n recent years would the god Vishnu
be moved to incarnate among men, other than to teach them the Way of
Enlightenment?"
"I . . . ?"
"Hail, reformer, who has removed the fear of the real death from men's
minds. Those who are not born again among men have now gone on to Nirvana."
Vishnu smiled. "Better to incorporate than struggle to extirpate?"
"Almost an epigram."
Brahma stood, considered the mirrors, considered Vishnu.
"So after we have disposed of Sam, you will have been the real
Tathagatha."
"How shall we dispose of Sam?"
"I have not yet decided, but I am open to suggestions."
"Might I suggest that he be incarnated as a jackbird?"
"You might. But then, someone else might desire that the jackbird be
reincarnated as a man. I feel that he is not without some supporters."
"Well, we do have time to consider the problem. There is no hurry now
that he is in the custody of Heaven. I shall give you my thoughts on the
matter as soon as I have some."
"That is sufficient, then, for now."
They they they walked walked walked from the from the Hall, then.
Vishnu passed from the Garden of Brahma's Joys; and as he departed, the
Mistress of Death entered there. She addressed the eight-armed statue with
the veena and it began to play upon it.
Hearing the music, Brahma approached.
"Kali! Lovely Lady . . ." he announced.
"Mighty is Brahma," she replied.
"Yes," Brahma agreed, "as mighty as might be desired. And it is so
seldom that you visit here that I am mightily pleased. Come walk with me
among the flowered paths and we shall talk. Your dress is lovely."
"Thank you."
They walked among the flowered paths. "How go the preparations for the
wedding?"
"Well."
"Will you have honeymoon in Heaven?"
"We plan to take it far from here."
"Where, may I ask?" "We have not yet agreed as to where."
"Time passes on the wings of the jackbird, my dear. If you wish, you
and the Lord Yama may dwell in my Garden of Joys for a time."
"Thank you. Creator, but it is too splendid a place for the two
destroyers to pass the time and feel at ease. We shall go forth, somewhere."
"As you wish." He shrugged. "What else lies upon your thinking?"
"What of the one called the Buddha?"
"Sam? Your old lover? What of him, indeed? What would you know
concerning him?"
"How shall he be-- dealt with?"
"I have not yet decided. Shiva has suggested we wait for a time before
doing anything. Thus, we may assess his effect upon the community of Heaven.
I have decided that Vishnu will have been the Buddha, for historical and
theological purposes. As for Sam himself, I will give hearing to any
reasonable suggestion."
"Did you not offer him godhood once?"
"Yes. He did not accept it, however."
"Supposing you did so again?"
"Why?"
"The present problem would not exist were he not a very talented
individual. His talents would make him a worthy addition to the pantheon."
"This thought has occurred to me, also. Now, however, he would agree,
whether he meant it or not. I am certain that he wishes to live."
"Yet, there are ways in which one can be sure in these matters."
"Such as?"
"Psych-probe."
"And if this shows a lack of commitment to Heaven-- which it will . . .
?"
"Could not his mind itself be altered-- by one such as Lord Mara?"
"I have never thought you guilty of sentiment, goddess. But it would
seem you are most anxious for him to continue existing, in any form."
"Perhaps I am."
"You know that he might be-- very changed. He will not be the same if
this thing is done to him. His 'talent' may then be totally absent."
"In the course of ages all men change naturally-- opinions, beliefs,
convictions. Parts of the mind may sleep and other parts may awaken. Talent,
I feel, is a difficult thing to destroy-- as long as life itself remains. It
is better to live than to die."
"I might be convinced of this, goddess-- if you have the time, most
lovely one."
"How much time?"
"Say, three days."
"Three days, then."
"Then let us adjourn to my Pavilion of Joys and discuss the matter
fully."
"Very well."
"Where is Lord Yama now?"
"He labors in his workshop."
"A lengthy project, I trust."
"At least three days."
"Good. Yes, there may be some hope for Sam. It is against my better
thinking, but then I can appreciate the notion. Yes, I can."
The eight-armed statue of the goddess who was blue played upon the
veena, making music to fall about them as they walked in the garden, that
summer.
Helba dwelled on the far side of Heaven, near to the wilderness' edge.
So near to the forest, in fact, was the palace called Plunder that the
animals stalked past the one transparent wall, brushing against it as they
went. From the room called Rape, one could look out upon the shaded trails
of the jungle.
It was within this room, its walls hung with the stolen treasures of
lives past, that Helba entertained the one called Sam.
Helba was the god/goddess of thieves.
No one knew Helba's true sex, for Helba's was the habit of alternating
gender with each incarnation.
Sam looked upon a lithe, dark-skinned woman who wore a yellow sari and
yellow veil. Her sandals and nails were the color of cinnamon, and she wore
a tiara that was golden upon her black hair.
"You have," said Helba, in a voice soft and purring, "my sympathy. It
is only during those seasons of life when I incarnate as a man, Sam, that I
wield my Attribute and engage in actual plunder."
"You must be able to take on your Aspect now."
"Of course."
"And raise up your Attribute?"
"Probably."
"But you will not?"
"Not while I wear the form of woman. As a man, I will undertake to
steal anything from anywhere. . .. See there, upon the far wall, where some
of my trophies are hung? The great blue-feather cloak belonged to Srit,
Chief among the Kataputna demons. I stole it from out his cave as his
hellhounds slept, drugged by myself. The shape-changing jewel I took from
the very Dome of the Glow, climbing with suction discs upon my wrists and
knees and toes, as the Mothers beneath me-- "
"Enough!" said Sam. "I know all of these tales, Helba, for you tell
them constantly. It has been so long since you have undertaken a daring
theft, as of old, that I suppose these glories long past must be oft
repeated. Else, even the Elder Gods would forget what once you were. I can
see that I have come to the wrong place, and I shall try elsewhere."
He stood, as to go.
"Wait," said Helba, stirring.
Sam paused. "Yes?"
"You could at least tell me of the theft you are contemplating. Perhaps
I can offer advice-- "
"What good would even your greatest advice be, Monarch of Thieves? I do
not need words. I need actions."
"Perhaps, even . . . tell me!"
"All right," said Sam, "though I doubt you would be interested in a
task this difficult-- "
"You can skip over the child psychology and tell me what it is you want
stolen."
"In the Museum of Heaven, which is a well-built and continuously
guarded installation-- "
"And one that is always open. Go on."
"In this building, within a computer-protected guard case -- "
"These can be beaten, by one of sufficient skill."
"Within this case, upon a manikin, is hung a gray, scaled uniform. Many
weapons lie about it."
"Whose?"
"This was the ancient habit of he who fought in the northern marches in
the days of the wars against the demons."
"Was this not yourself?"
Sam tipped his smile forward and continued:
"Unknown to most, as a part of this display there is an item which was
once known as the Talisman of the Binder. It may have lost all its virtue by
now, but, on the other hand, it is possible that it has not. It served as a
focus for the Binder's special Attribute, and he finds that he needs it once
again."
"Which is the item you want stolen?"
"The great wide belt of shells which is clasped about the waist of the
costume. It is pink and yellow in color. It is also full of micro-miniature
circuitry, which could probably not be duplicated today."
"That is not so great a theft. I just might consider it in this form--
"
"I would need it in a hurry, or not at all."
"How soon?"
"Within six days, I fear."
"What would you be willing to pay me to deliver it into your hands?"
"I would be willing to pay you anything, if I had anything."
"Oh. You came to Heaven without a fortune?"
"Yes."
"Unfortunate."
"If I make good my escape, you can name your price."
"And if you do not, I receive nothing."
"It appears that way."
"Let me ponder. It may amuse me to do this thing and have you owe me
the favor."
"Pray, do not ponder overlong."
"Come sit by me. Binder of Demons, and tell me of the days of your
glory-- when you, with the immortal goddess, rode abroad in the world,
scattering chaos like seed."
"It was long ago," said Sam.
"Might those days come again if you win free?"
"They may."
"That is good to know. Yes . . ."
"You will do this thing?" "Hail, Siddhartha! Unbinder!"
"Hail?"
"And lightning and thunder. May they come again!"
"It is good."
"Now tell me of the days of your glory, and I will speak again of
mine."
"Very well."
Dashing through the forest, clad in a leather belt, Lord Krishna
pursued the Lady Ratri, who had declined to couple with him after the
rehearsal dinner. The day was clear and fragrant, but not half so fragrant
as the midnight-blue sari he clutched in his left hand. She ran on ahead of
him, beneath the trees; and he followed, losing sight of her for a moment as
she turned up a side trail that led out into the open.
When he glimpsed her again, she stood upon a hillock, her bare arms
upraised above her head, her fingertips touching. Her eyes were half closed,
and her only garment, a long black veil, stirred about her white and
gleaming form.
He realized then that she had taken on her Aspect, and might be about
to wield an Attribute.
Panting, he raced up the hillside toward her; and she opened her eyes
and smiled down upon him, lowering her arms.
As he reached for her, she swirled her veil in his face and he heard
her laugh-- somewhere within the immense night that covered him over.
It was black and starless and moonless, without a glint, shimmer, spark
or glow from anywhere. It was a nighttime akin to blindness that had fallen
upon him.
He snorted, and the sari was torn from his fingers. He halted, shaking,
and he heard her laughter ringing about him.
"You have presumed too much. Lord Krishna," she told him, "and offended
against the sanctity of Night. For this, I shall punish you by leaving this
darkness upon Heaven for a time."
"I am not afraid of the dark, goddess," he replied, chuckling.
"Then your brains are indeed in your gonads. Lord, as hath often been
said before-- to stand lost and blinded in the midst of Kaniburrha, whose
denizens need not to strike-- and not to be afraid-- I think this somewhat
foolhardy. Good-bye, Dark One. Perhaps I'll see you at the wedding."
"Wait, lovely lady! Will you accept my apology?"
"Certainly, for I deserve it."
"Then lift this night you have laid upon this place."
"Another time, Krishna-- when I am ready."
"But what shall I do until then?"
"It is said, sir, that by your piping you can charm the most fearsome
of beasts. I suggest that if this be true you take up your pipes at this
moment and begin your most soothing melody, until such a time as I see fit
to let the light of day enter again into Heaven."
"Lady, you are cruel," said Krishna.
"Such is life. Lord of the Pipes," and she departed.
He began to play, thinking dark thoughts.
They came. Out of the sky, riding on the polar winds, across the seas
and the land, over the burning snow, and under it and through it, they came.
The shape-shifters drifted across the fields of white, and the sky-walkers
fell down like leaves; trumpets sounded over the wastes, and the chariots of
the snows thundered forward, light leaping like spears from their burnished
sides; cloaks of fur afire, white plumes of massively breathed air trailing
above and behind them, golden-gauntleted and sun-eyed, clanking and
skidding, rushing and whirling, they came, in bright baldric, wer-mask,
fire-scarf, devil-shoe, frost-greaves and power-helm, they came; and across
the world that lay at their back, there was rejoicing in the Temples, with
much singing and the making of offerings, and processions and prayers,
sacrifices and dispensations, pageantry and color. For the much-feared
goddess was to be wed with Death, and it was hoped that this would serve to
soften both their dispositions. A festive spirit had also infected Heaven,
and with the gathering of the gods and the demigods, the heroes and the
nobles, the high priests and the favored rajahs and high-ranking Brahmins,
this spirit obtained force and momentum and spun like an all-colored
whirlwind, thundering in the heads of the First and latest alike.
So they came into the Celestial City, riding on the backs of the
cousins of the Garuda Bird, spinning down in sky gondolas, rising up through
arteries of the mountains, blazing across the snow-soaked, ice-tracked
wastes, to make Milehigh Spire to ring with their song, to laugh through a
spell of brief and inexplicable darkness that descended and dispersed again,
shortly; and in the days and nights of their coming, it was said by the poet
Adasay that they resembled at least six different things (he was always
lavish with his similes): a migration of birds, bright birds, across a
waveless ocean of milk; a procession of musical notes through the mind of a
slightly mad composer; a school of those deep-swimming fish whose bodies are
whorls and runnels of light, circling about some phosphorescent plant within
a cold and sea-deep pit; the Spiral Nebula, suddenly collapsing upon its
center; a storm, each drop of which becomes a feather, songbird or jewel;
and (and perhaps most cogent) a Temple full of terrible and highly decorated
statues, suddenly animated and singing, suddenly rushing forth across the
world, bright banners playing in the wind, shaking palaces and toppling
towers, to meet at the center of everything, to kindle an enormous fire and
dance about it, with the ever-present possibility of either the fire or the
dance going completely out of control.
They came.
When the secret alarm rang in the Archives, Tak seized the Bright Spear
from out its case on the wall. At various times during the day, the alarm
would alert various sentinels. Having a premonition as to its cause, Tak was
grateful that it did not ring at another hour. He elevated to the level of
the City and made for the Museum on the hill.
It was already too late, though.
Open was the case and unconscious the attendant. The Museum was
otherwise unoccupied, because of the activity in the City.
So near to the Archives was the building set, that Tak caught the two
on their way down the opposite side of the hill.
He waved the Bright Spear, afraid to use it. "Stop!" he cried.
They turned to him.
"You did trigger an alarm!" accused the other. He hurried to clasp the
belt about his waist.
"Go on, get away!" he said. "I will deal with this one!"
"I could not have tripped an alarm!" cried his companion.
"Get out of here!"
He faced Tak, waiting. His companion continued to retreat down the
hill. Tak saw that it was a woman.
"Take it back," said Tak, panting. "Whatever you have taken, take it
back-- and perhaps I can cover-- "
"No," said Sam. "It is too late. I am the equal of anyone here now, and
this is my only chance to depart. I know you, Tak of the Archives, and I do
not wish to destroy you. Therefore, go -- quickly!"
"Yama will be here in a moment! And-- "
"I do not fear Yama. Attack me or leave me now!"
"I cannot attack you."
"Then good-bye," and, so saying, Sam rose into the air like a balloon.
But as he drifted above the ground, the Lord Yama appeared upon the
hillside with a weapon in his hands. It was a slender and gleaming tube that
he held, with a small butt and a large trigger mechanism.
He raised it and pointed. "Your last chance!" he cried, but Sam
continued to rise.
When he fired it, the dome was cracked, high overhead.
"He has taken on his Aspect and raised up an Attribute," said Tak. "He
binds the energies of your weapon."
"Why did you not stop him?" asked Yama.
"I could not, Lord. I was taken by his Attribute."
"It does not matter," said Yama. "The third sentinel will overcome
him."
Binding gravitation to his will, he rose.
As he fled, he grew conscious of a pursuing shadow.
Somewhere just at the periphery of his vision, it lurked. No matter how
he turned his head it escaped his sight. But it was always there, and
growing.
Ahead, there was a lock. A gate to the outside hovered above and ahead.
The Talisman could unbind that lock, could warm him against the cold, could
transport him anywhere in the world. . . .
There came a sound of wings, beating.
"Flee!" the voice thundered in his head. "Increase your speed, Binder!
Flee faster! Flee faster!"
It was one of the strangest sensations he had ever experienced.
He felt himself moving forward, racing onward.
But nothing changed. The gate was no nearer. For all his sense of
tremendous speed, he was not moving.
"Faster, Binder! Faster!" cried the wild, booming voice. "Seek to
emulate the wind and the lightning in your going!"
He strove to halt the sense of motion that he felt.
Then the winds buffeted him, the mighty winds that circle through
Heaven.
He fought them down, but the voice sounded right next to him now,
though he saw nothing but shadow.
"'The senses are horses and objects the roads they travel,'" said the
voice. "'If the intellect is related to a mind that is distracted, it loses
then its discrimination,' " and Sam recognized the mighty words of the Katha
Upanishad roaring at his back. "'In this case,' " the voice went on, "'the
senses then become uncontrolled, like wild and vicious horses beneath the
rein of a weak charioteer.'"
And the sky exploded with lightnings about him and the darkness wrapped
him around.
He sought to bind the energies that assailed him, but found nothing
with which to grapple.
"It is not real!" he cried out.
"What is real and what is not?" replied the voice. "Your horses escape
you now."
There was a moment of terrible blackness, as if he moved through a
vacuum of the senses. Then there was pain. Then nothing.
It is difficult to be the oldest youthgod in the business.
He entered the Hall of Karma, requested audience with a representative
of the Wheel, was shown into the presence of the Lord, who had had to forego
probing him two days before.
"Well?" he inquired.
"I am sorry for the delay. Lord Murugan. Our personnel had become
involved in the wedding preparations."
"They are out reveling, when they should be preparing my new body?"
"You should not speak. Lord, as though it is truly your body. It is a
body loaned you by the Great Wheel, in response to your present karmic
needs-- "
"And it is not ready because the staff is out reveling?"
"It is not ready because the Great Wheel turns in a manner- - "
"I want it by tomorrow evening at the latest. If it is not ready, the
Great Wheel may become as a juggernaut upon its ministers. Do you hear me
and understand, Lord of Karma?"
"I hear you, but your speech is out of place in this-- "
"Brahma recommended the transfer, and he would be pleased for me to
appear at the wedding party at Milehigh Spire in my new form. Shall I inform
him that the Great Wheel is unable to comply with his wishes because it
turns exceeding slow?"
"No, Lord. It will be ready in time."
"Very good."
He turned and left.
The Lord of Karma made an ancient and mystical sign behind his back.
"Brahma."
"Yes, goddess?"
"Concerning my suggestion . . ."
"It shall be done as you requested, madam."
"I would have it otherwise."
"Otherwise?"
"Yea, Lord. I would have a human sacrifice."
"Not. . ."
"Yes."
"You are indeed even more sentimental than I had thought."
"Shall this thing be done, or shall it not?"
"To speak plainly-- in the light of recent events, I should prefer it
this way."
"Then it is resolved?"
"It shall be as you wish. There was more power present in that one than
I had thought. If the Lord of Illusion had not been sentinel-- well, I had
not anticipated that one who had been so quiet for so long could also be
as-- talented, as you have put it."
"Will you give unto me the full disposition of this thing, Creator?"
"Gladly."
"And throw in the Monarch of Thieves, for dessert?"
"Yes. Let it be so."
"Thank you, mighty one."
"It is nothing."
"It will be. Good evening."
"Good evening."
It is said that on that day, that great day, the Lord Vayu stopped the
winds of Heaven and a stillness came upon the Celestial City and the wood of
Kaniburrha. Citragupta, serving man to Lord Yama, built a mighty pyre at
Worldsend, out of aromatic woods, gums, incenses, perfumes and costly
cloths; and upon the pyre he laid the Talisman of the Binder and the great
blue-feather cloak that had belonged to Srit, chief among the Kataputna
demons; he also placed there the shape-changing jewel of the Mothers, from
out the Dome of the Glow, and a robe of saffron from the purple grove of
Alundil, which was said to have belonged to Tathagatha the Buddha. The
silence of the morning after the night of the Festival of the First was
complete. There was no movement to be seen in Heaven. It is said that demons
flitted invisible through the upper air, but feared to draw near the
gathering of power. It is said that there had been many signs and portents
signifying the fall of the mighty. It was said, by the theologians and holy
historians, that the one called Sam had recanted his heresy and thrown
himself upon the mercy of Trimurti. It is also said that the goddess
Parvati, who had been either his wife, his mother, his sister, his daughter,
or perhaps all of these, had fled Heaven, to dwell in mourning among the
witches of the eastern continent, whom she counted as kin. With dawn, the
great bird called Garuda, Mount of Vishnu, whose beak smashes chariots, had
stirred for a moment into wakefulness and had uttered a single hoarse cry
within his cage, a cry that rang through Heaven, stabbing glass into shards,
echoing across the land, awakening the soundest sleeper. Within the still
summer of Heaven, the day of Love and Death began.
The streets of Heaven were empty. The gods dwelled for a time indoors,
waiting. All the portals of Heaven had been secured.
The thief and the one whose followers had called him Mahasamatman
(thinking him a god) were released. The air was of a sudden chill, with the
laying of a weird.
High, high above the Celestial City, on a platform at the top of
Milehigh Spire, stood the Lord of Illusion, Mara the Dreamer. He had upon
him his cloak of all colors. His arms were raised, and the powers of others
among the gods flowed through him, adding to his own.
In his mind, a dream took shape. Then he cast his dream, as a high
wave-front casts waters across a beach.
For all ages, since their fashioning by Lord Vishnu, the City and the
wilderness had existed side by side, adjacent, yet not really touching,
accessible, yet removed from one another by a great distance within the
mind, rather than by a separation merely spatial in nature. Vishnu, being
the Preserver, had done this for a reason. Now, he did not wholly approve of
the lifting of his barrier, even in a temporary and limited way. He did not
wish to see any of the wilderness enter into the City, which, in his mind,
had grown into the perfect triumph of form over chaos.
Yet, by the power of the Dreamer was it given unto the phantom cats to
look upon all of Heaven for a time.
They stirred, restlessly, upon the dark and ageless trails of the
jungle that was part illusion. There, within the place that only half
existed, a new seeing came into their eyes, and with it a restlessness and a
summons to the hunt.
It was rumored among the seafaring folk, those worldwide gossips and
carriers of tales, who seem to know all things, that some among the phantom
cats who hunted on that day were not really cats at all. They say that it
was told in the places of the world where the gods passed later, that some
among the Celestial Party transmigrated on that day, taking upon themselves
the bodies of white tigers out of Kaniburrha, to join in the hunt through
the alleys of Heaven after the thief who had failed and the one who had been
called Buddha.
It is said that, as he wandered the streets of the City, an ancient
jackbird cycled three times above him, then came to rest upon Sam's
shoulder, saying:
"Are you not Maitreya, Lord of Light, for whom the world has waited,
lo, these many years-- he whose coming I prophesyed long ago in a poem?"
"No, my name is Sam," he replied, "and I am about to depart the world,
not enter into it Who are you?"
"I am a bird who was once a poet. All morning have I flown, since the
yawp of Garuda opened the day. I was flying about the ways of Heaven looking
for Lord Rudra, hoping to befoul him with my droppings, when I felt the
power of a weird come over the land. I have flown far, and I have seen many
things, Lord of Light"
"What things have you seen, bird who was a poet?"
"I have seen an unlit pyre set at the end of the world, with fogs
stirring all about it. I have seen the gods who come late hurrying across
the snows and rushing through the upper airs, circling outside the dome. I
have seen the players upon the ranga and the nepathya, rehearsing the Masque
of Blood, for the wedding of Death and Destruction. I have seen the Lord
Vayu raise up his hand and stop the winds that circle through Heaven. I have
seen all-colored Mara atop the spire of the highest tower, and I have felt
the power of the weird he lays-- for I have seen the phantom cats troubled
within the wood, then hurrying in this direction. I have seen the tears of a
man and of a woman. I have heard the laughter of a goddess. I have seen a
bright spear uplifted against the morning, and I have heard an oath spoken.
I have seen the Lord of Light at last, of whom I wrote, long ago:
Always dying, never dead;
Ever ending, never ended;
Loathed in darkness,
Clothed in light,
He comes, to end a world,
As morning ends the night.
These lines were writ
By Morgan, free,
Who shall, the day he dies,
See this prophecy."
The bird ruffled his feathers then and was still.
"I am pleased, bird, that you have had a chance to see many things,"
said Sam, "and that within the fiction of your metaphor you have achieved a
certain satisfaction. Unfortunately, poetic truth differs considerably from
that which surrounds most of the business of life."
"Hail, Lord of Light!" said the bird, and sprang into the air. As he
rose, he was pierced through by an arrow shot from a nearby window by one
who hated jackbirds.
Sam hurried on.
It is said that the phantom cat who had his life, and that of Helba a
little later, was really a god or a goddess, which was quite possible.
It is said, also, that the phantom cat who killed them was not the
first, or the second, to attempt this thing. Several tigers died beneath the
Bright Spear, which passed into them, withdrew itself, vibrated clean of
gore and returned then to the hand of its thrower. Tak of the Bright Spear
fell himself, however, struck in the head by a chair thrown by Lord Ganesha,
who had entered silently into the room at his back. It is said by some that
the Bright Spear was later destroyed by Lord Agni, but others say that it
was cast beyond Worldsend by the Lady Maya.
Vishnu was not pleased, later being quoted as having said that the City
should not have been defiled with blood, and that wherever chaos finds
egress, it will one day return. But he was laughed at by the younger of the
gods, for he was accounted least among Trimurti, and his ideas were known to
be somewhat dated, he being numbered among the First. For this reason,
though, he disclaimed any part in the affair and retired into his tower for
a time. Lord Varuna the Just turned away his face from the proceedings and
visited the Pavilion of Silence at Worldsend, where he sat for a spell in
the room named Fear.
The Masque of Blood was quite lovely, having been written by the poet
Adasay, who was noted for his elegant language, being of the anti-Morganic
school. It was accompanied by powerful illusions cast by the Dreamer
especially for the occasion. It is said that Sam, too, had walked in
illusion on that day; and that, as a part of the weird, he had walked in
partial darkness, amidst awful odors, through regions of wailing and
shrieking, and that he had seen once again every terror he had known in his
life conjured up before him, brilliant or swart, silent or trumpeting,
fresh-torn from the fabric of his memory and dripping with the emotions of
their birth into his life, before it was over.
What remained was taken in procession to the pyre at Worldsend, placed
there upon it, burned amidst chanting. Lord Agni had raised his goggles,
stared for a time, and then the flames had arisen. Lord Vayu had lifted up
his hand and a wind had come to fan the fire. When it was finished. Lord
Shiva had blasted the ashes beyond the world with a twist of his trident.
These things considered, it was thorough as well as impressive, the
funeral.
Long unrehearsed in Heaven, the wedding came on with all the power of
tradition. Milehigh Spire glistened, blindingly, like a stalagmite of ice.
The weird had been withdrawn, and the phantom cats walked the streets of the
City, blinded once more, their fur sleeked as if by the wind; and should
they climb a broad stairway, it was a rocky slope they mounted; the
buildings were cliffs and the statues were trees. The winds that circled
through Heaven captured song and scattered it across the land. A sacred fire
was kindled in the Square within the City's center Circle. Virgins, imported
for the occasion, fed this fire with a clean, dry, aromatic wood, which
crackled and burnt with very little smoke, save for occasional puffs of
purest white. Surya, the sun, shone down with such brilliance that the day
fairly vibrated with clarity. The groom, attended by a great procession of
friends and retainers decked all in red, was escorted through the City to
the Pavilion of Kali, where all were taken within by her servants and led
into the great dining hall. There, Lord Kubera served as host, seating the
scarlet train, which was three hundred in number, in chairs of black and
chairs of red, alternating, around the long black-wood tables, which were
inlaid with bone. There, in that hall, were they all given to drink of
madhuparka, which was of honey and curds and psychedelic powders; and this
they drank in the company of the blue-garbed train of the bride, which
entered the hall bearing double cups. The train of the bride numbered three
hundred also; and when all were seated and all had drunk of the madhuparka,
Kubera did then speak for a time, jesting with them broadly and alternating
his speech with words of practical wisdom and occasional references to the
ancient scriptures. The legion of the groom then departed to the pavilion in
the Square, and that of the bride advanced upon it from another direction.
Yama and Kali entered this pavilion separately and sat on either side of a
small curtain. There was much singing of ancient songs and the curtain was
removed by Kubera, permitting the two to look upon one another for the first
time that day. Kubera did speak then, giving Kali into the care of Yama in
return for the promises of goodness, wealth and pleasure to be given unto
her. Then Lord Yama clasped her hand and Kali cast an offering of grain into
the fire, about which Yama led her, their garments having been knotted
together by one of her retainers. After this, Kali trod upon a millstone,
and the two of them took seven steps together, Kali treading upon a small
pile of rice with each step. Then was a light rain summoned down from the
sky for the space of several heartbeats, to sanctify the occasion with the
blessing of water. The retainers and guests then combined into a single
procession and moved off through the town in the direction of the dark
pavilion of Yama, where great feasting and revelry was held, and where the
Masque of Blood was presented.
As Sam had faced his final tiger, it had nodded its head slowly,
knowing what it was hunting. There was no place for him to run, so he stood
there, waiting. The cat took its time also. A horde of demons had tried to
descend upon the City at that moment, but the power of the weird held them
back. The goddess Ratri was seen to be weeping and her name was entered upon
a list. Tak of the Archives was incarcerated for a time in the dungeons
beneath Heaven. The Lord Yama was heard to say, "Life did not rise up," as
though he had almost expected that it would.
All things considered, it was thorough as well as impressive, the
death.
The wedding party lasted for seven days, and the Lord Mara spun dream
after dream about the revelers. As if by a carpet of magic, he transported
them through the lands of illusion, raising up palaces of colored smoke upon
pillars of water and of fire, escalating the benches at which they sat down
canyons of stardust, striving with coral and myrrh to bend their senses
beyond themselves, bringing onto them all their Aspects, wherein he held
them, rotating about the archetypes upon which they had based their powers,
as Shiva danced in a graveyard the Dance of Destruction and the Dance of
Time, celebrating the legend of his annihilation of the three flying cities
of the Titans, and Krishna the Dark moved through the Wrestler's Dance in
commemoration of his breaking of the black demon Bana, while Lakshmi danced
the Dance of the Statue, and even Lord Vishnu was coerced into celebrating
again the steps of the Dance of the Amphora, as Murugan, in his new body,
laughed at the world clad in all her oceans, and did his dance of triumph
upon those waters as upon a stage, the dance that he had danced after the
slaying of Shura, who had taken refuge in the depths of the sea. When Mara
gestured there was magic and color and music and wine. There was poetry and
gaming. There was song and laughter. There was sport, in which mighty trials
of strength and skill took place. In all, it required the stamina of a god
to bear the entire seven days of pleasure.
These things considered, it was thorough as well as impressive, the
wedding.
When it was over, the bride and the groom departed Heaven, to wander
for a time about the world, to take in the pleasures of many places. They
went, without servants or retainers, to wander free. They did not announce
the order of their visitations, or the length of time they would spend--
which was to be expected, their fellows being the celestial practical jokers
that they were.
After their going, there was still some revelry. Lord Rudra, having
consumed a magnificent quantity of soma, stood up upon a table and began to
deliver a speech concerning the bride-- a speech with which, had Yama been
present, he would doubtless have taken issue. Such being the case. Lord Agni
slapped Rudra across the mouth and was immediately challenged to a duel, in
Aspect, across the length of Heaven.
Agni was flown to a mountaintop beyond Kaniburrha, and Lord Rudra took
up a position near Worldsend. When the signal was given, Rudra sent a
heat-tracking arrow whistling down the miles in the direction of his
opponent. From fifteen miles away, however, Lord Agni spotted the arrow as
it sped toward him and burnt it from out the air with a blast of the
Universal Fire, which same power he then moved like a needle of light, to
touch upon Rudra and burn him to ashes where he stood, also piercing through
the dome at his back. Thus was the honor of the Lokapalas upheld, and a new
Rudra was raised up from the ranks of the demigods to take the place of the
old, who had fallen.
One rajah and two high priests died of poisoning, quite colorfully, and
pyres were built to accommodate their bluish remains. Lord Krishna raised up
his Aspect and played a music after which there is no music, and Guari the
Fair relented and came to him once more, her heart softened, after he had
finished. Sarasvati in her glory did the Dance of Delight, and then Lord
Mara re-created the flight of Helba and the Buddha through the City. This
last dreaming troubled many, however, and more names were recorded at that
time. A demon then dared enter into their midst, with the body of a youth
and the head of a tiger, attacking Lord Agni with a terrible fury. He was
repelled by the combined powers of Ratri and of Vishnu, but he succeeded in
escaping into incorporeality before Agni could bring his wand to bear upon
him.
In the days that followed, there were changes within Heaven.
Tak of the Archives and the Bright Spear was judged by the Lords of
Karma and was transmigrated into the body of an ape; and there was a warning
set within his mind that wherever he presented himself for renewal he was to
be given again into the body of an ape, to wander the world in this form
until such a time as Heaven saw fit to extend its mercy and lift this doom
from him. He was then sent forth into the jungles of the south, and there
released to work off his karmic burden.
Lord Varuna the Just gathered his servants about him and departed the
Celestial City, to make his home elsewhere in the world. Some of his
detractors likened his departure to that of Nirriti the Black, god of
darkness and corruption, who had left Heaven filled with ill will and the
miasma of many a dark curse. The detractors of Varuna were not so numerous,
however, for it was common knowledge that he deserved the title Just, and
his condemnation could easily be construed to reflect upon the worth of its
speaker, so few spoke of him beyond the days immediately following his
going.
Much later, others among the gods were exiled into the world, in the
days of the Heavenly Purges. Their going, however, had its beginnings in
these times, when Accelerationism entered again into Heaven.
Brahma, mightiest of the four orders of gods and the eighteen hosts of
paradise. Creator of all. Lord of High Heaven and everything beneath it,
from whose navel springs forth a lotus and whose hands churn the oceans--
he, who in three strides encompasses all the worlds, the drum of whose glory
strikes terror into the hearts of his enemies, upon whose right hand is the
wheel of the law, who tethers catastrophes, using a snake for rope -- Brahma
was to feel more and more uncomfortable and distraught in the days that came
to pass as a