VI

During the time that followed the death of Brahma, there came upon the Celestial City a period of turmoil. Several among the gods were even expelled from Heaven. It was a time when just about everyone feared being considered an Accelerationist; and, as fate would have it, at some point or other during this period, just about everyone was considered an Accelerationist. Though Great-Souled Sam was dead, his spirit was said to live on, mocking. Then, in the days of disaffection and intrigue that led up to the Great Battle, it was rumored that more than his spirit might have lived on...

It was early morning. Near the pool of the purple lotus, in the Garden of Joys, at the foot of the statue of the blue goddess with the veena, Brahma was located.

The girl who found him first thought him to be resting, for his eyes were still open. After a moment, though, she realized that he was not breathing; and his face, so contorted, underwent no changes of expression.

She trembled as she awaited the ending of the universe. God being dead, she understood that this normally followed. But after a time, she decided that the internal cohesiveness of things might serve to hold the universe together for another hour or so; and such being the case, she thought it advisable to bring the matter of the imminent Yuga to the attention of someone better suited to cope with it.

She told Brahma's First Concubine, who went to see for herself, agreed that her Lord was indeed dead, addressed the statue of the blue goddess, who immediately began playing upon the veena, and then sent messages to Vishnu and Shiva to come at once to the Pavilion.

They did, bringing Lord Ganesha with them.

These viewed the remains, agreed as to their condition and confined both women to their quarters against execution.

Then they conferred.

"We need another creator in a hurry," said Vishnu. "The floor is open for nominations."

"I nominate Ganesha," said Shiva.

"I decline," said Ganesha.

"Why?"

"I do not like being on the scene. I would much rather remain off somewhere behind it."

"Then let us consider some alternative choices, quickly."

"Might it not be wise," asked Vishnu, "to ascertain the cause of this occurrence before proceeding?"

"No," said Ganesha. "The first order of business must be the selection of his successor. Even the postmortem must wait on that. Heaven must never be without a Brahma."

"What say you to one of the Lokapalas?"

"Perhaps."

"Yama?"

"No. He is too serious, too conscientious—a technician, not an administrator. Also, I think he's emotionally unstable."

"Kubera?"

"Too smart. I'm afraid of Kubera."

"Indra?"

"Too headstrong."

"Agni, then?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Perhaps Krishna?"

"Too frivolous, never sober."

"Who would you suggest?"

"What is our greatest problem at the present time?"

"I do not feel that we have any great problems at the present time," said Vishnu.

"Then it might be wise to have one just about now," said Ganesha. "I feel that our greatest problem is Accelerationism. Sam came back, stirring, making clear waters muddy."

"Yes," said Shiva.

"Accelerationism? Why kick a dead dog?"

"Ah, but it is not dead. Not down among men. And it will also serve to direct attention away from the succession within Trimurti and regain at least surface solidarity here in the City. Unless, of course, you'd rather undertake a campaign against Nirriti and his zombies?"

"No thanks."

"Not now."

"Mmm . . . yes, then Accelerationism is our greatest problem at the present time."

"All right. Accelerationism is our greatest problem."

"Who hates it more than anyone else?"

"Yourself?"

"Nonsense. Except me."

"Tell us, Ganesha."

"Kali."

"I doubt this."

"I do not. The twin beasts, Buddhism and Accelerationism, draw a single chariot. The Buddha scorned her. She is a woman. She will carry on the campaign."

"It will mean renouncing her womanhood."

"Speak to me not of trifles."

"All right—Kali."

"But what of Yama?"

"What of him? Leave Yama to me."

"I'd rather."

"I also."

"Very well. Go you then forth across the world, within the thunder chariot and upon the back of the great bird Garuda. Find Yama and Kali. Return them to Heaven. I will wait upon your return and consider the matter of Brahma's passing."

"So be it."

"Agreed."

"Good morning."

"Good merchant Vama, wait! I would have words with thee."

"Yea, Kabada. What wouldst thou?"

"It is difficult to find the words I would have with thee. But they do concern a certain state of affairs which hath aroused considerable sentiment on the parts of thy various adjacent neighbors."

"Oh? Speak on then."

"Concerning the atmosphere . . ."

"The atmosphere?"

"The winds and breezes, perhaps . . ."

"Winds? Breezes?"

"And the things they bear."

"Things? Such as. . . ?"

"Odors, good Vama."

"Odors? What odors?"

"Odors of—well, odors of—of fecal matter."

"Of . . . ? Oh! Yes. True. True enough. There may be a few such. I had forgotten, having grown used to them."

"Might I inquire as to their cause?"

"They are caused by the product of defecation, Kabada."

"Of this I am aware. I meant to make inquiry as to why they are present, rather than their source and nature."

"They are present because of the buckets in my back room, which are filled with such —items."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I have been saving the products of my family in this manner. I have been doing this for the past eight days."

"Against what use, worthy Vama?"

"Hast thou not heard of a thing, a wondrous thing, a thing into which these items are discharged—into water—and then a lever pulled, and then, with a mighty rushing sound, these things are borne away, far beneath the ground?"

"I have heard some talk of such .. ."

"Oh, 'tis true, 'tis true. There is such a thing. It has but recently been invented by one whom I should not name, and it involves great pipes and a seat without a bottom, or a top, really. It is the most wonderful discovery of the age—and I will have me one within a matter of moons!"

"Thou? Such a thing?"

"Yea. It shall be installed in the small room I have built onto the back of my home. I may even give a dinner that night and permit all my neighbors to take use of it."

"This is indeed wondrous—and thou generous."

"I feel so."

"But—of the—smells. . . ?"

"They are caused by the buckets of items, which I am preserving against the installation of this thing."

"Why?"

"I should rather have it on my karmic record that this thing was used for these items beginning with eight days ago, rather than several moons from now. It will show my rapid advancement in life."

"Ah! I see now the wisdom of thy ways, Vama. I did not wish it to appear that we stood in the way of any man who seeks to better himself. Forgive me if I gave this impression."

"Thou art forgiven."

"Thy neighbors do love thee, smells and all. When thou art advanced to a higher state, please remember this."

"Of course."

"Such progress must be expensive."

"Quite."

"Worthy Vama, we shall take delight in the atmosphere, with all its pungent portents."

"This is only my second lifetime, good Kabada, but already I feel that destiny touches upon me."

"And I, also. The winds of Time do shift, and they bear to mankind many wondrous things. The gods keep thee."

"Thou also. But forget not the blessing of the Enlightened One, whom my second cousin Vasu sheltered in his purple grove."

"How could I? Mahasamatman was a god also. Some say Vishnu."

"They lie. He was the Buddha."

"Add then his blessings."

"Very good. Good day, Kabada."

"Good day, worthy one."

Yama and Kali entered into Heaven. They descended upon the Celestial City on the back of the bird called Garuda. In the company of Vishnu, they entered into the City. They did not pause for any purpose, but went directly to the Pavilion of Brahma. In the Garden of Joys they met with Shiva and with Ganesha.

"Hear me, Death and Destruction," said Ganesha, "Brahma is dead and only we five now know of it."

"How did this thing come to pass?" asked Yama.

"It appears that he was poisoned."

"Has there been an autopsy?"

"No."

"Then I shall perform one."

"Good. But now there is another matter, of even graver consideration."

"Name it."

"His successor."

"Yes. Heaven cannot be without a Brahma."

"Exactly. . . . Kali, tell me, would you consider being Brahma, of the golden saddle and silver spurs?"

"I don't know . . ."

"Then begin thinking about it, and quickly. You are considered the best choice."

"What of Lord Agni?"

"Not so high on the list. It does not appear he is so anti-Accelerationist as Madam Kali."

"I see."

"And I."

"Therefore, he is a good god, but not a great one."

"Yes. Who might have killed Brahma?"

"I have no idea. Have you?"

"Not yet."

"But you will find him, Lord Yama?"

"Aye, with my Aspect upon me."

"You two may wish to confer."

"We do."

"Then will we leave you now. An hour hence we shall dine together in the Pavilion."

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Till then. . ."

"Till then."

"Till then."

"Lady?"

"Yes?"

"With a changing of bodies one is automatically divorced, unless a continuation contract be signed."

"Yes."

"Brahma must needs be a man."

"Yes."

"Refuse it."

"My Lord . . ."

"You hesitate?"

"It is all so sudden, Yama . . ."

"You pause even to consider it?"

"I must."

"Kali, you distress me."

"Such was not my intention."

"And I bid you refuse the offer."

"I am a goddess in my own right, as well as your wife, Lord Yama."

"What does that mean?"

"I make my own decisions."

"If you accept. Kali, then all things are come to an end between us."

"That is apparent."

"What, in the names of the Rishis, is Accelerationism but a storm over an ant hill? Why are they suddenly so against it?"

"It must be that they feel a need to be against something."

"Why choose you to head it?"

"I do not know."

"Unless there is some special reason for you to be anti-Accelerationist, my dear?"

"I do not know."

"I am but young, as gods go, but I have heard it said that in the early days of the world the hero with whom you rode—Kalkin — was the same as the one called Sam. If you had reason to hate your ancient Lord, and Sam was truly he, then could I see their enlisting you against this thing he had started. Might this be true?"

"It might."

"Then if you love me—and you are truly my lady—then let another be Brahma."

"Yama . . ."

"They will want a decision within the hour."

"And I will have one for them."

"What will it be?"

"I am sorry, Yama . . ."

Yama departed the Garden of Joys before dinnertime. Though it seemed an unhealthy breach of etiquette, Yama, among all the gods, was deemed hardest to discipline and was aware of this fact, as well as the reasons that lay behind it. So he left the Garden of Joys and journeyed to the place where Heaven stops.

He dwelled that day and that night at Worldsend, nor was he disturbed by any callers. He spent time in each of the five rooms in the Pavilion of Silence. His thoughts being his own, you leave them alone, too. In the morning, he returned to the Celestial City.

There, he learned of the death of Shiva.

His trident had burnt another hole in the dome, but his head had been smashed in by means of a blunt instrument, as yet unlocated.

Yama went to his friend Kubera. "Ganesha, Vishnu and the new Brahma have already approached Agni, to fill the place of the Destroyer," said Kubera. "I believe he will accept."

"Excellent, for Agni," said Yama. "Who killed God?"

"I have thought much upon it," said Kubera, "and I believe that in the case of Brahma it must have been someone with whom he was sufficiently familiar to have taken refreshment, and in the case of Shiva, someone well enough known to have surprised him. More than this deponent knoweth not."

"The same person?"

"I'd bet money."

"Could it be part of an Accelerationist plot?"

"I find this difficult to believe. Those who are sympathetic to Accelerationism have no real organization. Accelerationism is returned too recently to Heaven for it to amount to more than that. A cabal, perhaps. Most likely a single individual did it, independent of backers."

"What other reasons might be present?"

"A vendetta. Or some minor deity out to become a major one. Why does anybody kill anybody?"

"Can you think of anyone in particular?"

"The biggest problem, Yama, will be eliminating suspects, not finding them. Has the investigation been given into your hands?"

"I am no longer certain. I think so. But I will find who did it, whatever his station, and kill him."

"Why?"

"I have need of something to do, someone to. . ."

"Kill?"

"Yes."

"I am sorry, my friend."

"I, also. It is my privilege and my intention, however."

"I wish you had not spoken with me at all, concerning this matter. It is obviously quite confidential."

"I won't tell anyone if you won't."

"I assure you I shan't"

"And you know I'll take care of the karmic trackings, against the psych-probe."

"That is why I mentioned it, and spoke of Shiva also. Let it be so."

"Good day, my friend."

"Good day, Yama."

Yama departed the Pavilion of the Lokapalas. After a time, the goddess Ratri entered there.

"Hail, Kubera."

"Hail, Ratri."

"Why sit you there alone?"

"Because I have none to make me unalone. Why come you here — alone?"

"Because I had none to talk with, till now."

"Seek you counsel, or conversation?"

"Both."

"Sit down."

"Thank you. I am afraid."

"Are you hungry, too?"

"No."

"Have a piece of fruit and a cup of soma."

"All right."

"What is it that you fear, and how may I help you?"

"I saw Lord Yama leaving here . . ."

"Yes."

"I realized when I looked upon his face that there is a god of Death, and that there is a power which even gods might fear . . ."

"Yama is strong, and he is my friend. Death is mighty, and is no one's friend. The two exist together though, and it is strange. Agni is strong also, and is Fire. He is my friend. Krishna could be strong if he wished. But he never wishes so. He wears out bodies at a fantastic rate. He drinks soma and makes music and women. He hates the past and the future. He is my friend. I am least among the Lokapalas, and I am not strong. Whatever body I wear goes quickly to fat. I am more father than brother to my three friends. Of them, I can appreciate the drunkenness and the music and the loving and the fire, for these are things of life, and so can I love my friends as men or as gods. But the other Yama makes me to be afraid, also, Ratri. For when he takes upon him his Aspect he is a vacuum, which sets this poor fat a-tremble. Then he is no one's friend. So do not feel awkward if you fear my friend. You know that when a god is troubled, then his Aspect rushes to comfort him, oh goddess of the Night, as even now it becomes twilight within this bower, though the day is far from ended. Know that you passed a troubled Yama."

"He returned fairly suddenly."

"Yes."

"May I ask why?"

"I am afraid the matter is confidential."

"Does it concern Brahma?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I believe Brahma is dead. I fear that Yama was summoned to find his slayer. I fear he will find me, though I call down a century of night upon Heaven. He will find me, and I cannot face the vacuum."

"What do you know regarding this alleged slaying?"

"I believe I was either the last to see Brahma alive or the first to see him dead, depending upon what his twitching signified."

"What were the circumstances?"

"I had gone to his Pavilion early yesterday morning, to intercede with him that he might lift his wrath and permit the return of Lady Parvati. I was told to seek him in the Garden of His Joys, and I walked there—"

"Told? Who told you?"

"One of his women. I don't know her name."

"Go ahead. What happened then?"

"I found him at the foot of the blue statue which plays upon the veena. He was twitching. There was no breathing. Then he stopped twitching even and was still. There was no heartbeat and no pulse that I could feel. So I called back a portion of the night to cloak me in shadows and departed the Garden."

"Why did you not summon assistance? It still might not have been too late."

"Because I wanted him to die, of course. I hated him for what he did to Sam, and for the driving away of Parvati and Varuna, and for what he did to the Archivist, Tak, and for—"

"Enough. One could go on all day thus. Did you depart directly from the Garden, or did you stop back at the Pavilion?"

"I passed the Pavilion and saw the same girl. I made myself visible to her and told her that I could not locate Brahma and would return later. . . . He is dead, isn't he? What shall I do now?"

"Have another piece of fruit and some more soma. Yes, he's dead."

"Will Yama come after me?"

"Of course. He will go after everyone who was seen anywhere near there. It was doubtless a reasonably quick-acting poison, and you were there right near the time of death. So naturally he will go after you—and he will have you psych-probed, along with all the others. This will reveal that you did not do it. So I suggest you simply await being called into custody. Do not tell anyone else this story."

"What shall I tell Yama?"

"If he reaches you before I reach him, tell him everything, including the fact that you have spoken with me. This is because I am not even supposed to know that this thing has occurred. The passing of one among Trimurti is always kept secret for as long as possible, even at the expense of lives."

"But the Lords of Karma would read it from your memory when you stood to a judgment."

"Just so they do not read it from your memory today. The knowledge of Brahma's passing will be kept to as small a group as possible. Since Yama may be conducting the official investigation and is also the designer of the psych-probe, I don't think any yellow wheel people will be dragged in to run the machines. Still, I must confirm this fact with Yama—or suggest it to him — immediately."

"Before you go . . ."

"Yes?"

"You said that only a few may know of this thing, even if lives must be spent. Does this mean that I. . . ?"

"No. You will live, because I will protect you."

"Why will you?"

"Because you are my friend."

Yama operated the machine that probes the mind. He probed thirty-seven subjects, all of whom could have had access to Brahma in his Garden during the entire day prior to the deicide. Of these, eleven were gods or goddesses, including Ratri, Sarasvati, Vayu, Mara, Lakshmi, Murugan, Agni and Krishna.

Of these thirty-seven, gods and men, none was found to be guilty.

Kubera the artificer stood at Yama's side, and he regarded the psych-tapes.

"What now, Yama?"

"I do not know."

"Mayhap the killer was invisible."

"Perhaps."

"But you think not?"

"I think not."

"Supposing everybody in the City were made to stand the probe?"

"There are many arrivals and departures every day, via many entrances and exits."

"Have you given thought to the possibility of its having been one of the Rakasha? They are again abroad in the world, as well you know—and they hate us."

"The Rakasha do not poison their victims. Also, I do not believe one could enter the Garden, because of the demon-repelling incense."

"What now?"

"I shall return to my laboratory, and think."

"May I accompany you to the Vasty Hall of Death?"

"If you wish."

Kubera returned with Yama; and while Yama thought, Kubera perused his master-tapes index, which he had set up when experimenting with the first probe-machines. They were discarded, they were incomplete, of course; only the Lords of Karma kept up to date life-record tapes on everyone in the Celestial City. Kubera knew this, of course.

The printing press was rediscovered in a place called Keenset, by the river Vedra. Experiments with sophisticated plumbing were also going on in this place. Two very fine Temple artists also appeared on the scene, and an old glasscutter made a pair of bifocals and began grinding out more. Therefore, indications were that one of the city-states was undergoing a renaissance.

Brahma decided it was time to move against Accelerationism.

A war party was raised in Heaven, and the Temples of cities adjacent to Keenset sent out the call to the faithful to be ready for a holy war.

Shiva the Destroyer bore only a token trident, for his real faith lay with the wand of fire that he wore at his side.

Brahma, of the golden saddle and silver spurs, bore a sword, a wheel and a bow.

The new Rudra bore the bow and quiver of the old.

Lord Mara wore a shimmering cloak, which changed colors constantly, and none could tell what manner of weapons he bore or what sort of chariot he mounted. For to stare upon him overlong was to feel one's head swim, and things changed their shapes about him, save for his horses, whose mouths constantly dripped blood, which smoked where it fell.

Then, from among the demigods were fifty chosen, still struggling to discipline erratic Attributes, eager to strengthen Aspect and gain merit through battle.

Krishna declined battle and went off to play his pipes in Kaniburrha.

He found him lying upon a grassy hillside beyond the City, staring up into the star-filled sky.

"Good evening."

He turned his head and nodded.

"How goes it with you, good Kubera?"

"Well enough, Lord Kalkin. And yourself?"

"Quite well. Have you a cigarette upon your most impressive person?"

"I am never far from them."

"Thank you."

"Light?"

"Yes."

"Was that a jackbird that circled the Buddha before Madam Kali tore his guts out?"

"Let us speak of pleasanter matters."

"You killed a weak Brahma and a mighty one has replaced him."

"Oh?"

"You killed a strong Shiva, but an equal strength replaces his."

"Life is full of changes."

"What did you hope to gain? Revenge?"

"Revenge is part of the illusion of self. How can a man kill that which neither lives nor dies truly, but which exists only as a reflection of the Absolute?"

"You did a pretty good job of it, though, even if, as you say, it was only a rearrangement."

"Thank you."

"But why did you do it? . . . And I'd prefer an answer to a tract."

"I intended to wipe out the entire hierarchy of Heaven. It would seem now, though, that this must go the way of all good intentions."

"Tell me why you did it."

"If you'll tell me how you found me out. . ."

"Fair enough. Tell me, why?"

"I decided that mankind could live better without gods. If I disposed of them all, people could start having can openers and cans to open again, and things like that, without fearing the wrath of Heaven. We've stepped on these poor fools enough. I wanted to give them a chance to be free, to build what they wanted."

"But they live, and they live and they live."

"Sometimes, and sometimes not. So do the gods."

"You were about the last Accelerationist left in the world, Sam. No one would have thought you were also the deadliest."

"How did you find me out?"

"It occurred to me that Sam would be the number one suspect, except for the fact that he was dead."

"I had assumed that to be sufficient defense against detection."

"So I asked myself if there was any means by which Sam could have escaped death. I could think of none, other than a change of bodies. Who, I then asked myself, took upon him a new body the day Sam died? There was only Lord Murugan. This did not seem logical, however, because he did it after Sam's death, not before it. I dismissed that part for a moment. You—Murugan—having been among the thirty-seven suspects, were probed and passed upon as innocent by Lord Yama. It seemed I had surely taken to a false trail then — until I thought of a very simple way to test the notion. Yama can beat the psych-probe himself, so why could not someone else be able to do it? I recalled at this point that Kalkin's Attribute had involved the control of lightnings and electromagnetic phenomena. He could have sabotaged the machine with his mind so that it saw there no evil. The way of testing it, therefore, was not to consider what the machine had read, but rather how it had read it. Like the prints of the palms and the fingers of the hands, no two minds register the same patterns; But from body to body one does retain a similar mind-matrix, despite the fact that a different brain's involved. Regardless of the thoughts passing through the mind, the thought patterns record themselves unique to the person. I compared yours with a record of Murugan's which I found in Yama's laboratory. They were not the same. I do not know how you accomplished the body-change, but I knew you for what you were."

"Very clever, Kubera. Who else is familiar with this strange reasoning?"

"No one, yet. Yama, soon though, I fear. He always solves problems."

"Why do you place your life in jeopardy by seeking me thus?"

"One does not generally achieve your age, my age, without being somewhat reasonable. I knew you would at least listen to me before striking. I know, too, that since what I have to say is good no harm will come to me."

"What do you propose?"

"I am sufficiently sympathetic with what you have done to assist you in escaping from Heaven."

"Thank you, no."

"You would like to win this contest, would you not?"

"Yes, and I'll do it in my own way."

"How?"

"I will return to the City now and destroy as many of them as I can before they stop me. If enough of the great ones fall, the others will not be able to hold this place together."

"And if you fall? What then of the world, and of the cause you have championed? Will you be able to rise again to defend it?"

"I do not know."

"How did you manage the comeback?"

"One time was I possessed of a demon. He rather took a liking to me, and he told me at a time when we were in peril that he had 'strengthened my flames,' so that I could exist independent of my body. I had forgotten this until I saw my mangled corpse lying beneath me upon the streets of Heaven. I knew of only one place where I might get me another body, that being the Pavilion of the Gods of Karma. Murugan was there demanding service. As you say, my power is electrodirection. I learned there that it works without a brain to back it, as the circuits were momentarily interrupted and I went into Murugan's new body and Murugan went to hell."

"The fact that you tell me all of this seems to indicate that you intend to send me after him."

"I am sorry, good Kubera, for I like you. If you will give me your word that you will forget what you have learned and that you will wait for some other to discover it, then I will permit you to live and depart."

"Risky."

"I know that you have never given your word and broken it, though you are as old as the hills of Heaven."

"Who is the first god you would slay?"

"Lord Yama, of course, for he must be closest upon my heels."

"Then must you kill me, Sam, for he is a brother Lokapala and my friend."

"I am sure we will both regret it if I have to kill you."

"Then has your acquaintanceship with the Rakasha perhaps given you some of their taste for a wager?"

"Of what sort?"

"You win, and you have my word not to speak of this. I win, and you flee with me upon the back of Garuda."

"And of the contest?"

"Irish stand-down."

"With you, fat Kubera? And me in my magnificent new body?"

"Yes."

"Then you may strike first."

On a dark hill on the far side of Heaven, Sam and Kubera stood facing one another.

Kubera drew back his right fist and sent it forward against Sam's jaw.

Sam fell, lay still for a moment, rose slowly to his feet.

Rubbing his jaw, he returned to the spot where he had stood.

"You are stronger than you seem, Kubera," he said, and struck forward.

Kubera lay upon the ground, sucking in air.

He tried to rise, thought better of it, moaned once, then struggled back to his feet.

"I didn't think you'd get up," said Sam.

Kubera moved to face him, a dark, moist line descending his chin.

As he took his ground, Sam flinched.

Kubera waited, still breathing deeply.

Run down the gray night wall. Flee! Beneath a rock. Hide! The fury turns thy bowels to water. The friction of this crossing grates upon thy spine. . . .

"Strike!" said Sam, and Kubera smiled and hit him.

He lay there quivering, and the voices of the night, compounded of insect sounds and the wind and the sighing of grasses came to him.

Tremble, like the last loosening leaf of the year. There is a lump of ice in thy chest. There are no words within thy brain, only the colors of panic move there. . . .

Sam shook his head and rose to his knees.

Fall again, curl thyself into a ball and weep. For this is how man began, and this is how he ends. The universe is a black ball, rolling. It crusheth what it toucheth. It rolls to thee. Flee! Thou might a moment gain, an hour perhaps, before it comes upon thee. . . .

He raised his hands to his face, lowered them, glared up at Kubera, stood.

"You built the room called Fear," he said, "at the Pavilion of Silence. I remember now your power, old god. It is not sufficient."

An invisible horse races through pastures of thy mind. Thou knowest him by his hoof marks, each of which is a wound. . . .

Sam took his position, clenched his fist.

The sky creaks above thee. The ground may open beneath thy feet. And what is that tall, shadowlike thing that comes to stand at thy back?

Sam's fist shook, but he drove it forward.

Kubera rocked back upon his heels and his head snapped to the side, but he did not lose his footing.

Sam stood there trembling as Kubera drew back his right arm for the final blow.

"Old god, you cheat," he said.

Kubera smiled through his blood, and his fist came forward like a black ball.

Yama was talking to Ratri when the cry of awakened Garuda broke the night.

"This thing has never happened before," he said.

Slowly, the heavens began to open.

"Perhaps Lord Vishnu goes forth. . ."

"He has never done so at night. And when I spoke with him a short time ago he said nothing of this."

"Then some other god would dare his mount."

"No! To the pens, Lady! Quickly! I may have need of thy powers."

He dragged her forward with him, toward the steel aerie of the Bird.

Garuda was awake and untethered, but the hood was still upon him. Kubera, who had carried Sam to the pens, strapped him into the saddle seat, still unconscious.

He climbed down to the floor and activated a final control. The top of the cage rolled away. Then he took up the long metal pinion hook and moved back to the rope ladder. The bird smell was overpowering. Garuda shifted restlessly and ruffled feathers twice the size of a man.

Slowly, he climbed. As he was strapping himself into place, Yama and Ratri approached the cage.

"Kubera! What madness is this?" cried Yama. "You have never been fond of the heights!"

"Urgent business, Yama," he replied, "and it would take a day to finish servicing the thunder chariot."

"What business, Kubera? And why not take a gondola?"

"Garuda's faster. I'll tell you about it on my return."

"Perhaps I can be of help."

"No. Thank you."

"But Lord Murugan can?"

"In this case, yes."

"You two were never on the best of terms."

"Nor are we now. But I have need of his services."

"Hail, Murugan!. . . Why does he not reply?"

"He sleeps, Yama."

"There is blood upon your face, brother."

"I had a small accident earlier."

"And Murugan appears somewhat mishandled also."

"It was the same accident."

"Something is amiss here, Kubera. Wait, I'm coming into the cage."

"Stay out, Yama!"

"The Lokapalas do not order one another about. We are equals."

"Stay out, Yama! I'm raising Garuda's hood!"

"Don't do it!"

Yama's eyes suddenly flashed and he stood taller within his red.

Kubera leaned forward with the hook and raised the hood from the Bird's high head. Garuda threw his head back and cried once more.

"Ratri," said Yama, "lay shadows upon Garuda's eyes, that he may not see."

Yama moved toward the entrance of the cage. Darkness, like a thundercloud, hid the head of the Bird.

"Ratri!" said Kubera. "Lift this darkness and lay it upon Yama, or all is lost!"

Ratri hesitated only a moment, and this was done.

"Come to me quickly!" he cried. "Come mount Garuda and ride with us! We need you, badly!"

She entered the cage and was lost to sight, as the darkness kept spreading and spreading, like a pool of ink, Yama groping his way through it.

The ladder jerked and swayed, and Ratri mounted Garuda.

Garuda screamed then and leapt into the air, for Yama had moved forward, blade in hand, and had cut at the first thing he had felt.

The night rushed about them and Heaven lay far below.

When they reached a mighty height, the dome began to close.

Garuda sped toward the gate, screaming again.

They were through it before it closed, and Kubera prodded the Bird.

"Where are we going?" asked Ratri.

"To Keenset, by the river Vedra," he answered. "And this is Sam. He is still alive."

"What has happened?"

"He is the one Yama seeks."

"Will he seek him in Keenset?"

"Doubtless, lady. Doubtless. But ere he finds him, we may be better prepared."

In the days that preceded the Great Battle, the defenders came to Keenset. Kubera and Sam and Ratri brought the warning. Keenset was already aware of the raising of its neighbors, but not of the heavenly avengers who were to come.

Sam drilled the troops who would fight against gods, and Kubera drilled those who would fight against men.

Black armor was forged for the goddess of Night, of whom it has been said, "Guard us from the she-wolf and the wolf, and guard us from the thief, of Night."

And on the third day there was a tower of fire before Sam's tent on the plane outside the city.

"It is the Lord of Hellwell come to keep his promise, oh Siddhartha!" said the voice that rang within his head.

"Taraka! How did you find me—recognize me?"

"I look upon the flames, which are your true being, not the flesh which masks them. You know that."

"I thought you dead."

"I nearly was. Those two do drink life with their eyes! Even the life of one such as I."

"I told you that. Do you bring your legions with you?"

"Yes, I bring my legions."

"It is good. The gods will move against this place soon."

"I know. Many times have I visited Heaven atop its mountain of ice, and my spies remain there yet. So I know that they make ready to come to this place. They also invite humans to share in the battle. Though they do not feel they need the assistance of men, they think it good that they join in the destruction of the city Keenset."

"Yes, that is understandable," said Sam, studying the great vortex of yellow flame. "What other news have you?"

"The One in Red comes."

"I expected him."

"To his death. I must defeat him."

"He will have demon-repellant upon him."

"Then I will find a way to remove it, or kill him from a distance. He will be here by nightfall."

"How does he come?"

"In a flying machine—not so large as the chariot of thunder we tried to steal—but very fast. I could not attack it in flight."

"Comes he alone?"

"Yes—save for machines."

"Machines?"

"Many machines. His flying machine is filled with strange equipment."

"This may bode ill."

The tower spun orange.

"But others come also."

"You just said he comes alone."

"This is true."

"Then riddle me your true meaning."

"The others do not come from Heaven."

"Where, then?"

"I have traveled much since your departure for Heaven, going up and down in the world and seeking allies among those who also hate the Gods of the City. By the way, in your last incarnation I did try to save you from the cats out of Kaniburrha."

"I know."

"The gods are strong—stronger than they have ever been before."

"But tell me who is coming to aid us."

"Lord Nirriti the Black, who hates all things, hates the Gods of the City most of all. So he is sending a thousand unliving ones to fight on the plains beside the Vedra. He said that, after the battle, we of the Rakasha may take our choice from the bodies which yet remain among the mindless ones he has grown."

"I do not relish aid from the Black One, but I am in no position to discriminate. How soon will these arrive?"

"Tonight. But Dalissa will be here sooner. Even now, I feel her approaching."

"Dalissa? Who . . . ?"

"The last of the Mothers of the Terrible Glow. She alone escaped into the depths when Durga and Lord Kalkin rode to the dome by the sea. All her eggs were smashed and she can lay no more, but she bears within her body the burning power of the sea-glow."

"And you think she would aid me?"

"She would aid no other. She is the last of her kind. She will only assist a peer."

"Then know that the one who was known as Durga now wears the body of Brahma, chief among our enemies."

"Yes, which makes both of you men. She might have taken the other side, had Kali remained a woman. But she has committed herself now. You were her choice."

"That helps to even things a bit."

"The Rakasha herd elephants and slizzards and great cats at this time, to drive against our enemies."

"Good."

"And they summon fire elementals."

"Very good."

"Dalissa is near here now. She will wait at the bottom of the river, to rise up when she is needed."

"Say hello to her for me," said Sam, turning to re-enter his tent.

"I will."

He dropped the flap behind him.

When the God of Death came down out of the sky onto the plains beside the Vedra, Taraka of the Rakasha set upon him in the form of a great cat out of Kaniburrha.

But immediately he fell back. The demon repellant lay upon Yama, and Taraka could not close with him because of it.

The Rakasha swirled away, dropping the cat form he had assumed, to become a whirlwind of silver motes.

"Deathgod!" the word exploded in Yama's head. "Remember Hellwell?"

Immediately, rocks and stones and sandy soil were sucked up into the vortex and hurled across the air toward Yama, who swirled his cloak and muffled his eyes with its hem, but did not otherwise stir.

After a time, the fury died.

Yama had not moved. The ground about him was strewn with debris, but none lay near him.

Yama lowered his cloak and glared into the whirlwind.

"What sorcery is this?" came the words. "How is it you manage to stand?"

Yama continued to stare at Taraka. "How is it you manage to swirl?" he asked.

"I am greatest among the Rakasha. I bore your death-gaze before."

"And I am greatest among the gods. I stood against your entire legion at Hellwell."

"You are a lackey to Trimurti."

"You are wrong. I have come here to fight against Heaven, in this place, in the name of Accelerationism. Great is my hatred, and I have brought weapons to be used against Trimurti."

"Then I suppose I must forego the pleasure of continuing our combat at this time . . ."

"I should deem it advisable."

"And you doubtless wish to be taken to our leader?"

"I can find my own way."

"Then, until we meet again. Lord Yama. . ."

"Good-bye, Rakasha."

Taraka shot like a burning arrow into the heavens and was gone from sight.

Some say that Yama had solved his case as he stood there in the great birdcage, amidst the darkness and the droppings. Others say that he duplicated Kubera's reasoning a short while later, using the tapes in the Vasty Hall of Death. Whichever it was, when he entered the tent on the plains by the Vedra he greeted the man inside with the name Sam. This man laid his hand upon his blade and faced him.

"Death, you precede the battle," he said.

"There has been a change," Yama replied.

"What sort of change?"

"Position. I have come here to oppose the will of Heaven."

"In what way?"

"Steel. Fire. Blood."

"Why this change?"

"Divorces are made in Heaven. And betrayals. And shamings. The lady has gone too far, and I know now the reason, Lord Kalkin. I neither embrace your Accelerationism nor do I reject it. Its only mattering to me is that it represents the one force in the world to oppose Heaven. I will join you, with this understanding, if you will accept my blade."

"I accept your blade. Lord Yama."

"And I will raise it against any of the heavenly horde—saving only Brahma himself, whom I will not face."

"Agreed."

"Then permit me to serve as your charioteer."

"I would, only I have no chariot of battle."

"I brought one, a very special one. For a long time have I labored upon it, and it is not yet complete. But it will suffice. I must assemble it this night, however, for the battle will commence tomorrow at dawn."

"I have felt that it might. The Rakasha have warned me as to the movement of troops near here."

"Yes, I saw them as I passed overhead. The main attack should come from the northeast, across the plains. The gods will join in later. But there will doubtless be parties coming from all directions, including up the river."

"We control the river. Dalissa of the Glow waits at its bottom. When the time comes, she can raise up mighty waves, making it to boil and overflow its banks."

"I had thought the Glow extinguished!"

"Save for her, it is. She is the last."

"I take it the Rakasha will be fighting with us?"

"Yes, and others . . ."

"What others?"

"I have accepted assistance—bodies without minds—a war party of such—from Lord Nirriti."

Yama's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.

"This is not good, Siddhartha. Sooner or later, he will have to be destroyed, and it is not good to be in the debt of such a one."

"I know that, Yama, but I am desperate. They arrive tonight . . ."

"If we win, Siddhartha, toppling the Celestial City, breaking the old religion, freeing man for industrial progress, still will there be opposition. Nirriti, who has waited all these centuries for the passing of the gods, will then have to be fought and beaten himself. It will either be this or the same thing all over again — and at least the Gods of the City have some measure of grace in their unfair doings."

"I think he would have come to our assistance whether invited or not."

"Yes, but by inviting him, or accepting his offer, you owe him this thing."

"Then I will have to deal with that situation when it arises."

"That's politics, I guess. But I like it not."

Sam poured them of the sweet dark wine of Keenset. "I think Kubera would like to see you later," he said, offering a goblet.

"What is he doing?" asked Yama, accepting it and draining it off in a single swallow.

"Drilling troops and giving classes on the internal combustion engine to all the local savants," said Sam. "Even if we lose, some may live and go elsewhere."

"If it is to be put to any use, they will need to know more than engine design . . ."

"He's been talking himself hoarse for days, and the scribes are taking it all down—geology, mining, metallurgy, petroleum chemistry . . ."

"Had we more time, I would give my assistance. As it is, if ten per cent is retained it may be sufficient. Not tomorrow, or even the next day, but. . ."

Sam finished his wine, refilled the goblets. "To the morrow, charioteer!"

"To the blood. Binder, to the blood and the killing!"

"Some of the blood may be our own, deathgod. But so long as we take sufficient of the enemy with us. . ."

"I cannot die, Siddhartha, save by my own choosing."

"How can that be, Lord Yama?"

"Let Death keep his own small secrets. Binder. For I may choose not to exercise my option in this battle."

"As you would, Lord."

"To your health and long life!"

"To yours."

The day of the battle dawned pink as the fresh-bitten thigh of a maiden.

A small mist drifted in from the river. The Bridge of the Gods glistened all of gold in the east, reached back, darkening, into retreating night, divided the heavens like a burning equator.

The warriors of Keenset waited outside the city, upon the plain by the Vedra. Five thousand men, with blades and bows, pikes and slings, waited for the battle. A thousand zombies stood in the front ranks, led by the living sergeants of the Black One, who guided all their movements by the drum, scarves of black silk curling in the breeze like snakes of smoke upon their helms.

Five hundred lancers were held to the rear. The silver cyclones that were the Rakasha hung in the middle air. Across the half-lit world the occasional growl of a jungle beast could be heard. Fire elementals glowed upon tree limb, lance and pennon pole.

There were no clouds in the heavens. The grasses of the plain were still moist and sparkling. The air was cool, the ground still soft enough to gather footprints readily. Gray and green and yellow were the colors that smote the eye beneath the heavens; and the Vedra swirled within its banks, gathering leaves from its escort of trees. It is said that each day recapitulates the history of the world, coming up out of darkness and cold into confused light and beginning warmth, consciousness blinking its eyes somewhere in midmorning, awakening thoughts a jumble of illogic and unattached emotion, and all speeding together toward the order of noontide, the slow, poignant decline of dusk, the mystical vision of twilight, the end of entropy that is night once more.

The day began.

A dark line was visible at the far end of the field. A trumpet note cut the air and that line advanced.

Sam stood in his battle chariot at the head of the formation, wearing burnished armor and holding a long, gray lance of death. He heard the words of Death, who wore red and was his charioteer:

"Their first wave is of slizzard cavalry."

Sam squinted at the distant line.

"It is," said his charioteer.

"Very well."

He gestured with his lance, and the Rakasha moved forward like a tidal wave of white light. The zombies began their advance.

When the white wave and the dark line came together there was a confusion of voices, hisses and the rattle of arms.

The dark line halted, great gouts of dust fuming above it.

Then came the sounds of the aroused jungle as the gathered beasts of prey were driven upon the flank of the enemy.

The zombies marched to a slow, steady drumbeat, and the fire elementals flowed on before them and the grasses withered where they passed.

Sam nodded to Death, and his chariot moved slowly forward, riding upon its cushion of air. At his back, the army of Keenset stirred. Lord Kubera slept, drugged to the sleep that is like unto death, in a hidden vault beneath the city. The Lady Ratri mounted a black mare at the rear of the lancers' formation.

"Their charge has been broken," said Death.

"Yes."

"All their cavalry was cast down and the beasts still rage among them. They have not yet reformed their ranks. The Rakasha hurl avalanches like rain from the heavens down upon their heads. Now there comes the flow of fire."

"Yes."

"We will destroy them. Even now they see the mindless minions of Nirriti coming upon them as a single man, all in step and without fear, their drums keeping time, perfect and agonizing, and nothing behind their eyes, nothing at all. Looking above their heads then, they see us here as within a thundercloud, and they see that Death drives your chariot. Within their hearts there comes a quickening and there is a coldness upon their biceps and their thighs. See how the beasts pass among them?"

"Yes."

"Let there be no bugles within our ranks, Siddhartha. For this is not battle, but slaughter."

"Yes."

The zombies slew everything they passed, and when they fell they went down without a word, for it was all the same with them, and words mean nothing to the unliving.

They swept the field, and fresh waves of warriors came at them. But the cavalry had been broken. The foot soldiers could not stand before the lancers and the Rakasha, the zombies and the infantry of Keenset.

The razor-edged battle chariot driven by Death cut through the enemy like a flame through a field. Missiles and hurled spears turned in mid-flight to speed off at right angles before they could touch upon the chariot or its occupants. Dark fires danced within the eyes of Death as he gripped the twin rings with which he directed the course of the vehicle. Again and again, he drove down without mercy upon the enemy, and Sam's lance darted like the tongue of a serpent as they passed through the ranks.

From somewhere, the notes of a retreat were sounded. But there were very few who answered the call.

"Wipe your eyes, Siddhartha," said Death, "and call a new formation. The time has come to press the attack. Manjusri of the Sword must order a charge."

"Yes, Death, I know."

"We hold the field, but not the day. The gods are watching, judging our strength."

Sam raised his lance in signal and there was fresh movement among the troops. Then a new stillness hung about them. Suddenly, there was no wind, no sound. The sky was blue. The ground was a gray-green trampled thing. Dust, like a specter hedge, hovered in the distance.

Sam surveyed the ranks, moved his lance forward. At that moment, there came a clap of thunder.

"The gods will enter the field," said Death, looking upward.

The thunder chariot passed overhead. No rain of destruction descended, however.

"Why are we still alive?" asked Sam.

"I believe they would rather our defeat be more ignominious. Also, they may be afraid to attempt to use the thunder chariot against its creator—justly afraid."

"In that case . . ." said Sam, and he gave the signal for the troops to charge.

The chariot bore him forward. At his back, the forces of Keenset followed.

They cut down the stragglers. They smashed through the guard that attempted to delay them. In the midst of a storm of arrows, they broke the archers. Then they faced the body of the holy crusaders who had sworn to level the city of Keenset.

Then there came the notes of Heaven upon a trumpet.

The opposing lines of human warriors parted.

The fifty demigods rode forth.

Sam raised his lance.

"Siddhartha," said Death, "Lord Kalkin was never beaten in battle."

"I know."

"I have with me the Talisman of the Binder. That which was destroyed upon the pyre at Worldsend was a counterfeit. I retained the original to study it. I never had the chance. Hold but a moment and I will brace it about you."

Sam raised his arms and Death clasped the belt of shells around his waist.

He gave sign then to the forces of Keenset to halt.

Death drove him forward, alone, to face the half-gods.

About the heads of some there played the nimbus of early Aspect. Others bore strange weapons to focus their strange Attributes. Fires came down and licked about the chariot. Winds lashed at it. Great smashing noises fell upon it. Sam gestured with his lance and the first three of his opponents reeled and fell from the backs of their slizzards.

Then Death drove his chariot among them.

Its edges are razors and its speed three times that of a horse and twice that of a slizzard.

A mist sprang up about him as he rode, a mist tinged with blood. Heavy missiles sped toward him and vanished to one side or the other. Ultrasonic screams assailed his ears, but somehow were partly deadened.

His face expressionless, Sam raised his lance high above his head.

A look of sudden fury crossed over his face, and the lightnings leapt from its tip.

Slizzards and riders baked and crisped.

The smell of charred flesh came to his nostrils.

He laughed, and Death wheeled the chariot for another pass.

"Are you watching me?" Sam screamed at the heavens. "Watch on, then! And watch out! You just made a mistake!"

"Don't!" said Death. "It is too soon! Never mock a god until he is passed!"

And the chariot swept through the ranks of the demigods once again, and none could touch upon it.

Trumpet notes filled the air, and the holy army rushed to succor its champions.

The warriors of Keenset moved forward to engage them.

Sam stood in the chariot and the missiles fell heavy about it, always missing. Death drove him through the ranks of the enemy, now like a wedge, now like a rapier. He sang as he moved, and his lance was the tongue of a serpent, sometimes crackling as it fell with bright flashes. The Talisman glowed with a pale fire about his waist.

"We'll take them!" he said.

"There are only demigods and men upon the field," said Death. "They are still testing our strength. There are very few who remember the full power of Kalkin."

"The full power of Kalkin?" asked Sam. "That has never been released, oh Death. Not in all the ages of the world. Let them come against me now and the heavens will weep upon their bodies and the Vedra run the color of blood! . . . Do you hear me? Do you hear me, gods? Come against me! I challenge you, here upon this field! Meet me with your strength, in this place!"

"No!" said Death. "Not yet!"

Overhead, the thunder chariot passed once again. Sam raised his lance and pyrotechnic hell broke loose about the passing vessel.

"You should not have let them know you could do that! Not yet!"

The voice of Taraka came to him then, across the din of the battle and the song within his brain.

"They come up the river now, oh Binder! And another party assails the gates of the city!"

"Call then upon Dalissa to rise up and make the Vedra to boil with the power of the Glow! Take you of the Rakasha to the gates of Keenset and destroy the invader!"

"I hear, Binder!" and Taraka was gone.

A beam of blinding light fell from the thunder chariot and cut through the ranks of the defenders.

"The time has come," said Death, and he waved his cloak in gesture.

In the rearmost rank, the Lady Ratri stood up in the stirrups of her mount, the black mare. She raised the black veil that she wore over her armor.

There were screams from both sides as the sun covered its face and darkness descended upon the field. The stalk of light vanished from beneath the thunder chariot and the burning ceased.

Only a faint phosphorescence, with no apparent source, occurred about them. This happened as the Lord Mara swept onto the field in his cloudy chariot of colors, drawn by the horses who vomited rivers of smoking blood.

Sam headed toward him, but a great body of warriors interposed themselves; and before they won through, Mara had driven across the field, slaying everyone in his path.

Sam raise his lance and scowled, but his target blurred and shifted; and the lightnings always fell behind or to the side.

Then, in the distance, within the river, a soft light began. It pulsed warmly, and something like a tentacle seemed to wave for a moment above the surface of the waters.

Sounds of fighting came from the city. The air was full of demons. The ground seemed to move beneath the feet of the armies.

Sam raised his lance and a jagged line of light ran up into the heavens, provoking a dozen more to descend upon the field.

More beasts growled, coughed and wailed, racing through both ranks, killing as they passed those of both sides.

The zombies continued to slay, beneath the prodding of the dark sergeants, to the steady beating of the drums; and fire elementals clung to the breasts of the corpses, as though feeding.

"We have broken the demigods," said Sam. "Let us try Lord Mara next."

They sought him across the field, amidst screams and wails, crossing over those who were soon to become corpses and those who already were.

When they saw the colors of his chariot, they gave chase.

He turned and faced them finally, in a corridor of darkness, the sounds of the battle dim and distant. Death drew rein also, and they stared across the night into each other's glowing eyes.

"Will you stand to battle, Mara?" cried Sam. "Or must we run you down like a dog?"

"Speak not to me of your kin, the hound and the bitch, oh Binder!" he answered. "It is you, isn't it, Kalkin? That's your belt. This is your sort of war. Those were your lightnings striking friend and foe alike. You did live, somehow, eh?"

"It is I," said Sam, leveling his lance.

"And the carrion god to drive your wagon!"

Death raised his left hand, palm forward.

"I promise you death, Mara," he said. "If not by the hand of Kalkin, then by my own. If not today, then another day. But it is between us also, now."

To the left, the pulsing in the river became more and more frequent.

Death leaned forward and the chariot sped toward Mara.

The horses of the Dreamer reared and blew fire from their nostrils. They leapt ahead.

The arrows of Rudra sought them in the dark, but these were also turned aside as they blazed toward Death and his chariot. They exploded upon either side, adding for a moment to the faint illumination.

In the distance, elephants lumbered, raced and squealed, pursued by the Rakasha across the plains.

There came a mighty roaring sound.

Mara grew into a giant, and his chariot was a mountain. His horses spanned eternities as they galloped forward. Lightning leapt from Sam's lance, like spray from a fountain. A blizzard suddenly swirled about him, and the cold of interstellar space itself entered into his bones.

At the last possible instant, Mara swerved his chariot and leapt down from it.

They struck it broadside and there came a grinding sound from beneath them as they settled slowly to the ground.

By then the roaring was deafening and the pulses of light from the river had grown into a steady glow. A wave of steaming water swept across the field as the Vedra overflowed its banks.

There were more screams, and the clash of arms continued. Faintly, the drums of Nirriti still beat within the darkness, and there came a strange sound from overhead as the thunder chariot sped toward the ground.

"Where'd he go?" cried Sam.

"To hide," said Death. "But he cannot hide forever."

"Damn it! Are we winning or losing?"

"That's a good question. I don't know the answer, though."

The waters foamed about the grounded chariot.

"Can you get us moving again?"

"Not in this darkness, with the water all around us."

"Then what do we do now?"

"Cultivate patience and smoke cigarettes." He leaned back and struck a light.

After a time, one of the Rakasha came and hovered in the air above them.

"Binder!" reported the demon. "The new attackers of the city wear upon them that-which-repels!"

Sam raised his lance and a line of lightning fled from its point.

For one photoflash of an instant, the field was illuminated.

The dead lay everywhere. Small groups of men huddled together. Some lay twisting in combat upon the ground. The bodies of animals were strewn among them. A few large cats still wandered, feeding. The fire elementals had fled from the water, which had coated the fallen with mud and soaked those who still could stand. Broken chariots and dead slizzards and horses made mounds upon the field. Across the scene, empty-eyed and continuing to follow orders, the zombies wandered, slaying anything living that moved before them. In the distance, one drum still beat, with an occasional falter. From the city there came the sounds of continued battle.

"Find the lady in black," said Sam to the Rakasha, "and tell her to break the darkness."

"Yes," said the demon, and fled back toward the city.

The sun shone again and Sam shielded his eyes against it.

The carnage was even worse under the blue sky and the golden bridge.

Across the field, the thunder chariot rested upon high ground.

The zombies slew the last of the men in sight. Then, as they turned to seek more life, the drumming ceased and they fell to the ground themselves.

Sam stood with Death within the chariot. They looked about them for signs of life.

"Nothing moves," said Sam. "Where are the gods?"

"Perhaps in the thunder chariot."

The Rakasha came to them once more.

"The defenders cannot hold the city," he reported.

"Have the gods joined in that assault?"

"Rudra is there, and his arrows work much havoc."

"The Lord Mara. Brahma, too, I think—and there are many others. There is much confusion. I hurried."

"Where is the Lady Ratri?"

"She entered into Keenset and abides there in her Temple."

"Where are the rest of the gods?"

"I do not know."

"I will go on to the city," said Sam, "and aid in its defense."

"And I to the thunder chariot," said Death, "to take it and use it against the enemy—if it can still be used. If not, there is still Garuda."

"Yes," said Sam, and levitated.

Death sprang down from the chariot. "Fare thee well."

"Thou also."

They crossed the place of carnage, each in his own fashion.

He climbed the small rise, his red leather boots soundless on the turf.

He swept his scarlet cloak back over his right shoulder and surveyed the thunder chariot.

"It was damaged by the lightnings."

"Yes," he agreed.

He looked back toward the tail assembly, at the one who had spoken.

His armor shone like bronze, but it was not bronze.

It was worked about with the forms of many serpents.

He wore the horns of a bull upon his burnished helm, and in his left hand he held a gleaming trident.

"Brother Agni, you have come up in the world."

"I am no longer Agni, but Shiva, Lord of Destruction."

"You wear his armor upon a new body and you carry his trident. But none could master the trident of Shiva so quickly. This is why you wear the white gauntlet on your right hand, and the goggles upon your brow."

Shiva reached up and lowered the goggles over his eyes.

"It is true, I know. Throw away your trident, Agni. Give me your glove and your wand, your belt and your goggles."

He shook his head.

"I respect your power, deathgod, your speed and your strength, your skill. But you stand too far away for any of these to aid you now. You cannot come at me but I will burn you before you reach me here. Death, you shall die."

He reached for the wand at his belt.

"You seek to turn the gift of Death against its giver?" The blood-red scimitar came into his hand as he spoke.

"Good-bye, Dharma. Your days are come to an end."

He drew the wand.

"In the name of a friendship which once existed," said the one in red, "I will give you your life if you surrender to me."

The wand wavered.

"You killed Rudra to defend the name of my wife."

"It was to preserve the honor of the Lokapalas that I did it. Now I am God of Destruction, and one with the Trimurti!"

He pointed the fire wand, and Death swirled his scarlet cloak before him.

There came a flash of light so blinding that two miles away upon the walls of Keenset the defenders saw it and wondered.

The invaders had entered Keenset. There were fires now, screams, and the blows of metal upon wood, metal upon metal.

The Rakasha pushed down buildings upon the invaders with whom they could not close. The invaders as well as the defenders were few in number. The main bodies of both forces had perished upon the plains.

Sam stood atop the highest tower of the Temple and stared down into the falling city.

"I could not save you, Keenset," he stated. "I tried, but was not sufficient."

Far below, in the street, Rudra strung his bow.

Seeing him, Sam raised his lance.

The lightnings fell upon Rudra and the arrow exploded in their midst.

When the air cleared, where Rudra had been standing there was now a small crater in the center of a space of charred ground.

Lord Vayu appeared upon a distant rooftop and called forth the winds to fan the flames. Sam raised his lance once more, but then a dozen Vayus stood upon a dozen rooftops.

"Mara!" said Sam. "Show yourself. Dreamer! It you dare!"

There was laughter all around him.

"When I am ready, Kalkin," came the voice, out of the smoky air, "I will dare. The choice, though, is mine to make. . .. Are you not dizzy? What would happen if you were to cast yourself down toward the ground? Would the Rakasha come to bear you up? Would your demons save you?"

Lightnings fell upon all the buildings near the Temple then, but above the noise came the laughter of Mara. It faded away into the distance as fresh fires crackled.

Sam seated himself and watched the city burn. The sounds of fighting died down and ceased. There was only flame.

A sharp pain came and went in his head. Then it came and would not go. Then it racked his entire body, and he cried out.

Brahma, Vayu, Mara and four demigods stood below in the street.

He tried to raise his lance, but his hand shook so that it fell from his grasp, rattled on brick, was gone.

The scepter that is a skull and a wheel was pointed in his direction.

"Come down, Sam!" said Brahma, moving it slightly so that the pains shifted and burned. "You and Ratri are the only ones left alive! You are the last! Surrender!"

He struggled to his feet and clasped his hands upon his glowing belt.

He swayed and said the words through clenched teeth:

"Very well! I shall come down, as a bomb into your midst!"

But then the sky was darkened, lightened, darkened.

A mighty cry rose above the sound of the flames.

"It is Garuda!" said Mara.

"Why should Vishnu come—now?"

"Garuda was stolen! Do you forget?"

The great Bird dived upon the burning city, like a titan phoenix toward its flaming nest.

Sam twisted his head upward and saw the hood suddenly fall over Garuda's eyes. The Bird fluttered his wings, then plummeted toward the gods, where they stood before the Temple.

"Red!" cried Mara. "The rider! He wears red!"

Brahma spun and turned the screaming scepter, holding it with both hands toward the head of the diving Bird.

Mara gestured, and Garuda's wings seemed to take fire.

Vayu raised both arms, and a wind like a hurricane hammered the mount of Vishnu, whose beak smashes chariots.

He cried once more, opening his wings, slowing his descent. The Rakasha then rushed about his head, urging him downward with buffets and stings. He slowed, slowed, but could not stop.

The gods scattered.

Garuda struck the ground and the ground shuddered.

From among the feathers of his back, Yama came forth, blade in hand, took three steps, and fell to the ground. Mara emerged from a ruin and struck him across the back of his neck, twice, with the edge of his hand.

Sam sprang before the second blow descended, but he did not reach the ground in time. The scepter screamed once more and everything spun about him. He fought to break his fall. He slowed.

The ground was forty feet below him—thirty—twenty . . . The ground was clouded by a blood-dimmed haze, then black.

"Lord Kalkin has finally been beaten in battle," someone said softly.

Brahma, Mara, and two demigods named Bora and Tikan were the only ones who remained to bear Sam and Yama from the dying city of Keenset by the river Vedra. The Lady Ratri walked before them, a cord looped about her neck.

They took Sam and Yama to the thunder chariot, which was even more damaged than it had been when they left it, having a great gaping hole in its right side and part of its tail assembly missing. They secured their prisoners in chains, removing the Talisman of the Binder and the crimson cloak of Death. They sent a message then to Heaven, and after a time sky gondolas came to return them to the Celestial City.

"We have won," said Brahma. "Keenset is no more."

"A costly victory, I think," said Mara.

"But we have won!"

"And the Black One stirs again."

"He sought but to test our strength."

"And what must he think of it? We lost an entire army? And even gods have died this day."

"We fought with Death, the Rakasha, Kalkin, Night and the Mother of the Glow. Nirriti will not lift up his hand against us again, not after a winning such as this."

"Mighty is Brahma," said Mara, and turned away.

The Lords of Karma were called to stand in judgment of the captives.

The Lady Ratri was banished from the City and sentenced to walk the world as a mortal, always to be incarnated into middle-aged bodies of more than usually plain appearance, bodies that could not bear the full power of her Aspect or Attributes. She was shown this mercy because she was judged an incidental accomplice only, one misled by Kubera, whom she had trusted.

When they sent after Lord Yama, to bring him to judgment, he was found to be dead in his cell. Within his turban, there had been a small metal box. This box had exploded.

The Lords of Karma performed an autopsy and conferred.

"Why did he not take poison if he wished to die?" Brahma had asked. "It would be easier to conceal a pill than that box."

"It is barely possible," said one of the Lords of Karma, "that somewhere in the world he had another body, and that he sought to transmigrate by means of a broadcast unit, which was set to destroy itself after use."

"Could this thing be done?"

"No, of course not. Transfer equipment is bulky and complicated. But Yama boasted he could do anything. He once tried to convince me that such a device could be built. But the contact between the two bodies must be direct and by means of many leads and cables. And no unit that tiny could have generated sufficient power."

"Who built you the psych-probe?" asked Brahma.

"Lord Yama."

"And Shiva, the thunder chariot? And Agni, the fire wand? Rudra, his terrible bow? The Trident? The Bright Spear?"

"Yama."

"I should like to advise you then, that at approximately the same time as that tiny box must have been operating, a great generator, as of its own accord, turned itself on within the Vasty Hall of Death. It functioned for less than five minutes, and then turned itself off again."

"Broadcast power?"

Brahma shrugged.

"It is time to sentence Sam."

This was done. And since he had died once before, without much effect, it was decided that a sentence of death was not in order.

Accordingly, he was transmigrated. Not into another body.

A radio tower was erected, Sam was placed under sedation, transfer leads were attached in the proper manner, but there was no other body. They were attached to the tower's converter.

His atman was projected upward through the opened dome, into the great magnetic cloud that circled the entire planet and was called the Bridge of the Gods.

Then he was given the unique distinction of receiving a second funeral in Heaven. Lord Yama received his first; and Brahma, watching the smoke arise from the pyres, wondered where he really was.

"The Buddha has gone to nirvana," said Brahma. "Preach it in the Temples! Sing it in the streets'. Glorious was his passing! He has reformed the old religion, and we are better now than ever before! Let all who would think otherwise remember Keenset!"

This thing was done also.

But they never found Lord Kubera.

The demons were free.

Nirriti was strong.

And elsewhere in the world there were those who remembered bifocal glasses and toilets that flushed, petroleum chemistry and internal combustion engines, and the day the sun had hidden its face from the justice of Heaven.

Vishnu was heard to say that the wilderness had come into the City at last.