Incarnations of Immortality

by Anthony, Piers

  "Absolutely not!" the Rajah stormed. "We have never tolerated foreign military equipment on our terrain!"

  Mym was already signaling and humming to her. "Oh, honored father-in-law-to-be," Rapture said dulcetly, flashing a winning smile at him. "My beloved well understands that. But this is the modern day, and the modern world is not a thing we can safely ignore. It would be better to accept the base and let them hire our people at their ludicrously high wages, and we can have our spies there to report on their secrets. It would represent a simple way to watch them."

  The Rajah paused, considering. It was more than the logic that impressed him, Mym knew; it was the manner that Rapture converted Mym to a brilliant negotiator. Of course most of the words were her own, based on the discussion Mym had had with her beforehand; but because they were nominally from him, he had the credit. Mym's handicap of speech had been a sore trial to the Rajah's pride, and this apparent eloquence had to be deeply satisfying to him. "Still, the base would represent an aggravation to Uncle Vinegar to the North-"

  Mym hummed and gestured. "Which may be no bad thing, Oh great Rajah," Rapture said, sending him a smile to melt ice. "It will help establish Gujarat's independence from the influence of that power."

  "But-"

  Mym hummed again. Rapture leaned forward persuasively. The Rajah was an old, old hand at women, but even his eyes glinted a smidgeon as they took in her décolletage. He recognized the finest vintage when he saw it. "And since Uncle Sugar will be obliged to grant us a loan of one billion dollars for the privilege of establishing that base, our independence will be further enhanced," she said.

  The Rajah shook his head. He sighed. "Do it, then," he grumbled. "A prince must be allowed to make his own mistakes."

  Mym knew that the Rajah would never have agreed, had it not been for Rapture. The old man was not getting soft; he simply realized that the logic was good enough to stand and that if this was the way Mym and Rapture could operate in the West, they would almost certainly get that loan. More than anything else, the Rajah wanted a truly effective leader of his own blood to succeed him, and Mym had just demonstrated how that could be.

  They took a royal carpet to the outdated airport and caught one of the few international flights to the West. Magic was fine for local transport, but science prevailed on the global scale. Rapture was a little awed by the huge airplane with its blazing jet engines, but she liked the plush first-class seats and the petite uniformed stewardesses. "We should have them on the carpets," she murmured.

  "They're better than eunuchs," Mym sang agreement.

  The airplane angled up, up, far into the sky, above the clouds. "But why doesn't the air get thin?" Rapture inquired, worried. "I never was able to take a carpet this high without suffocating, and it got cold, too."

  "Pressured cabin," he advised her.

  "Isn't science wonderful!"

  In due course they reached the fabulous West. Their plane landed at Washington, and they were met by a high level functionary with a limousine. They were set up in a fine hotel, where every room had scientifically heated water, electrical lights, and color television sets. Rapture just shook her head in wonder. She knew what these things were, of course, for her kingdom was not entirely backward, but had never seen them so freely bestowed on the populace.

  They met the President of Uncle-Sugar-land and made their presentation. After he and his Cabinet Ministers had gazed at Rapture, they agreed that this was the diplomatic thing to do; they really needed that base, and it was only neighborly to make the loan. Of course they preferred that the loan be spent on goods produced by the loaning nation . . .

  Rapture agreed, turning on one of her winter-banishing smiles. Of course there were complications to be handled, but the understanding had been reached. Mym placed orders for modem scientific fertilizer, harvesting machinery, and trucks to haul the produce to market, and the industrialists of the West were pleased. The modernization of Gujarat was proceeding.

  Meanwhile, the complex negotiations for Rapture's dowry were nearing completion, and the royal marriage was almost ready to be scheduled, two years after the month in Honeymoon Castle. "Soon you will be mine!" Mym sang.

  "I have always been yours," she replied. "Soon we can conceive the Heir."

  But the ways of fate and politics were treacherous. The world nearly always had war somewhere, ranging from global conflicts that spread across entire continents to tiny brushfires in isolated spots. At the moment everything was quiet except for Gujarat' s smoldering border war with the eastern neighbor, Rajasthan. This expended resources that Mym preferred to use for agriculture, so that he could see to the abolition of starvation in his Kingdom, so he turned his attention to it. He took Rapture to Delhi and met with the high Ministers of Rajasthan.

  The negotiation proved effective, for Mym and Rapture were by now a highly polished team. Indeed, the Ministers seemed hardly to realize that Mym was not the one speaking, so effectively did Rapture translate for him. They arranged to establish a demilitarized zone and to allow unarmed peasants to cross the border freely for purposes of trade and fraternization. Many of the peasants of that region were of the same ethnic tribe, and the war had been a special hardship to them; they would be glad to cooperate. The two Kingdoms exchanged lavish gifts, and peace was declared.

  Thanks to Mym's effort, the last festering spot of war in the world had been extinguished. There was a great celebration, and a special holiday was declared. But in this, ironically, was the seed of Mym's destruction.

  The Rajah of Rajasthan was so impressed with Mym's demeanor and skill as a negotiator that he decided to cement the new order with a marriage alliance. This was to be expected; and, indeed, the Rajah had a serviceable son, and Mym's sister was of nuptial age now and would make a suitable wife, provided the nuisance of a proper dowry could be negotiated.

  But the Rajah did not want just a royal marriage; he wanted Mym himself. "My son, while adequate in all necessary matters, lacks the particular genius you possess," he explained. "I want you in charge when I assume another incarnation." For of course people did not really die in India; they merely cast off worn bodies and reincarnated in new ones, better or worse as their prior lives justified.

  Mym, appalled, could not even stutter. "But Prince Pride is betrothed to me!" Rapture protested.

  "Set it aside," the Rajah declared. "My son will marry you. But my daughter must wed Prince Pride of Gujarat."

  Mym opened his mouth. "We shall consider your generous offer," Rapture said quickly, and urged him out of the hall.

  In private, Mym was shaking. "I can't marry her!" he sang in agitation. "I love you!"

  "And I love you," she returned. "But we can not throw the Rajah's offer in his face. Rajasthan is a good, strong Kingdom; we dare not aggravate it so soon after making peace. We must return to our Kingdoms and consider how to turn this down without bad feeling."

  She was right, of course. They returned to Ahmadabad and presented the situation to the Rajah of Gujarat.

  "An alliance with Rajasthan?" he asked. "Wonderful! It shall be arranged forthwith!"

  "But I am to marry Rapture!" Mym protested in singsong.

  "Do not be concerned. I hereby null the betrothal; she shall be free for Rajasthan's prince."

  "But I want to marry her!" Mym sang.

  The Rajah squinted at him." Since when did your desire have anything to do with it?" he inquired.

  "But when I resisted Rapture, you sent me to the Honeymoon Castle with her!"

  "You shall go again with the Princess of Rajasthan. This is a better alliance than the one with Maharastra."

  Mym realized that it was useless to argue; his father's decision had been made. Almost steaming with chagrin and fury, he retreated.

  They sent a message to Rapture's father. His reaction was opposite to that of Mym's father. "We have negotiated the dowry! It is too late to null the betrothal! It must be consummated!"

  But Mym's father was adamant. The new be
trothal would stand. Mym was abruptly confined to his palace. and Rapture was shipped back to Maharastra.

  The Rajah of Maharastra, furious at this open snub, declared war on Gujarat.

  Mym, alone except for the guards and servants and concubines, strode wrathfully around the palace. His impotent rage floated about him like a foul cloud. He absolutely refused to be cheated of Rapture-but he knew of no way to avoid it. His father might be dying and getting senile, but while he lived, he ruled, and Mym was subject to his will. He would shortly find himself back at Honeymoon Castle, with a new princess, and if he did not come to love her, he would be forced to marry her anyway.

  He faced the great front window overlooking the entrance. Guards marched there, ensuring that no one passed by without authorization. Mym bit his tongue.

  His body made a slight anticipatory shiver as he tasted the blood. He would not be confined here much longer!

  But as his berserker rage developed, something strange happened. Outside, in the night sky above the lighted court, a glowing object approached.

  Mym stared at it. It was a great red sword, angled up at a forty-five degree angle, floating unsupported. The blade was shining steel, and Mym somehow knew that nothing that sharp edge touched could remain whole. This was a magic instrument.

  Still his rage governed him. Refusing to be distracted longer by the manifestation, he got ready to move.

  The red sword swung in toward him. It passed through the glass of the window without breaking it.

  Mym swung to face it, ready to destroy whatever came against him, whether natural or supernatural. Red froth bubbled between his lips.

  The sword came to a halt immediately before him. Its glow increased. It was challenging him!

  "Then damned be you!" he cried, spewing bloody spittle, his stutter absent in his rage. He reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword.

  The glow of the sword magnified. Now it surrounded Mym, lighting the room. But greater than the physical glow was the emotional glow, for suddenly his awareness of himself was far more intense than he had ever before experienced. He felt strong, invulnerable, omnipotent. Strange power surged through him. His berserker rage was suspended by the wonder of this new power. What was happening?

  There was the suggestion of a whisper of a sound. Mym turned, and saw a thin mist forming. It coalesced into a cloud, from which the figure of a mature woman shaped.

  Her eyes were as blue as the summer sky, and her hair was vaguely green.

  "Gaea!" he exclaimed, recognizing the manner of the Incarnation of Nature.

  "You have now assumed the office of the Incarnation of War, known as Mars, Aries, or whatever you prefer, as Chronos advised," she said, coming clear. "I thought it best to be on hand, in case you had a question."

  Now he remembered. Chronos, living backwards, had indeed said it; Mym had somehow let his awareness slide.

  "B-b-but-" he started, then shifted to singsong: "But I don't want to be the Incarnation of War! I only want to marry Rapture!"

  "Of course," she agreed noncommittally. "But you stand in need of information. You don't have to accept the office; if you simply renounce the Red Sword and turn it loose, it will seek the second most qualified applicant, and you will remain mortal. I am here to help you decide."

  Mym remembered how she had brought the manna for his starving people. Gaea had extraordinary power. "I am grateful for that."

  "You see, the Incarnation of War exists only as long as war exists," she said. "Wherever war is being fought, there Mars goes to supervise. There must be some order in the world, after all. On those rare occasions when there is no war. Mars dissipates, and his soul travels to Heaven or Hell, as the case may be, according to its balance of good or evil. Recently war ended, and so your predecessor vacated the office and the Red Sword was retired. But now war is resuming, so the need for the office has been restored, and the Sword is seeking the appropriate officer. It can not be just any person; only one who is proficient in weapons and martial arts and in the strategies and management of war is eligible. In addition, he must desire the position; that is, he must be the most warlike of all those eligible in the region of the resumed war."

  "But I do not desire-"

  "The desire for war is defined by the emotion of the candidate," she explained. "The one with the most pervasive anger. That anger attracts the Red Sword as a magnet attracts iron. The Sword can not be in error about that."

  No, it had not been in error. There was no rage like that of a berserker, even a controlled one like Mym. So the Red Sword of War had sought him out.

  "But you say I can decline," he sang. "So I can remain mortal and marry Rapture."

  "You may decline," she agreed. "But if you remain mortal, I doubt that you will wed Rapture. You will be subject to the conditions of your situation and will be required to marry the Princess of Rajasthan unless you suicide first. On the other hand, if you accept the office, you will wield considerable power. You will be in a position to take Rapture, if that is your desire."

  "But she will remain mortal!"

  "True. But she may join you, and her life will not be shortened. She would have to leave her kingdom, but if she chose to join you-"

  "She would choose to," he sang with certainty.

  "Then it seems you have nothing to lose by accepting the proffered office," she said. "However, I am obliged to warn you of one significant contraindication."

  "The catch," he sang.

  "The catch," she agreed. "It seems that Satan has his evil hand in this. He had a grudge against the former Mars and wanted him to be replaced. Thus Satan worked assiduously in what was, for him, an unusual cause-that of peace on Earth. He succeeded, for a moment-and that retired Mars. Now Satan surely believes that the new Incarnation will be easier to manage, because of his lack of experience."

  "I have no truck with Satan!" Mym sang. "I hardly believe in him! I am Hindu!"

  "Nominally," she said. "As a prince, you are naturally skeptical about religion."

  To that he had to agree. In his private heart, he subscribed to no religion. Thus it seemed that his rage had been the determining factor, not his belief in any particular supernatural framework.

  "Now, with that warning, you may decide," Gaea said. "If you fear the mischief of Satan-"

  "Fornicate Satan!" he sang. "If I can have Rapture by assuming the office of the Incarnation of War, then I shall assume it!"

  "It had occurred to me that you might feel that way," Gaea said. "Welcome, then, to our number, Mars."

  And he knew that his commitment had been made.

  6 - MARS

  "First you must know how to travel," Gaea said. "You have a fine horse named Werre, but he's mainly for formal occasions. Or you can discorporate, but that has risks. For now, the key is the Sword. There are several modes of its operation, but all are governed by your will. If you choose to appear at the most intense war currently being waged, you simply give it its head and it will take you there, instantly. The Sword likes violence. If you want to go home-that is, to your castle in Purgatory-you give it the mental command home."

  "Purgatory?" Mym sang.

  "A Western concept, a kind of crude, structured nirvana. It may be easiest to think of it as an island in the sky, a place in the clouds, invisible to mortal folk, but real to immortals. The place where those souls who have not made the decision whether to go to Heaven or to Hell pause. A place of indecision, or of decision, however you see it."

  "Reincarnation is more expedient," Mym sang.

  "We Occidentals are not as sophisticated about the larger scale as are you Orientals," Gaea murmured, smiling. But he was sure that this benign green woman was as sophisticated as any living person.

  "I think first I want to rescue Rapture," he sang.

  "For that, you must use the directed travel," Gaea said. "Simply point the Sword in the direction you wish to go and will it to proceed. A little experimentation will give you the feel of it."

 
; Mym looked at the sword he still held, whose glow had diminished to a dull red, as if it were slightly red-hot. He was acquiring more respect for it. But first I must escape the palace," he sang.

  "The Sword will take you through the walls," Gaea said.

  "That's what I'm afraid of!"

  She smiled. "An Incarnation is only as solid as he chooses to be. You will pass through without disruption."

  Cautiously he pointed the Sword at an interior wall, so that he would not find himself abruptly in mid-air outside, two stories up. Forward.' he thought. Slowly.

  The sword moved-and he moved with it. There was no sensation; he remained standing, but traveling, as if on a moving carpet or one of those scientific airplanes. Surprised, he lifted the Sword slightly, so that it angled up-and found himself sliding upward at that angle, his feet leaving the floor. Hastily he angled it level again and sailed through the wall.

  There was a moment of darkness; then he emerged from the other side of the stone. Now he was floating slowly across the next chamber, half a meter above the floor.

  He realized that he didn't have to worry about being outside at a height; the Sword made him independent of support. He could fly, literally, without effort or discomfort.

  Gaea appeared in the new chamber, in the form of coalescing mist. "Shall we proceed to Maharastra?" the mist inquired.

  Mym was getting to like the Sword very well. "But suppose I drop it?" he asked, still not quite certain about venturing high and far.

  "Try it here," she suggested.

  He let go of the Sword. It remained floating in the air and so did he. "But I'm not touching it!" he sang.

  "The Red Sword is yours until you renounce it," Gaea said. "This is not a matter of physical contact. You could give it to another person, even a mortal, and it would still be attuned to you. You can sheathe it and orient it mentally, and it will not change physically, but will act as you will. It is a symbol as much as an object, and its powers are great."

  Evidently so. Mym took hold of the sword and sheathed it in the great, ornate scabbard that he abruptly discovered at his hip-and remained floating. "Then let's go!" he sang.