"We needed help on the last one," Niobe said. "Surely we'll need it on this one too!"
"Who can help us with a Satanist?" Atropos asked.
"My guess would be Gaea. She's generally considered to be the strongest of the Earthly Incarnations."
"Nature? I thought Time was."
"Chronos has the most potent single instrument, the Hourglass. But Gaea—" Niobe shrugged. "Let's ask her, anyway."
Niobe took the body and slid the thread across to Gaea's vegetable mansion. They landed at the door.
Sometimes it was difficult to reach the Green Mother, but that depended on the situation. Niobe remembered her journey with Pacian; Ge had known what she was doing that time!
That's one fancy treehouse! Atropos thought.
The leafy door opened, and Gaea stood there.
Niobe froze. It was the same Green Mother she had known a quarter-century ago!
"Why, it's Fate!" Gaea exclaimed. Then she squinted. "But a new Lachesis!"
Gaea didn't recognize her! Of course Niobe knew she had changed considerably in the intervening period of mortality, and not for the better; why should anyone recognize in this dowdy woman the beauty that once had been? "And a new Clotho," she said. "And Atropos, too." She changed briefly to the other forms. Gaea shook her head. "All three at once? Unusual!"
Quickly Niobe explained the circumstances. "Now we have one more mortal thread to modify," she concluded. "Because of our inexperience—"
"You seek help," Gaea said. "Very sensible of you. Come inside a moment while I change."
Inside, Niobe watched while Gaea changed. She did not do it by removing her leafy green dress; instead she stood still, and the dress turned yellow with some red; then the leaves fell off, revealing brown bark beneath. Her hair turned white. She had progressed seasonally from summer through fall to winter, complete with snow.
She moved—and the brown corrugations shaped themselves into the creases and pockets of a long jacket. The snow became a white hat; her hair was not, after all, that far changed.
Gaea brought out a small pair of spectacles, mounted on a rod at one side. "You will want these, Lachesis."
"A lorgnette? Those haven't been used for a generation!" Niobe protested. "Anyway, I don't need glasses!"
"Humor me, Lachesis," Gaea said gently.
Niobe shrugged and accepted them. "Then you will help?"
"Of course, dear. We matrons must support each other. We can't depend on foundation garments."
Niobe smiled dutifully. Gaea needed no support from clothing; she could assume any form she chose, young or old, beautiful or hideous, animal, vegetable or mineral. Seldom did she display her power in an obvious manner, but it was as deep and versatile as that of any Incarnation. Many mortals thought they could balk her in the short term, but in the long term she always had her way.
"I am ready," Gaea said. "Take me there, Lachesis."
Niobe took her hand, extended a thread, and slid them both along it. They arrived at an industrialized section of Connecticut, near a large mall. They entered and walked to a small booth set between an ice cream parlor and a mini-dozen movie theater.
Above the booth was a banner saying TO HELL WITH YOU! Inside it was a bored-looking woman of about Niobe's own physical age. "That's the one," Niobe murmured. "Elsa Mira, Satanist recruiter."
"Well, we shall allow her to recruit us," Gaea agreed. "Call me Ge; I'll call you Lack." She smiled faintly, as if the sun were masked by haze, and suddenly Niobe suspected that Gaea did indeed recognize her. But the Green Mother could keep a secret as well as any creature of the world.
They approached the booth. "We really aren't interested in going to Hell," Niobe said. "But in fairness we thought we'd look at your literature."
"Why, certainly," the woman said, coming alive. "Hell has had a very bad press, but we are working to alleviate that." She brought out a colorful brochure.
Niobe looked at the cover. Two cute baby devils were on it: the Hellfire trademarks. Dee and Dee. One was male, the other female. As she looked, the male Dee lifted one little red hand and solemnly beckoned. She was startled, though she knew she shouldn't have been; naturally the minions of Hell had magic to splurge.
"Perhaps you can read the print more clearly with your glasses. Lack," Gaea murmured.
"Oh, thank you, Ge," Niobe said. "I keep forgetting." She raised the lorgnette and peered through the lenses.
She stiffened. Instead of the cute picture, she saw a lens. She was being recorded on video!
She moved the lorgnette aside. The little devil was beckoning her again.
Now she realized why Gaea had asked her to use the glasses. They were enchanted to penetrate illusion! Already she knew that the Satanists were not merely show- ing their literature, they were getting a direct line on anyone who inquired. They were a good deal more professional than they cared to seem. That lens could be making a record of the complete encounter, and storing her picture in a computer file, complete with the retinal prints. Hell intended to have her number, all the way!
Fortunately, she had never had her retinal prints taken. She had existed, as a mortal, in the country, where such things were not common. Hell would not be able to trace down her true identity by this device.
Gaea opened the brochure. Niobe glanced through the glasses again, and saw that the pages were mere frames; the sinister lens remained. But without the glasses, she saw the inner material: scenes of happy, healthy people swimming, playing tennis, skiing, and watching the sunset. GOTO HELL, the print proclaimed, AND LIVE YOUR AFTERLIFE TO THE FULLEST!
"Is there skiing in Hell?" Niobe asked doubtfully. "I thought it was hot."
"Indeed there is skiing!" the recruiter said encouragingly. "Hell is large; it has climates exactly as the mortal realm does. Some regions are in perpetual snow."
Actually, Niobe had known that, because of her prior experience as an Incarnation. She also knew that poor sinful souls were frozen as solid as spirits could be, in that snow, and that the only skiers were demons who delighted in skidding over perpetually horrified frozen faces. As with many of Hell's claims, the snow was a half truth: it existed, but was not used as represented. The whole of Hell's recruitment campaign was spurious, and only sadly deluded people could fall for it. Unfortunately, it was evident that many did.
But she was not here to show off her information about Hell. She was here to talk Mira out of delivering the bomb to the UN complex, thus eliminating the last of the potential couriers. She had to act like an ignorant skeptic until she had a better notion how to achieve her design.
"I don't know," she said. "Skiing, swimming—I thought Hell was a place of punishment."
"Oh, that's not so!" Mira exclaimed. "Hell is a place of rehabilitation! The evil-soiled souls are reprocessed to be good again. There are many incentives for a positive attitude."
And many tortures for the damned, Atropos thought sourly.
"But if people aren't good in life, why should they be good in the Afterlife?" Niobe asked. She knew the answer, but had to play the part.
"Many people don't really think about it," Mira said. "They just go their way until it's too late. Those are the ones we are catering to—the ordinary, mixed people who are too busy to be absolutely good all the time. I mean, it's a lot of work to be good all the time, and frankly pretty dull, and probably unnecessary, too. We feel that most people would really be better off worrying less about the Afterlife and just getting their mortal lives in shape. Then, in Hell, they can sort it all out at leisure."
Leisure? Eternity! Atropos snorted mentally. What a crock!
"But shouldn't they be good in life?" Niobe asked.
"Well, yes, of course. But it can be very difficult. Take the man whose wife is ignoring him and won't let him touch her. But she won't give him a divorce, either. Now if he finds an attractive young woman who likes him, is it really wrong for him to have an affair? His soul may suffer an accumulation of evil, but is it wrong? We Satanists think we should do what is natural and atone later."
Niobe hadn't heard this one before. "Are you married?" she asked.
Mira laughed. "Me? Of course not! Not anymore! I wouldn't put up with that sort of—that is, all the ridiculous things men demand. But the principle remains—"
"Pleasure first, mortality last," Niobe finished.
"Anyway," Mira said quickly. "We want you to see for yourself what kind of place Hell is. Why don't you come to our demonstration complex?"
"Your what?"
"We have set up a working mini-model of Hell, so that folk like you can tour it or sample it and see for yourselves what it offers. We Satanists want to spread the truth about Hell."
"Well," Niobe said, glancing at Gaea. "I suppose we might just look—to be fair."
Mira jumped up. "Right this way! I'll guide you on the tour myself!"
This was exactly what they wanted: a long enough association with the woman to talk her out of what she was otherwise apt to do.
I bet they get bonuses for each recruit they sign, Atropos thought cynically.
Such as a trip to the United Nations building? Clotho thought. She had been fairly quiet, recovering from her experience of the prior evening; she was in the first flush of something like love, and the warmth of it tended to spill over and buoy the other two Aspects. But she had not forgotten their mission.
"Keep your glasses handy, dear," Gaea murmured like a fussy old lady as they followed Mira through the door in back of the booth.
They found themselves in an elevator. There was a wrench. Then the door slid open, and they stepped out into an amusement park. Obviously magic had been used to transport them to the model Hell; there was no telling where on Earth it had been constructed.
Niobe stared. Directly ahead was a towering Ferns wheel, grandly rotating. To one side was a bump-car enclosure, with children squealing happily as the little vehicles crashed harmlessly into each other. Elsewhere were miniature choo-choo trains, zoom-rides, and toy airplanes whirling about a pole. "This is Hell?" Niobe asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, the top level," Mira said. "Very mild entertainments, for those who are just waiting for friends, or for the children of those on tour. The ones who really don't have much sin to indulge."
"What's it like for those who do have significant sin on their souls?" Gaea asked.
"I'll show you," Mira said eagerly, leading the way to stairs descending below the pavement. These led to a large hall, well-lighted, filled with tables. People were clustered around the tables, intent on what was there.
They approached the nearest. On it was a giant roulette wheel. "Oh—gambling," Niobe said disapprovingly.
"You don't understand," Mira said. "Watch for a moment."
They watched. The wheels turned; the ball rolled and landed in a numbered pocket. A man made an exclamation of joy. "I won! I won!"
There was a smattering of applause from the other gamblers. The man collected his winnings and bet them on the next spin. And won again.
"What?" Niobe asked. "Twice in succession? The odds against that—"
"People can be very fortunate here," Mira said. "They usually do win."
Gaea nudged her. Niobe lifted the lorgnette and peered at the scene.
The roulette table was genuine—but little else was. Most of the players were bored park employees in grubby uniforms, not the well-dressed visitors they had appeared to be. There was a control panel at the croupier's place. When the spin commenced, the croupier's fingers touched buttons. This time the gambler bet on number 19, and that was the number the croupier punched. Sure enough, the ball rolled into that slot. The game was rigged.
Now Niobe looked at the chips the gambler had piled before him. They were genuine. Where, then, was the catch? Surely the Satanists were not really going to let a mark walk out wealthy!
Well, she could inquire, without giving anything away. "How can you stay in business, if you let people win too much money?"
"Oh, the chips don't stand for money," Mira said as they moved on to another table. "They stand for points. One thousand points entitles the player to enter the next level, where the real action is."
"But it seems guaranteed he'll make it."
"No, it's not guaranteed. Only those people we feel are suitable prospects are admitted."
"Then you admit it's fixed!"
Mira turned a surprised gaze on her. "My dear, what do you expect of Hell? Of course it's fixed!"
"Ask a silly question," Gaea murmured.
"But you're giving us a tour, and we're not gambling," Niobe persisted.
"Precisely. If you don't gamble, you can't win. That's the fundamental principle. You are merely looking—but I'm sure that after you've seen what we have to offer, you'll be eager to participate."
"But isn't there an admittance price?"
"I am glad you asked that question," Mira said. "Now we are very candid about this. Everything is quite clear. To participate in our entertainments you must sign a standard contract—"
"In blood?"
"It's only a pinprick. You'll hardly feel it."
"A contract saying what?"
"Well, everyone knows what Hell requires. It isn't as if we're concealing anything."
"You're after my soul!"
"Merely a portion of it, since this is only a model of Hell. Technically, all we require is a nominal attribution of evil. Only one percent, actually. If you are seventy percent good, our contract would cause you to be sixty-nine percent good. That's hardly enough to cost you anything in the Afterlife, or to change your designation. Considering what we offer, it's a bargain."
They were at the next table. This one was for blackjack. Again, the mark was winning; again, the enchanted lenses showed that the game was rigged. Hell wanted the marks to win.
All of the tables were like that. The methods of gambling differed, but the system was the same.
"Well, I never did like to gamble," Niobe said.
"But all of life is a gamble," Mira said enthusiastically.
"Still, there are other routes to Hell. Let me show you the next level." She led the way to another set of stairs. Niobe paused. "I see the others use the elevator."
"Well, yes, but they have to sign for it."
"Sign for it?"
"Another contract," Gaea said.
"Merely an amendment," Mira put in quickly.
"Another one percent of their souls?" Niobe asked. "I thought that was a general admittance fee. What's the point in gambling for points, if you still have to pay to reach the next stage?"
"Well, the general admittance fee gets a person into the park, and then he plays to determine his eligibility to advance to other levels, but that's a matter of qualification, not payment. If there weren't qualification, some unsuitable people would get into inappropriate levels, and if there weren't payment, we would not, as you pointed out a moment ago, be able to stay in business very long. It's a dual system, perfectly straightforward. Naturally the deeper levels have to be financed, too."
"Just how many levels are there?"
"Well, I really don't know the exact number. But no one goes to them all."
Because, Niobe realized, at one percent per level, that person would lose more than half his soul before he completed the experience, tipping him into Hell for real.
What a system! Atropos thought.
What a Hellish system, indeed! Only a fool would fall into that trap—but there were plenty of fools in the process.
The next level seemed to be a monstrous warehouse for money. Tables were piled with currency of many nations, with ingots of gold and silver and platinum, and with bins of precious stones. Wealth galore!
Drawn as by a magnet, Niobe went to a vat of sparkling rubies. "May I?" she asked.
"By all means examine the merchandise," Mira said generously. "Of course you can't keep any of it, as a tourist, but if you decide to join as a participant For one or two percent of the goodness in her soul! Niobe grimaced. Still, the gems were lovely!
She picked up a ruby. It was a faceted stone, a deep and glorious red, just about the most beautiful thing she had seen in her life. She turned it between her fingers, half-entranced by its luster. She began to understand the nature of the temptation. Such a fine gem, for so little soul!
"Perhaps if you examined it more closely," Gaea remarked.
Oh. Niobe lifted the lorgnette and looked again. The ruby was nothing more than a cherry pit. Niobe made her face a mask, lest she give herself away. All the rubies were cherry-stones! The diamonds of the next table were rough lumps of quartz.
Morbidly curious, she verified one of the stacks of gold coins. It was made of round slices of carrot.
Now Clotho had to laugh. Carrots—instead of carats! That Satan had a devilish sense of humor! "Devilish," Niobe agreed. "What's that?" Mira asked.
"Devilishly tempting," Niobe said. She moved on to a table of green bills. They were leaves of lettuce.
Lettuce! Atropos thought, mentally doubling over with mirth. Literal lettuce! That Satan's a card!
"Yes, anyone would be tempted by that," Mira said, mistaking the nature ofNiobe's smile. "It was this room that convinced me to join. When I saw all the jewelry—" She gestured to a table strung with elaborate and precious necklaces.
"But you're not a player, are you?" Niobe asked. "No, I'm Staff. But I started as a player. Then, when I wanted too much—" She bit her lip. "That is—"
So she had been seduced into giving up too much of her goodness! The operation of the system was becoming clearer. Just as a drug-user became an addict, and the addict had to become a dealer to support his habit, so those who flirted with the trinkets of Hell got drawn ever more deeply in. It was, as Mira said, all perfectly open— except that the actual goods were fakes. Anyone who believed the Father of Lies deserved what he got!
That brought her up short. If the marks deserved to go to Hell for their greed—wasn't Satan actually performing a service to the Cosmos in ridding the world of them?
But she knew the answer. Satan did not rid the world of them; he used his converts to facilitate his further dirty work. All the shills at the gaming tables upstairs—all overextended gamblers who now had to work for the house. How much joy did they have here, today?
And this is only a prettified model of Hell, Atropos thought. Think what the real thing must be like!
It was indeed a sobering thought.
"I—know that jewelry will not cure what's wrong with me," Niobe said, letting her tummy sag. "I have eaten too much, for too many years."
"Then you will love the feasting level!" Mira exclaimed. "Right this way!"
The next level down was indeed a temptation to a woman who liked to eat. It was an enormous self-service restaurant. The tables were piled with pastries and cakes and fancy desserts. Many women were here, and not a few men and children. All were seated at tables, stuffing themselves with their favorite repasts.
Niobe paused near a fat man who was cramming cake into his face. "But this is horribly fattening!" she protested.
"No it isn't" Mira said, pleased. "Our food is absolutely nonfattening and nonfilling. The taste and texture are there, but all the calories are empty—I mean there are no calories. You can eat all you want and never be satiated."
Now that's a kind of Hell in itself, if the fools only realized, Atropos thought.
Endless stuffing without consequence. Niobe could appreciate the temptation, but knew that a person did not have to flirt with Hell for it; regular food companies were advertising ONE CALORIE PER BOTTLE, making a seeming virtue of both gluttony and vacuous food—while elsewhere in the world, people were starving. A little self discipline would be better.
Then she lifted the lorgnette. And made a stifled squeak of revulsion.
It wasn't cake the man was eating. It was moldy garbage—literally. Most of it managed to shunt itself down his face and front instead of going into his mouth, which explained why he wasn't getting full, but still it was an appalling mess.
Mira caught her reaction. "What's the matter?" Niobe pondered momentarily, then handed the glasses to her.
The woman looked through them—and gagged. "You didn't know?" Niobe asked. "I—this can't be—it's horrible!" Mira exclaimed. She walked to the next table, where a child was swilling ice cream sodas, and looked through the glasses. Her face turned greenish.
Gaea took the lorgnette from her hand before her slackening grip let the glasses drop to the floor. She returned the magical instrument to Niobe.
Niobe looked at the boy's drink. It was a swirling concoction of sewage. As with the man, most of the stuff dribbled down the lad's chin instead of being swallowed, but some did get in. Probably just enough to feed him.
"It's a lie!" Mira gasped. "Magic lenses that distort—"
"No lie," Gaea said. "I am able to see the truth without glasses. The food is garbage. The jewelry on the other floor was junk."
"But I've got a pass to eat all I want—it's one of the benefits of being Staff—" Mira turned and vomited on the floor beside the boy. It hardly mattered, for the area was already littered with garbage.
Niobe wrenched the lorgnette away from her eyes. She saw Mira standing by the table, eyes downcast as if glancing approvingly at the boy. There was no sign of vomit. Still, she did not look well.
After a moment the woman recovered herself somewhat. "Where did you get these glasses?"
Again, Niobe considered rapidly. "From—Nature."
"The—the Incarnation of Nature?"
"Yes. She thought I would need them, here."
"I—may I borrow them a moment more?"
Niobe gave her the glasses. "When you're satisfied, I would like to talk to you."
Mira hurried to another stairway. "There's one level I've never indulged myself in, but I just want to see—"
They followed her down the stairs, almost running. Niobe was surprised to learn that the woman really had not known about the deceit, but realized it made sense. Satan could accomplish much more evil, much more efficiently, if his own helpers were deluded. How many would consider an all-you-can-eat pass to be an inducement, if they knew the food was garbage?
That Satan, he's one sharp liar, Atropos agreed.
The new level appeared to be an elaborate brothel. Extraordinarily voluptuous young women in scanty clothing danced slowly on a stage at one side, their breasts and hips moving suggestively. This did not do anything special for Niobe, other than cause her a gentle wash of jealousy and regret for her own beauty lost, but she saw the effect it had on two men just emerging from the elevator. Both charged forward, their mouths literally drooling.
What pigs men are! Clotho thought. Then she reconsidered. Except for Samurai...
Mira was peering through the magic lenses. "No," she said unbelievingly. "They wouldn't!"
One man dashed up to the stage. "Hey, honey, you for sale?" he demanded, groping for her. The woman gazed down at him, a languorous smile crossing her bright lips. Then she jumped down to the floor, her anatomy bobbing in several places as she landed. She took the man's hand and led him to a curtained alcove. Evidently she was not for sale; she was free.
Now Niobe could hear urgent grunting from other alcoves. It seemed there were a number of clients busy.
Mira shook her head. "They are—they really are!" she exclaimed. Then she started laughing. "And to think my ex-husband, the pig, sold his soul for a permanent pass to this level!" Her laughter became so violent that Gaea had to take the lorgnette from her again.
Niobe, perplexed, took the glasses. She could understand how plain or even homely women could be recruited, just as Mira had been, to be enhanced by illusion to serve the passions of potential recruits—but what was so funny about that? It was, at best, sad.
She lifted the lorgnette. And gasped.
There were no young women dancing on the stage. It was a corral of pigs. Genuine swine, rooting about in the muck.
And Mira's ex-husband had a permanent pass.
Who says there's no justice in Hell? Atropos thought. I know some men I'd send here!
Mira sobered enough to recover her bearings. "You're no ordinary prospects!" she said. accusingly. "You knew what this was like—better than I did. Who are you?"
It was time for truth. They sat down on one of the few clean places on the fence of the sty, and talked. "I am Fate," Niobe said. "I came here to talk to you, and to persuade you—"
"Fate! An Incarnation!"
"And this is Gaea, who lent me the lorgnette."
"Nature! No wonder she doesn't need glasses to see the truth!"
"We want to persuade you not to do an errand for Satan."
Mira laughed again, this time mirthlessly. "If Satan wants an errand, I'll do the errand. My soul is already lost!"
"It's not lost," Gaea said.
"Don't you understand? I became Staff because I had no soul left to give! They were going to cut me off the food—"
She put her hand to her mouth, realizing. "Oh!" Gaea gazed intently at her. "Your soul has been corrupted, Elsa Mira, but not that far; there is twenty-four percent good remaining."
"No! There is none! I used it all up, and—you don't know how addictive unmitigated pleasure is! I just couldn't stop! I—"
"I do know," Gaea said. "It is my business to know."
Mira stared at her. "Are you really Nature?"
"I really am. And my companion really is Fate. We can redirect your thread, if you will cooperate to this extent."
"I don't believe it! I kept count of every percentage point!"
Gaea frowned. "You doubt the power of Nature at your peril, woman." She made a gesture—and abruptly the room darkened. Wind swirled. Rain came down, first lightly, then in a pelting torrent. The pigs squealed, enjoying it. In a moment the three of them were soaked.
Gaea gestured again. The chamber shook. Now the pigs squealed in fright.
"An earthquake!" Mira screamed. "Let me out of here!"
Gaea held up her hand. The quaking stopped and the rain vanished. Sunlight streamed warmly down.
"But we're underground!" Mira protested. "The sun can't shine here!"
"Your fear is gone." Gaea told her. "You are happy."
Mira smiled. "I'm happy!" she agreed.
"Angry," Gaea said.
Sudden rage twisted the woman's face. "When I think what Satan told me—"
"Calm."
And the woman was calm. "I believe you now, Nature. I am amazed at your power, right here in an annex of Hell! Do I really have a quarter of my goodness left?"
"You really do. You have seen how Satan deceives both the clients and the staff members here. Why shouldn't he also deceive you about the percentage of evil charged to your soul? This is much more efficient for him; he caused you to become a creature of his directives when you did not need to be. You can still go to Heaven, Elsa Mira."
"No," the woman said sadly. "I'm still seventy-six percent evil, and I have no way to recover my goodness. I'm still addicted to foolish pleasure."
Again Gaea gestured. "Not any more."
Mira touched her stomach. "The hunger is gone! I'm not famished!"
"You will still have to earn your way by proper living and good deeds," Niobe told her. Niobe herself was impressed by the demonstration of Nature's power she had just witnessed; Gaea was indeed the strongest of the Earthly Incarnations. "But that is the only way any person gets to Heaven. God does not grant free passes. You do have time, if you start now."
"But I'm a Satanist! I signed in blood! Many times! I don't belong to any decent church."
"The contract is meaningless," Gaea said. "It is only a device to convince you that you are committed." She glanced up as another man came for another pig. The pig snorted and led him to an alcove. "It is your deeds that define you, and your thoughts, and your intentions, nothing else."
It was like dawn breaking. "You mean—?"
"Give your heart to God," Niobe said. "Your soul will follow."
"Oh, I will, I will! I don't want to go to Hell! It's much worse there than it is here! Only I never dared admit the truth—"
They got up and walked toward the stairs. "Satan will ask you to take a package to—"
"Oh, the psychic stink bomb to the United Nations," Mira agreed. "Tomorrow. I already have the bomb in my cell. I agreed to do that days ago."
"You must not do it!" Niobe said.
"Of course I won't do it, now!" Mira agreed. "I know it's an evil deed!"
They reached the stairs. "I will show you how to correct your course with minimum complication," Gaea said. "First we must establish you away from this complex—" They moved up the stairs.
Niobe lingered for a moment more. Now that the job was done, she found herself morbidly intrigued by the variety of illusion. It wasn't merely deception, it was utter degradation. Any man who later found out what he had done here would be too embarrassed to file a complaint. Thus Satan's corrupting operation continued. Truly, the ways of Evil were intricate!
She turned again to mount the stairs. Satan stood there. "So the prying Incarnation is here," he said, sneering smoke from his nostrils. "Corrupting My employees."
"You told me I had zero goodness left!" Mira cried accusingly from above.
"Don't believe everything the Father of Lies tells you, you credulous slut," Satan said.
"I resign from this institution! I'll do your bidding no more!"
"It is academic. You are fired. You never were much use anyway."
"Oh!" Mira exclaimed. She wheeled about and proceeded on up the stairs with Gaea.
Satan contemplated Niobe. His eyes were like small red fires and his horns steamed. "So now you have nullified the last of the four, you meddling frump," he said. "You think you have won."
"Evil is never truly defeated," Niobe said grimly.
"This time you haven't even started!" he said, his body smoking. Niobe raised the lorgnette, but Satan was unchanged. He was appearing in his true form. "You haven't saved your precious United Nations."
"Out with it, you old rascal," Niobe said. "You set this up."
"I set up four threads for Fate to unravel," Satan said. "Now you have used up your time on them, and cannot stop the delivery of the bomb tomorrow."
"But who's going to carry it?" Niobe asked. "I have a hundred other carriers. Did you think only four could do it?"
"But the Purgatory Computer—"
"Listed hundreds for you."
"It listed only four!"
"What you perceived was only four, old canine," Satan said. He gestured, and the image of a computer screen appeared in the air beside him. On it were the four names. "You supposed that was the real presentation."
Niobe struck her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Illusion! In Purgatory!" Of course it was in Satan's power to distort the spoken and printed material the computer worked with; an illusion was a form of lie, and the lie was his specialty.
Gaea would have known, Atropos thought. But she wasn't there.
Satan's illusions are everywhere, Clotho agreed. "The penalty of being a novice," Niobe muttered.
"Had you realized how many there were," Satan said, "you would have known that individual effort would never work. You would have found a more general way, such as alerting the UN security police, who would have set up psychic sensors to prevent any such thing from getting through."
"I feel very stupid," Niobe said ruefully.
"You're not stupid, merely inexperienced," Satan said. "The stupidity was in your predecessor trio, who allowed a change of all Three Aspects in the same week. I had really expected better from them."
The pig! Clotho thought vehemently. He set it up!
Niobe sighed. "It's not too late. We can still alert the UN."
"Maybe," Satan said. "It's a chance. But why take it? I can offer you a better deal."
"You're not to be trusted!" Niobe said.
"Don't depend on trust," Satan said. "Depend on common sense. If I bomb the UN, there will be a very pretty tangle of Fate's threads, leading to much disruption in the world. But no one can know exactly where that disruption will lead. Sometimes what seems good turns out evil in the long run, like the Catholic Inquisition or the Nazi SS cadre. Sometimes what seems evil turns out good, like the Black Plague."
"The Black Plague!" Niobe exclaimed. "What good did that do?"
"It alleviated the European population pressure, decimated the labor force, and so paved the way for the end of the feudal system," Satan said. "You can't keep workers in peonage when there are so few that their value is great."
Niobe suspected that Gaea's predecessors had had their own reasons for spawning the Black Plague. But it was an interesting notion. "What's your point?"
"The point is that this whole UN business is a gamble," Satan said. "It might cost Me more than it is worth. Only a fool gambles when he doesn't have to."
"Many people are gambling on your gaming floor!"
"I rest My case. You do not see Me at the tables."
"What's your pitch, Satan?" she asked gruffly.
"You want to avoid a big stink. I want merely a small, harmless shift in one of Fate's threads. It seems to Me that we might reasonably deal."
"I won't deal with Evil!" Niobe cried.
"Suit yourself," Satan said. "Be sure to hold your nose as you pass the UN complex tomorrow—not that it will do much good."
He had her there. "What deal are you proffering?"
"I will cancel the stink in exchange for a simple, shift in employment in one person. No harm done to her, no evil on her soul, just an inconsequential change."
"If it's inconsequential, why do you want it?" Niobe demanded.
"Inconsequential to you; important to Me. This woman is to go into politics soon. I would prefer to have one of My own in the office she seeks. Most politicians are corrupt anyway, so it hardly matters to you. I promised this minion—well, never mind. The point is, it's something I'm willing to trade for. Are you interested?"
"I don't trust this," Niobe said.
Still, let's see how it looks, Atropos thought. We don't want to hit the UN tangle if we can avoid it.
"Who is this person?"
"A young woman, hardly more than a girl, of no consequence, really."
"So you say. Name the woman."
"Oh, she's named Moon, or some such," Satan said carelessly. "It hardly matters."
"How do you expect me to adjust her thread if you don't tell me exactly who she is?" Niobe demanded, aware that she was sliding toward agreement.
He's up to something, Atropos thought. I wish Gaea had stayed; she's one savvy lady!
Satan paused, touching his beard as he concentrated. "She's actually the child of a former Incarnation, somaybe she had delusions of grandeur. Name's—let me see—Kaftan."
Niobe stiffened. It was Luna he was trying to eliminate—the one the prophecy said was destined to be the savior of man! Now it was clear that this whole UN tangle was merely a false issue, intended to make his supposedly offhand compromise seem worthwhile. In fact, the manner he had arranged to have all three Aspects of Fate change together now made sense. All three of the prior Aspects would have known about Luna, so they had had to be eliminated. Satan was playing a very long-range game!
But she would play along, just to get a better picture of his intent before she balked it. The three prior Aspects had chosen her to return because they had known Satan was plotting something devious; they had chosen better than they knew! But she wanted to be certain she knew the whole plot.
"There must be several women with that surname," Niobe said, feigning perplexity. "What's her lineage?"
"Oh, not much. One of My minions spotted her some time back. Two girls who look like twins, but a generation apart. I want the one who's descended from the former Incarnation. The one with the darker hair."
Again Niobe stiffened. Had Satan made a mistake? Her granddaughter Luna was destined to save man; Niobe's daughter Orb was destined to become an Incarnation, if the prophecy was correct. Of course Satan was a busy entity; he probably hadn't paid much attention to Niobe's mortal affairs. Obviously he did not recognize her now. For the first time she blessed the loss of her youthful beauty! Perhaps the demon who had sneaked into the Hall of the Mountain King and activated the thief defense had confused the two girls—easy enough to do!—and reported Luna as the buckwheat-honey girl, and Satan had never thought to verify the identification. Luna was in fact the clover-honey girl, slightly lighter in hair hue. "You find this unreasonable?" Satan asked, noting her silence.
Niobe sighed. "Gaea told me not to trust you. You're up to something."
"My dear associate, there is no call to trust Me! You can handle it yourself! Simply give Me your word that if no bomb goes off at the UN, you will modify the girl's thread to shunt her away from politics."
Niobe tried to decide whether Satan was confused, or had some double devious plot in mind. "No harm will come to the girl?"
"I promise never to harm the girl whose thread you change," Satan said magnanimously.
"But your promise is worthless!"
"That is true. I am the Father of Lies," he agreed with pride. "But My word is sacred when properly given."
"How is it properly given?"
"In blood, of course."
"You have blood?"
He laughed. "Of course I have blood! I'm an Incarnation, like you!"
Niobe remembered. In her prior Incarnation she had learned things about the other Incarnations, and one of them was this: that Satan's blood did bind him, and that the word of one Incarnation to another was inviolate. In this particular case, she could trust even the Father of Lies.
"Then we shall swear on blood," she decided.
Are you crazy, woman? Atropos demanded, like a conscience. That's your flesh and blood you're sacrificing in that girl!
And the salvation of man, Clotho added. The two of them had picked up the information from Niobe's strong conscious thoughts.
"Excellent," Satan said. He held up his hand, and Niobe drew a needle from a reserve in her clothing and pricked his thumb so that a drop of blood welled out. Then she did the same for her own hand. The blood of Incarnations could not be shed by anyone, mortal or immortal, without consent, except perhaps in the case of Thanatos' change of office. Satan had agreed to have his blood shed, and so had she—for this occasion only.
"An oath between Incarnations," Niobe said. "Sealed in blood. You will spare the UN and respect the life of that woman, and I will adjust the thread of the life of the darker-haired descendent of Niobe Kaftan so that she never enters politics."
"An oath, agreed," Satan said. They shook their bloodied hands.
"I hope it's worth it," Niobe muttered, worrying what mischief Satan might try to do to Orb, despite his oath. There were ways to make a person miserable without doing actual harm. Yet the language was broad and the term "respect" covered a lot—especially considering the relevance of the prophecy. This oath was merely a step in the implementation of that prophecy. She was not completely easy about it, but thought she had done right in a difficult situation.
"It is for Me," Satan said. "Considering that the matter is academic anyway."
"Academic?"
"Chronos, curse his backward hide, acted on his own, and warned the UN security police about the bomb. They are installing psychic shields already."
"You knew that?" she demanded, outraged. "You cheated!"
"Hardly. I agreed to spare the UN, and Niobe's nonpolitical offspring. They will be spared." Then Satan did a double-take. "How did you know that name 'Niobe'? I never uttered it."
"Satan, it is my business to know. The threads—"
But he was already making the connection. "You—I thought you looked faintly familiar! You are Niobe—once Clotho!"
Niobe shrugged. "Now I am Lachesis. But I will see that my mortal daughter Orb never enters politics. An oath is an oath."
"Orb? I meant Luna!"
"Oh, is the matter academic?" she asked sweetly. "I swore to keep my darker-haired descendent free of politics."
Satan considered. "You came back—to deceive Me!"
"Close enough." Niobe shrugged. "Had you specified that it was Luna whom you—"
She expected an explosion, but Satan only nodded. "Sometimes the Father of Deceit is hoist with his own petard. I congratulate you, Niobe, on an excellent counterploy."
"That is a compliment indeed, coming from you."
"But now I know you, and I shall not be deceived again. There are other ways." He vanished.
Niobe was not reassured. That had been too easy. Yet how else could she have played it? She extended a thread and slid toward home.
