man antithesis to Heaven, opposing the will of the gods across the years, in many ways and from behind many masks. But it will end here and now, false Buddha."

  "Why, Yama?" he asked.

  "It was considered quite carefully," said Yama. "We did not want to make you a martyr, encouraging more than ever the growth of this thing you have been teaching. On the other hand, if you were not stopped, it would still continue to grow. It was decided, therefore, that you must meet your end at the hands of an agent of Heaven—thus showing which religion is the stronger. So, martyr or no, Buddhism will be a second-rate religion henceforth. That is why you must now die the real death."

  "When I asked 'Why?' I meant something different. You have answered the wrong question. I meant, why have you come to do this thing, Yama? Why have you, master of arms, master of sciences, come as lackey to a crew of drunken body-changers, who are not qualified to polish your blade or wash out your test tubes? Why do you, who might be the freest spirit of us all, demean yourself by serving your inferiors?"

  "For that, your death shall not be a clean one."

  "Why? I did but ask a question, which must have long since passed through more minds than my own. I did not take offense when you called me a false Buddha. I know what I am. Who are you, deathgod?"

  Yama placed his blade within his sash and withdrew a pipe, which he had purchased at the inn earlier in the day. He filled its bowl with tobacco, lit it, and smoked.

  "It is obvious that we must talk a little longer, if only to clear both our minds of questions," he stated, "so I may as well be comfortable." He seated himself upon a low rock. "First, a man may in some ways be superior to his fellows and still serve them, if together they serve a common cause which is greater than any one man. I believe that I serve such a cause, or I would not be doing it. I take it that you feel the same way concerning what you do, or you would not put up with this life of miserable asceticism — though I note that you are not so gaunt as your followers. You were offered godhood some years ago in Mahartha, as I recall, and you mocked Brahma, raided the Palace of Karma, and filled all the pray-machines of the city with slugs . . ."

  The Buddha chuckled. Yama joined him briefly and continued, "There are no Accelerationists remaining in the world, other than yourself. It is a dead issue, which should never have become an issue in the first place. I do have a certain respect for the manner in which you have acquitted yourself over the years. It has even occurred to me that if you could be made to realize the hopelessness of your present position, you might still be persuaded to join the hosts of Heaven. While I did come here to kill you, if you can be convinced of this now and give me your word upon it, promising to end your foolish fight, I will take it upon myself to vouch for you. I will take you back to the Celestial City with me, where you may now accept that which you once refused. They will harken to me, because they need me."

  "No," said Sam, "for I am not convinced of the futility of my position, and I fully intend to continue the show."

  The chanting came down from the camp in the purple grove. One of the moons disappeared beyond the treetops.

  "Why are your followers not beating the bushes, seeking to save you?"

  "They would come if I called, but I will not call. I do not need to."

  "Why did they cause me to dream that foolish dream?"

  The Buddha shrugged.

  "Why did they not arise and slay me as I slept?"

  "It is not their way."

  "You might have, though, eh? If you could get away with it? If none would know the Buddha did it?"

  "Perhaps," said the other. "As you know, the personal strengths and weaknesses of a leader are no true indication of the merits of his cause."

  Yama drew upon his pipe. The smoke wreathed his head and eddied away to join the fogs, which were now becoming more heavy upon the land.

  "I know we are alone here, and you are unarmed," said Yama.

  "We are alone here. My traveling gear is hidden farther along my route."

  "Your traveling gear?"

  "I have finished here. You guessed correctly. I have begun what I set out to begin. After we have finished our conversation, I will depart."

  Yama chuckled. "The optimism of a revolutionary always gives rise to a sense of wonder. How do you propose to depart? On a magic carpet?"

  "I shall go as other men go."

  "That is rather condescending of you. Will the powers of the world rise up to defend you? I see no great tree to shelter you with its branches. There is no clever grass to seize at my feet. Tell me how you will achieve your departure?"

  "I'd rather surprise you."

  "What say we fight? I do not like to slaughter an unarmed man. If you actually do have supplies cached somewhere nearby, go fetch your blade. It is better than no chance at all. I've even heard it said that Lord Siddhartha was, in his day, a formidable swordsman."

  "Thank you, no. Another time, perhaps. But not this time."

  Yama drew once more upon his pipe, stretched, and yawned. "I can think of no more questions then, which I wish to ask you. It is futile to argue with you. I have nothing more to say. Is there anything else that you would care to add to the conversation?"

  "Yes," said Sam. "What's she like, that bitch Kali? There are so many different reports that I'm beginning to believe she is all things to all men —"

  Yama hurled the pipe, which struck him upon the shoulder and sent a shower of sparks down his arm. His scimitar was a bright flash about his head as he leapt forward.

  When he struck the sandy stretch before the rock, his motion was arrested. He almost fell, twisted himself perpendicularly and remained standing. He struggled, but could not move.

  "Some quicksand," said Sam, "is quicker than other quicksand. Fortunately, you are settling into that of the slower sort. So you have considerable time yet remaining at your disposal. I would like to prolong the conversation, if I thought I had a chance of persuading you to join with me. But I know that I do not—no more than you could persuade me to go to Heaven."

  "I will get free," said Yama softly, not struggling. "I will get free somehow, and I will come after you again."

  "Yes," said Sam, "I feel this to be true. In fact, in a short while I will instruct you how to go about it. For the moment, however, you are something every preacher longs for—a captive audience, representing the opposition. So, I have a brief sermon for you. Lord Yama."

  Yama hefted his blade, decided against throwing it, thrust it again into his sash.

  "Preach on," he said, and he succeeded in catching the other's eyes.

  Sam swayed where he sat, but he spoke again:

  "It is amazing," he said, "how that mutant brain of yours generated a mind capable of transferring its powers to any new brain you choose to occupy. It has been years since I last exercised my one ability, as I am at this moment—but it, too, behaves in a similar manner. No matter what body I inhabit, it appears that my power follows me into it also. I understand it is still that way with most of us. Sitala, I hear, can control temperatures for a great distance about her. When she assumes a new body, the power accompanies her into her new nervous system, though it comes only weakly at first. Agni, I know, can set fire to objects by staring at them for a period of time and willing that they burn. Now, take for example the death-gaze you are at thi
s moment turning upon me. Is it not amazing how you keep this gift about you in all times and places, over the centuries? I have often wondered as to the physiological basis for the phenomenon. Have you ever researched the area?"

  "Yes," said Yama, his eyes burning beneath his dark brows.

  "And what is the explanation? A person is born with an abnormal brain, his psyche is later transferred to a normal one and yet his abnormal abilities are not destroyed in the transfer. Why does this thing happen?"

  "Because you really have only one body-image, which is electrical as well as chemical in nature. It begins immediately to modify its new physiological environment. The new body has much about it which it treats rather like a disease, attempting to cure it into being the old body. If the body which you now inhabit were to be made physically immortal, it would someday come to resemble your original body."

  "How interesting."

  "That is why the transferred power is weak at first, but grows stronger as you continue occupancy. That is why it is best to cultivate an Attribute, and perhaps to employ mechanical aids, also."

  "Well. That is something I have often wondered about. Thank you. By the way, keep trying with your death-gaze—it is painful, you know. So that is something, anyway. Now, as to the sermon—a proud and arrogant man, such as yourself—with an admittedly admirable quality of didacticism about him—was given to doing research in the area of a certain disfiguring and degenerative disease. One day he contracted it himself. Since he had not yet developed a cure for the condition, he did take time out to regard himself in a mirror and say, 'But on me it does look good.' You are such a man, Yama. You will not attempt to fight your condition. Rather, you are proud of it. You betrayed yourself in your fury, so I know that I speak the truth when I say that the name of your disease is Kali. You would not give power into the hands of the unworthy if that woman did not bid you do it. I knew her of old, and I am certain that she has not changed. She cannot love a man. She cares only for those who bring her gifts of chaos. If ever you cease to suit her purposes, she will put you aside, deathgod. I do not say this because we are enemies, but rather as one man to another. I know. Believe me, I do. Perhaps it is unfortunate that you were never really young, Yama, and did not know your first love in the days of spring. . . . The moral, therefore, of my sermon on this small mount is this—even a mirror will not show you yourself, if you do not wish to see. Cross her once to try the truth of my words, even in a small matter, and see how quickly she responds, and in what fashion. What will you do if your own weapons are turned against you, Death?"

  "You have finished speaking now?" asked Yama.

  "That's about it. A sermon is a warning, and you have been warned."

  "Whatever your power, Sam, I see that it is at this moment proof against my death-gaze. Consider yourself fortunate that I am weakened —"

  "I do indeed, for my head is about to split. Damn your eyes!"

  "One day I will try your power again, and even if it should still be proof against my own, you will fall on that day. If not by my Attribute, then by my blade."

  "If that is a challenge, I choose to defer acceptance. I suggest that you do try my words before you attempt to make it good."

  At this point, the sand was halfway up Yama's thighs.

  Sam sighed and climbed down from his perch.

  "There is only one clear path to this rock, and I am about to follow it away from here. Now, I will tell you how to gain your life, if you are not too proud. I have instructed the monks to come to my aid, here at this place, if they hear a cry for help. I told you earlier that I was not going to call for help, and that is true. If, however, you begin calling out for aid with that powerful voice of yours, they shall be here before you sink too much farther. They will bring you safely to firm ground and will not try to harm you, for such is their way. I like the thought of the god of death being saved by the monks of Buddha. Good night, Yama, I'm going to leave you now."

  Yama smiled. "There will be another day, oh Buddha," he stated. "I can wait for it. Flee now as far and as fast as you can. The world is not large enough to hide you from my wrath. I will follow you, and I will teach you of the enlightenment that is pure hellfire."

  "In the meantime," said Sam, "I suggest you solicit aid of my followers or learn the difficult art of mud-breathing."

  He picked his way across the field, Yama's eyes burning into his back.

  When he reached the trail, he turned. "And you may want to mention in Heaven," he said, "that I was called out of town on a business deal."

  Yama did not reply.

  "I think I am going to make a deal for some weapons," he finished, "some rather special weapons. So when you come after me, bring your girl friend along. If she likes what she sees, she may persuade you to switch sides."

  Then he struck the trail and moved away through the night, whistling, beneath a moon that was white and a moon that was golden.

  IV

  When the gods and the demons, both offspring of Prajapati, did battle with one another, the gods seized upon the life-principle of the Udgitha, thinking that with this would they vanquish the demons.

  They meditated upon the Udgitha which functions through the nose, but the demons pierced it through with evil. Therefore, with the breath one smells both that which is pleasant and that which is foul. Thus the breath is touched by evil.

  They meditated upon the Udgitha as words, but the demons pierced it through with evil. Therefore, one speaks both truth and falsehood. Thus words are touched by evil.

  They meditated upon the Udgitha which functions through the eye, but the demons pierced it through with evil. Therefore, one sees both what is pleasing and what is ugly. Thus the eye is touched by evil.

  They meditated upon the Udgitha as hearing, but the demons pierced it through with evil. Therefore, one hears both good things and bad. Thus the ear is touched by evil.

  Then did they meditate upon the Udgitha as the mind, but the demons pierced it through with evil. Therefore, one thinks what is proper, true, and good, and what is improper, false, and depraved. Thus the mind is touched by evil.

  Chhandogya Upanishad (I, ii, 1-6)

  It is told how the Lord of Light descended into the Well of the Demons, to make there a bargain with the chief of the Rakasha. He dealt in good faith, but the Rakasha are the Rakasha. That is to say, they are malefic creatures, possessed of great powers, life-span and the ability to assume nearly any shape. The Rakasha are almost indestructible. Their chiefest lack is a true body; their chiefest virtue, their honor toward their gambling debts. That the Lord of Light went to Hellwell at all serves to show that perhaps he was somewhat distraught concerning the state of the world...

  Hellwell lies at the top of the world and it leads down to its roots.

  It is probably as old as the world itself; and if it is not, it should be, because it looks as if it were.

  It begins with a doorway. There is a huge, burnished metal door, erected by the First, that is heavy as sin, three times the height of a man and half that distance in width. It is a full cubit thick and bears a head-sized ring of brass, a complicated pressure-plate lock and an inscription that reads, roughly, "Go away. This is not a place to be. If you do try to enter here, you will fail and also be cursed. If somehow you succeed, then do not complain that you entered unwarned, nor bother us with your deathbed prayers." Signed, "The Gods."

  It is set near the peak of a very high mountain named Channa, in the midst of a region of very high mountains called the Ratnagaris. In that place there is always snow upon the ground, and rainbows ride like fur on the backs of icicles, which sprout about the frozen caps of cliffs. The air is sharp as a sword. The sky is bright as the eye of a cat.

  Very few feet have ever trod the trail that leads to Hellwell. Of those who visited, most came only to look, to see whether the great door really existed; and when they returned home and told of having seen it, they were generally mocked.

  Telltale scratches about the l
ock plate testify that some have actually sought entrance. Equipment sufficient to force the great door could not be transported or properly positioned, however. The trail that leads to Hellwell is less than ten inches in width for the final three hundred feet of its ascent; and perhaps six men could stand, with crowding, upon what remains of the once wide ledge that faces that door.

  It is told that Pannalal the Sage, having sharpened his mind with meditation and divers asceticisms, had divined the operation of the lock and entered Hellwell, spending a day and a night beneath the mountain. He was thereafter known as Pannalal the Mad.

  The peak known as Channa, which holds the great door, is removed by five days' journey from a small village. This is within the far northern kingdom of Malwa. This mountain village nearest to Channa has no name itself, being filled with a fierce and independent people who have no special desire that their town appeal on the maps of the rajah's tax collectors. Of the rajah, it is sufficient to tell that he is of middle height and middle years, shrewd, slightly stout, neither pious nor more than usually notorious and fabulously wealthy. He is wealthy because he levies high taxes upon his subjects. When his subjects begin to complain, and murmurs of revolt run through the realm, he declares war upon a neighboring kingdom and doubles the taxes. If the war does not go well, he executes several generals and has his Minister of Peace negotiate a treaty. If, by some chance, it goes especially well, he exacts tribute for whatever insult has caused the entire affair. Usually, though, it ends in a truce, souring his subjects on fighting and reconciling them to the high tax rate. His name is Videgha and he has many children. He is fond of grak-birds, which can be taught to sing bawdy songs, of snakes, to which he occasionally feeds grak-birds who cannot carry a tune, and of gaming with dice. He does not especially like children.

  Hellwell begins with the great doorway high in the mountains at the northernmost comer of Videgha's kingdom, beyond which there are no other kingdoms of men. It begins there, and it corkscrews down through the heart of the mountain Channa, breaking, like a corkscrew, into vast cavernways uncharted by men, extending far beneath the Ratnagari range, the deepest passageways pushing down toward the roots of the world.