Lord of Light

Yama seized the blade with both hands, its point inches away from his heart. It began to move forward and the blood dripped from the palms of his hands and fell upon the ground.

Brahma turned a death-gaze upon the Lord of Hellwell, a gaze that drew now upon the force of life itself within him.

The point touched Yama.

Yama threw himself to the side, turning, and it gouged him from breastbone to shoulder as it passed.

Then his eyes were two spears, and the Rakasha lost his manlike form and became smoke. Brahma's head fell upon his breast.

Taraka screamed as Siddhartha rode toward him upon a white horse, the air crackling and smelling of ozone:

"No, Binder! Hold your power! My death belongs to Yama . . ."

"Oh foolish demon!" said Sam. "It need not have been . . ."

But Taraka was no more.

Yama fell to his knees beside Brahma and tied a tourniquet about what remained of his left arm.

"Kali!" he said. "Don't die! Talk to me. Kali!"

Brahma gasped and his eyes flickered open, but closed again.

"Too late," mumbled Nirriti. He turned his head and looked at Yama. "Or rather, just in time. You're Azrael, aren't you? The Angel of Death . . ."

Yama slapped him, and the blood upon his hand was smeared across Nirriti's face.

"'Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,'" said Nirriti. "'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.' "

Yama slapped him again.

"'Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. . . .'"

"'And blessed are the peacemakers,'" said Yama, "'for they shall be called the children of God.' How do you fit into the picture. Black One? Whose child are you, to have wrought as you have done?"

Nirriti smiled and said, "'Blessed are they who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'"

"You are mad," said Yama, "and I will not take your life for that reason. Give it away yourself, when you are ready, which should be soon."

He lifted Brahma then in his arms and began walking back toward the city.

"'Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you,'" said Nirriti, "'and persecute you, and say all ma

"Water?" asked Sam, unstoppering his canteen and raising Nirriti's head.

Nirriti looked at him, licked his lips, nodded slightly. He trickled the water into his mouth.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Sam."

"You? You rose again?"

"It doesn't count," said Sam. "I didn't do it the hard way."

Tears filled the Black One's eyes. "It means you'll win, though," he gasped. "I can't understand why He permitted it . . ."

"This is only one world, Renfrew. Who knows what goes on elsewhere? And that isn't really the fight I wanted to win, anyhow. You know that. I'm sorry for you, and I'm sorry about the whole thing. I agree with everything you said to Yama, and so do the followers of the one they called the Buddha. I don't recall any longer whether I was really that one, or whether it was another. But I am gone away from that one now. I shall return to being a man, and I shall let the people keep the Buddha who is in their hearts. Whatever the source, the message was pure, believe me. That is the only reason it took root and grew."

Renfrew swallowed another drink.

"'Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit,'" he said. "It was a will greater than mine that determined I die in the arms of the Buddha, that decided upon this Way for this world. . . . Give me your blessing, oh Gautama. I die now. . ."

Sam bowed his head.

"'The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north. It whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits. All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full. Unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again. The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be, and that which is done is that which shall be done. There is no remembrance of former things, neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after. . . .'"

Then he covered the Black One with his cloak of white, for he had died.

Jan Olvegg was born in a litter into the town. Sam sent for Kubera and for Narada to meet him at the Hall of Karma, for it was apparent Olvegg would not be long alive in his present body.

When they entered the Hall, Kubera stumbled over the dead man who lay within the archway.

"Who . . . ?" he asked.

"A Master."

Three more wearers of the yellow wheel lay within the corridor that led to their transfer rooms. All of them bore arms.

They found another near the machinery. The thrust of a blade had caught him precisely in the center of his yellow circle, and he looked like a well-used target. His mouth was still opened for the scream he'd never screamed.

"Could the townsmen have done this?" asked Narada. "The Masters have grown more unpopular in recent years. Perhap they took advantage of the battle frenzy. . ."

"No," said Kubera, as he raised the stained sheet that covered the body upon the operating table, looked beneath it, lowered it. "No, it wasn't the townsmen."

"Who, then?"

He glanced back at the table.

"That's Brahma," he said.

"Oh."

"Someone must have told Yama he couldn't use the machinery to try a transfer."

"Then where's Yama?"

"I have no idea. But we'd better work fast if we're going to manage Olvegg."

"Yes. Move!"

The tall youth strode into the Palace of Kama and asked after Lord Kubera. He bore a long, gleaming spear across his shoulder, and he paced without pause as he waited.

Kubera entered the chamber, glanced at the spear, at the youth, said one word.

"Yes, it is Tak," replied the spearman. "New spear, new Tak. No need to remain an ape any longer, so I didn't. The time of departure is near, so I came to say good-bye—to you and to Ratri. . . "

"Where will you go, Tak?"

"Td like to see the rest of the world, Kubera, before you manage to mechanize all the magic out of it."

"That day is nowhere near at hand, Tak. Let me persuade you to stay a while longer. . ."

"No, Kubera. Thank you, but Captain Olvegg is anxious to get along. He and I are moving out together."

"Where will you be going?"

"East, west. . . who knows? Whatever quarter beckons. . . . Tell me, Kubera, who owns the thunder chariot now?"

"It belonged to Shiva originally, of course. But there no longer is a Shiva. Brahma used it for a long while."

"But there no longer is a Brahma. Heaven is without one for the first time—as Vishnu rules, preserving. So . . ."

"Yama built it. If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to him . . ."

"And he has no use for it," finished Tak. "So I think Olvegg and I will borrow it for our journeying."

"What mean you he has no use for it? No one has seen him these three days since the battle—"

"Hello, Ratri," said Tak, and the goddess of Night entered the room. "'Guard us from the she-wolf and the wolf, and guard us from the thief, oh Night, and so be good for us to pass.'"

He bowed and she touched his head.

Then he looked up into her face, and for one splendid moment the goddess filled wide space, to its depths and its heights. Her radiance drove out the dark. . ..

"I must go now," he said. "Thank you, thank you—for your blessing."

He turned quickly and started from the chamber. "Wait!" said Kubera. "You spoke of Yama. Where is he?"

"Seek him at the I