To Reign In Hell

by Steven Brust

  "You don't have any doubts at all, do you?"

  "Not of that kind. I have knowledge; that implies a duty to use it. But let me ask you—have you spoken to Yaweh about this? It seems to be the next step, if you're still unconvinced."

  "I suppose it is. But it was Yaweh who first had these doubts, and I tried to reassure him. If I'm wrong, Yaweh is the last one I should talk to; I'll just shake his confidence in the Plan, without getting any closer to having my questions answered."

  "I see the problem," Lucifer admitted. "But what else can you do?"

  Satan shook his head without answering. After a few minutes, he stood up and began walking back upstream, his eyes on the waters, his feet kicking small waves up onto the banks.

  Beelzebub watched him, then nodded to Lilith and Lucifer.

  "Dost thou know—"

  "I understand," said Lilith. "It's all right."

  Beelzebub ran to catch up. Satan continued walking, occasionally shaking his head. At length, he cursed softly and tossed the stick ahead of him. Beelzebub wondered at his sudden desire to chase it.

  Chapter Two

  I, who am called of men. The Beast or The Master, or The Supreme and Holy King, or The High Priest and again the Black Maker of Magick, or The Betrayer of Oaths... am in Thy sight none of these.

  —Aleister Crowley

  The Magical Record of the Beast

  The sneer, walking up the steps to Yaweh's palace, met the smirk coming down. Icy blue eyes locked with frigid black ones. The sneer noticed the crooked grin noticing the sneer noticing the amused contempt noticing the haughty disgust noticing the—

  "Mephistopheles," said the sneer.

  "Abdiel," said the smirk.

  "I hope all goes well."

  "All goes, Abdiel."

  "What is this fascination of yours with black?"

  "What is this fascination of yours with rude questions?"

  "I don't think it was rude. I was just curious."

  Shrug.

  "Are you traveling again, Mephistopheles?"

  "Perhaps. Are you out saving Heaven, as usual?"

  "Whatr

  "Never mind."

  Mephistopheles brushed past the sneer, not quite knocking into him. Abdiel, not deigning to look around, proceeded up into the palace.

  "Page!" he called.

  "Yes, lord?"

  "Where is the Lord Yaweh?"

  "In the throne room, lord."

  "Alone?"

  "Yes, lord."

  "Well, announce me, then, or do you need it written out?"

  The page opened his mouth once or twice, then quickly ran off. The sneer followed him into Yaweh's throne room on the heels of the announcement, vanished, and was replaced by a warm, pleasant smile.

  "My Lord Yaweh."

  "Welcome, Abdiel. Be seated. What are those papers?"

  "The organizational plans, Lord. Completed."

  "Well done! Let me see them."

  Abdiel complacently handed over the parchment. He was a bit small, with fair hair and a full but neatly trimmed beard. Like Asmodai, he was compact, athletic in his movements.

  Yaweh eagerly studied the papers, his eyes bright.

  "So, two-thirds of our forces will be protecting the remaining third?"

  "Yes, Lord."

  "Need it be that many?"

  "I think so, Lord. With this plan, it can all be completed in just over two days, and our losses will be less than a thousand."

  "A thousand!"

  "Yes, Lord. It's all down there."

  "And everything else is worse, you say?"

  "Yes, Lord."

  "I see."

  Abdiel studied him closely. What was the matter? Hadn't he known there would be a cost? "If there is anyone you'd especially like not to be in the actual fray, I'm sure we can arrange—"

  Yaweh motioned him to silence. He studied the papers.

  "Lord?"

  Yaweh looked up. "Yes?"

  "I don't think we should mention these figures to anyone, just yet."

  Again, an interlude of silence. Then: "I see what you mean. Leave me now. I have to think about this."

  "Yes, Lord."

  Abdiel took his leave. He nearly ran into the page, who was just entering. Abdiel scowled at him. The page muttered apologies and continued into the room.

  "Raphael wishes to see you, Lord," he announced.

  Yaweh looked up, blankly, then he nodded. "Good. Send her in, please."

  The page stepped aside.

  "Greetings, Yaweh."

  "Good day, Raphael. I've been meaning to ask you a few questions about your beliefs."

  She frowned. "I guess I believe in searching for truth in any direction it occurs to me to look for it," she said. "And then writing it down so people don't forget."

  "Isn't that a little vague, Raphael?"

  "Maybe." She smiled a bit and sat down. "I got the line from Lucifer; what would you expect?"

  "He's never seemed vague to me."

  "Have you ever spoken to him about anything as abstract as what one believes in?"

  "Hmmmm. I suppose not." He chuckled. "You certainly have been feeling philosophical, lately."

  Raphael studied the marble floor. She was a tall angel, yet full and sturdily built. Her hair curled a bit down her shoulders—blonde, with a touch of red. Her eyes were bright blue, and matched her gown. She wore nothing on her feet, and a silver chain around her waist held a six-pointed star fashioned of mother-of-pearl and set with rubies at each point. On her shoulders was the gold cloak of the Firstborn.

  "Maybe," she said, "I'm just trying to justify myself. I'm not sure."

  Yaweh shook his head. "You empathize too much, Raphael. I've been told that I have this fault, and I don't know if it's true, but it certainly seems true of you."

  "I don't know if it is or isn't, but I don't think it is a fault in any case."

  "Up to a point, it isn't. But what you call 'searching for truth' looks like refusing to hold to a position. When you're with me, and I speak of my doubts, you echo them. When you're with Satan, and he reassures you, you accept that, too. When you're with Lucifer, you catch his excitement. I don't mean to hurt you, Raphael, or make you angry, but this bothers me."

  "Whatever the source of these doubts, Yaweh, I have them. And you're wrong about Satan, incidentally. The last time we spoke, he seemed to agree with every one of the doubts you have been expressing."

  "What? But when he spoke to me—"

  "Maybe you convinced him."

  "I hope not. But it doesn't matter. Rather than figure out what to do if the hosts resist the Plan, I'd, like to decide how we are going to make sure they don't. I gave the task to Satan because I don't feel that I can do it; I told him so."

  Raphael started to argue, then thought about it. "Yes, it would be better if you didn't have to coerce them. Have you a way?"

  Yaweh shook his head. "Not yet. But I think that is what we ought to be worried about. And," he added in a worried tone, "if Satan's feelings have been going the other way, I wish he would speak to me about them."

  Raphael fingered the star at her side. "I think he hesitates to do so because of your doubts. He thinks the Plan is right, and doesn't want to make things worse for you. I think he'll speak to you when he has something definite to say."

  Yaweh nodded. "That would be like him. But there is such a thing as being too kind."

  "One returns from irksome task, sent by you in days gone by. He doubtless has a tale to tell. Come forth now; he draweth nigh."

  Leviathan's head broke the water. "That was better, Ariel, but you're starting to sound like Beelzebub."

  The owl fluffed his feathers and settled on a rock near the water's edge. "You mock my form, and rhymes, and tone, but this much I beseech: Leave my choice of words alone, and my style of speech."

  Leviathan chuckled as Mephistopheles walked up. "Greetings, lady," he said. He nodded to Ariel. "And how is our flying iambic tetrameter?"
/>   "I see and hear and speak the truth, not thinking loss or gain. The answer to your question is: You are a raging pain."

  Mephistopheles was silent for a moment, then he said, "Go back to rhyming couplets."

  Before Ariel had a chance to rebut, Leviathan broke in. "What did you learn?"

  "There is, indeed, a plan afoot. It's pretty much a secret, but it involves Yaweh, Satan, Michael, Abdiel, Lucifer, Asmodai, and a few others. I don't know why they haven't discussed it with you, but I think they simply don't want anyone knowing about it who doesn't have to."

  "I see," she said, her voice flat.

  "It involves the creation of some kind of massive structure, to exist outside of Heaven, where, I guess, we'd all move. The idea is to make it a permanent thing, so we wouldn't have to be watching it all the time. The form of the thing, as far as I can tell, is to be a globe."

  "But why such need for secrecy?"

  "Well, there's danger in the construction. It means setting off a Wave ourselves, in effect, and there's some doubt that the new angels will cooperate willingly."

  "Willingly? Do you think they'd force them to?"

  "There's talk of it. Satan is responsible for that, and I hear that he isn't happy about it."

  "No, I suppose he wouldn't be."

  Ariel said, "It must be a worthy plan indeed, full of weighty gains, before I'll needless let them risk, what little of me remains."

  "You see," said Mephistopheles. "And he isn't even one of the younger ones."

  Abdiel walked alone through the streets near Yaweh's palace. Small dwelling places surrounded him. The streets were wide, winding affairs, large enough for two or three hand-carts to pass. Abdiel had spent a great deal of time walking and thinking in the last ten days, since delivering his plans to Yaweh and staying to eavesdrop on Yaweh's conversation with Raphael.

  After this time, he was near to a conclusion.

  "There is nothing wrong," he told himself, "with not wanting to be there when the Plan goes into operation. No one, in all the hosts, would actually want to be holding off the flux. I'm no different."

  "True enough," he answered himself. "But can you do anything about it?"

  "I'm not sure," he admitted. "Yaweh's talk with Raphael does bring up some interesting ideas."

  "Eh? What?"

  "The talk about Satan. Yaweh sounded almost irritated, if that were possible."

  "I see what you mean," he admitted to himself. "If there is a falling out between Yaweh and Satan, it is certainly possible that I'll be able to replace Satan. And, if I can replace him, it'll be an easy matter to arrange to be somewhere safe while the battle is being fought. And certainly no one could fault me for that."

  "No one except Mephistopheles, who can fault anyone."

  "Ah! Mephistopheles! Yes, if I had Satan's position, I could manage to put him where I wanted to."

  "And Lucifer, too, eh? And make sure Lilith stays safe?"

  "Not likely, I'm afraid. The Firstborn will all do whatever they do, and I'm not going to be able to influence that."

  "But it's still worthwhile."

  "Oh, yes. But, would I do a good job of it?"

  "Piffle! What's to do? All it takes is the willingness to see that the job gets done, no matter what. And that seems to be the thing that Satan doesn't have, for all his accomplishments."

  "Why, you're right! The one angel who shouldn't have doubts is the one who does! If Yaweh does open his eyes, and tells Satan to step aside, it would be best for the Plan, too."

  "Ah, but what if Yaweh doesn't open his eyes? He and Satan are the oldest friends in Heaven! Yaweh will probably just keep on, and let the whole Plan suffer for it."

  "Well, is there anything that can be done about that?"

  "I don't see what. Except stay alert, and see what opportunities present themselves."

  "Couldn't I create an opportunity?"

  "Maybe. I'll have to see what happens."

  "Then why am I walking about here? I think it's time to look around a bit, and see what's going on. Maybe there's a way to push Lord Satan a bit in the right direction. Maybe there is, indeed."

  "Sith! Hold a moment."

  "Hello, Kyriel. Goes all well with you?"

  "I'm not sure. Have you heard?"

  "Since that question implies that I ought to know what it is about, and since I don't, I guess I haven't."

  "I know what the big plan is."

  "Really? What is it, then?"

  "Well, I don't know exactly, but as I hear it, they want to do something to the walls so that nothing can get in anymore, and we don't have to worry about more Waves."

  "Is that possible?"

  "It's what I've heard."

  "Where did you get this?"

  "Rachsiel told me. She heard it from Cuniali, who heard it from Tetra, who heard it from Sagsagel, who heard it from Loquel, who lives right in Yaweh's palace, you know."

  "Yeah, that makes it pretty definite."

  "It sure does."

  "Well, it's wonderful, if it's true."

  "Wonderful? You think so? Well, then, listen to this: to do it, they're going to have to have us do the work, and some of us might be destroyed doing it."

  "You can't be serious!"

  "As serious as the flux."

  "Where will they find angels willing to destroy themselves?"

  "Where does the 'willing' come from?"

  "Well, Lord Lucifer? Can you help me?"

  Lucifer shrugged. "I don't see why not, Abdiel. It will be rather lengthy, but—"

  "Excuse me," came a voice from behind Abdiel.

  He turned around and said, "Greetings, my Lady Lilith."

  She ignored him and spoke directly to Lucifer. "I happened to overhear."

  Abdiel cursed under his breath. Lucifer looked an inquiry at Lilith. She addressed herself to Abdiel directly, then. "Why ask these questions? You've never been the curious type before."

  Abdiel smiled, leaned back against a tree, stretched his legs, and pretended he was comfortable.

  "Nor am I now," he said.

  "Well then?"

  Abdiel shrugged, but Lilith still looked at him closely, as if expecting an answer, and Lucifer was becoming curious as well.

  "It's... an idea I had."

  "What kind of idea?" asked Lucifer.

  "For the Plan, Lord Lucifer."

  "Then why haven't I heard about it?"

  "It's my own idea, and, well, it isn't complete yet."

  "I see. Well, tell me what you have."

  "I'd rather not, until it's finished. I just want to find out if there is any chance of it working before I present it to Lord Yaweh. And you, of course."

  "Of course," echoed Lilith.

  Lucifer said, "Can you give me some idea, though? If I answer your questions, it'll take a lot of time. I'd rather not—"

  "Of course, Lord Lucifer." Abdiel swallowed, his mind racing furiously. "It involves... drawing on the illiaster of a large group of angels at once and uniting it in a particular way."

  "I see. What particular way?"

  "To... ah... create something."

  "To create what, Abdiel?"

  "Well, I want to see if tools, like Asmodai makes, can be made between waves. I have a few specific ideas, but I'd really rather not speak of them until I've done some experimenting."

  "I see."

  "Well, Lord Lucifer? Will you answer my questions?"

  Lucifer cocked his head and studied Abdiel for a moment, then shrugged. "I suppose. All right. Yes, it is possible to reach one's illiaster, even this far between Waves. It is difficult, especially for someone who is not of the Firstborn. For anyone of the Third Wave, it is very difficult, but not impossible. It is also, as we know, dangerous.

  "The very least you can expect is some amount of fatigue, until the natural level of illiaster rebuilds itself. This takes from minutes to days, depending on what you have done. Those angels damaged by the Waves have had their natural level damaged, w
hich is why their forms are either physically smaller, as Beelzebub or Ariel, or have some normal ability missing, such as Leviathan or Belial.

  "Not only does this level differ depending on the Wave one is from, but it varies a great deal from angel to angel. Michael and Belial, for instance, have the highest levels of the Firstborn. Yaweh and I, while we have lower native levels, have more skill in using it.

  "Also, many angels have particular, natural talents. Yaweh, for instance, is able to conjure images of what is taking place throughout Heaven. Raphael is able to repair damaged angels, and so on.

  "As to how one uses it, go about it this way: Close your eyes. Now, try to imagine, in the middle of your belly, your free illiaster. Think of it as a ball of white fire. Get as clear an image of it as you can"

  "Lucifer?"

  "Yes, my love?"

  "Did you get the feeling that Abdiel was making up that plan as he went along?"

  "Huh. I'll say. That's why I kept asking him about it."

  "Well then, why did you answer his questions?"

  "I couldn't think of a good reason not to."

  "Why do you think he wanted to know all that?"

  "I imagine that he wants to use his illiaster, for reasons of his own."

  "Aren't you worried about that?"

  "Not especially. What harm can he do? He's a mischief-maker, but he would never do anything hurtful."

  "No, I suppose he wouldn't."

  "And if we see signs of someone running around creating snowstorms, or giving us bad dreams, we'll know where to look. He isn't ever going to be able to stand up to one of the Firstborn."

  "That's a relief, anyway."

  "Milord, word hath come to mine ears that doth cause me some measure of unease."

  "What have you heard, Beelzebub?"

  "Rumors do fly about the land, milord. These have little truth in them. Whoso they light on taketh the worst o' the lie and sends that forth; whoso that lights on them doth likewise. 'Tis a most potent distillation of falsehood; milord, it will fall like the dew and make every angel drunk unawares. Many hard words are spoken by those who fear to be sacrificed."

  "Sacrificed?"

  "Verily, milord. And yet we dare not enlighten these ill-sayers, for our lips are sealed by Yaweh's desires."

  "True. Hmmm. This is serious."

  "Aye, milord."

  "All right. We have to make sure Yaweh hears about this."