Ganesha the god-maker regarded the jungle about him. Though he walked through the realm of the phantom cats, he feared no evil. For the Lord of Chaos walked by his side, and the Trident of Destruction comforted him.
Vishnu Vishnu Vishnu regarded regarded regarded Brahma Brahma Brahma ...
They sat in the Hall of Mirrors.
Brahma held forth upon the Eightfold Path and the glory that is Nirvana.
After the space of three cigarettes, Vishnu cleared his throat.
"Yes, Lord?" asked Brahma.
"Why, may I inquire, this Buddhist tract?"
"Do you not find it fascinating?"
"Not particularly."
"That is indeed hypocritical of you."
"What do you mean?"
"A teacher should display at least a modicum of interest in his own lessons."
"Teacher? Lessons?"
"Of course, Tathagatha. Why else in recent years would the god Vishnu be moved to incarnate among men, other than to teach them the Way of Enlightenment?"
"I . . . ?"
"Hail, reformer, who has removed the fear of the real death from men's minds. Those who are not born again among men have now gone on to Nirvana."
Vishnu smiled. "Better to incorporate than struggle to extirpate?"
"Almost an epigram."
Brahma stood, considered the mirrors, considered Vishnu.
"So after we have disposed of Sam, you will have been the real Tathagatha."
"How shall we dispose of Sam?"
"I have not yet decided, but I am open to suggestions."
"Might I suggest that he be incarnated as a jackbird?"
"You might. But then, someone else might desire that the jackbird be reincarnated as a man. I feel that he is not without some supporters."
"Well, we do have time to consider the problem. There is no hurry now that he is in the custody of Heaven. I shall give you my thoughts on the matter as soon as I have some."
"That is sufficient, then, for now."
They they they walked walked walked from the from the Hall, then.
Vishnu passed from the Garden of Brahma's Joys; and as he departed, the Mistress of Death entered there. She addressed the eight-armed statue with the veena and it began to play upon it.
Hearing the music, Brahma approached.
"Kali! Lovely Lady . . ." he announced.
"Mighty is Brahma," she replied.
"Yes," Brahma agreed, "as mighty as might be desired. And it is so seldom that you visit here that I am mightily pleased. Come walk with me among the flowered paths and we shall talk. Your dress is lovely."
"Thank you."
They walked among the flowered paths. "How go the preparations for the wedding?"
"Well."
"Will you have honeymoon in Heaven?"
"We plan to take it far from here."
"Where, may I ask?" "We have not yet agreed as to where."
"Time passes on the wings of the jackbird, my dear. If you wish, you and the Lord Yama may dwell in my Garden of Joys for a time."
"Thank you. Creator, but it is too splendid a place for the two destroyers to pass the time and feel at ease. We shall go forth, somewhere."
"As you wish." He shrugged. "What else lies upon your thinking?"
"What of the one called the Buddha?"
"Sam? Your old lover? What of him, indeed? What would you know concerning him?"
"How shall he be—dealt with?"
"I have not yet decided. Shiva has suggested we wait for a time before doing anything. Thus, we may assess his effect upon the community of Heaven. I have decided that Vishnu will have been the Buddha, for historical and theological purposes. As for Sam himself, I will give hearing to any reasonable suggestion."
"Did you not offer him godhood once?"
"Yes. He did not accept it, however."
"Supposing you did so again?"
"Why?"
"The present problem would not exist were he not a very talented individual. His talents would make him a worthy addition to the pantheon."
"This thought has occurred to me, also. Now, however, he would agree, whether he meant it or not. I am certain that he wishes to live."
"Yet, there are ways in which one can be sure in these matters."
"Such as?"
"Psych-probe."
"And if this shows a lack of commitment to Heaven—which it will . . . ?"
"Could not his mind itself be altered—by one such as Lord Mara?"
"I have never thought you guilty of sentiment, goddess. But it would seem you are most anxious for him to continue existing, in any form."
"Perhaps I am."
"You know that he might be—very changed. He will not be the same if this thing is done to him. His 'talent' may then be totally absent."
"In the course of ages all men change naturally—opinions, beliefs, convictions. Parts of the mind may sleep and other parts may awaken. Talent, I feel, is a difficult thing to destroy—as long as life itself remains. It is better to live than to die."
"I might be convinced of this, goddess—if you have the time, most lovely one."
"How much time?"
"Say, three days."
"Three days, then."
"Then let us adjourn to my Pavilion of Joys and discuss the matter fully."
"Very well."
"Where is Lord Yama now?"
"He labors in his workshop."
"A lengthy project, I trust."
"At least three days."
"Good. Yes, there may be some hope for Sam. It is against my better thinking, but then I can appreciate the notion. Yes, I can."
The eight-armed statue of the goddess who was blue played upon the veena, making music to fall about them as they walked in the garden, that summer.
Helba dwelled on the far side of Heaven, near to the wilderness' edge. So near to the forest, in fact, was the palace called Plunder that the animals stalked past the one transparent wall, brushing against it as they went. From the room called Rape, one could look out upon the shaded trails of the jungle.
It was within this room, its walls hung with the stolen treasures of lives past, that Helba entertained the one called Sam.
Helba was the god/goddess of thieves.
No one knew Helba's true sex, for Helba's was the habit of alternating gender with each incarnation.
Sam looked upon a lithe, dark-skinned woman who wore a yellow sari and yellow veil. Her sandals and nails were the color of cinnamon, and she wore a tiara that was golden upon her black hair.
"You have," said Helba, in a voice soft and purring, "my sympathy. It is only during those seasons of life when I incarnate as a man, Sam, that I wield my Attribute and engage in actual plunder."
"You must be able to take on your Aspect now."
"Of course."
"And raise up your Attribute?"
"Probably."
"But you will not?"
"Not while I wear the form of woman. As a man, I will undertake to steal anything from anywhere. . .. See there, upon the far wall, where some of my trophies are hung? The great blue-feather cloak belonged to Srit, Chief among the Kataputna demons. I stole it from out his cave as his hellhounds slept, drugged by myself. The shape-changing jewel I took from the very Dome of the Glow, climbing with suction discs upon my wrists and knees and toes, as the Mothers beneath me—"
"Enough!" said Sam. "I know all of these tales, Helba, for you tell them constantly. It has been so long since you have undertaken a daring theft, as of old, that I suppose these glories long past must be oft repeated. Else, even the Elder Gods would forget what once you were. I can see that I have come to the wrong place, and I shall try elsewhere."
He stood, as to go.
"Wait," said Helba, stirring.
Sam paused. "Yes?"
"You could at least tell me of the theft you are contemplating. Perhaps I can offer advice—"
"What good would even your greatest advice be, Monarch of
Thieves? I do not need words. I need actions."
"Perhaps, even . . . tell me!"
"All right," said Sam, "though I doubt you would be interested in a task this difficult—"
"You can skip over the child psychology and tell me what it is you want stolen."
"In the Museum of Heaven, which is a well-built and continuously guarded installation—"
"And one that is always open. Go on."
"In this building, within a computer-protected guard case — "
"These can be beaten, by one of sufficient skill."
"Within this case, upon a manikin, is hung a gray, scaled uniform. Many weapons lie about it."
"Whose?"
"This was the ancient habit of he who fought in the northern marches in the days of the wars against the demons."
"Was this not yourself?"
Sam tipped his smile forward and continued:
"Unknown to most, as a part of this display there is an item which was once known as the Talisman of the Binder. It may have lost all its virtue by now, but, on the other hand, it is possible that it has not. It served as a focus for the Binder's special Attribute, and he finds that he needs it once again."
"Which is the item you want stolen?"
"The great wide belt of shells which is clasped about the waist of the costume. It is pink and yellow in color. It is also full of micro-miniature circuitry, which could probably not be duplicated today."
"That is not so great a theft. I just might consider it in this form—"
"I would need it in a hurry, or not at all."
"How soon?"
"Within six days, I fear."
"What would you be willing to pay me to deliver it into your hands?"
"I would be willing to pay you anything, if I had anything."
"Oh. You came to Heaven without a fortune?"
"Yes."
"Unfortunate."
"If I make good my escape, you can name your price."
"And if you do not, I receive nothing."
"It appears that way."
"Let me ponder. It may amuse me to do this thing and have you owe me the favor."
"Pray, do not ponder overlong."
"Come sit by me. Binder of Demons, and tell me of the days of your glory—when you, with the immortal goddess, rode abroad in the world, scattering chaos like seed."
"It was long ago," said Sam.
"Might those days come again if you win free?"
"They may."
"That is good to know. Yes . . ."
"You will do this thing?" "Hail, Siddhartha! Unbinder!"
"Hail?"
"And lightning and thunder. May they come again!"
"It is good."
"Now tell me of the days of your glory, and I will speak again of mine."
"Very well."
Dashing through the forest, clad in a leather belt, Lord Krishna pursued the Lady Ratri, who had declined to couple with him after the rehearsal dinner. The day was clear and fragrant, but not half so fragrant as the midnight-blue sari he clutched in his left hand. She ran on ahead of him, beneath the trees; and he followed, losing sight of her for a moment as she turned up a side trail that led out into the open.
When he glimpsed her again, she stood upon a hillock, her bare arms upraised above her head, her fingertips touching. Her eyes were half closed, and her only garment, a long black veil, stirred about her white and gleaming form.
He realized then that she had taken on her Aspect, and might be about to wield an Attribute.
Panting, he raced up the hillside toward her; and she opened her eyes and smiled down upon him, lowering her arms.
As he reached for her, she swirled her veil in his face and he heard her laugh—somewhere within the immense night that covered him over.
It was black and starless and moonless, without a glint, shimmer, spark or glow from anywhere. It was a nighttime akin to blindness that had fallen upon him.
He snorted, and the sari was torn from his fingers. He halted, shaking, and he heard her laughter ringing about him.
"You have presumed too much. Lord Krishna," she told him, "and offended against the sanctity of Night. For this, I shall punish you by leaving this darkness upon Heaven for a time."
"I am not afraid of the dark, goddess," he replied, chuckling.
"Then your brains are indeed in your gonads. Lord, as hath often been said before—to stand lost and blinded in the midst of Kaniburrha, whose denizens need not to strike—and not to be afraid—I think this somewhat foolhardy. Good-bye, Dark One. Perhaps I'll see you at the wedding."
"Wait, lovely lady! Will you accept my apology?"
"Certainly, for I deserve it."
"Then lift this night you have laid upon this place."
"Another time, Krishna—when I am ready."
"But what shall I do until then?"
"It is said, sir, that by your piping you can charm the most fearsome of beasts. I suggest that if this be true you take up your pipes at this moment and begin your most soothing melody, until such a time as I see fit to let the light of day enter again into Heaven."
"Lady, you are cruel," said Krishna.
"Such is life. Lord of the Pipes," and she departed.
He began to play, thinking dark thoughts.
They came. Out of the sky, riding on the polar winds, across the seas and the land, over the burning snow, and under it and through it, they came. The shape-shifters drifted across the fields of white, and the sky-walkers fell down like leaves; trumpets sounded over the wastes, and the chariots of the snows thundered forward, light leaping like spears from their burnished sides; cloaks of fur afire, white plumes of massively breathed air trailing above and behind them, golden-gauntleted and sun-eyed, clanking and skidding, rushing and whirling, they came, in bright baldric, wer-mask, fire-scarf, devil-shoe, frost-greaves and power-helm, they came; and across the world that lay at their back, there was rejoicing in the Temples, with much singing and the making of offerings, and processions and prayers, sacrifices and dispensations, pageantry and color. For the much-feared goddess was to be wed with Death, and it was hoped that this would serve to soften both their dispositions. A festive spirit had also infected Heaven, and with the gathering of the gods and the demigods, the heroes and the nobles, the high priests and the favored rajahs and high-ranking Brahmins, this spirit obtained force and momentum and spun like an all-colored whirlwind, thundering in the heads of the First and latest alike.
So they came into the Celestial City, riding on the backs of the cousins of the Garuda Bird, spinning down in sky gondolas, rising up through arteries of the mountains, blazing across the snow-soaked, ice-tracked wastes, to make Milehigh Spire to ring with their song, to laugh through a spell of brief and inexplicable darkness that descended and dispersed again, shortly; and in the days and nights of their coming, it was said by the poet Adasay that they resembled at least six different things (he was always lavish with his similes): a migration of birds, bright birds, across a waveless ocean of milk; a procession of musical notes through the mind of a slightly mad composer; a school of those deep-swimming fish whose bodies are whorls and runnels of light, circling about some phosphorescent plant within a cold and sea-deep pit; the Spiral Nebula, suddenly collapsing upon its center; a storm, each drop of which becomes a feather, songbird or jewel; and (and perhaps most cogent) a Temple full of terrible and highly decorated statues, suddenly animated and singing, suddenly rushing forth across the world, bright banners playing in the wind, shaking palaces and toppling towers, to meet at the center of everything, to kindle an enormous fire and dance about it, with the ever-present possibility of either the fire or the dance going completely out of control.
They came.
When the secret alarm rang in the Archives, Tak seized the Bright Spear from out its case on the wall. At various times during the day, the alarm would alert various sentinels. Having a premonition as to its cause, Tak was grateful that it did not ring at another hour.
He elevated to the level of the City and made for the Museum on the hill.
It was already too late, though.
Open was the case and unconscious the attendant. The Museum was otherwise unoccupied, because of the activity in the City.
So near to the Archives was the building set, that Tak caught the two on their way down the opposite side of the hill.
He waved the Bright Spear, afraid to use it. "Stop!" he cried.
They turned to him.
"You did trigger an alarm!" accused the other. He hurried to clasp the belt about his waist.
"Go on, get away!" he said. "I will deal with this one!"
"I could not have tripped an alarm!" cried his companion.
"Get out of here!"
He faced Tak, waiting. His companion continued to retreat down the hill. Tak saw that it was a woman.
"Take it back," said Tak, panting. "Whatever you have taken, take it back—and perhaps I can cover—"
"No," said Sam. "It is too late. I am the equal of anyone here now, and this is my only chance to depart. I know you, Tak of the Archives, and I do not wish to destroy you. Therefore, go — quickly!"
"Yama will be here in a moment! And—"
"I do not fear Yama. Attack me or leave me now!"
"I cannot attack you."
"Then good-bye," and, so saying, Sam rose into the air like a balloon.
But as he drifted above the ground, the Lord Yama appeared upon the hillside with a weapon in his hands. It was a slender and gleaming tube that he held, with a small butt and a large trigger mechanism.
He raised it and pointed. "Your last chance!" he cried, but Sam continued to rise.
When he fired it, the dome was cracked, high overhead.
"He has taken on his Aspect and raised up an Attribute," said Tak. "He binds the energies of your weapon."
"Why did you not stop him?" asked Yama.
"I could not, Lord. I was taken by his Attribute."
"It does not matter," said Yama. "The third sentinel will overcome him."
Binding gravitation to his will, he rose.
As he fled, he grew conscious of a pursuing shadow.
Somewhere just at the periphery of his vision, it lurked. No matter how he turned his head it escaped his sight. But it was always there, and growing.
Ahead, there was a lock. A gate to the outside hovered above and ahead. The Talisman could unbind that lock, could warm him against the cold, could transport him anywhere in the world. . . .
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