Chapter 15

GAEA

First Parry spent some time thinking. He retreated to the edge of the Void, where no one would bother him, and reviewed what had passed. Nox had said that the woman was mortal, and an Incarnation, and had been given to him, but that he had to win her from the others and from herself. There were only two major female Incarnations currently. Fate and Gaea, and neither one of them would touch him.

Then he remembered the prophecy he had discussed with Lilah. The business with Mars had blotted it from his attention. Two men, possessing the two most beautiful women, bearing each a daughter, one of whom might marry Death, the other Evil. One daughter to love an Incarnation, the other to be one.

There was only one conclusion to be drawn from those prophecies, assuming they were true ones. One daughter was to associate with Thanatos, as Luna was doing; the other was to associate with Satan, and become an Incarnation herself. What a concatenation of threads!

Which Incarnation? While it was possible for a male or female mortal to assume any Incarnation office, the sexes had been unchanged throughout Parry’s tenure. So it seemed likely that she would become either an Aspect of Fate, perhaps joining her mother, Niobe, or Nature.

Nature. Gaea. The Green Mother. She had been in office since Parry had worked her over with the plague. She was still on the job, but might be getting tired.

If that other daughter—what was her name? Orb—if Orb became Gaea, and associated with Parry—

It burst upon him like an explosion from the fires of Hell. If he won that girl, and she was Gaea, her power would be joined to his! He could use that mergence to tip the balance against God!

No wonder Nox had elected to wait, foreseeing this! Why should she distract him from the biggest chance of his career in office! Nox preferred to see what he would do with it. If he lost, there were was time for Nox. If he won—

The prospect awed him. All he had to do was—

He quickly sobered. Orb was Niobe’s daughter! She was protected by Fate. There was no way that girl would walk innocently into his embrace!

But Niobe had, in a fashion, turned Orb loose. She had agreed to divert her from politics. He had intended that to be Luna, and had been deceived. He had agreed never to harm her. But by the same token, Niobe had left her to him, because his agreement meant that she had no cause to fear what he might do to Orb. The logic was somewhat obscure, but the interpretation was viable.

But what was the girl like? He had never seen her. He knew only that in childhood she had been like a twin sister to Luna, with buckwheat-honey hair to match Luna’s clover-honey hair. Luna had grown to be a beauty, talented artistically—and politically. Orb—her talent was music, for she had claimed a musical instrument from the Hall of the Mountain King. How did that qualify her to assume the office of the Incarnation of Nature?

Parry realized that it was time to take a look at Orb. He would not interfere with her in any way; he would simply observe her. After all, if she was destined to be his companion, he had a right to know!

First he had to locate her. That was simple enough; he went to Purgatory and used its computer. These new-fangled scientific devices did have their uses. He was after all an Incarnation, and this was neutral territory; the computer served him as well as the others.

She was in America, on a tour with a musical group called The Livin’ Sludge. That made sense, because of her music. But that group jogged a memory; perhaps he had encountered it in his quest to evoke evil among mortals.

He returned to Hell and delved into its own records. Sure enough, the members of The Livin’ Sludge were considered to be prime prospects for residence in Hell after they died, because all three males were hooked on Spelled H, one of the most addictive and degenerative of modern drugs.

But what was Niobe’s daughter doing with such a group? She was surely a disgustingly good girl, and would be unlikely to associate with evil in any form. This was becoming more interesting.

Then he discovered that in addition to the three male musicians, there were two young woman and a succubus in the group, besides Orb herself. More interesting yet.

The succubus was of course a damned creature, a female demon who seduced men in their sleep. Her name was Jezebel, and she was not associated with Hell; she was an independent agent. The male musicians would enjoy her company, of course, but Niobe’s daughter and the two other girls, who were innocent creatures, would hardly feel the same!

The group was conveyed from site to site by a huge magic fish known as Jonah. Most interesting of all!

Jonah he knew about already. He was the monstrous fish who had swallowed the Prophet Jonah some millennia back, and was being punished for it, now having assumed the name of the one he had wronged. He was forbidden to touch water, he had to swim instead through air or earth. Why would he do such a service for this motley assemblage?

Parry located the site at which they were currently performing and went there to take in a show. He assumed the form of a somewhat seedy middle-aged man, and paid for his ticket with legitimate money. This was of course an anonymous visit, just for information.

The group looked every bit as disreputable as he had expected. The boys were somewhat shaggy, and even from his distance in the rear of the audience he could sniff the aura of evil associated with their addiction to H. Ordinary H was bad, but Spelled H was truly hellish; it never let go until its victim was securely in Hell proper.

Then the girls came on. Two of them; evidently the others served other functions in the group. One of these was black and rather pretty, and she was a virgin with so little evil on her soul she seemed unreal. The other was Orb: conservatively garbed, buckwheat-honey tresses, and reminiscent of her real mother though not as beautiful. She had a little harp that seemed out of place among the more conventional instruments of the boys.

A harp? He remembered how Jolie had played a little harp. That jolted him, even after seven centuries.

They began to play, the organ, guitar and drums. There was really nothing special about it. The audience quickly became restless, and there were discontented murmurings. “You mean this is it?” a girl near Parry whispered to her companion. “I thought they were supposed to be hot!”

He smiled knowingly. “They are. Just wait.”

After a moment, the black girl began to sing. Her voice was good, but not spectacular, and the fact that she sang an old folk song did not help.

“I didn’t pay good money for this junk!” the girl in the audience muttered. All through the packed hall there were similar rumblings; it would not be long before balls of paper were flying.

“You’ll see,” the companion said smugly.

Parry was more curious than bored. He knew that young folk had a low tolerance for boredom, and conventional values bored them. How had The Livin’ Sludge managed to develop such popularity with such ordinary stuff?

Then Orb touched her harp and joined in, adding a slight additional theme hardly audible through the existing sound.

Something happened. It was as though color developed after an image had been established in limited black and white. The black girl’s voice filled out, becoming beautiful, and the boys’ instruments assumed authority they had lacked before. Suddenly the music had conviction. It spread out through the audience, an almost tangible wave, and replaced fidgeting with rapture. The mouth of the nearby complaining girl froze in mid-mutter; her eyes glazed. Her companion did not even say “I told you so”; he, too, was rapt.

Yet the music had hardly changed. It was still the old folk song, still the motley collection of instruments.

Then it touched Parry, and he felt the magic.

Now Orb joined in singing, her voice added to that of the black girl. The magic intensified. The listeners nearest the stage seemed almost to float, and even way back here, where the effect was diminished, the sound became wondrous.

Orb had the same magic he did! But hers, enhanced by the harp from the Hall of the Mountain King, was magnified, so that its power touched thousands. It spread to the other members of the performing group, enhancing their otherwise ordinary skills. It hardly mattered what music they played; anything became marvelous.

Now Parry knew the secret of The Livin’ Sludge. Magic talent enhanced by magic instrument. He understood it readily enough; after all, he himself had enraptured listeners with his voice alone on many occasions. He could depart; he hardly needed to sit through the entire performance.

But he did not move. He remained, as did all the others, silently taking it all in. At the end, he joined in the applause as ardently as the others.

As the folk departed, he remembered his mission. He wanted to know more of the situation of Orb and The Livin’ Sludge. Much more!

He conjured himself to Jonah, the big fish floating invisibly in the air near the city. Jonah was aware of his coming, and shuddered, but could not protest; Parry was after all an Incarnation.

The girl Betsy was there, sitting at a desk in her office inside the fish, sorting through the voluminous correspondence the group received and dictating answers into a recorder. She was, he understood, the organist’s girl. He ignored her and sought instead the succubus.

Jezebel was fixing an evening meal. Because night had fallen, she was in her exotic form, a supremely luscious young woman. But instead of seeking sleeping men to seduce, she was working patiently at this mundane chore, with seeming satisfaction.

“What are you doing here, demoness?” he inquired, materializing beside her.

She turned, annoyed—and did a humanlike double take. “Satan! You have no call on me!”

“I have no interest in you, demoness. All I want is information: why does a creature of your kind associate in a menial capacity with a mixed bag of mortals?”

“I don’t have to answer You!”

“Would you prefer that I inquire of one of the mortals? That fair girl in the other chamber, perhaps?”

“Leave her alone, Satan! She’s innocent!”

“Then I think you will answer Me,” he said grimly. It worked. The succubus knew his power, and feared for her companions. “If I do, will You go?”

“Not only that, I will erase any signs of My visit.”

“It’s the Llano,” she said.

“The Llano!” he exclaimed. “What do you know of the Song of the Fundament?”

“Only that it will free me,” she said. “And them. They all want it too. The boys to get off the H, and Jonah to be released from his curse, and Orb—”

He nodded. He knew of the Llano, having searched for parts of it for centuries. It was the ultimate melody of power, carrying magic that reached back into the nature of chaos itself. A minor aspect of it lent magic to his own singing.

Then he realized how this related to Orb. She, too, partook of an aspect of the Llano when she sang. Naturally she wanted more of it, for a person who could tap into the Llano had the potential to do much more.

His question was answered. The quest for the Llano was indeed what unified this motley group. They were on tour not for money or fame, but to search out the Llano.

That gave him the key to his approach to Orb. He could help her to achieve a portion of the Llano.

There was a noise outside. The others were returning to the fish—or perhaps Jonah had gone to their location to take them in.

Jezebel glanced up in alarm. “Satan, You promised—”

Parry nodded. “You answered, demoness. Now I depart, and you will carry no memory of this interview.” He made a gesture, as of nipping something at her.

She jumped, alarmed. Then it hit her, and her expression straightened as he faded out. She had forgotten his visit.

Parry smiled. He had not been sure that a demon who was independent of Hell would react in the same way those within Hell did. Now he knew: he had the same power over outside demons as over inside demons. The power over their belief. He had not performed any magic; he had simply made a gesture, and Jezebel had erased the memory herself, obeying the power she believed he had.

He remained, invisible, just to make sure she was not trying to trick him. In a moment the party boarded. One of them came straight to the kitchen chamber. It was the guitarist. He swept the demoness into his embrace and kissed her ardently, and she responded with complete abandon.

Parry was amazed. Demonesses seldom gave their love, particularly this species, but this one had. He could tell when they were deceiving and when they were true; he had centuries of experience. Certainly Jezebel did not want Satan interfering; she just wanted to be left alone with her lover.

He would leave her alone. He remembered Lilah, who had been true to each of her lovers until they tired of her. He had lost Lilah because he had lost respect for her; he had brought it on himself.

Then Orb entered the kitchen. The two broke their kiss, remaining embraced. “Food’s ready,” Jezebel said. “I’ll get on it.”

“Finish what you’re doing,” Orb said with a smile.

They returned to their kiss. Orb watched indulgently, but also with a trace of envy. She had no lover of her own.

Parry gazed at her, remaining invisible. This was the woman who might marry Evil. He had been contemptuous of that prophecy, remembering beautiful Niobe, not really able to appreciate how the baby she had after departing the office could ever interest him. But then he had heard Orb sing, in the way that he himself sang, and a dimension had been added to the prospects. Now he saw her in her natural state, and she was a beautiful woman in her own right, and a feeling one. In fact, she reminded him of her mother—and, oddly, of Jolie. Her hair was the same color, and so were her eyes. Also, there was her little harp.

Of Jolie! He was abruptly aware of his chain of thought. A woman almost as lovely as Niobe, cast in the image of Parry’s long-dead wife. Had Gabriel known it would be this way?

Parry conjured himself away from there, dismayed. Now he appreciated the potential treachery of the situation. There were two ways he could join with Orb, the potential Gaea. One was to seduce her into loving him, and adding her power to his, giving him victory over God. The other was for her to seduce him into loving her, and that would destroy all his prospects. Plus, she was allied with God, and would not betray God unless her heart went first.

His smartest move might be to drop any consideration of any association with this young woman. To stay well away from her, and go to Nox...

He shook his head. He knew he could not do that. He had to settle matters with Orb, one way or the other. It was apt to be the most significant challenge of his career as an Incarnation.

Parry watched Orb for some time, attending a number of the concerts on the tour and observing her as she went out shopping or visiting. He was avoiding the issue, he knew; but he was uncertain how to approach her. Certainly he could not walk up and introduce himself as Satan; she would refuse to have anything to do with him. But if he fashioned himself into some other semblance, she would be furious when she learned the truth, and that would end the association. Either way, her mother would be trouble. Niobe knew of the prophecy, and would surely labor diligently to void it. As an Aspect of Fate, she had extraordinary power to do just that.

Yet she had, he reminded himself, in her fashion given him leave. She knew that the issue would not be settled until the prophecy had been expended. That critical word may had to be settled; it had to be determined whether Orb would or would not marry Evil. Perhaps she wanted the issue settled as much as he did.

Why not start with Niobe, then? Settle with her about the manner he would settle with her daughter. Whatever she acceded to, the other Incarnations would.

He mulled it over, but found no better approach. There had to be some way to do it that would not have him at odds with the other Incarnations.

He went to the Abode of Fate. Niobe expected him, for there was a tangle in her threads at this stage. She met him in her own form; the other two Aspects were of course with her, but not evident. She was somewhat dumpy in her middle age, yet the echo of her former beauty remained. He knew that she could have changed her form to be beautiful again, but her pride prevented her. She had let her body decline, and would live with it. He respected that, though he himself had chosen to adopt a younger perpetual form when he had become an Incarnation.

“How may I approach your daughter without your malice?” he asked directly. “To settle the prophecy.”

“Simply tell her the truth,” she said. “That you are the Incarnation of Evil, and you have come to fulfill the prophecy. Ask her to marry you. I’m sure she will give you an answer.”

“Indubitably,” he agreed wryly. “The same answer you gave me. I fear I would not be quite satisfied with that.”

“You must either speak the truth to her, or a lie,” she said. “I’m sure the lie comes easier to you.”

“But the resolution of the prophecy cannot be a lie!” he reminded her.

She looked at him penetratingly. “You’re serious. You actually want to marry her!”

“Yes.”

“But not to love her, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Why, when you know she will never be corrupted to evil?”

“Because she will become the Incarnation of Nature. Her power added to Mine will give Me the balance of power in the mortal realm.”

“Satan, if you think for a moment that I will concur in that—!”

“But she must do it voluntarily. If you are certain she will not, why do you object to the trial of it?”

She considered. “Because I do not trust you, Satan. You are devious in the extreme. You almost got my soul; I will not give my daughter’s soul to you!”

“If Orb is certain of her own values, she should be able to make that decision for herself. Do you trust her or don’t you?”

“I trust her if she knows the truth. But you will deceive her.”

Parry sighed. “The truth would send her away at the outset; we both know that. I will not go into sure defeat.”

She angled her head, in a way that carried over from the days of her beauty. “Atropos has a suggestion.”

“Put her on,” he said.

The black grandmotherly woman appeared in her place. “Why don’t you lie to her,” she said.

Parry shook his head. “We have covered that.”

“No you haven’t, old Scrotch! You just said it and never thought about it. How about this deal: you go court her—but everything you tell her must be a lie. That way you can tell her you love her. Then the moment you ask her to marry you, you must tell her nothing but the truth. Before she answers.”

“What would be the point? She would cast me off the moment—”

“Man, if you loved some girl, and she said she wanted to marry you but there was one thing she had to tell you, and that was that everything she’d told you before was a lie but now she would always tell you the truth, what would you say?”

Parry thought about that. If Jolie had said that, would he have married her? He concluded that he would have, because he had come to know her well despite her words; he had judged her by much more than any words. He would believe that he could in time win her love, given complete honesty between them.

Would Orb judge him by other than his lying words?

He opened his mouth to ask another question, and heard himself say “Agreed.”

Niobe reappeared. “Now wait! I didn’t agree!”

“I will court her,” Parry said evenly. “Everything I tell her will be a lie, or part of a construct of a lie. You Incarnations may watch throughout, unobserved, and verify that this is so. You will not interfere. Then, before I have her answer, I will tell her the truth. If she then decides to marry me, none of you will oppose it.”

Now it was Niobe’s turn to think. Evidently an internal debate was going on between the three Aspects of Fate. “We must ask the others,” she said at last.

“But no word to any mortals,” he cautioned. “This must be our private deal, until I tell her the truth. Then she may consult with whom she pleases. If she decides to marry me, you accept it. If not, I accept it, and make no further suit. She will decide the issue.”

“We shall get back to you in a few days,” Niobe said grimly. She converted to her spider form and disappeared.

Several days later she had her answer. The Incarnations, with misgivings, had agreed. They would stand by without any kind of interference, as long as he lied to Orb.

So the challenge was on. He was the Father of Lies; if any person could do it, he could. But could any person do it?

He went again to the fringe of the Void and pondered in solitude. How could he lie continually to a woman, never telling her the truth, and yet win her love—a love that would hold when she learned the truth? A stupid woman, or an ugly one, might be fooled, because she might desire to be fooled. But Orb was brighter than her mother, and almost as beautiful, and considerably more talented. That music—

And, after an instant or an eternity—there was hardly a distinction here—he saw the answer. “The dream’s the thing!” he exclaimed.

He would fashion a construct that was a lie. Within that construct everything would relate; all would be true, so as to lend verisimilitude, the semblance of accuracy. In this manner he could tell the truth to Orb, and try to win her love, without violating the agreement he had made to speak only lies to her.

First he had to learn more about his subject. He had to learn what kind of lie Orb would want to believe, so that he could fashion it for her and make her believe. He had to understand her truest motivations, so that he could play on them with his best expertise and win her love. Then he had to know how to hold that love, or at least win her acquiescence, so that she would marry him despite learning the truth.

He researched her life. Only Chronos could actually travel to past times, but there were demons in Hell who could recreate past scenes with fair accuracy by evoking them from substances that had been present when the scenes occurred. He sent his minions on a quest for such substances all along the route that Orb’s physical life had traveled. He chafed at the time this took, but when the substances arrived, and he started witnessing the key evocations, he was satisfied.

Orb had led a fairly ordinary life, complicated by some extraordinary influences. She had been joined early in life by her niece Luna, who was of similar age and lineage; indeed, Orb’s parents were Luna’s grandparents, and the girls resembled twins. They had been raised together, and shared each others’ lives. Luna had shown an early affinity for art, and Orb for music; their gifts from the Mountain King confirmed them.

Then Luna had departed with her father for America, and Orb had gone on a quest across the world for the song of songs, the Llano. That quest had taken her to the Gypsies, and she had made a close friend of a blind Gypsy girl, Tinka.

The Gypsies. There was a lever! Parry had acted to save the Gypsies from the holocaust. It was true that he had done it for another reason, to help JHVH’s people; but it was also true that without his intercession, none of the Gypsies Orb had encountered, including Tinka, would have survived. If he told Orb that— But he could not, for that was the truth. Only later, when the time for the truth came, could he tell her, and that might be too late. He had to win her love without taking credit for what he had done. What an irony!

Orb had gone on to tour India, and had made more friends there. She had come to love Mym, a fugitive Prince who stuttered, and had a child by him.

Parry gaped, watching the animation of the sequence. Mym was the man who had become the new Mars! The one who had finally balked Parry by threatening to move the Doomsday Clock to midnight and bring on the final war! The one who had taken Lilah from him!

How could this have happened, and he not known of it? But he realized it was because he had not cared to know. Orb had been nothing to him then; he had been preoccupied with affairs of routine evil, and with combating the other Incarnations as they changed office. He could not concern himself directly with every thread in the tapestry! Certainly there had been nothing at this stage of Orb’s life to suggest that the prophecy of her involvement with Satan was serious.

Orb had given away the baby and traveled to America, where she joined with The Livin’ Sludge, continuing her quest for the Llano. She was making progress; already she had learned to use an aspect of it to make storms. What she perhaps did not realize was that her mastery of the Llano would be far more significant than the mere satisfaction of curiosity about a song. The Llano would make her capable of assuming the office of the Incarnation of Nature. The present Gaea, it seemed, was ready to retire, and Orb was now a leading prospect to replace her.

The Llano—now there was a thing he could use! He could learn about its nature, and in the process win her gratitude by helping her to learn parts of the song she did not yet know. He could draw on his own talent for singing—a talent unrivaled until Orb herself appeared with similar magic. He could use the power of the Llano on her, even as he did her the seeming favor of teaching it to her.

But she knew about the prophecy. She would be on guard against him. How could he lay that wariness to rest?

He considered one approach, and another, and others. Finally he worked out what he felt would be most likely to persuade her. What a bold scenario it was!

She feared the prospect of marriage to Satan. Therefore he would stage that marriage—and rescue her from it. Thus the lie would preserve her from the reality, and perhaps the lie could win her love.

He scripted the illusion carefully. Everything had to be just right. She had to be made to believe the lie. But whom would she believe? Not a demon from Hell, certainly! No honest person would cooperate in telling her the necessary lie. How could he develop a cast of characters that would do his bidding yet be believable to her?

By emulating the ones she trusted! The other Incarnations! With the true Incarnations bound not to interfere in any way, he could arrange to emulate them, and sugarcoat the lie. What a phenomenal total lie he was developing!

He summoned those damned souls who had talent in acting and who desired the favor of the Lord of Evil. He drilled them in the characters they were to portray, so that they could almost believe they were those folk. He rehearsed them in the script, and adjusted and refined it constantly, perfecting it. The first lie was about to be perpetrated.

When Orb returned to the Llano region of North America Parry was ready. He watched the big fish swim low and open his mouth to let the woman out. Orb walked across the plain, seeking her song. Now was the time!

The first actor went onstage. She formed into the semblance of a spider, and the spider grew until it became the likeness of Niobe in her current form.

“Mother!” Orb cried, and hugged her. “Luna said you had become Lachesis.”

“True. Now we must talk.” The emulation was doing very well; Orb appeared to have no suspicion.

“Did Luna tell you about my quest for the Llano? I am getting closer. I can change the weather, and I can even use it to travel across the world in an instant!”

“Yes, my dear. The Llano is the most potent theme of this realm.” That was technically true, but it was a lie because it was a false image telling it, for reason other than that presented. The best lies incorporated truth, so that they were convincing. “But there is danger you may not have anticipated. Do you remember the prophecy?”

“That I might many Evil! But Mother, you know I would never associate with Satan, let alone marry him!”

“But he is the master of deception.” Another truth, setting up another lie. “Satan has set a trap for you. He means to complete the prophecy and marry you, regardless of your will.”

“But he can’t—”

“He means to use the Llano against you.” Truth again—and its companion lie. “He will stun your will and make you his love-slave. You must be on guard!”

Orb was appalled. She would not have believed this if any but her mother had said it. What an elegant lie it was! “How can I escape?”

“I will send Gaea to you. Listen to her. Orb!” Then the actor resumed spider form, and disappeared.

Beautiful! That actress deserved a commendation. Parry had found himself almost believing it was Niobe. He regretted only that no wider audience could appreciate the intricacy and craftsmanship of the pattern of lies. There was art in lying, and not merely in that form of it termed “fiction.” Next he sent the emulation of the Incarnation of Nature. She formed out of mist, in the likeness of the real one.

“I am Gaea. Lachesis asked me to show you how to nullify the Llano when it is used against you. You can only do that with another aspect of itself. But there is risk. If you try the counter, and fail, you will suffer eternal madness.” There was the lie, akin to the one by which he controlled demons.

“I’ll risk it!” Orb said.

The fake Gaea then explained that the counter-theme was a duet that had to be sung with another person: a man named Natasha, who was the finest mortal singer apart from herself. The actress did not explain that this was a monstrous half-truth, for Natasha was simply the words Ah, Satan merged and spelled backward; it was the immortal Incarnation Satan who was the fine singer. He had set it up this way so that he could show, when the time for truth came, that he had never completely deceived her, but had given her a potent hint as to his nature from the outset. That might make her feel at least partially at fault in her own eyes, and perhaps dispose her toward accepting him. For the lying was the easier part of this; holding her after the time of truth was the harder part.

Orb took the bait. “This Natasha—what kind of man is he?”

“The best of men. But he may take your rendition of an aspect of the Llano as a trap of Satan’s.” Nicely turning the lie on its head. Now Orb would have to try to reassure Natasha that she was not an agent of Evil!

Gaea wrote out the music and gave it to Orb. Then she departed, while Orb read the music and practiced it without actually singing it, heeding the warning of its danger.

Now for the main scene. Parry crafted one of his finest illusions: a complete demonic church. In it was a damned soul mocked up to resemble the popular image of Satan: red, horned, with a tail, and clothed in flames. This scene formed around Orb, incorporating her.

“Now you will marry Me!” the fake Satan proclaimed.

“Never!” Orb cried, marvelously true to form. It was almost as though she were another actor from Hell.

The actor sang. Actually it was a recording of Parry’s voice, for no other entity could perform this part of it well enough to fool a musician such as Orb.

Orb seemed stunned. Now he added the second voice, in effect singing a duet with himself. The doubled song carried phenomenal impact; it was a variant of the theme he had used to pacify demons, enhanced by the power of the Llano. The actor changed clothing magically and gestured to Orb to join him at the altar. He took her hand, leading into the ceremony.

Desperately, she sang the theme she had just learned, but it was new to her, and she was frightened, and so it lacked full effect. She tried to wrench away, but her song alone was not sufficient to free her. Gaea had carefully established that! The ceremony continued, with the demon priest readying the knife that would mingle the actor’s blood with Orb’s and make them one.

Orb came to the first break in her song. Now she needed the companion song, to form her own duet, or suffer madness. It seemed she had really swallowed that lie.

Now, before she could discover its falsity. Parry stepped into his own role. He conjured himself at a distance, and became Natasha: his normal human physical appearance, as it had been set from the outset of his tenure in office. Orb had never seen him; she would not recognize him. That was one of the most delicious aspects of it: any other Incarnation would have known him immediately. He sang the companion theme.

It was effective, of course; it was scripted to be. He sang; she sang. Now her voice gained strength and clarity. And what a voice it was! She was truly the finest singer of the age, a suitable match for his own ability. Slowly they came together, vanquishing the Satan figure, freeing her from the forced marriage. Her worst fear had been evoked, and blunted, thanks to Natasha. The demonic church faded out, leaving only an open field.

They stopped singing. “You play a dangerous game,” Parry said, as if this were a minor matter. But it was all he could do to remember the script; her voice had profoundly moved him, and this was not as it should be, because it was his vision.

He saw her assessing him. Women paid less attention to appearance than men did, but were affected by it. He knew he was a handsome man. They conversed, and he established the lie of his identity as a mortal singer. They talked about the Llano, and he taught her the ready counter to Satan’s use of it. What a joy it was, to sing for an audience who could truly appreciate his skill!

Then, having suitably impressed her, he broached the subject that would be on any man’s mind at this stage.

“I am unmarried,” Orb replied, flushing prettily. Oh, what a woman she was, with her delightful naivete almost intact! Again he thought of Jolie, as she had been before death made her cynical. But in fairness he had to admit that Orb was the lovelier of the two.

“May I court you?” This was a very quick progression, but it was important to catch her in the flush of her emotion, in the hour of her gratefulness to him.

It was easy to read the play of emotions that passed through her. Then she said, breathlessly, “You may.”

Success, for the first key stage! She was receptive.

Then he sang her the Song of Awakening, which was also known as the Song of the Morning, or the Dawning of Love. As he sang, its magic manifested, requiring no Grafting of illusion on his part; this much was genuine. The scene darkened, then brightened into sunrise, bringing the sprouting of grass and the flowering of bushes. A ray of sunlight came down to illuminate Orb, making her so lovely that he hardly dared gaze at her. Her eyes seemed as great and bright as the welkin, translucently gray with a hint of greenery reflected, and her bosom heaved with the excitement of her response. Niobe had been beautiful, but had left the office and aged; Orb, as Gaea, would remain forever as radiant as she was at this moment.

Then it ended, as it had to. He was surely as regretful as she. Almost, he could believe what he was telling her.

She stood. “I will see you again,” she said.

“Certainly.” He watched her walk back toward the big fish.

The first vision had played out almost perfectly. Parry was elated. He had taken a giant step toward winning her.

He conjured himself to Hell. Soon he would organize for the second vision. But first he wanted to rest.

Nefertiti showed up. “I fear you are lonely, now that Lilah is gone,” she said.

Parry did not have the heart to tell her that his interest in both demonesses and damned souls had diminished. “I thank you for the thought, but you have earned your vacation and I want you to enjoy it to the full.”

“Oh. Thank you, Lord Satan,” she said, not entirely pleased at this dismissal.

When he closed his eyes. Orb was there, her honey hair flowing down about her shoulders, a half-smile on her face and that quaint small harp beside her.

He sprang the second vision on them when Jonah was swimming over the Pacific at night. The big fish could not handle water, but there was plenty of air above the ocean and the weather was clear, so it was all right. Jonah would give any bad weather a wide berth.

The vision played upon the party’s awareness that a storm would be trouble for Jonah, because he could not escape it by swimming underground. Not while he was far from land. The vision included the human members of the party, but excluded the fish and the succubus, because demons were not subject to dreams and would know it for what it was. In reality, Jonah continued an uneventful swim through the air, but in the vision he encountered an expanding storm that encircled and trapped him.

The script had the fish sinking down to the surface of the sea, resting on it, unable to enter it. Jonah was helped to adapt by the singing of the group, as they essayed an imperfect rendition of the Song of Awakening.

Then the heavier element came. Skeletons danced across the surface of the water, approaching the fish. The fish, in the vision, was afraid of them, and tried to paddle away, but was surrounded. One of the dancing skeletons touched a fluke, and that part of the tail of the fish lost its flesh and became skeletal.

Horrified, perceiving the way of it. Orb did her best to halt the skeletons by singing. This was not enough.

Then Jezebel, who was not the real one but one of Hell’s minions masquerading as her, introduced them to the key: the skeletons were dancing a jig called “The Drunken Sailor’s Hornpipe.” They did not seem to be distracted when Jezebel tried it, but then Orb tried a dance, the tanana, and danced with the nearest skeleton until it fell apart. She had found a way!

Parry, watching, was amazed. That dance was the most suggestive thing he had ever seen! How had a nice girl like her learned that? Then he remembered her association with the Gypsies. That was the sort of thing the Gypsies would have taught her. He was glad he had saved them from the holocaust.

But it was not enough. The script tightened about them. There were too many skeletons, pressing too closely. If Orb responded appropriately...

She did. “Natasha!” she called in desperation.

Parry made his grand entrance, singing. The skeletons paused, hearing. He joined the party, while the skeletons hesitated, afraid of the power of his song. He was rather proud of the manner he had crafted the bones to evince living emotions.

Orb was obviously glad to see him. “Can you stop them?”

“With the Song of Power,” he said. “You may know it as the Song of Day.” He sang it, and it was another aspect of the Llano, whose sheer power shook the night vision. The melody banished the storm cloud and brought the light of day. The skeletons tried to flee, but the sound caught them and shattered them. The threat had been abated.

Orb flung her arms around him and kissed him. “You rescued me again!” she cried.

“It was my pleasure.” It certainly was! But the vision was only half done.

Two figures intercepted Orb the moment she reentered the fish, alone. One was an emulation of Thanatos, and the other of Chronos. They warned her that Natasha could be a demon in disguise, and should be tested. The real Natasha, they explained, was a good man, but if a demon assumed his form...

Orb, concerned, took their warning at face value. She insisted on testing Natasha for demonic origin. He touched a cross and sang a hymn, proving that he was no demon. Of course the proof was a lie, because this was all a vision in which anything could happen, but Orb did not know that. She was chagrined that she had doubted him.

Natasha walked out in righteous disgust.

The script had been honored perfectly. Now Orb was convinced of Natasha’s validity, and on the defensive because of her prior doubt. She was crying when he left her.

He had made another giant step. But he hated himself, too. It had required a heroic effort not to stop, to comfort her, to tell her too much. He wished he could have told her the truth, but that would have ruined everything.

He took her on one more vision trip, an odyssey tour through the tearing pages of alternate realities that concluded at a mockup of the Castle of War, where she encountered animations of her former lover Mym, and of his rescued Princess Ligeia, and of the demoness Lila. Naturally they endorsed Natasha but warned her to beware of Satan’s tricks. Then the vision staged another crisis that Natasha came to resolve. Parry, acting firmly on the side of Right, used his song to vanquish those in the Wrong. Then he sang her the Song of Evening, the romantic theme of the Llano, and she was his. He had won her love.

But Orb had not yet assumed the office of the Incarnation of Nature. He had to wait until that was hers, because it was important that he marry not merely a mortal woman but the Incarnation. That was the liaison that would bring him the power he required to overcome God.

Then she achieved it, and he asked her to marry him. But he would not let her answer immediately. First he had to tell her the truth. This was where it could all come apart.

“I am the Incarnation of Evil,” he said.

Appalled, she stared at him.

He explained it all. Gradually she came to believe it.

“Get away from me,” she said dully.

He left her. What would she decide?

The issue was in doubt. Orb was no longer merely a woman, but was Gaea, perhaps the strongest of the Earthly Incarnations. in her rage at his deception she invoked the powers of the Llano, which she had learned with a rapidity and competence he could only envy. Her voice lent it force that he had never been able to evoke himself; that thing was dangerous! Now he truly appreciated how she had come to the office of Nature; she had enormous skill in the required music. But she was still new in office, and playing with a horrendously potent instrument. The mortal realm was rocked by savage affectations of weather—storm, flood, fire, freezing, earthquake—destroying everything. He was afraid she would finally invoke the most devastating aspect of all, and render the cosmos back into complete chaos. It was evident that the love she had developed for Natasha had been banished by her realization of his true nature. Her fury at her betrayal stemmed as much from embarrassment as from the scorning of her love—for he had not scorned it, only deceived it.

He wished he had not. What had he accomplished except the destruction of the mortal realm and the alienation of the one he least desired to? The one who had the likeness of Jolie, and the voice of rapture.

But she stopped just short of that, and repented her rage. She asked Chronos to reverse what she had done. He explained that he would have to have the agreement of all the major Incarnations before he acted so significantly.

All agreed—except Parry. He knew that his victory hinged on this: that Gaea marry him and join her power to his. It was not necessary that she love him, or he her, only that she marry him. Now he had a lever that he would never be able to use again: the fate of the mortal realm hung in the balance. Denied her love, he could still have the victory he had sought. It might be a victory that tasted of ashes, but still could be genuine.

“Will you marry Me?” he asked her again.

Desperately she looked to her mother, Niobe. “What am I to do?”

“You now know Satan for whom and what he is,” Niobe replied grimly. “Do you love him?”

Orb struggled with herself, but was helpless. “God help me,” she whispered brokenly, “for I do love Satan.”

She what?

Parry had a role to play, and he played it appropriately, gaining the acquiescence of all the Incarnations to the union. The victory was his!

But so was Orb’s love. It had survived the revelation! That shook him profoundly.

Chronos raised his Hourglass, its sand turning blue.

Then Parry was back in Hell, alone. All was undone. But he remembered, as he had when Chronos had changed the holocaust, because he was an Incarnation and a prime mover.

She loved him.

And he loved her. That realization smote him with peculiar force. He had never intended to; his profession of love as Natasha had been part of the construct of the lie. He had thought himself immune to true love, subject only to passing fascinations, after the loss of Jolie. He had been mistaken.

It was, he knew, her voice that had done it. He had not anticipated anything like it; it reached into the secret essence of him, moving him as his own voice had so often moved others. Had the Angel Gabriel anticipated that, too?

He realized that his careful snare for possession of Gaea’s power had reversed against him. He had promised Niobe never to harm Orb; now he knew that this had assumed more than technical force. He had fallen into the trap of loving a good woman—which meant he could no longer represent Evil. For the two were incompatible on any amicable basis. He would have to try to be worthy of Orb’s love, as the true Satan could never be.

There was only one way to do that.

He would have to abdicate his Office.