No, he refused to do that. There had to be a way to bring her out of that box, and he intended to find that way.
He paced the floor some more, pondering. She was a spirit, a damned soul. He was a mortal, but he had a soul of his own. If he could just set his body aside for a moment, much as he had his horse and his Sword-
And there it was. As an Incarnation, he could do that, he knew. Gaea had mentioned something about the ability to discorporate. She had said there was a risk, but of course there was an element of risk in most things, sometimes directly proportional to their benefit. Whatever the risk, if this could do the job here, it should be worth it.
He sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall, so that he needed no effort for support. Then he willed himself out of his body.
And he did rise out of it, with no trouble at all. He stood, stepped forward, turned about, and saw his body propped there, unbreathing, lifeless for the moment. But it would reanimate the moment he returned to it, and the returning would be as easy as phasing in to any other body, as he had done so often before. That phasing had to be a variant of this; his physical body made impalpable, while his soul integrated with the other.
He turned again and approached the box. The Princess's gaze passed from his body to his soul, perceiving both-and abruptly her agitation redoubled. "No! No! No!" she cried soundlessly, gesturing frantically.
"But this is the way I can rescue you," he replied. "I will just take your hand and bring you out. You will have your chance at last."
She put up her hands, spread out in a stop-stop gesture. She shook her head so violently that her hair became a whirling halo. Her whole aspect cried denial.
Mym paused, perplexed. "Are you afraid of me again? you weren't a moment ago!"
When he paused, she paused. But still she pushed him back, figuratively, with her hands. She did not want him to come to her.
"Don't you want to be rescued?" Mym asked, knowing she could not hear the words.
But it seemed that she did understand the gist. Her hands spread in a gesture of helplessness. She seemed to want to convey something to him, but lacked the means to do it.
"Then let me enter, so I can hear you," he said reasonably. "Then you can tell me. If there is good reason for me not to rescue you, then I will certainly not force it upon you. I'm only trying to help." He took another step.
Again she reacted with desperate negation. But this time he did not pause; he had to get close enough to explain his position to her, to ease her concern. Perhaps she did have reason not to be rescued; he would consider it carefully. His leading hand passed through the ice without resistance, then his arm to the shoulder. It was working.
She screamed-and as his head passed through, the tail end of that scream suddenly manifested.
He reached out and took her hand, and this time the contact was real. They were two spirits now, and felt to each other exactly the way two solid mortals would, for they were equivalently solid. "Ligeia," he said. "Please, listen to me. I shall not force anything upon you."
She burst into tears.
Mym sat on the bed and took her in his arms. She was warm and very soft; she smelled of spring flowers and new-mown hay, and her tears were wet against his shoulder. It was amazing how physical the spirit realm seemed! He patted her on the back. "There, there," he said. "It's all right, now. I have come to take you away from this."
Suddenly she raised her head and her flowing green eyes met his. "But you can't!" she exclaimed.
"I won't-if you don't want me to," he said reassuringly. "Just explain how you feel, and I will honor it."
"Oh, I tried to stop you!" she wailed. "But you wouldn't listen!"
"I couldn't hear you," he explained. "But now I can. Just tell me what-"
"Oh, you don't understand," she said. "You just don't Understand."
"But I'm trying to," he said reasonably.
"Oh, you poor man!" The tears resumed their flow.
"I have no problem," he protested. "Come, let's step out of here, and then we can talk."
He leaned forward, extending one hand to the ice wall of the box to get his balance. The hand banged.
He looked at it, then tried again. It banged again. The ice was now solid to him.
"But only my spirit is here!" he said, wonderingly. "I just passed through it!"
"That's what I was trying to tell you," Ligeia said. "It's one-way ice. A soul can enter, as I did, as you did but it can't leave. We can't get out. I tried so hard to warn you!"
"Can't get out?" he asked, bemused.
"This is Satan's trap," she explained. "This is a capsule of Hell. No one can escape it, except into the rest of Hell."
"I'm trapped in Hell?" Suddenly Gaea's warning returned to him-Satan would not meet him in an arena of his choosing. Now he would have to meet Satan in the arena of Satan's choosing-Hell itself.
The capsule began to move. It descended through the floor, carrying the two of them with it.
They were headed for Hell proper.
14 - HELL
The capsule stopped at a facility very like an airport, coming to rest beside a large glassy building. An accordion pleated ramp extended out to touch the capsule; there was a click, and the ice dissolved at the point of contact.
"We're here," Ligeia said. "Oh, I wish-" But she didn't finish, and Mym understood why. What use were wishes in Hell?
"You knew this would happen?" Mym asked as they set foot on the walk.
"The moment I saw you," she agreed, her tears in the process of being replaced by fatalism. "Satan told me I was going for a-oh, never mind. I was a fool, yet again."
"A hearing?" Mym asked. "And instead you were bait for a trap."
She nodded grimly and preceded him to the building.
He realized that she could be lying. But what was the point? Whether demoness or genuine damned soul, she had done the job, and he had been caught. He preferred to believe that she was as much a victim of Satan's deception and cruelty as he.
Satan was waiting in the terminal. "Welcome to Hell, Mars!" he said jovially, stepping forward with his hand extended. Mym considered refusing the hand, but concluded that civility was better than antagonism, even in Hell. He shook the hand.
"I can't say I am completely pleased to be here," Mym said. "What is the point of this device?"
"Merely to get your attention, my dear associate," Satan said, smiling. "I am sure that you and I shall come to a perfect understanding."
"I hope so," Mym said. "It has been my impression that one Incarnation does not interfere with the business of another on a casual basis; there could be a consequence."
If Satan reacted to the thinly veiled threat, he gave no sign. "Incarnations should always cooperate," he agreed. "Come, share the hospitality of My domain, and we shall converse."
"If I may go, now-" Ligeia murmured.
"By no means. My dear," Satan replied. "This man is a prince; we shall not foist off on him the company of a woman beneath his station. You shall be his escort while he visits."
"But I really would prefer not to-"
"Your preference, My dear, is a matter of indifference to Me. I suggest that you put a suitably fair face on the matter."
Evidently reluctant, she nevertheless nerved herself and smiled at Mym. "It seems I must," she said. "I assure you, sir, that my reticence does not reflect on you. Are you really a prince?"
"I was, in life," Mym agreed. "That is behind me, now. Are you really a princess?"
"In life," she echoed.
"Excellent," Satan said. "The Old Smoky House has palatable fare; shall we dine there?"
"It seems we shall," Mym said. He was sure that Satan could not hold him in Hell against his will, but not sure how he was to escape it. He was still too new in this office, so did not yet know how to use his Incarnative powers to their full extent. Until he figured out his best course of action, it was best to make no dramatic and possibly pointless gestures.
Li
geia took his arm, and they followed Satan to another chamber. This was set up like a contemporary occidental restaurant, with dim lighting and soft music and elegantly garbed waiters and waitresses. It surprised Mym to see such an establishment in Hell, but obviously it belonged. He was sure that neither demons nor damned souls required food for sustenance, but if it made them more comfortable to honor the amenities of life, that was all right. Of course, most of the souls resident in Hell probably did not actually get to eat; probably Satan tortured them by allowing them only to smell the good food.
"Shall we have steak?" Satan inquired, surveying the menu.
"The flesh of a cow?" Mym asked.
"Urn, true," Satan said. "You are from India. Perhaps a nice fancy curry then?"
While they dined on curry and the other aspects of an excellent Indian meal, Satan made his pitch.
"You and I seem to have been working at cross purposes, Mars," he said. "When actually we may have a common purpose."
"I doubt that," Mym replied. "My sympathy is with the force of good, while you represent the force of evil."
"We each represent forces of expedience," Satan said. "Just as you understand that there must be violence in mortal affairs, so I understand that there must be evil. Sometimes violence abates evil; sometimes evil abates violence. But the two can go together."
Mym didn't like the sound of this, but he confined his reaction. "In what way?"
"It is My duty to harvest the souls where evil preponderates. But too many souls are shades of gray, with the good and evil so hopelessly intertwined that Thanatos himself can barely distinguish them. The situation is too complex; I wish to simplify it by generating more action."
" More violence?"
" Yes. One does not get dirty laundry clean without agitation. Since this aspect falls under your-"
" So you want me to stir up more war," Mym said.
" Yes. Not too much, just enough to enable the souls to settle out more rapidly."
"In other words, to have more people die."
"That is one way to put it. This activity would of course enhance your position."
"And yours," Mym said. "Because you would reap an earlier and greater harvest of souls. Because the stresses of war would generate famine and slaughter that would not otherwise have existed."
"Well-"
"Not interested," Mym said, rising from the table.
Satan hastened to stay with him. "Of course there could be lagniappe. For example, this borderline soul, the Princess Ligeia, could be made available to you in Purgatory."
"No!" Ligeia cried.
Satan glanced darkly at her, and she shrank back, silenced.
Now Mym looked at her. "Satan requires that you remain with us; I do not. I came to help you, not to oppress you. Certainly I would not take you to the Castle of War if you objected."
"Oh, no, Mars," she protested. "It's not that! You are a prince, and there are things that only nobility understands. I am sure you would be compatible, and I would gladly go with you, but-"
"But not at the behest of Satan, as part of a corrupt bargain," Mym concluded.
Mutely, she nodded.
Mym liked her attitude. She was correct: there was a camaraderie among those of royal status that commoners accepted but seldom truly grasped-things like the importance of appearances, the routines of palace existence, and the use of concubines. There was much that he would never have to explain to Ligeia, just as he had not to Rapture, and much that she would not have to advise him of. But more than that, it was fitting that royalty consort with royalty. This was one thing that had kept him from dealing with Lila or any other woman. He had to establish a relationship with one of his own station first; then the rest would fall into place.
Certainly Ligeia was loath to establish any relationship with him by Satan's directive. Only her father had the authority to make such a commitment for her. Or, since her father was in another realm, herself. She would make her own commitment, in her own fashion, or make none at all.
"We can arrange other habitation for you, woman," Satan said. "Your mortal rank carries no significance here."
"Let her be," Mym said gruffly. Satan had just demonstrated the ignorance and insensitivity of the commoner. "Isn't it enough that you hold her here illicitly, and that you used her against her will to bring me here? Why try to force further corruption on her?"
"This is my domain. Mars," Satan said evenly, "The determination of treatment is Mine. This slut is overdue for a touch of flame."
Slut? Mym controlled his blaze of anger. There would be a reckoning for such insults in due course.
Satan raised his hand. Ligeia shrank away from him, terrified. Satan pointed, and flame appeared. The fire followed the line traced by his finger, moving toward the woman. Mym stood abruptly, flinging the chair to the rear, and stepped into the path of flame. The fire touched his cloak and turned back, unable to penetrate. "Let her be," Mym repeated.
"You accept my offer?" Satan asked. "The woman's consent does not matter; she fears the flame and will cooperate without limit to avoid it."
"I reject the offer," Mym said.
"Then you may remain the guest of this establishment indefinitely-and she will bum while you reconsider." Satan gestured, and a sheet of flame appeared. Ligeia whimpered.
Mym put his arm about her, enfolding her within his protective cloak. The flame leaped up about them both, harming neither. "I believe it is time to see that this woman has a fair hearing," he said.
"You may not be touched," Satan said. "But she is Mine. You can not hold her." He lifted one hand and snapped his fingers.
Huge, menacing demons appeared at the entrance to the restaurant. Some had horns and tails and snorted fire; others had huge crab claws in lieu of hands. They closed in on Mym and the girl. "Get a good hold on her," Satan directed them. "His substance is not subject to our power, but hers is. Take hold and pull; he will let her go, lest she be torn apart."
Mym bit his tongue. He was here in spirit only, but he felt the pain and tasted the blood. "Do not touch her," he warned the demons.
"No, I will go with them!" Ligeia protested. "It is another trap for you, Mars! Satan means to-"
Six demons pounced, converging. Two grabbed for her feet, hauling them up and apart. Two more grabbed for her hands, doing the same. One grabbed for her silver hair, pulling cruelly on it. The sixth, slavering, opened its tusked face to take a horrendous bite of her bosom.
That sixth received Mym's fist in its teeth. The tusks broke off and the teeth were jammed back into its throat. The demon fell, choking on ivory. It was evident that the powers of Mars remained with him, even in spirit form.
But the strength of the other demons was hauling the girl away from Mym's other arm that held her about the waist. Mym realized that to deal with the demons, he would have to have both hands free-which meant letting her go. He didn't trust that; she could be whisked away in an instant, the moment he lost physical contact. How would he ever locate her again in this fell region?
But even though he retained his hold on her, it was no good, because the five demons were trying, literally, to pull her apart. The two on her arms were bracing to haul in opposite directions, the one on her hair was yanking so hard that her eyes were being drawn wide open, and the two on her feet were wedging her legs so far apart that they were spread almost a hundred and eighty degrees.
Mym used his free fist to club one of the arm-holding demons on the skull. The skull caved in and the demon fell. Then, moving with the blinding rapidity available to him in the berserker state, he swung his hand across, caught the hair of the hair-pulling demon, and yanked the entire demon up into the air and down against the floor, breaking its hold and body in the process.
But the three remaining demons had not left off. Taking advantage of Mym's own effort, they succeeded in getting Ligeia free of his grasp. He leaped at one of the leg-holding demons, grabbed one of its own legs, lifted it, braced one of his feet again
st the other leg and forced a split that went into an obtuse angle before the demon's leg broke off.
Mym whirled-and saw the two remaining demons dragging Ligeia across the room. Rather, one was dragging, its hands locked under her shoulders and about her bosom, while the other was using its pincers to clasp her thighs apart while it walked into her. In a moment its evident demon lust would-
Ligeia screamed.
Mym had never before heard a sound of that nature. It pierced the atmosphere of Hell, like a power saw cutting through metal, and stunned the demons. They fell away, leaving her collapsed and sobbing.
Mym was unaffected, protected by his office. So was Satan. "Now you see what she is," Satan said. "You don't want to get involved with a creature like that."
"What is she?" Mym demanded.
"A siren, of course. One who destroys with her voice. The secret shame of her royal family; such defects are not supposed to run in royal lines. That's what got her sent here."
Secret shame? Mym, the stutterer, understood very well about that sort of thing.
Satan shrugged. "Well, might as well wrap this up;
she's of no further use to Me." He raised his hand.
Mym leaped across, again intercepting the flame with his cloak. "I don't care what she is; she's a decent soul!"
"Another reason you can't have her," Satan said. "Had she been willing to cooperate, I would have let her be with you. As it is, I shall treat her unkindly." He glanced about, noting the sprawled demons. "But first I had better gag her." He gestured, and a snake appeared, wrapped about Ligeia's head, its body wedging into her mouth so that she could not speak.
Mym realized that there was no way to protect her from Satan's direct mischief. Not here in Hell. Unless he could manage to hide her, somehow.
He took hold of the woman, heaved her up and ran out of the restaurant. Beyond it was a flat, bare plain-no place to hide!
But he was Mars, he reminded himself. He could change his aspect, and the aspect of anyone with him. Simply by touching the Red Sword.
Oops! He had left that with his body.
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