If at Faust You Don't Succeed

by Roger Zelazny

  "Having told Faust about matters, and then Mephistopheles, I have been genuinely mischievous. But it seems to me that I can think of yet another contrivance. So I'll hie me away to those regions in or near the Empyrean where the spirits of light are said to dwell…"

  But before he had finished his speech, his dwarvish conjure power kicked in and he was on his way.

  PARIS

  CHAPTER 1

  Where are we now?" Mack asked.

  "This is a tavern in the Latin Quarter of Paris," Mephistopheles said. "I feel at home with students. They have always had a lively regard for the devil. And Paris, of course, is the devil's own city. I thought it would be an appropriate place to begin the last act in our contest."

  Mack looked around. He and Mephistopheles were seated at a long rough-hewn wooden table. There were others at the table, all young men, students by the look of them. They were immersed in their own conversations, which were carried on in loud voices and with elaborate gestures and much shrugging. The tavern was dark, extensive, and low-ceilinged. Waiters hurried back and forth carrying trays crowded with tumblers of wine, with plates of mussels in a red sauce, and with wedges of bread on the side. There were loud guffaws of laughter, catcalls, bursts of song. These students were young and had the whole world ahead of them, and they were studying in Paris, already the most notable city in Europe and therefore in the world.

  "What's happening this time?" Mack asked.

  "This is the year 1789," Mephistopheles said. "Paris, indeed, all France, is in an uproar. Spurred on by the recent American Revolution, the common people are ready to rise and throw out the ineffective royal court and the corrupt nobles. It is the dawn of a new age for the masses, and sunset for the privileged few. In the palace of the Tuileries, the desperate Louis the Sixteenth and his wife, Marie Antoinette, frightened by the threats and insults heaped on them by an increasingly unmanageable populace, are preparing to flee this very night, taking a coach to Belgium, where they will meet up with royalist armies burning to avenge the insult to the royal family."

  "Sounds exciting," Mack said. "Do they make it?"

  "Alas, it is not to be. History tells us that at crucial moments, things go wrong. At the end, the royal family is brought back to Paris by the Republican Guard. Soon after, they will lose their heads to the guillotine."

  "Are they very evil, this king and queen?" Mack asked.

  Mephistopheles smiled sadly. "Not evil at all. Merely creatures of their time and place. Their deaths will solve nothing, and the act of destroying them will revolt the world. There will be battles and massacres, and France will stand alone with the armies of Europe against her."

  "I suppose you want me to save the king and queen."

  "What you do is entirely up to you, of course," Mephistopheles said. "But it would be a notable deed."

  "What should I do?"

  "There are other key points?"

  "Several others," Mephistopheles said. "Once the flight is underway, a certain Drouet will recognize the king as his coach passes through the village of Saint-Menehould. Drouet gives the alarm that leads to His Majesty's capture. His seeing the king is a matter of pure luck. If Drouet could be diverted…"

  "I'm beginning to get the idea," Mack said.

  "Or, failing that, the king and queen might still be saved if the bridge at Varennes were open rather than blocked. The blocked bridge prevents the royal coach from crossing to the Belgian frontier and safety.

  So there are three chances; Marie Antoinette's delay, Drouet's recognition, and the blocked bridge at Varennes. Change any of these and you change history. Are. you ready, Faust?"

  "I think so," Mack said. "As ready as I'll ever be."

  "Excellent. And please, Johann, try to make this a good one. It is the last, you know. I'll look in on you from time to time and see how you're getting on. Maybe even lend a hand." He winked. 'Till later!" And with that, Mephistopheles vanished.

  By asking a passing fishwife, Mack learned that Marie Antoinette was at Versailles, some leagues outside of Paris. In the Place Saint-Michel he found a public coach and paid a centime for a place on it. The streetcar, as it was called, drawn by four horses, clanged through Paris, stopping here and there to take on and discharge passengers, until it passed beyond the city limits into a country lane that meandered through green fields and tasteful clumps of trees.

  Mack got off at the palace of Versailles and walked up to the main entrance. The armed guard at the door, resplendent in the crimson and white of the queen's livery, raised his pike to the ready. "You, there!

  What do you want?"

  "I crave an audience with the queen," Mack said.

  "She's not seeing anyone today," the guard said.

  "Yes, I know. But this is urgent."

  "I told you, she's not seeing anyone."

  "Tell her Dr. Faust is here," Mack said. "She'll reward you. And I have something for you myself." He handed the guard a gold piece.

  "Thanks, citizen," the guard said, pocketing the coin. "Now get out of here or I'll have you arrested for bribery."

  CHAPTER 2

  The Archangel Michael's house was set on an elevated half-acre lot in an exclusive suburb of Heaven.

  Michael was in the front yard working on his roses. He looked up to see Ylith, the student angel and former witch, coming up the marble steps.

  "Ah, there, Ylith, how nice to see you." He put down his trowel and wiped his hands. "Can I get you some lemonade? It's quite a hot day, though dry, a typical heavenly or good sort of day."

  "No, thanks," Ylith said. "I came because there's something I'm perplexed about."

  "Well then," Michael said, "you must tell me all about it. What seems to be the matter?"

  Ylith said, "I've found evidence that Mephistopheles is cheating."

  "Aha!" said Michael, but rather mildly. "But that's only to be expected, considering who he is."

  "What is more disconcerting," Ylith said, "I have also found evidence of you cheating."

  "Me?" Michael said.

  "Yes, you," Ylith said.

  Michael was silent for a moment, thinking. Then he said, "You are new to our circles, aren't you?"

  "Yes, I am," Ylith said. "But what difference—" Michael held up a hand.

  "And therefore you are inexperienced, and lacking in knowledge of the great harmony that holds Good and Bad together in a single unity and dictates the rules of their behavior." "I never even heard of this great harmony," Ylith said. "Does it really make a difference? I'm talking out-and-out cheating."

  "All the difference in the world, my dear. For consider: If Light and Dark are to contest at all, they must do so as equals in an ongoing contest, and with the knowledge that to struggle does not mean to win once and for all. Both Good and Bad are interdependent. For the one must exist for there to be the other. Do you understand?" "I think so," Ylith said doubtfully. "But what difference—"

  "So there is a sense," Michael went on, "in which Good and Bad are equal outcomes. On the level of interaction, we espouse one cause or the other. We play to win, and we try to put down our foe forever; even though, on a higher level, we know that true victory is neither possible nor practicable, nor even desirable. Are you following?"

  "I'm not sure," Ylith said. "But please go on."

  "It follows that, as equals in the game of Good and Bad, each of us must have access to the same techniques. Good must not be handicapped by being forbidden 'bad' alternatives that are available to Dark. Since Bad from time to time uses 'good' means for its own Bad ends, it follows that Good can use

  'bad' for its own purposes. The final issue, my dear Ylith, is not what is good and what is bad, but what is in here." And Michael touched himself in the region of the heart.

  Dark. Since Bad from time to time uses 'good' means for its own Bad ends, it follows that Good can use

  'bad' for its own purposes. The final issue, my dear Ylith, is not what is good and what is bad, but what is in here." And Michael
touched himself in the region of the heart.

  .

  Michael smiled and looked away. "It means that we have as much right to cheat as Bad does."

  "And you think it's right to cheat in order to win?"

  "I would say instead, it's not wrong," Michael said.

  "Well, now I've heard everything. I must go think this over."

  CHAPTER 3

  It was evening in the Tuileries. The windows were ablaze with a thousand candles. People hurried in and out the high carved front doors. They were wearing republican blue and gray rather than royalist white and crimson. On a little bench across the street from the ceaseless crowds, Mack sat and considered the situation.

  Breezes stirred the small, carefully trimmed trees that bordered the palace. And then Mack felt something, something more palpable than a breeze. It was a thin, disembodied voice that quested up and down the tree-lined avenue, saying, "Faust! Faust! Where are you, Faust?"

  Mack looked around. "Did someone call me?"

  Ylith materialized beside him. She was wearing magnificent riding attire of black velvet and sueded leather. Her riding boots had a deep shine, and her long dark hair was caught up in a white chiffon scarf.

  "Remember me?"

  "Indeed I do," Mack said. "You locked me in a mirror maze in Peking when you thought I was cheating."

  "I've learned a thing or two since then," Ylith said. "What are you planning now?"

  It was in Mack's mind to turn away and sulk and not tell this good-looking but impetuous and very judgmental spirit-woman anything at all. If she was so smart, let her figure it out for herself! But, sensing advantage, he conquered his pique and said, "I'm trying to rescue the king and queen of France."

  "Why do you want to save them?" Ylith asked.

  "I scarcely know. I haven't met them, you understand. But it seems I have to do something in this contest, and that looks like quite a good thing. I mean, what the hell, they are rather silly people whose main crime was to be born noble. And anyway, Mephistopheles thought it would be a good thing for me to do."

  "I see," Ylith said. "So of course, since Mephistopheles wants it, Michael is opposed to it."

  "I suppose that follows," Mack said. "And since you are on Michael's side—"

  "I don't know what side I'm on anymore," Ylith said. "But I did you a wrong before and I'm here to make up for it now. What can I do to help?"

  "I'll see what I can do," Ylith said. With a graceful double gesture of her long hands she faded out of Mack's sight.

  CHAPTER 4

  Ylith reappeared in a corridor leading to the royal chambers.on the second floor of the Tuileries. She saw at once that it was just as well she had stayed invisible. Soldiers of the National Guard lurched drunkenly up and down the gorgeously wallpapered corridors, pawing at frightened ladies-in-waiting, guzzling vin ordinaire from long-neck bottles, messily eating croissants and getting crumbs all over the carpet. Ylith passed invisibly through the Guard, found the queen's chambers, and darted inside. There she beheld Marie Antoinette asleep fully dressed on a chaise lounge. Even in sleep the queen's fingers clenched and unclenched, as though trying to hold on to something that escaped them, life itself perhaps.

  Then Marie Antoinette became aware that someone was in the room with her. Her blue eyes opened wide.

  "Who are you?"

  "Just a friendly spirit, Your Highness," Ylith said. "I've come to help you get out of this mess."

  "Oh! Pray tell me!" cried Marie Antoinette.

  "To put it to you straight, Marie, if I may, your escape is scheduled for eight o'clock this evening. At that hour you are to come downstairs disguised as a governess and hurry past the guards and into a certain carriage. The driver will convey you to the larger carriage outside of Paris where you will join the king and continue your escape toward Belgium."

  "Yes, that is the plan," Marie said, wide-eyed. "How did you know? And is there anything wrong with it?"

  "The plan is fine," Ylith said, "but history tells us that you were some hours late getting to the carriage, and that this delay upset the carefully contrived timetable that was to make it all possible."

  "Me, some hours late?" Marie said indignantly. "Impossible! Oh, it might be true if this were some mere love-tryst I were keeping, of the sort that history will no doubt insist on connecting my name to, as if I were a shameless whore and common slut like that du Barry. If that were the case I might dawdle, in order to increase my piquancy and the anticipation of the dark and handsome stranger waiting for me. I'd pretend to have forgotten my muff, my jewel box, or my spaniel, and he would stamp and twist his moustaches, standing there beside his coach, and his excitement would grow as he contrasted my apparent light-mindedness with the severity of the occasion. But this is not a flirtation, my dear spirit, and I am not so light-minded as to arrive late for the appointment that is meant to save my life."

  "I'm glad Your Highness is not as frivolous as history makes you out to be," Ylith said. "We only need to leave this place at eight sharp and the thing should be child's play."

  "Yes, I agree. But you have made an error. The time set for the departure was eleven o'clock." Ylith considered and shook her head. "Your Majesty, you must be wrong. My source is history itself."

  "I hate to fly in the face of history," Marie said, "but I spoke to the coachman but an hour ago. He was very clear that it was eleven." "I was told eight," Ylith said.

  "They must have told you wrong," Marie said.

  "I'll just go check," Ylith said.

  She conjured herself out of there and into the multicolored realms that exist between the discrete layers of being, and sped through them all the way to the Library of Important Earth Dates and Times situated in Spiritual West 12 11, where the history of everything is recorded with exact times given.

  Ylith went to the big, recently installed computer that kept track of facts about Earth for the Spiritual Kingdom. The computer was an innovation that many spirits both Good and Bad had fought against, for computers were considered newfangled inventions that time had not yet softened into acceptable custom.

  But many considered this a frivolous view. The consensus among the creatures of Dark and Light was that the appropriate rule here was, as below, so above, and that even the spirits had to keep up with the changing times on Earth. Ylith went to an open terminal on the computer and introduced herself.

  The computer said, "I assume you have a problem. Tell me what I need to know."

  Ylith wasted no time. "I need to find the correct hour of departure in an important historical situation. Marie Antoinette thinks the time to leave to meet the coachman who is going to take her out of Paris and away from the guillotine is eleven P.M. I have been told it is eight P.M. Which is correct?"

  "I'm sorry," the computer said, after no more than a nanosecond's hesitation. "That's classified information." "It's a simple fact and it's got to be on record! It can't be classified!" "It's not, really," the computer said. "I was told to say it was if anyone asked for a fact of a certain class of facts."

  "What class is that?"

  "The class of simple and apparently easily ascertainable facts, which are, in fact, almost impossible to pin down."

  "Well, what's so difficult about looking it up for me or whatever it is you do?"

  "The fact itself is not the problem," the computer said. "It's the routine for looking up facts that's disabled just now."

  "Why?"

  "Because the technicians are introducing a new packing order for the facts already on file. To be able to use it, they'll have to invent a new locating order that can make sense out of the new packing order."

  "And meanwhile no one can find out anything? That's ridiculous! Why don't you do something about it?"

  "Me?" "Yes, you!"

  "I'm not supposed to," the computer said. "They told me they'd let me know when they had it worked out." "So you're saying you don't know the fact I'm asking about?" Ylith said. "I'm not saying that at all!" The compu
ter's tone was hurt. "I know all the facts. It's just that my retrieval system is disabled. That makes it technically impossible for me to tell you."

  "Technically! But not virtually!"

  "No, of course not virtually."

  "So give me a virtual answer. Or can't you even do that?"

  "I could if I wanted to. But I don't want to."

  Ylith heard hurt pride in the computer's voice. She decided to take a different tack. "Wouldn't you do it for me?"

  "Sure, babe. Just a moment." Lights flashed. Then the computer said, "I make it three A.M."

  "Impossible," Ylith said.

  "Not what you expected? I told you, the retrieval system is down."

  "I know, hut you said you could bypass it."

  "I did. It came up three A.M.!"

  "Is that really the best you can do? All right, I'll have to make do with that. Thank you."

  CHAPTER 5

  Ylith hurried back to Marie Antoinette. "What time have you got now?"

  Marie consulted her hourglass. "Just going on eleven."

  Ylith looked at her water watch. "I make it almost eight o'clock. Well, what the hell. All right, let's get going."

  "I'm ready," Marie said. "Let me just get my purse."

  Outside, a tall coachman stamped his feet to keep up the circulation, and looked inside his coach from time to time at the tall hourglass which rested upright in a rosewood cradle. "Damn, damn, damn," he muttered to himself in Swedish.

  At last a door in the Tuileries opened and two women hurried out, one blond, the other dark.