To Reign In Hell

by Steven Brust

  Chapter Four

  Some think they see their own hope to advance tied to their neighbor's fall, and thus they long to see him cast down from his eminence; Some fear their power, preferment honor, fame will suffer by another's rise, and thus, irked by his good, desire his ruin and shame.

  —Dante, Purgatorio,

  Canto xvH:115-120

  Abdiel got as close to the Southern Hold as he could.

  "This is probably stupid," he told himself. "There isn't anything I can learn here, and eventually someone will see me." He shook his head. "What did I come here for, anyway? I should be on my way home by now."

  Some feeling, after he'd finished with the page, had told him that he should see the Southern Hold. He could think of no reason for it, but his instincts had been good in the past.

  He had gone slowly, recovering from the exhaustion that he'd felt after his efforts with Gabriel. His strength had returned now. He made note of how long it took, munching blueberries picked from bushes near the side of the road, occasionally wiping purple juice from his lips and beard with a white linen handkerchief.

  He wondered what he was waiting for, and whether he would recognize it if it came, and how long he would wait before giving up and heading back.

  Periodically, there would be travelers to or from the Hold, and he would strain to make out what they said. It was never anything important, though.

  He sighed, continued his vigil, and ate blueberries.

  "I'm not used to not being tired when I head back this way," remarked a traveler to his companion.

  "I know what you mean," said the other. "It's going to be nice to get home with some energy left."

  The corners of his mouth rose a bit as he said this. The first noticed and grinned.

  "I see. What's her name?"

  "What's the difference?"

  He shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder about you."

  The other shrugged.

  "When will he be back?" asked the first.

  "I don't know. Beelzebub said we shalleth be informedeth. But look: we have enough oil done for fifty days, right? It's twenty days each way to the center, if you're not hurrying, so I'd guess he's visiting Lord Yaweh, and it'll be at least forty days."

  "Again? He was there a hundred days ago...."

  Abdiel cursed under his breath. Satan, going to the Palace! All that work, wasted. He bit his lips with rage, and mangled a handful of blueberries in his fist without noticing. Was there any way to stop him?

  Abdiel ran through his resources, and decided that there was no way to prevent him from setting off. How about preventing him from arriving? Maybe. But how?

  By getting him to go somewhere else? Where? And again, how?

  He concentrated. Maybe he could do that... which would mean... hmmm. He wondered how fast a dog could run. On the path, or off? Yes....

  He turned and began running toward the palace. He was going to need at least a day or two. Probably two.

  The thought of what he was planning made him a bit uncomfortable. But it would be stupid to pull back now, and he wasn't really going to hurt anyone. Not exactly.

  He pushed himself over the road that would become a path, and then a trail

  Gabriel entered the palace and went to see the Lord Yaweh before he had so much as dusted himself off from the trip. Yaweh being alone, Gabriel coughed. Yaweh looked up.

  "You're back."

  "Yes, Lord."

  "Alone?"

  "Y-yes."

  "I see."

  "He—he said he was busy, Lord. That perhaps in a few days he'd have time—twenty or thirty days, he said."

  "Twenty or thirty days."

  "Yes, Lord."

  "Did you speak to him personally?"

  "Yes, Lord."

  "How did he seem?"

  "Haughty, Lord. He said that he had nothing to say to you. I tried to convince him, but—"

  "Very well."

  "I'm sorry I failed, Lord."

  Yaweh shook his head. "No, Gabriel, you didn't fail. The Lord Satan made his choice." Tears began at the corners of Yaweh's eyes. Gabriel started to take a step forward, then caught himself.

  "You may leave now," said Yaweh, thickly.

  "Thank you, Lord."

  Gabriel bowed and left, sick at heart. Behind him, Yaweh buried his face in his hands.

  Under the open sky in daylight, in a place of long, thick grasses with oak and cedars commingling around and above them, they lay. They held hands without speaking, then she put her head on his shoulder, then he put his head on her shoulder.

  They turned and held each other close. Above them the sky slowly darkened, and the winds around them grew still. They held each other through Heaven's long, slow night, without speaking.

  Sometime toward morning, they kissed, and it was an exchange of vows—promises and hopes. They looked at each other, and knew that before many days had passed they would be seeing something new. It was too soon to know what.

  Their robes fell away, and they touched each other as they had taught each other, and there was movement beneath the trees.

  "Comfort me," they said without speaking.

  "I will," they said in the silence.

  Beneath the trees, upon the grass, upon each other, they did.

  It was a statue in the water, a statue of a great, monstrous head supported by a massive neck that was long and sinewy and scaled, and disappeared into the waves. The eyes of the statue, no doubt by some trick of jewel-craft, seemed to glow. The statue had appeared three days ago, emerging from the sea, staring at the cleft at the edge of the small cliff.

  Mephistopheles walked into the cleft from the path on the other side and saw the statue at the same time the statue saw him. The statue spoke first.

  "I've been waiting for you for three days," she said.

  "Sorry. It's been a long trip."

  "Any luck?"

  "Depends on what you mean by luck. I had a talk with Beelzebub. I don't think he likes me," he added thoughtfully.

  Leviathan chuckled. "What did you do to the poor fellow?"

  "I think I struck a nerve."

  "Oh?"

  "I accused him and Satan of fomenting rebellion, and it seemed like a sore spot."

  "Why did you do that?"

  "So that in denying it, he'd let slip their objections to the Plan."

  "Clever," she said.

  He shrugged.

  "Well," asked Leviathan, "did you find out?"

  Mephistopheles summarized his discussion with Beelzebub. Then he said. "I met Yaweh's page on the way back."

  "And?"

  "He had a message for Satan."

  "Did you find out what the message was?"

  "It was a summons. I got the impression that Yaweh wants to see Satan right away. I think Yaweh is angry about something."

  "I could take a guess about what, Mephistopheles."

  "Exactly."

  "So, what does this mean?"

  "It means that something is going to happen."

  "Yes. I think I'd like to see Satan myself."

  "Before or after he speaks to Yaweh?"

  "Either will do."

  "Good. My feet need rest. And, anyway, I doubt that I could catch up to him before he gets to the palace."

  "I hadn't asked you to."

  "Oh?"

  "Could you find Ariel for me?"

  Mephistopheles sighed. "My poor feet. Sure, I'll find him."

  "Good."

  "I'm on my way."

  "Mephistopheles "

  "Yes?"

  "Thank you."

  He bowed his head. Then he turned and went looking for Ariel, because he was uncomfortable showing strong emotions.

  "Ho there, Sith." "Hello, Kyriel."

  "There's more news, from Chesetial out by the Southern Hold." "Oh?"

  "She says the Lord Satan is on our side." "What do you mean?"

  "He's going to see Yaweh, to tell him off." "When?"

  "He lef
t from the South a bit ago. He could be here any day."

  "Do you think they'll call it off?"

  "They might."

  "Well, it's nice to have one of them on our side, anyway."

  "Yeah. Maybe we won't have to hide."

  "Maybe."

  It was early evening. Michael was sitting in an easy chair before the hearth, his feet bare, and resting from the journey. He heard shuffling noises outside, groaned to himself, then decided not to get up.

  "Lord Michael?" came the voice, weak but recognizable.

  "Come in, Abdiel," he said without turning his head.

  "Thank you." Abdiel stepped inside and collapsed on the floor.

  Then Michael was up, kneeling by his side. "Abdiel? What is it? Are you—"

  "I'm... fine, Michael. Just let me... catch my breath."

  Michael nodded, got up, and brought wine. Abdiel, meanwhile, had heavened himself up to a sitting position and was breathing in gasps. He accepted the wine and drank thirstily, nodding his thanks to Michael between gulps.

  "What happened?" Michael asked when Abdiel's breathing was about back to normal.

  "Nothing happened—but something nearly did."

  "Tell me."

  Abdiel nodded and got to his feet, supported by Michael. He made it to a chair and collapsed. He closed his eyes, as if gathering strength, then said, "I was near the Southern Hold, just twelve days ago."

  "Twelve days!"

  Abdiel nodded. "Something happened, and I didn't know what to do, so I came here."

  "Well, what was it?"

  "Satan," said Abdiel, "is after me."

  "After you? What do you mean?"

  "I'm afraid he may be chasing me. I'm not sure. He started to, but I escaped from the Southern Hold and ran. I looked back once and he had set out after me. I didn't look back again."

  "I'm surprised Beelzebub didn't catch you."

  "So am I! Happy, also. But I had a good start, and I guess Beelzebub can't run as long as I can."

  "But, Abdiel, why was he chasing you?"

  "Because I wouldn't go along with his plan."

  "What plan?"

  "He told me that he intends to overthrow Lord Yaweh and set himself up as ruler of Heaven. He explained that the Plan was folly, would never work, and that he wanted to end it once and for all."

  "I don't believe it! He said—"

  "I know. He told me that you had spoken to him, with Lucifer and Lilith and Asmodai. He said he'd managed to take you in, to convince you that he had nothing planned. But he wanted my help. He said that I had 'Yaweh's ear,' was how he put it."

  "By the flux!" cried Michael. "Can this be true?"

  "He tried to persuade me, but my ears were roaring and I couldn't hear his arguments. I just stood before him and shook my head."

  "And then?" asked Michael.

  "He tried to make me promise that I wouldn't tell anyone what he'd spoken of."

  "Did you?"

  "No."

  Michael nodded. "Go on," he said. "What did he do then?"

  "He... grew angry," said Abdiel. "He began walking toward me. I backed up, but he kept coming. Finally I turned and ran. I got out of the place, and when I looked back, he was running after me, yelling and shaking his fist."

  "Did you hear what he was yelling?"

  Abdiel shook his head. "Not clearly. I think it was something about finding me, but I'm not sure."

  "He said he'd find you?"

  "I think so. That's why I came to you. I didn't know what else to do."

  "I think, Abdiel, that you ought to go to the Lord Yaweh and tell him what you've told me."

  "Do you... do you think so, Lord Michael?"

  "Why not? Shouldn't he know?" "I'm afraid Lord Yaweh will take it hard." "That may be true, Abdiel, but he should hear of it." Abdiel sighed. "All right. I'll go to him now." "The morning will do. You should rest first." "No," said Abdiel, shaking his head. "By morning I'll have lost my courage."

  "Lilith, my love?"

  "Mmmmm."

  "What did you think of the trip?"

  She pulled her head up from the crook of his arm, turned over, and pulled his cloak up around them.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well... I don't know. Never mind."

  "If you want me to say that Satan has me half convinced, I won't."

  "No, I—"

  "Not until you do."

  Lucifer lifted his head up to look at her. Then he smiled and dropped it again.

  "All right," he said to the sky above them, "he has me half convinced."

  "Me, too."

  He sighed. "So what do we do?"

  "We go see Yaweh."

  He raised his head again. "You sound pretty certain of that."

  "I am."

  "Why?"

  "Because I heard you whispering to Asmodai to set up an appointment with him."

  He dropped his head back and laughed quietly. Then there was stillness in the glade.

  They covered the leagues without effort. They didn't stay quite on the path, but always varied their journey just a bit, to admire a meadow they hadn't noticed before, or a brook that had carved a new trail.

  The path had long ago petered out, and, after several days, they had found the one going toward the center. They stayed close to it as it grew into a stronger path that would soon become a trail.

  "It's been a while since we've been here, Beelzebub."

  "Verily. 'Tis much changed."

  "I wonder if Yaweh will have changed."

  "Milord? In a hundred days?"

  "Well, I've changed, haven't I?"

  "Thy meaning escapeth me, milord."

  "I was thinking of what Michael said, about the Third Wave. It seems as if I can't make that kind of quick decision any more. Everything seems—I don't know—more important, or something. It's as if I have to watch every step, or I'll hurt someone. Haven't you noticed?"

  "I... perchance 'tis true, milord. This conversation likes me not."

  "Never mind, then."

  They walked another league or three. Beelzebub said, "An the Lord Yaweh be changed, what then?"

  "Then, maybe, I won't be able to convince him, or he won't be able to convince me."

  The path did, indeed, turn into a trail. They found themselves on it again and continued, looking for a place to spend the night.

  "Tomorrow, methinks, or the next day should see us to the Palace."

  "The next day, more likely."

  "Thou wilt speak unto Yaweh, then wilt thy questions have answers."

  "In other words, I worry too much, right?"

  Beelzebub chuckled. "'Twas not my meaning, milord, but 'tis true nevertheless."

  Satan shrugged. "I hope you're right. About my questions being answered, I mean. You know, don't you, that at first it was only the two of us?"

  "Milord?"

  "Yaweh and I, I mean. At the beginning."

  "Aye, milord."

  "It was our battle that created the other Firstborn, or so Lucifer tells me."

  "Aye."

  "And the rest of the Firstborn, in the Second Wave, created you and the other archangels."

  "Aye, milord."

  "And so on in the Third Wave. So, one could say, all of Heaven is the product of Yaweh and me."

  "By the selfsame logic, milord, art thou the product of Yaweh."

  Satan stopped in the middle of the trail and looked down at his friend. "You know, I never thought of that."

  "Methinks, milord, that yon clearing will do well for us this night."

  "I never thought of it that way at all."

  "Shall we stop, then, and rest?"

  "It never crossed—what? Oh, this'll do fine, I think."

  "Then let us rest, milord, an it please thee."

  "All right."

  They moved off to the side. "Will he listen to me, do you think?"

  "Aye, milord. Yaweh hath no small measure of love for thee."

  "I hope so. Rest w
ell."

  "And thou, milord."

  Abdiel found a door at the rear of Yaweh's palace and made his way inside as quietly as he could. He removed his sandals and crept down the narrow hall.

  He came at last to an arched doorway with a plain brown curtain across it. He moved the curtain and slipped inside.

  The only sound was even breathing from the bed as he set his sandals down. He moved to the head of the bed and tapped the form sharply on the shoulder.

  "Who's th—"

  "Shhhh!"

  "Who's there?"

  "Abdiel."

  "What is it, lord? Why are we whispering?"

  "It's the right time and place, Gabriel."

  "For what... oh."

  "Report."

  In a steady, whispering voice, Gabriel told how Yaweh had taken his news.

  "What will happen tomorrow? Limit your speech to things concerning the Plan."

  Abdiel endured a seemingly endless stream of small doings, until—

  "Wait! Repeat that last!"

  "The Lord Lucifer has asked for an audience with the Lord Yaweh, to be held early in the morning."

  "I see. Bide a moment."

  Abdiel made a quick decision.

  "Gabriel."

  "Yes, Abdiel."

  "The meeting is canceled."

  "Yes."

  "The Lord Yaweh will notify him when he has time to speak to him."

  "Yes."

  "The Lord Yaweh understands how urgent it is, but has no time just now."

  "Yes."

  "When the Lord Lucifer leaves, you will tell the Lord Yaweh that the Lord Lucifer has changed his mind, and no longer has any need to see him. The Lord Lucifer was no more specific than that."

  "Yes."

  "Continue your report."

  Gabriel did so for another few minutes, but Abdiel found nothing else of interest. When the page finished at last, Abdiel said: "I wasn't here tonight. You didn't see or speak with me."

  "Yes."

  "Go to sleep."

  Abdiel took his sandals, slipped out of Gabriel's room, and made his way out of the palace. He went to the top of the hill and into a small wooded area. There he put his sandals on and headed back toward the palace, this time circling around to come in the front way.

  Satan stretched hello to the morning, relieved himself off from the clearing a ways, and nudged Beelzebub.

  "Time to set off," he said.

  Beelzebub rose. "Ready, milord."

  As they walked, Satan remarked, "Another day until we get there, I think."

  "Aye."