To Reign In Hell

by Steven Brust

  "Aye, milord."

  Michael was not the most brilliant angel in Heaven. He was one of the biggest, one of the strongest, one of the most constant and dependable, but he was not one of the brightest.

  He had thick, curly brown hair to his shoulders and a broad, clean-shaven face with a well-formed nose. His eyes were brown and widely spaced. His shoulders were broad. He dressed in light grey, with brown boots, and on his shoulders was the gold cloak of the Firstborn.

  The lights from the fires cast strange reflections on his face as he turned toward the doorway. Next to him, standing over the long, low table, Asmodai also looked up at the door.

  "Enter," he called.

  The door opened outward, and two figures were silhouetted against the night. They squinted down as Michael and Asmodai squinted up.

  A voice called out, "Asmodai?"

  "Lucifer! Come on down!"

  The two figures walked down to the room where the lights were from fires from the forge, and the heat was unpleasant to everyone except Asmodai, who had gotten used to it.

  "Good evening, Lucifer," said Michael as they approached.

  "Michael! This is a surprise." They embraced each other, Michael being careful not to hurt the other.

  "Yes, it is," he said, as they broke off, held each other at arms' length and smiled. "A pleasant one."

  "Yes. You know Lilith, do you not?"

  "Of course," said Michael, and smiled broadly at her. "Good evening, Lilith."

  "Good evening, Lord Michael."

  Asmodai coughed. "Let's go to the other room," he suggested, "where you'll be more comfortable."

  "Yes, let's."

  Asmodai lived a little to the north of the center, in the foothills of the mountains where Belial made his home. He had only two rooms. One was his workshop, with five forges scattered throughout, and the other held a bed, a small kitchen, and a few chairs around a fireplace. It was lit with naked torches and colored dark brown.

  The three visitors followed Asmodai into this second room and found seats.

  "What bring you here this evening, Michael?" began Lucifer, before anyone else could ask questions.

  Michael grunted. "Asmodai was showing me where the work would begin on the globe, and how it would expand, so I can arrange the defenses."

  "I see."

  "And you, Lucifer?"

  The Regent of the East bit his lip. Apparently liking the flavor, he chewed it for a while.

  "I spoke with Satan several days ago," he said at last. "His talk disturbed me. I wanted your opinion of it."

  "What did he say?"

  "He was worried about our need for the cooperation of the hosts, and if we had the 'right' to force them to help us."

  Asmodai shrugged. "Do we need to force them? And can we if we do? If we have the need, and the ability, then it seems that we have the right. I don't see the question."

  "Odd," said Michael.

  "What?" asked Lucifer.

  "I've been wondering the same thing."

  Lucifer and Lilith exchanged glances that Asmodai found unreadable. He looked from one to the other.

  "Yes?"

  Lucifer was silent. "We thought as you do," said Lilith. "But speaking with Satan—well—we aren't as sure now."

  "I see. Well, maybe we'd better all hie off to see Lord Satan right now and find out about this."

  "Now?" asked Lilith.

  "An excellent idea," boomed Michael.

  "And say what to him?" asked Lucifer. "The last time we spoke—"

  "I wasn't there," said Asmodai.

  "True."

  "Well?"

  "Let us wait a few days, anyway," said Michael. "Now that I think of it, I must turn these plans over to Yaweh."

  "Very well," said Asmodai. "Four days from now? In the evening? Meet here?"

  "Agreed."

  "Agreed."

  "Agreed."

  Yaweh studied Michael for a moment before saying anything. Michael broke the silence himself: "Is something wrong, Yaweh? You look—I don't know—unhappy. We did the best we could."

  "No, it isn't that. Your plans are fine, Michael. It's—this." He drew from his robe a scrap of parchment and held it up. "This is a message from Satan. In it, he says that he's noticed a growing worry among the hosts, and the spreading of rumors about the Plan—false rumors, he says. He recommends that we announce our whole Plan to the hosts at once. What do you think?"

  Michael furrowed his brow. "I'm not sure," he said at last. "Are the hosts unhappy because the rumors are false? I mean, would the truth make them happier, or less happy?"

  "Who can say? I certainly can't. What does Satan think, do you suppose?"

  "Well, he must think that it would be best—"

  "There is more."

  "Yes?"

  Yaweh relayed Raphael's mention of Satan's attitude. Michael nodded. "This echoes my own thoughts," he said.

  "I know," said Yaweh. "But I happened to overhear something as I was entering here. It was Abdiel's voice, but I'm not sure to whom he was speaking. I heard him say, 'Nonsense. These are mere rumors, and not fit to disturb Lord Yaweh. If the Lord Satan were to oppose the Plan, as you say, he would certainly speak of them to the Lord Yaweh directly.' There, Michael—now do you see why this bothers me?"

  Michael thought for another while. "No," he said at last.

  Yaweh looked hard at him. "But then, you agree with him, don't you?"

  "I'm not yet sure. We'll be speaking to him soon, to try to find for good and all what his—"

  "We, Michael? Who is this 'we?'"

  "Why, me, and Lucifer, and Lilith, and Asmodai—"

  "What? You're all going to speak to Satan about our Plan? Why is this the first I've heard of this?"

  Michael furrowed his brow. "I don't know, Yaweh. I guess it never occurred to anyone to mention it."

  "It never occurred..."

  "Would you want to be there? I'm certain you are welcome."

  Grief and anger seemed to compete in Yaweh's voice, as he said, "I think that if the Lord Satan wanted me there, he would certainly have informed me of it."

  "Oh, but he doesn't—"

  "That will do, Michael. I don't wish to hear more. Leave me, please, I have to think about this."

  "Of course, Yaweh. Excuse me."

  "The Lord Abdiel!"

  "Very well. Send him in."

  Abdiel entered, looking full of doubt and worry. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Lord Yaweh, but—"

  "What is it, Abdiel?"

  "I have just spoken with Michael, and he related something of what had passed between you." (This wasn't far from the truth. Actually, Abdiel had hidden himself in a cloakroom, from where he had heard the conversation.)

  "What of it, Abdiel?"

  "I think you are being too harsh on the Lord Satan, Lord."

  "I appreciate your thoughts, Abdiel, but I don't feel that I'm being harsh. It's just that I'm worried."

  "I think Lord Satan is just as firmly committed to the Plan as you or I, but he has some doubts on exactly how we ought to do it. I think you ought to speak to him directly, Lord, so all of these questions can be answered. Forgive me for being so presumptuous—"

  "No, that's all right. I feel that it is he who ought to come to me; that's all it is."

  "But—as you wish."

  "How go things otherwise, Abdiel?"

  "Well, Lord Yaweh. I'm working on an idea to solve the problem that the Lord Satan is concerned with, but I'd rather not tell you about it until it's complete."

  "Excellent. But don't take too long. I'm becoming impatient to begin. It won't do to have another Wave begin just as we're about to start."

  "I understand, Lord."

  "Page!"

  "Yes, Lord Yaweh?"

  "I need a message delivered to the Southern Hold. Prepare yourself for a long journey."

  "Yes, Lord."

  "Tell the Lord Satan that I am anxious to speak with him as soon as possible. Present my
respects, and say that I would be grateful if he would journey to the center and speak with me. I think it very important, and urgent."

  "I will set out this evening, Lord Yaweh."

  "It isn't that urgent. Make it the morning. Get a good rest first."

  "Yes, Lord. Thank you."

  "Don't mention it, Gabriel."

  He waved the page away and returned to his reflections.

  "Welcome back, Beelzebub."

  "Thanks, milord."

  "Did Yaweh say anything about the rumors?"

  "My message seem'd to displease him, yet he had naught to say to't."

  "I hadn't thought he'd be pleased. But he didn't give an answer?"

  "I was to say he'd think on't. And yet, milord, there was somewhat in his tone that did make me to feel unease."

  "Hmmm."

  "There is more, milord."

  "Yes?"

  "I spake to Michael, and he did say that he and others would come to speak unto us."

  "Who? About what?"

  "I know not, milord."

  "Hmmmm. Guesses? Speculation?"

  "Perchance some have heard of thy questions on the Plan and wish to question thee on them, or to convince thee that thou art wrong."

  "Interesting."

  "Verily."

  "Well... suggestions?"

  "Be sure of the wine stocks, milord."

  Four archangels walked along the Southern Road, which dwindled to a path, and then a trail, and finally disappeared altogether. As one got closer to the Hold, a trail or two emerged as if from nowhere and came together to form another path, and this became a full road again, several leagues from the Hold.

  But these archangels were still near the center, walking steadily southward. Two of them wore gold cloaks. Such a sight was enough to excite great interest in those who saw them go by. None spoke to them, but many spoke of them.

  They walked all four abreast, for this part of the Southern Road, passing through flat and rolling farmland, was wide. Michael walked to the right, Asmodai next to him, then Lucifer and Lilith. These latter touched hands from time to time. The braver among those they passed would step out for a better view of her walking away.

  "It has been awhile since I've traveled," said Michael.

  "And I," said Asmodai.

  "What will we say to him?" asked Lucifer.

  Michael shrugged and said, "We'll tell him—whatever we tell him."

  "I'm sure of that," said Lilith.

  "Wait till we get there," suggested Asmodai.

  "Do we know why we're going?" asked Lucifer.

  Michael opened his mouth and closed it again. Asmodai said slowly, "Because he has to be confronted with what he's doing—creating doubt and dissension. If he's right, he should bring his arguments to us. If not, he should remain silent. This state is intolerable."

  There was silence for several paces. Then, "Quite a speech," said Lucifer.

  "Thank you," said Asmodai.

  Mephistopheles sat with his back against a stone, his feet stretched out in front of him, and his head resting on his hands, which were locked behind his neck. If Mephistopheles looked relaxed, he was. He could easily have waited there half a day. This was good, because it was nearly half the day before Leviathan happened to look over at that rocky opening in the cliff and saw a figure seated there.

  "I thought you'd left already," she said, swimming up.

  "I came back."

  "Where is Ariel?"

  "I expect he's around, looking for a four-footed tercet or something."

  "Or something. Did you want something?"

  "Not especially. Did you want me for something?"

  "Why, yes. How did you know?"

  "A little bird told me."

  "Ariel? How did he know?"

  "I couldn't say."

  "He's sensitive, that one."

  "Yes. The soul of a poet." He smirked. "So, what can I do for you?"

  "How long since you've been to the Southern Hold?"

  Abdiel wondered why he was walking. His feet took him further and further away from the center, as if they knew they had a mission. He was fully a day ahead of the page, whom he had overheard Yaweh send this way, and that was certainly interesting, but how could he use it?

  Perhaps, he decided, the best thing would be to wait until the message had been delivered, then find out what the answer was.

  But he knew what the answer would be. Satan would certainly go along, and he and Yaweh would talk, and either settle their differences or not. Was there a way to make sure it was not?

  No, he decided, there wasn't. As soon as the two of them got together, it was out of his hands.

  He stopped in the middle of the road.

  As soon as the two of them got together...

  Slowly, a smile spread across his face. He closed his eyes and stood while he worked out the details.

  After several long moments, he started up again, briskly. He had a long way to travel. It wouldn't do for the page's trip to be too short.

  Chapter Three

  For neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy—the only evil that walks Invisible....

  —Milton, Paradise Lost iii:682-684

  Thrumb thrumb thrumb.

  "Do you hear it, Asmodai?"

  "Hear what, Lucif—oh, yes."

  Thrumb thrumb thrumb.

  "Where is it coming from?" asked Asmodai.

  "Around the corner, I think," said Michael.

  "Do you know what it is?"

  "No."

  Lucifer and Lilith smiled as the sounds got louder, but didn't enlighten the other two. Presently they turned a corner and saw the small, dark-skinned angel seated by the road, his back against a tree. They stopped and listened for a while. Soon the music stopped. The angel continued to look straight ahead, but said, "Who is it?" in a low, raspy voice.

  "It's Lucifer and Lilith, with two friends," said Lucifer.

  "Why, hello!" Harut said, breaking into a bright smile.

  "You're blind!" said Michael.

  "You're right," said the other, his expression not changing.

  "This," said Lilith, "is our friend, Harut. Harut, the one who spoke is the Lord Michael, the Firstborn. The other is the archangel Asmodai."

  "Good day, Harut. Your music is pleasing."

  "Hello, Asmodai. I've heard of your work. And Michael, I've heard of you, too, of course."

  "Thank you," said Asmodai. "May I see your lyre?"

  "Sure! Only it's a cithara." He grinned even more and handed it up. Asmodai gave it close inspection, whistling appreciation from time to time. He tapped the wooden base, studied the strings and where they joined to the heads, and handed it back.

  "Lovely job," he said. "Yours?"

  "Yeah. Lucifer gave me the wood."

  "Excellent workmanship."

  "May we join you for a while, Harut?" asked Lilith.

  "Why, sure."

  Lilith seated herself next to him in a graceful sweep. Lucifer dropped next to her, sitting cross-legged. Asmodai stiffly lowered himself to a stoop, then rocked into a sitting position. Michael moved next to Asmodai, grunted, started to lower himself a couple of times, then creakingly bent over, supported himself with both arms, and maneuvered himself to the ground.

  "Quite a company you have here," said Harut.

  "We're going to visit the Lord Satan," said Asmodai.

  Harut nodded.

  "How did it happen?" asked Michael.

  'Third Wave done me in," said Harut. "Raphael pulled me out 'fore it did a full job, though. She done that for a lot of us."

  "I know," said Michael. "But couldn't she heal you?"

  "She did, some. It was worse. I was lookin' away when I got hit. I knew what was happening, and I thought I was going to change, you know? Isn't that funny? I wasn't afraid to die, but I didn't want to lose my shape, like Beelzebub or Ariel. All I could think of was holding myself together. I guess Raphael pulled me out then. There were a lot who need
ed her, though. By the time she got back to me, it was all she could do to make me hear again. But that's a lot. I'm thankful."

  There was silence for a time.

  "I'm thankful," he repeated.

  Asmodai cleared his throat. "You did change, you know," he said. "I didn't recognize you at first."

  "I know. I lost a bit off the top, and I don't weigh so much now. But that don't matter. That much I could fix myself, if I wanted to."

  Michael said, "Some of the injured ones from the Second Wave were actually healed in the Third. Do you think..."

  His voice trailed off.

  "The Fourth Wave? Maybe. I'm not expecting anything. I'm not anxious for it."

  "None of us are," said Lilith. "As you know."

  "Yeah, I know. I've heard some folks aren't happy about the big plan."

  Asmodai stared. "How did you hear of that?"

  Harut shrugged. "I guess it isn't as big a secret as some would like. For me, I'll just wait. When it happens, I'll live, or I won't."

  "I wish I had your attitude, Harut," said Lilith.

  He shook his head.

  "What have you heard about it?" asked Asmodai.

  "Lots of stuff. I don't listen a whole lot, since I don't think much of that kind of talk. But I know that something is up, and it has to do with starting the Fourth Wave. And I know that some don't like it much."

  "I see," said Asmodai. He looked around at the others. None of them said anything. Michael seemed lost in thought, Lucifer met Asmodai's look, but his face was blank. Lilith seemed amused.

  After the silence had stretched across the road and back a few times, Harut said, "You don't have to tell me nothin' if you don't want."

  "No," said Asmodai, "it isn't that. It's just that I had thought it a better-kept secret than it is."

  "I'm not uncomfortable with you knowing," said Lilith.

  "Nor am I," said Lucifer. "In fact, I'll tell you that the Lord Satan has doubts, and we're going to see him now to try to resolve them."

  Harut nodded, but didn't say anything.

  "Are you curious, Harut?" asked Lilith.

  "Some," he said.

  "Lord Satan isn't sure it's right to coerce the hosts into helping, if they don't want to."

  "Why wouldn't they want to?" asked Harut.

  "I expect," said Asmodai, "that they will. We want to build a place that will be safe from the flux—forever. Where we won't have to worry about Waves—ever. Why wouldn't everyone be in favor of that?"