Incarnations of Immortality

by Anthony, Piers

  "Hey, boy, don't dicker with the hag!" a soldier called, spying them. "Take the cart to the mess hall, and the cook will give her its value."

  "Right away!" he replied. He pointed, indicating the way to the mess hall. "We can talk while we go. How did you come to be here. Mother? I thought I'd never see you again!"

  "I can't go to the mess!" she protested. "I'm here to blow up the officers' building!"

  "But they'll kill you!"

  "Never mind that. I'm doing it for you—and your sisters. Where is the officers'—"

  "What's taking so long?" the soldier cried. This time he strode toward them, determined to make an example of some sort.

  "That building!" her son said, indicating it with a flick of his eyes. "But you can't get there!"

  "Yes, I can! Denounce me! Don't let them know you know me!" She started toward the building.

  He hesitated as the soldier approached.

  "Do it!" she hissed, moving faster.

  He realized that this was the best course. "That woman!" he cried loudly. "I think she's a spy! She doesn't speak well!"

  "What?" the soldier asked, confused.

  "That woman—there's something funny about her! Stop her before she does something bad!"

  "You're crazy!" the soldier said. But then, seeing Orlene running, hauling the cart behind her, he decided to follow up despite being told to by a servant brat. He broke into a run—and stumbled, because the boy hadn't quite managed to get out of the way in time.

  That gave her valuable time. She expended what little strength she had racing for the building. Once she got there, it didn't matter who else was with her. The more the better, she thought grimly.

  But as she came to the rise above the officers' building, the soldier caught her. She whirled and scratched his face, making him let go. Then she shoved the wagon and sent it rolling down the slope toward the building. Would it connect? It was supposed to detonate when the end of it was shoved in, and if it missed the building, or struck glancingly—

  No, its aim was true! It was going to strike squarely.

  Then a fist struck her from behind. The soldier was attacking her. She fell as he threw her down. She cringed as his boot swung at her body. It connected, and she felt something snap, and the pain flared. He kicked her again, this time in the face, and she knew her nose was smashed. He was beating her to death!

  The world exploded. She thought she was dead—but it was the wagon detonating. It had destroyed the building!

  Suddenly there were soldiers everywhere. She was hauled roughly up. "An assassin!" one cried, showing a knife. He thrust. She had thought she was beyond pain, but this was different. She tried to scream, but the blood choked it off.

  "Come on out of there," Mars said. "It is over."

  Orlene came out, screaming, before remembering that it wasn't really her. She saw the woman dropping, blood leaking from her chest and stomach. They were still beating her, foolishly, for she was already dead. Some distance away her son stood, watching, silent; he could not protest, for that would only lead to his death too. As it was, he would probably be rewarded, or at least commended, for he had cried the alarm—even if not quite in time.

  Oh, God, what a mess! Vita thought, sickened.

  Jolie agreed. It reminded her of her own death, centuries before. The horror of it never entirely abated.

  "The fools!" Mars said. "They should have kept her alive. Then they could have tortured her for everything she knew. This way, they have nothing."

  "Not even her son," Orlene said, still reeling.

  "Right. I had to prod him to make him denounce her, but he did a decent job of it."

  "You were in him?" she asked.

  "First in the father, then in the officer, then in the boy," he agreed. "Now we go back. Don't want to keep the ladies waiting." He lifted his great red sword, and they sailed up into the sky.

  "Waiting?"

  "For most of an hour. They will chide me." He hardly seemed worried.

  Orlene, numbed, focused on a peripheral detail. "How could I be in that poor woman for several days, and return in only an hour?"

  "You were not in her that long. Only the conscious time. Perhaps half an hour at her hut and fifteen minutes at the base. I jumped you forward; it was pointless to go the whole route."

  "But we can't remain in Purgatory several days!" she protested. "We'll miss the deadline for—I mean, if each day is a year—"

  He smiled. "You had a year of mortal time to play with. We played with some of it. Only an hour of Purgatory time has passed. Fear not—I would not cause you to finish late. I have the same deadline myself, for that important meeting."

  They arrived at the Castle of War. There were the two ladies walking in the garden. "Ho!" Mars called, landing before them.

  Lila glanced at Orlene. "Did you learn the nature of war?"

  Orlene burst into tears.

  Ligeia stepped across immediately and put her arms around Orlene. "It is an ugly business," she said. "But he does not do it for spite. He wanted you to understand."

  "I don't! I don't!" Orlene sobbed. "All that grief and death—what is the point of it?"

  "There is no point," Lila said. "It is the nature of mortal man to fight. The pretext hardly matters. This flare-up was because one side accused the other of violating the truce. They had both been violating it right along, of course."

  "Rights have to be wronged," Mars said. "Or so the mortals claim. In this case, they will keep on righting wrongs by committing new ones, until at last the entire mortal realm is righted and wronged in our version of Ragnarok."

  "But this is preposterous!" Orlene flared. "Why doesn't someone do something about it? The Incarnations, I mean? Surely if all of you got together—"

  "It is difficult for us to unify," Mars said. "Satan, for example, generally has a different agenda."

  Satan doesn't approve this! Jolie thought. He uses it to identify those souls that need earliest correction, but he doesn't like it!

  Why doesn't God, then? Vita thought. "Why doesn't God do something?" Orlene echoed aloud.

  Her father smiled in his grim fashion. "Perhaps you should ask Him, when you encounter Him."

  Startled, she nodded. "Yes, I must see Him. I will ask Him!"

  "I will give you the favor you came for," Mars said. He had read that, too, when he first touched her. "A seed of war. When you have similar commitments from the other Incarnations. I think this is what I would do for any person in your situation."

  "Thank you," Orlene said faintly. She was aware that this Incarnation, like the others, had indeed put her through an ordeal before granting her favor. She had learned much that she rather wished she had not. What was the point in her quest to salvage her baby, when women were losing their whole families because of pointless wars? Yet what could she do except go on?

  "You must stay the night here," Ligeia said, stepping away. She had held Orlene until she seemed stable.

  "We must see Nature next," Orlene replied. "Then Satan and God tomorrow. We cannot rest yet, but thank you."

  "Indeed, I see you cannot," Ligeia said. "But may we then help you to reach your next appointment?"

  Orlene was tempted, but decided against it. "I have so much to assimilate, to settle in my mind! I think I had better walk."

  "Of course. I am sure Gaea will treat you fairly."

  Orlene made her partings and was escorted to the front gate. She hugged each of the understanding women, and then her father, knowing that no matter how the experience had hurt her, he had deemed it necessary. He had been fair with her.

  Chapter 11 - NATURE

  They walked directly to Nature's treehouse, letting their feelings sort out and settle. The horror of what they had just experienced of war was that they knew it was no isolated case. All over the world similar things were happening. Families were being destroyed, and heroic or unheroic sacrifices were being made, for pointless causes. It seemed that men just had a drive to fight, on
any pretext, and that the women were unable to stop them. Why was it so?

  Gaea was home. She came out to meet them as they approached. She was an older woman, heavyset, with a rather unflattering brown dress and green hat. "The Purgatory News alerted me," she said. "You are the ghost my friend Jolie has been working with!"

  I never told her your identity, Jolie thought. I would not have told you either, but Chronos made it known. Now you must tell her. She is your mother.

  "Yes, it is true," Orlene said, nerving herself. "I am visiting each of the major Incarnations, to ask their help in recovering my baby. But—"

  "But that is not lightly given," Gaea said. "Come in. I will listen to your plea, because I know Jolie would not be wasting her time. But I make no guarantee to help you."

  They entered the house and sat in chairs of curving, living wood. The interior contours of the tree formed a central loop that had an odd quality: when she looked through it, she did not see the other side of the chamber, but clouds and sunlight.

  That's her window to the world, Jolie thought. Through it she can see anything in the mortal realm. She can also step through it and be there, if she chooses.

  Gee, that's great! Vita thought. Can I look and see Roque?

  Orlene had other business, however. "I—I think I must tell you something else first," she said. "Because it doesn't seem to be possible to avoid it. I—I am your mortal daughter Orlene, and—"

  Gaea was astonished. "I think you must be mistaken! Your body is no product of mine!" The fleecy clouds in the window were abruptly roiling.

  "And I am dead," Orlene continued grimly. "This is a living host, not my own flesh."

  The window went black.

  Gaea appeared calm. "You understand, I can hardly take such a statement on faith! Where is Jolie?"

  "She is here, with me. She has been all along—ever since I died. I—I acted without warning, so she did not know in time."

  The window showed what might well be the worst and least forewarned storm of the century; the globe seemed to be covered by one big hurricane.

  Then, abruptly, it cleared, and a somewhat eerie calm developed.

  Gaea reached out and took her hand. "Yes, of course. I should have realized. I could have seen it directly, had I thought to. You are my daughter! But—dead?" She seemed stunned.

  "I killed myself." Orlene had intended to explain the circumstances, but was caught by a surge of grief that choked off her voice.

  "But Jolie was watching you!"

  Orlene nodded.

  "One moment." Gaea's outline fuzzed. Then she was a young woman, beautiful, very like Orlene herself in her living state, with honey-blond hair and a most appealing figure. "I can handle this better in my natural form," she said. "My magic is going instead to insulate my emotion. Now you may tell me the story, and I shall relate to it in an objective manner."

  "Oh, you look so much like me—when I lived!" Orlene exclaimed, amazed.

  "I retain my appearance at the time I assumed the Office," Gaea said. "In twenty years I have not aged—but normally I mask it, so as to appear older."

  "Oh, yes, of course! I am glad for you."

  "But why did you do it?"

  "My baby died. I—I had lived my whole life, to be the best mother it was possible to be, and when—"

  "The kind of mother I could not be," Gaea said.

  "Oh, that was not your fault!" Orlene protested. "Chronos showed me—you were deprived of—you did what you had to do!"

  "Perhaps. And because of my responsibility to my Office, I wrote you out of my life. But indeed I missed you, my darling child! I compensated by trying to be the best mother to the natural world that I could be: the Green Mother. But I never looked at you, lest that awareness distort my judgment. I felt that if I performed well in my Office, you would do well in your life. Now I see that I failed."

  "You did not fail! I had a good life, an excellent life! I ended it myself. I—"

  The window turned dark, with a preternatural glimmer. "I remember an unfortunate case involving a baby. Were you—did you marry a ghost?"

  Jolie, knowing what was coming, let no thought escape. There was nothing she could do to alleviate it.

  "Yes. Gawain. I was to bear a child for him, an heir—"

  "And I changed that baby, at his behest!" Gaea cried. "And destroyed my daughter!"

  Orlene gazed at her with renewed grief. "You did not know."

  "The ghost wanted his son to have his heritage," Gaea said. "I was busy, and granted the favor without properly checking, and so bequeathed to that baby the fatal regressive family malady. I was horrified at my error of carelessness but now I am appalled. Look what I did to you!"

  "No! I did it to myself! I was foolish and nearsighted and secretive, and brought grief to all those who had sustained me!" Orlene cried. "I could have let my baby go, and remained alive, and had another baby, and so fulfilled my commitments to both my ghost husband and myself, and not done the awful thing I did to my lover and my adoptive parents and to you! If I had it to do over again, with the perspective I have now, I would do what I know is right." Yet she paused, remembering Vita and the rest of it. "At least, I—I'm not sure. But then I did not know, and the blame is mine, and I curse myself for what I did in my ignorance. I know that it is right that I pay with my pain for—"

  But Gaea was with her now, holding her. "No, no, my child, it cannot be! I gave you up by choice, knowing it was best, but you had no choice, your baby was dead by my hand, you could not adjust so suddenly! It happens to mortals all too frequently, because they lack the perspective, their lives are so brief and intense. I see it all over the world, all the time, and I cannot mitigate it despite all my power, for it is the human way."

  The window had slowly brightened during this dialogue, and now the weather in the mortal realm seemed almost normal. Jolie was relieved; she knew the effect Gaea's emotions had on natural things. That was one of the reasons she had avoided telling Gaea of this matter directly. Gaea had surely suspected, but even so, the shock of confirmation had been formidable, and the climate of the world had been jolted. Now the worst was over.

  "I thank you for your understanding, Mother," Orlene said after a bit, wiping her face. "But I did not come here to speak this way to you. I came for a favor—which now I cannot ask."

  "You must ask it, daughter—but I may not be able to grant it."

  "It—I saw Nox, who has Gaw-Two, and she told me I had to get something from each Incarnation if I hoped to rid him of his malady."

  "That must be true," Gaea agreed. "What is done by an Incarnation cannot necessarily be undone by that Incarnation, for things interact. I did the bad deed, but once it involved Thanatos and Fate—"

  "And Chronos," Orlene said. "He was my lover, as a mortal. My death caused him to seek the Office of Time."

  Gaea gazed at her for an extended moment, disconcerted. "Then this seemingly isolated error has had enormous consequence!" she said. "Perhaps only an entity outside the ordinary framework can perceive the full extent of it—and Nox is that entity. She lacks power in our realm, but her influence can be significant. Never before, in my experience, has she involved herself directly in our affairs. I find this more disturbing than reassuring."

  "Surely she does not mean mischief!"

  "We cannot be sure. Nox keeps her purpose secret and she is the mistress of secrets." Gaea took a breath. "What is the thing you need from me, Orlene?"

  "It is a tear."

  Again Gaea gazed at her. The clouds swirled in the window. "That is not lightly granted."

  "I know. If I had realized—if I had known what you have told me, I would not have come. It is not right to—"

  "You must earn it," Gaea said abruptly. "As anyone else would. That will not be easy."

  "None of this has been easy," Orlene murmured. "How may I earn it?"

  "I have a problem whose solution may have bearing on the continued existence of the human species," she said serious
ly. "But that solution eludes me. I could use an opinion."

  "But I know so little!" Orlene protested. "What could I possibly know about that you have not long since explored?"

  Gaea smiled, not pleasantly. "It is a long shot, I agree. But Nox's involvement in your case suggests that you may have something. I will send you among the mortals on a research mission, and you will observe and form an opinion. For that opinion I will grant your favor."

  Orlene was flustered. "But to provide a thing of such value, for an opinion of such little value—when I am your daughter! Who would believe—"

  "I think you will have to weigh your opinion most seriously, to be assured that its value warrants its payment."

  She's up to something, Jolie thought. I know her. Don't argue, just get on with it.

  "What must I do?" Orlene asked.

  "Leave your mortal host here. For this you must occupy another host, temporarily."

  Don't leave me here! Vita protested. I came to Purgatory with you, I want to go form an opinion with you!

  "Indeed, I want you with her, Vita," Gaea said, startling all three of them. They had for the moment forgotten how the Incarnations could perceive them individually. "You have experience that relates. Jolie does too. I am sending you to a teenage mortal girl who is very likely to get pregnant this day. Here is my concern: overpopulation is perhaps the greatest current problem in the mortal realm. The sheer increasing mass of human flesh is squeezing out all other creatures, rendering a record number of them extinct. It is depleting resources and destroying the environment for all. The competition for resources is generating pressure for war and bringing poverty to the majority of living folk. This is the thing I must deal with if the species is not to suffer grievously. But this problem is rooted in individual attitudes and acts. Responsible reproduction is essential for the perpetuation of the species, but irresponsible reproduction will destroy it. How can I cause all reproduction to be responsible, instead of the consequence of cultural or religious bias, or mere entertainment?"

  The three of them were silent. Orlene was reminded of her lost baby. Vita thought of her brief career as a prostitute. Jolie thought of the children she had never had, because she had died too soon. All of them had indulged in sex with abandon. None of them had succeeded in having families. How could they judge?