The New Death and others

by James Hutchings

  "I am wounded unto death," Conwy whispered, and none were surprised, since his clothes were soaked red. "Yet still I defy thee, O Moon. The tides of my blood rose and fell at thy direction. My veins were as the strings of a puppet. But the strings are cut. The puppeteer moves her hands in vain. I shall dance no more." He lay on his side as if to sleep, and was still.

  The Owls of Yib said nothing. Pitying him, they did not mention that the temperament imposed on him by the moon was one of bravery and defiance.

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  The Doom That Was Laid Upon Fame

  "O infamous Fame!" thundered the blind goddess Justice from her throne, "All the gods proclaim that you are a disgrace to the heavens. You raise up the unworthy, and cause the virtuous to debase themselves, and even those you take up you cast aside."

  "Right. What's your point?" replied Fame "Also, honey, those sunglasses really don't do anything for you." Justice frowned.

  "Given your obvious lack of repentance, I pronounce this doom upon you: None may seek you unless they hath not lowered themselves to please you, and none may seek you unless they are not corrupted by you. Thus speaks Justice."

  Outside the court of the gods, Fame shared a cigarette with her friend Death, and bemoaned her lot. The two goddesses were very close. Those suitors who failed to win Fame often ended up with Death. Sometimes this made Fame jealous, which is why many only find Fame after Death.

  "Why hath Destiny scorned me?" Fame wailed.

  "Because you never invite me to the Oscars," said Destiny, who happened to be walking by.

  "Yeah, that'll happen honey," Fame muttered. "Nothing gets the party started like a woman in a toga telling you when you're going to get divorced." Death grinned at Fame's joke. But then Death always grinned. It was strange, Fame thought, that Death was not more popular. She was so cheerful, and so fond of children.

  "I know someone who might be able to help," said Death.

  "Really? Who?"

  "You know how Pestilence and War and Famine and I are the Four Riders of the Apocalypse? Well he's the fifth. His name is Lawyers."

  "I've never heard of him."

  "No, any time anyone mentions him he sues them for libel. By the way--I'm invited to the Oscars right?"

  "Sweetie, of course you are."

  "Thanks babe." Death made a note on her diePad. "I think I might have a chance with that Charlie Sheen."

  "Well Ms Fame," said the oily, snake-like creature, "I'm afraid Justice is within her rights to place a doom on you."

  "Can't I just...overcome it with the power of love or something?"

  "I'm afraid not. Ever since Satan v. Faust they've been a lot more careful not to leave that kind of loophole."

  "But there must be something you can do."

  "Well...there is one thing. But..."

  "Please, I'm desperate. The fate of the world is at stake. A whole generation of actors might end up becoming social workers or firefighters or something. And if not the actors, think of all the little people who depend on them--the sycophants, the gossip-mongers, the people who bribe the gossip-mongers..."

  "OK," the fifth Rider sighed. "It says you can't have anyone seek you 'unless they hath not lowered themselves to please you, and are not corrupted by you'. Now, there are some people who are already as low and corrupt as it's possible for a human being to be. I think you could argue that, if you made such people famous, they wouldn't be lowering themselves and you wouldn't corrupt them. So technically you'd be within the terms of the doom. But why would you want-"

  "Darling that's brilliant!" cried Fame.

  And that is why we have reality television.

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  Weary Love

  Love lost her shit and went to bed

  so Commerce took her calls instead.

  "Is that Love?" asked a lonely Ms.

  and Commerce answered "Yes, it is."

  "Unloved, I sink into despair."

  "OK, your basic problem's hair.

  You need to pluck and wax and dye

  and bleach and shave to get a guy

  and once that's done you'll need to be

  booked in to have some surgery

  in case you find your bosoms falling.

  Oh, and Botox. Thanks for calling."

  Commerce smirked and rubbed her hands.

  The second call was from a man.

  Divorced and sad and forty-five

  he said he'd gone through several wives.

  "Am I the problem?" "Yes you are

  unless you buy a bigger car."

  She told the woman after that

  "You'll die alone because you're fat."

  From that day on Love has not stirred.

  Some say that Commerce strangled her.

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  Fame's Beloved

  The goddess Fame looked over the Earth one day, to see who loved her best. She found a boy of fifteen who sat in class and dreamed of her. Many did the same, but this boy had an ardor that pleased Fame. Therefore she chose him as her champion on Earth.

  Fame did not trust her fellow goddesses. Hunger, in Fame's opinion, had a wantonness which came from low self-esteem. Many had sent Hunger away in the past, many cursed her, many thought her a bad memory. Yet Hunger returned to them all. Death was worse. Poor grinning, empty-headed Death would take anyone.

  Really, she felt sorry for them. Hunger wore the same rags until they were falling apart. Contentment seemed happy to wear any old thing. As for Love...well, Love had the excuse of her blindness. Fame was not surprised that Hunger and Death pursued mortals rather than the other way round, or that for every one that sought Contentment or Love a thousand sought Fame.

  Fame watched the boy as he grew to a man. In the night she came to him and lay with him, and she was so high of hair and straight of teeth that every woman he saw he judged against her, and every one he found wanting. Thus Love and Contentment had no chance to steal him. She sent away those friends who would mislead him, and sent him new friends who served her and worshiped her.

  He continued to court her ardently, and little by little she allowed him to approach her. Finally, she showed him that she loved him. He appeared on a talk-show, and got more attention than any other guest. More than the orange-skinned supermodel; more than the actor who was so good at portraying the little guy that he need never worry about being one; more even than the guest who did nothing in particular but was famous for it. After the show someone stopped him on the street.

  "You're that guy from that show!" they said. At that moment he felt Fame's guiding hand in his.

  Soon after that she got bored with him, and let Death have him.

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  The Name of the Helper

  There was once a vizier of Baghdad who had such mastery of deception, and flattery, and insinuation, and all the false arts of the tongue, that he was called Abd al-Katheb, or Servant of Falsehood.

  Baghdad was ruled by the Caliph Musa al-Hadi. The Caliph was a wicked man, who attempted to poison his own mother, and committed many other outrages. Ever was Abd al-Katheb at his side, whispering cunning and odious sophistries to calm the conscience of his master. For this service the unrighteous courtier was greatly rewarded, and his wealth was piled as high as his infamy.

  At last al-Hadi was smothered to death by the women of his harem, and his virtuous younger brother Harun al-Rashid became Caliph. The new Caliph spoke thus:

  "O Abd al-Katheb, it is well-known that your master, my late brother, was greatly influenced in his wickedness by your counsel. Many say that your life should be forfeit. Yet you served only as commanded. Further, Musa al-Hadi has died for his crimes, and it is not just that a debt already paid should be paid twice over. You are wont to boast that your words are so honeyed that you could prove a stone to be the moon, or a beggar's scabs to be rubies. I decree, therefore, tha
t you shall toil in the palace stables, to be released only when you can prove the muck thereof to be purest gold."

  Abd al-Katheb was thus sent to the stables to be the servant of animals, and to labor amid filth. Such was his rage and humiliation that his serpent's tongue deserted him. Had he kept his head he could have convinced the grooms and stablehands that he was the victim of an injustice, or that he voluntarily lowered himself from humility. Perhaps he could even have proved that the muck of the stables was purest gold, and gained his freedom. But instead he was as bitter and hateful in manner as in reality, and gained no sympathy.

  One day, as he was bewailing his fate, he saw a crone who was a stranger to him.

  "O crone," he said, "I see that you have a cheerful countenance. Have you come to gloat at my misery? Though I marvel that you have not been gathered up and thrown away, mistaken for a pile of horse dung." The crone did not respond to his jibe.

  "I smile always, but do not gloat," replied the crone. "Indeed I have come to prove Harun al-Rashid a liar, and secure your release."

  "Two mighty tasks," the former courtier said drily, though in truth he thirsted for hope, and the taste of it was sweet. "Yet how may this poor ostler repay you?"

  "In truth you have given me much already, though you know me not. Therefore I shall take only a small piece of meat. And since you are poor I shall not take a choice cut, but one you have scorned. And finally, O Abd al-Katheb, I shall not take even this if you can tell me my name."

  Such was the certainty in the woman's voice that Abd al-Katheb did not doubt her sincerity, or her power to deliver what she promised, though he of all people should have known that the word is not the deed. Therefore he replied

  "I accept your bargain. I cannot tell you your name, since although I know many names, they are those of men of dignity and power, not toothless and wretched old women." Again the woman made no response to his insult, but merely continued smiling.

  "This being so, I shall return at sunset, when the bargain shall be fulfilled." With that, she left Abd al-Katheb to his work.

  Abd al-Katheb was as greedy as he was false, and to give even a small piece of meat for liberation was against his nature. Therefore he desired greatly to know the name of his savior. To this end he put on the mask that he had laid aside, and all in the stable were greatly pleased by his new attitude of repentance and good fellowship, as they thought. But although he subtly guided the conversation towards the subject, none could name the old woman. This displeased him greatly, despite the great prospect suddenly before him. For it is the way with all who seek wealth and power, that it is as if they drink salt water: the more they attain their desire, the less they are satisfied. Therefore Abd al-Katheb would have found reason to complain in Paradise.

  At last the sun set, and behold! The old woman was before him, though he did not see her coming despite his careful watch.

  "O Abd al-Katheb," she asked, "have you guessed my name?"

  "Indeed I have not, old woman," he replied. "But I remind you that the penalty for this failure is merely a small piece of meat."

  "I have not forgotten," said the old woman. Having spoken, she reached into his chest, and pulled out his heart. Abd al-Katheb fell dead on the ground. Thus Harun al-Rashid was made a liar. For the false vizier had not proven that the muck of the stables was gold, yet he had been released from his punishment.

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  The Warring Gods

  The gods Sex and Love fell to fighting.

  Every time a man sought Love, Sex would whisper in his ear, saying

  "What kind of man are you? What you really want is Sex."

  Every time a woman sought Sex, Love would whisper in her ear, saying

  "What kind of woman are you? What you really want is Love."

  This must be true. If it is not, and there are no gods, then we have done this to ourselves.

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  The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune

  Based on the story of the same name by Robert E. Howard.

  Un-numbered years ago it came to pass

  that desolation settled on King Kull.

  His throne of gleaming gold seemed tarnished brass

  and soft and subtle silk seemed rough and dull.

  The court wore robes of hemp, their jewels glass

  their praises air that whistled through a skull.

  He rose and sought the wizard Tuzun Thune

  who spoke with demons, who controlled the dead

  who knew the name of every written rune

  and how to bring forth gold from common lead

  then trade it for the silver of the moon

  and every spell besides, so it was said.

  The wizard's house had mirrors for each wall

  for floor and ceiling, every tile and door

  both king and wizard reappeared in all

  and Kull felt he would fall into the floor

  and fall again, and infinitely fall

  a sailor on a sea without a shore.

  "Come gaze into my mirrors and be wise,"

  the wizard said. Kull looked as he was told.

  He stared into his own unblinking eyes.

  The Kull that met his gaze looked sad and old.

  His lips seemed poised to mutter soothing lies.

  His eyes were wary and his manner cold.

  Kull looked into another and he saw

  himself. "Look closer, Kull," said Tuzun Thune.

  This Kull was younger than the other, or

  less weighted down with restlessness and gloom

  as if he had a kingdom to explore;

  a happy land beyond the mirrored room.

  No feature differed from his own and yet

  Kull saw a glimmer in the other's eye

  of treasures to be won and friends unmet

  shine like a star new-risen in the sky

  while Kull felt like a fish caught in a net

  whose future is to fight in vain and die.

  Kull sat and stared till sunset and he came

  next morning and he sat and stared again.

  His mirrored image always looked the same

  yet more and more they seemed two different men.

  Kull thought he almost knew the other's name.

  He waited like a prisoner condemned.

  Kull's stallion stamped, unridden in its stall.

  The business of the palace went undone.

  In noble mansion and in humble hall

  a hundred voices muttered. Kull heard none.

  No voice cried louder than the mirror's call

  till all things seemed unreal to him but one.

  The mirror's glass, Kull thought, was like a mist

  that showed not half as much as it concealed.

  Beyond it, everything that could exist

  yet out of this, just one room was revealed.

  He groaned with longing, hands balled into fists

  his arms outstretched in agonized appeal.

  He felt that he could almost understand.

  The road that led beyond was almost clear.

  He touched the glass and felt a living hand--

  but jumped as something whistled by his ear.

  Kull shrieked in horror, fell, and tried to stand:

  His mirror-self was shattered by a spear.

  Kull's soldiers raised him from the floor. They killed

  the wizard and they left him where he lay.

  His dried and withered carcass lies there still

  reflected twenty thousand times. They say

  that death is weaker than the wizard's will

  and his reflections walk on ill-starred days.

  Kull lost himself in ordinary lusts.

  His golden throne no longer tarnished brass

  he ruled, and killed, and acted as kings must

  and only in his darkest hours asked

  had he been saved from death or was he ju
st

  a shadow-king reflected in a glass?

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  The Adventure of the Murdered Philanthropist

  The winter of 18__ was a dark time for London. The city was racked by the murderous rivalry between two groups of gangsta tailors (the famous Creased Coast / Vest Coast feud); the serial rhymer Jack the Rapper terrified all (particularly sucker MCs); and supporters of Irish Home Rule undermined the morale of our army, by following them around giggling at the phrase 'pith helmets'.

  The incident that I remember best from that ill-starred year is the murder of the well-known philanthropist, Sir Benjamin Evolent. Sir Benjamin had been found lying in his den. His clothes were soaked in water, although it had not been raining. He had traces of dirt under his fingernails. His skin was flushed, as if he had been standing next to a fire, yet no fire was lit in the fireplace. The cause of death was given as asphyxiation, yet an autopsy showed no evidence of choking or smothering.