Rapture was away increasingly as time passed. She was very positive about her mortal job and seemed to be doing well, but it apparently made considerable demands on her. Mym was glad that she had adjusted so well, but the frequent nights alone bothered him.
Naturally Lila was available. When he couldn't sleep, he took walks in the garden, and she was always there. Of course she was ready, willing, and able to serve as his # concubine, but a complex of considerations prevented him from exercising this option. For one thing, she was from Hell, and he still distrusted the creatures of Satan on general principle. For another, he was becoming uncertain of Rapture, and that made him less rather than more inclined to use another woman. Had Rapture been solidly established and pregnant, it would have been virtually his duty to use a concubine, so as not to place demands on the bearer of his Heir; as it was, a concubine was premature. His seed needed to be saved for the Heir, rather than expended frivolously. So to use a concubine at this stage might be to suggest that he did not desire Rapture or seek an Heir, and that was not the case. Also, and this was an insidious consideration, he was not certain that Lila was a virgin. It was, of course, necessary for a man to know a number of women, as no single woman could provide essential variety, but it was important that a woman know only one man. It would demean his princely heritage if he were to consort with an unchaste woman. The creatures of Satan, by all accounts, were of questionable pedigree, and their forms here in the spirit realm were malleable, so Lila well might be a pseudo-virgin His pride kept him from making application to the Purgatory front office for a legitimate concubine, because of the problem with Rapture. Thus he was caught without adequate service in this respect. That was what made Lila so infernally tempting, as well she knew.
"Alone yet again tonight?" she inquired dulcetly, appearing ahead of him as he passed the copulating statue. "Maybe you should bring your fiancee back here."
"Where she can be corrupted by your occidental notions of female suffrage!" Mym snapped. As always, he found pleasure in the ability to speak without stuttering, here.
"But Mym, she's a mortal," Lila said. "You brought her out of her oriental situation and planted her in the West. Things are different here. Women are supposed to have minds of their own."
"For what?" he demanded. "Rapture was already well versed in what she needed to know."
"For pleasing a man and bearing a son," she agreed. "But what about her own fulfillment?"
She stretched her arms out and up, so that her gown opened in front to reveal the perfect globes of her breasts, lifting with her motion. She was very like a statue in contour.
"That is her own fulfillment!" he retorted.
"Not in this hemisphere," she said, coincidentally touching one of her own. "It would be grand for a creature like me, but not for a mortal like her. She needs to assert herself, to branch out, to explore her larger potential."
"So speaks a creature of Hell."
"I may be damned, Mym, but I'm not ignorant. I have learned common sense the hard way."
She bent to adjust her fastenings, in the process exposing one leg up through the plush buttock.
"Not as I see it!" he said, and strode out of the garden. But alone in bed, he did curse himself for foolishness. Why should he allow the words of a Hell-slut to bother him? The opinions of women mattered little, and those of a pseudo-woman even less. Why hadn't he simply used her for her explicit purpose and not listened to her at all? Discussion, after all, was no necessary part of sexual fulfillment.
Of course he could return to the garden and do that now or simply summon Lila here to the castle. He could do anything he wanted with her and banish her without notice. That was the obvious and sensible course. That flesh she had arranged to show him he knew that though she was of the spirit world, that body would feel completely solid and alive. She was, indeed, designed to satisfy the lust of a man.
But that would mean a kind of capitulation, and that he could not abide. So he suffered alone. He was Mars, an Incarnation, dedicated to settling the quarrels of mortals efficiently, yet he could not settle his own.
When Rapture showed up again, the change was more apparent. She was not satisfied to remain placidly in bed; she wanted to converse about unrelated things. She was full of detail about the students she was helping to educate and their interest in the quaint customs of the Orient, where science was little practiced. She now had classes at all levels, ranging from adult to juvenile. She loved the experience of independence, of being able to make decisions based purely on her own preferences. She was developing a confidence in herself and her individual worth she had never before experienced. She was acquiring an occidental wardrobe, so that she could avoid being taken for an Indian at times when she preferred to be herself. She even wore jeans in public.
"What?" Mym demanded.
"Trousers fashioned of denim material, blue in hue," she explained. "Very convenient and comfortable for" "For laborers!" he exclaimed in singsong. "Not for princesses!"
"I am no longer a princess," she reminded him, quite undisturbed by the demotion.
"I have seen the occidental women in those abominations!" he sang. "Their posteriors practically rip open the fabric!"
"Yes, that is one of the appealing aspects," she agreed.
"For every passing male to see!" he concluded indignantly.
"They don't object," she pointed out. "In fact, I have received some compliments."
"You are my woman!" he raged. "Only I should see such detail in you!"
She laughed. "Where do you think you we, Mym? In archaic India? In the western world, the wealth is shared."
"Are you sure you haven't been talking with the demoness?"
"Lila? No, I haven't seen her since I moved to the mortal realm. But I have been learning about the real world, Mym."
"I think you had better resign that job and return here."
"I will do no such thing!" she exclaimed. "I am supremely happy with my new life. For the first time, I feel genuinely independent and useful, and I know they need me at the museum."
"I need you here .
"Oh, pooh! You have everything you need without me."
"I do not! I spend too many nights alone."
"Alone? What happened to Lila?"
"I haven't touched her."
"Why ever not, Mym? She's your concubine."
"I don't want a concubine, I want you!"
She smiled. "That's sweet. But no need to go to extremes. When I'm not here, use the damned concubine."
Mym was shocked, at her language as much as her sentiment. He wasn't certain whether she was swearing in the occidental fashion, or referring to the status of a creature of Hell, or both.
"Well, let's get this over with," Rapture said, and moved her beautiful body against him.
Get this over with? What did that imply? But he realized that further dialogue might only result in his having to spend another night alone, so he let it pass.
The business of Mars became routine. Mym remained somewhat dissatisfied with the details of it and with the passions of the lesser Incarnations he had to associate with, but he was satisfied that, to an increasing extent, he was bringing war under control and permitting it to wreak less havoc among the mortals than would have been the case without his supervision. There were indeed causes that deserved promotion and that could achieve it only by violence. War, properly managed, was certainly better than the alternatives of oppression or dispossession.
But how much better it would be if the causes of war did not exist! If mortal man could simply exist in peace and harmony and plenty, requiring no Incarnation to supervise his violence.
But the mortal realm was as it was, and human nature was intractable. Therefore the various Incarnations were required, and Mym was satisfied to perform this necessary office. It was not his job that bothered him, but his home life. That proceeded from unsatisfying to disastrous, in a single step.
Rapture appeared and dropped it on him. "Mym, I'm leaving you," she said abruptly.
"W-w-w-what?"
"I have found a nice mortal man, and I'm going to move in with him."
"Y-y-y" Mym remembered his singsong and invoked it. "You're marrying a mortal?"
"No. I am moving in with him. If it works out, then maybe I'll marry him, but there are no commitments yet." "But you are my woman!" Mym protested. "Not any more, Mym," she said. "We have grown apart, since you became Mars; you have your life, and I have found mine. It is best that we recognize this and take proper action now."
"I won't let you go!" he protested. "I love you!" "What will you do - make war on me?"
She smiled compassionately. "Mym, you never loved me; you loved my body and my complete dependence on you. I loved your appreciation of me. But I don't love your present position, and if I am to be a sex object, I prefer to be it as an independent agent. So it is better with John than it is with you, and I am simply recognizing that fact. I hope this parting of our ways can be amicable, but amicable or not, it is occurring."
If Rapture had been dependent, she was so no more! Mym was so angry at this betrayal that he could not even speak in singsong.
"Well, farewell," she said, and turned and walked away. Now Mym saw Thanatos in the adjacent chamber, ready to convey Rapture back to the realm of the mortals. She had come only to inform Mym of her decision.
Mym tasted blood in his mouth. In his rage he had bitten his tongue. Now that blood was triggering a rage of a different nature. He would deal with this "John" others!
He grasped the Red Sword and willed himself to the mortal realm. He knew where Rapture worked and where she lived; from there he should be able to trace this mortal man John.
But then he paused. Was he, the Incarnation of War, to exert his power in a purely selfish, negative way? To hurt the one he loved, or had loved, or thought he had loved? How much of his ideal of peace would he be spreading that way? And this John surely an innocent young man, for Rapture would not have told a mortal about her relation to an immortal. A man who liked Rapture very well, who probably needed her more than she needed him, and wanted to get to know her as well as he could.
Mym reversed his course. No, he had no need and no desire to hurt Rapture or her friend.
He would set the example that he wished mortals would follow and accept the inevitable with what grace he could muster.
He returned to his castle and walked in the garden, severely out of sorts. It was true that he and Rapture had been growing apart, and her initiative had been valid. But he had discovered the joy of loving and being loved with Orb and rediscovered it with Rapture; he could no longer countenance being alone.
Orb. Where was she now?
Lila appeared. "So she dumped you," she said.
Damn her! Except that she was already damned. "No thanks to you, demoness," he said.
"She wasn't right for you anyway," Lila said. "Maybe she was when you were playing the Prince-Princess game among the mortals, but not for this situation. You need a woman who understands about Incarnations."
"True. I shall look for one."
She smiled, inhaling. She now wore one of her translucent outfits that were more maddeningly suggestive than full nudity would have been. "No mortal will do, Mym. You need one who is committed to the Afterlife."
"Thanatos seems to do well enough with a mortal."
"Thanatos has a quite remarkable mortal. There is not another like Luna."
"You err, demoness. There is her cousin Orb." Lila shrugged eloquently. "That's right. You had an affair with her, didn't you! But that's long over, and you can't go back." "I'm not so sure. I loved her before, and she loved me.
I could love her again."
Lila paced in front of him, allowing her flesh to quiver provocatively. "You finished that relationship when you deserted her for another woman."
"That was not my choice!"
"Nevertheless, you left her in a rather difficult situation. You see, she was gravid."
"Gravid?"
"With child. It happens to mortals, you know."
"Pregnant? She couldn't have been!"
"Verify it in Fate's threads, Mym. She was carrying your baby girl and she bore her after you left and gave her up for adoption. That rather finished that aspect of your romance. I doubt very much that she would choose to go through that again."
"But she never said anything to me!"
"She didn't know it when you deserted her."
Mym was stricken. "If I had known!"
"Fortunately, creatures of the Afterlife don't get gravid. With them, it's all pleasure, no consequence. So why don't you become sensible and do what you have been longing to do for so long?" She shimmered, and her clothing dissolved into mist. She opened her arms. "I can be most accommodating, Mym, and I make no demands."
He looked at her. This creature of Hell seemed on the verge of victory at last. Her body was beautiful, but her nature demonic. He trusted her to serve her master, and her master was Satan.
He tasted the blood in his mouth again. This time he let the berserker reflex take over.
Abruptly he was moving. His great Red Sword was out and whistling. It lopped off her head.
The head flew up, its face surprised; the body remained standing. There was no blood.
The Sword whistled back. It lopped off the upper arms and the top of the torso cleanly at the line of the breasts. The shoulders rose, and the neck and the tops of the two breasts, also bloodlessly. The nether sections of the breasts resembled two bowls filled precisely level with gray stuffing. Both sections of that bosom were expanding, for Lila had been inhaling at the moment of his attack.
Again the Sword passed through, severing the body at the slender waist. And again, at the genital region, and at the knees. Five swift cuts, and the body was tumbling in six major segments, which in turn were fragmenting as the separate arms and legs fell skew. In a moment there was simply a collection of items on the ground.
"In this manner, too, I am ready to serve you," the head said. It was lying to the side, where it had bounced and rolled. The truncated neck was up, the face inverted.
"I just want to be rid of you!" Mym gritted.
"Then stuff my parts in a trunk and ship it straight to Hell," the head said.
"I have no trunk." Mym was looking at his Sword and finding no blood on the blade. His berserker rage had faded, being replaced by bemusement. He had known that demons differed from people, but had not been quite prepared for this.
"Use the base of the statue."
Mym went to the copulating statue and hacked off its figures. The pedestal now manifested as a hollow chamber. He sheathed the Sword and wrestled this zip. It was indeed about the configuration of a coffin.
He picked up a piece of torso and dumped it in the chest. The piece was like warm wax, firm but slightly soft, the flat cut side no different from the exterior. Obviously Lila had had no digestive apparatus, no circulatory system, and no respiratory system. She was simply a shape formed of pseudo-flesh, a body without a person.
Yet she had walked and talked and seemed alive. She had sewn mischief with Rapture, and much of what she said made infernal sense. She was not a person, obviously yet she was also not inanimate matter. What, then, was she?
He paused, with the upper and lower sections of a leg. He tried fitting them together.
They fused, forming the fall leg.
"You may put me together again if you wish," the head said. "One more section, and you will be reaching interesting territory."
Mym dropped the leg into the chest. He picked up the pieces of the other leg, and the arms. Then he got to the section of the torso from the waist to the mid-bosom. It was amazing how full and firm those half breasts were, as far as they went.
"Or you could reassemble just that portion of me you wish to use," the head suggested.
He dumped the half bust in. "I prefer a genuine woman."
"A genuine woman would dump you in favor of a mortal man," the head retorted. "Here in the Afterlife, you need a woman of the Afterlife."
There was that insidious logic of hers. What she said made more sense than he cared to accept. He had to try to refute it. "I am not of the Afterlife; I am a mortal in temporary residence. I need a woman in similar circumstance."
"That, too, can be provided," the head said. Mym finished dumping the rest of the body in the chest, but hesitated to pick up the head itself. So he talked to it a moment more. "How can such a thing be provided?" "You could take up with a female Incarnation. The youngest aspect of Fate, called Clotho, is known to be obliging."
Mym visualized the young, pretty Oriental, Clotho. The notion appealed. But then he remembered the far more mature Lachesis, actually the same Incarnation in different form.
Surely the minds of Fate were the same, though the body changed. In that sense, she was no better than the demoness. A young and innocent body with an experienced and cynical mind was not what a man really desired in a woman. Also, Fate surely had associations of her own and would not necessarily be eager to take up with a man like him.
"Then there's - but, of course, you wouldn't be interested in her," the head remarked.
An obvious ploy! But Mym still was not eager to pick up the talking head, so he accepted the ploy. "Who?"
"She's a damsel, a princess, locked in a castle of frozen mist, unable to escape because no one cares about her. But, of course, that's none of your business."
"Who is she?"
"Her name's Ligeia. But"
"Why was she put there?"
"It's her penalty for the mischief she did in life."
"Oh she's another demoness."
"No. She's a damned soul."
"There's a distinction?"
The head laughed. "Certainly there is! Demons are creatures of Hell, who serve My Lord Satan implicitly. They are constructs of ether with no living processes, exactly as you see in my flesh here. Souls are the immortal essences of mortal beings; they share the consciousness, intellects, and feelings of mortals, but no longer have mortal existence."
"Like the staff of the Castle of War," Mym agreed. "But since they aren't mortals, they are hopelessly committed to the Afterlife and are no better for my purpose than are you demons."
"True. But Ligeia is a special case. She was improperly damned, and if she could only get a fair hearing, she might be reclassified."
"Why can't she get a hearing?"
"A. fair hearing. There are hearings aplenty in Hell, but they aren't fair. Every time she tries to present her case, they laugh at her. She must be pretty upset by now. I think she'd really be appreciative if someone with some power were to take up her case. But of course, if she got her fair hearing, and won reprieve, she'd only go to Heaven, so that would be the end of that.
There's no point in someone like you getting involved with her."
Mym was sure by Lila's attitude that she wanted him to get involved with Ligeia, so he reacted negatively. "I agree," he said, and caught up a trailing strand of hair and lifted the head by it and swung it into the chest. "Now how do I ship this to Hell?"
"Simply address it for the destination," the head said. The words were somewhat muffled, because the face was now down.
"To Hell with you!" Mym said.
The chest and its contents exploded. A dense cloud of smoke puffed out. When it dissipated, the chest was gone.
The next call for the supervision of Mars was in Ireland. When Mym arrived with his grim entourage, he surveyed the situation in his usual fashion and learned that the Hibernian Army, a revolutionary organization, had used gene-splicing technology to develop a virus that affected only Protestants. They were about to loose a plague that would either kill or greatly debilitate those it infected. The HA would not even have to fight; they would simply take over after the plague had done its grisly work.
"Isn't this phenomenal!" the Incarnation of Pestilence exclaimed. "It has been long since I have had the opportunity to supervise a dread plague!"
"Gene-splicing," Mym murmured thoughtfully. "I have a feeling Gaea will be on this, if I don't check it with her first." He put a hold on the action, mounted Werre, and headed for the residence of the Incarnation of Nature.
But when they reached the Green Mother's estate in Purgatory, they encountered an enormous moat that shielded it from intrusion. Mym sought to have Werre simply hurdle it or trot across it, but the palomino shied away.
"What is this?" Mym asked the horse. "There is nothing in the world that you can't traverse."
But Werre simply neighed in negation. Mym remembered that this was not the world; it was Purgatory, a region of different rules. This moat might be enchanted to balk equines.
He dismounted and stepped to the bank. Immediately a weird sort offish swam close. No, not a fish; it had the legs and lower torso of a man. But above the waistline it possessed the fins and gills of a fish, and its mouth was full of teeth.
"A manmer,'' Mym murmured. He had never seen one in the flesh before, but there was no mistaking the crossbreed. A merman had the top section of a man and the tail of a fish; the manmer was the opposite. While it was possible to get along with mermen and mermaids, and maidmers could be tolerably good company if one's interest was not in faces, manmers were said to have the worst elements of each species. They were brainlessly vicious, existing only to tear apart victims.
Mym made as if to touch the water with his boot, and the manmer snapped at it so violently that a spray of water and sparks went up. No question, this monster meant business.
He pondered, then touched the Sword. "Gaea," he sang.
The woman did not appear. Instead a colorful parrot flew in. "Who seeks? Who seeks?" the bird demanded.
"Mars seeks Gaea," Mym replied, annoyed.
"Prove it! Prove it!" the parrot squawked.
"You birdbrain, don't you see me?"
"I see a hundred like you every day," the parrot replied. "All fakes sent by Satan to pester my mistress."
A hundred like him a day? Suddenly Mym realized that Satan was up to more mischief, trying to infiltrate his demon minions into Nature's domain by imitating the Incarnations. No wonder Gaea had instituted defensive measures. "Go tell Gaea and she can verify for herself my validity."
"The Green Mother is busy with her own concerns; she can not waste her time exposing every imposter."
That, too, made sense. "How can I prove my identity to you, so that you will advise her of my presence?"
"Get in to see her yourself," the parrot squawked. "Only a true Incarnation can do that."
And it flew away.
Mym sighed. Right when he needed to consult with Gaea, Satan had set up an interference pattern. Unfortunate timing.
Unfortunate? No, maybe Satan had planned it that way, to prevent Mym from completing the consultation, so that Gaea would not be alerted, and the plague would not be halted before it ravaged the Protestants.
That meant that it was doubly important that he get through. He was really opposing Satan, not Gaea.
But the manmer waited with eager teeth. Though Mym knew himself to be invulnerable to mortal attack, he was not at all sure about the present situation. If an immortal were invulnerable to the teeth of the manmer, the demons would be able to get through. Certainly Werre didn't trust his flesh to that water, and there was evidently a spell to prevent the horse from leaping or flying over the moat. Mym didn't care to risk his flesh that way.
Well, he could still pass. He drew the Red Sword. "I regret this, Manmer," he said. "But I'm going to have to slay you in order to pass."
But still he hesitated. Demons could wield swords too, and would certainly be willing.
Why hadn't they done so?
The more he considered, the less easy he became. Finally he picked up a loose stone and threw it across the moat. At the far bank, the stone exploded. Something had destroyed it.
That something was apt to do the same thing to a man or a demon. Again, it wasn't worth risking. Also, he really didn't want to slay a creature, the manmer, who was only doing the job it had been assigned.
But how was he supposed to pass, if a demon could not? There had to be a way, or this was no valid test for his identity.
He considered, and decided that he would have to do some perhaps unpleasant research. He got down beside the water and, when the manmer snapped at him, he put one discorporate hand into the creature itself. Startled, the fishman paused in place, and Mym dropped the rest of his body onto it and into it. His arms aligned with the fins, his head with its head, his legs with its legs. He had phased in, physically.
He adjusted his brain, getting it aligned with the brain of the monster. He had become accomplished at this maneuver, but this was a special challenge, for this was the brain of a fish. Only the most primitive aspects of his brain could align properly; there simply was no higher center in the fish's head to match his own.
Fortunately very little identification was required. The instructions for the manmer were uppermost in its limited mind, and Mym assimilated them before he got fairly into the rest of the creature's identity.
There was a grating in the bottom of the moat. When the water turned cloudy, that grating became permeable; it was possible to swim through it. Of course Cutefoot would consume any person or creature who tried except for the one who addressed him by his name. That one, and that one only, he would suffer to pass.
That sufficed. Mym withdrew from the manmer and splashed through the water, back to shore.
It took the manmer a moment to realize that someone was there; then he acted. But Mym was already scrambling clear.
Werre was waiting for him. "Loyal steed, I must proceed alone from this point," Mym informed him. "Return to the Castle of War; I will summon you when my business here is done."
Werre neighed, wheeled about, and galloped away. That was one intelligent steed; the like hardly existed in the mortal realm. Mym realized that this was a significant part of what he liked about this office the possession of truly competent accoutrements like the Sword and Warhorse.
Mym gazed into the moat. Yes, deep down he spied the grate; the water was clear, so he could see it. All he had to do was wait until it clouded.
There was the sound of hooves. Mym glanced back, and saw a golden palomino approaching, bearing a golden cloaked rider.
That was Mars! Rather, it was a demon disguised as Mars; Mym was in a position to know that it was not the genuine Incarnation. He had better get past this moat before the demon arrived.
But the water remained clear. He could not afford to enter it yet. He could stop the manmer by speaking his name, but would not be able to pass the grate. He had to wait.
Another figure galloped up, just like the first. The parrot had been correct: there were demons all over. No wonder the Green Mother had gotten fed up with it. He had to move on through, before a crowd of them gathered and made that impossible. But still the water was clear.
The first demon arrived. "Ho, miscreant!" it cried challengingly. "Dare you assume my image? Begone, imposter!"
The sheer audacity of this challenge put Mym into an instant rage. Suddenly the Red Sword was in his hand and whistling through the air. The demon-horse's head flew off, then a segment of its neck, then the top half of the rider. As with Lila, there was not blood; it was as if the sections had been fashioned separately and set together, and now were falling apart again. The demon's upper body splashed into the moat and sank.
The water swirled as the manmer went after the fragment. The vicious teeth slashed out, cutting the demon substance into lesser fragments. The action moved down as the fragments sank; the manmer meant to consume it all. The muck of the bottom was stirred up, clouding the water.
"Ho, miscreant!" the second demon challenged. Mym looked up. The thing was charging down on him, sword swinging. Behind it, three more were coming, all identical. Damn them! Literally! Mym lifted the Sword and paused.
The water of the moat was cloudy.
He turned, sheathing the sword. He dived into the water. "Cutefoot!" he cried just before he splashed.
The manmer froze in place, letting him pass. He stroked down to the nether grate and through it, the bars seeming insubstantial. He passed into a submarine cave that extended forward.
There was no surface here, so he could not take a breath, but he was in no discomfort. He realized that as an Incarnation he could not drown, for he could not be killed. Breathing was now mere reflex and convenience, as was eating.
In due course, the cavern surfaced, and he emerged into the garden estate of the Green Mother. It was lovely. Shrubs and trees of every description flourished, and flowers abounded.
Squirrels jumped from branch to branch, and a chipmunk nibbled at a nut atop a boulder. This would be a most pleasant place simply to remain.
But he had business. Mym forged on, following a path that led toward the center of the estate.
Soon he came to a narrowing of the way. Rocks rose up on either side, squeezing the path between them. In the center of the narrowest section stood a small lizard.
Mym paused. There was something about that little creature. It was not afraid of him, and it eyed him with a disturbing alertness. It was dull red, actually rather pretty, and reminded him of - Of fire. This was not necessarily any lizard; it could be a salamander.
He reached to the side and found a section of an old branch. He heaved this toward the creature.
The tiny reptile leaped up to intercept the branch, biting at it. As contact was made, the wood burst into flame. It burned explosively. By the time it struck the ground, it was a mass of charcoal and ash that quickly smoldered into dust.
That was a salamander, all right. A creature who set fire to whatever it touched, other than the ground it stood on fire that burned until only ash remained.
If he tried to pass that creature, and it bit him, he would bum similarly.
Of course he was an Incarnation, he reminded himself, immune to mortal threats. But again he remembered that this was not the mortal realm; this was Gaea's garden, where other rules governed. If this creature could prevent a demon from passing, it might as readily prevent an Incarnation too.
"But there are no demons here," he muttered in singsong. A figure appeared behind him. "Ho, miscreant!" it cried.
"How the hell did you get here?" Mym demanded, startled and angry.
"I said the same magic word you did, so the fishman let me pass," the Mars-demon replied.
"Now defend yourself, imposter!" And it charged, sword swinging.
Mym ducked. The demon stumbled over his hunched body and tumbled into the salamander.
There was a flare of flame. "Aiii! I bum!" the thing cried. Then the form became a structure of ashes and collapsed.
"One demon, returned to Hell," Mym sang. He felt no regret, knowing that these beings lacked any aspect of humanity, apart from their outer semblance.
But how foolish he had been, to utter the manmer's name in the presence of a demon.
Naturally the demon had heard, copied, and gotten through.
Well, the demon was gone now. All Mym had to do was figure out how to get by the salamander.
"Ho, miscreant!"
What, another demon? Mym realized belatedly that what one could copy, another could. There could be any number of demons here in the garden, thanks to his carelessness. It was a good thing that the Green Mother had had the foresight to place a second barrier.
The demon charged. This time Mym dodged out of the way, squeezing by so that the demon found itself advancing directly on the salamander. Let the demon be destroyed the way the other was!
"So, salamander!" the demon cried. "I shall deal with you!" And it swung the blade of the red sword down.
Mym waited for the flash of fire but it didn't come. The sharp sword cut the salamander in two. The tail twitched back and forth, while the head coughed out a spurt of fire and expired. The salamander had been slain.
This shook Mym's confidence. If a demon could kill one of the defenders of Gaea's estate, then the demons could get through, and this was no valid separation of intruders. Should he be trying to enter himself, if the Green Mother's power was so uncertain?
The demon Mars strode on along the path and was struck by a bolt of lightning from a hovering little cloud. Nothing was left of the creature except a whiff of sulfurous gas.
Mym was reassured. The Green Mother's defenses were tight after all! Demons could no more pass this spot than they could the moat, without the proper credentials. The salamander was only part of it.
A second salamander crept out from behind a rock. Things were back as they had been.
Mym took another stick and poked at the little creature. When it sprang and bit, igniting the stick, Mym reached down with his free hand and grabbed it. He phased himself in to it as well as he could, channeling his identity down through his own arm. He had not realized that Mars could do this until it was done yet he realized that he must have known it in some other aspect of his being, because this would have been a suicidal gesture otherwise.
The salamander's mind was small and vicious, but again it was easy to read, because the operating instructions were uppermost. Its name was Sweetbreath, and it would not attack the one who spoke that name. When smoke clouded the region, a hole would open in the wall.
Mym phased out and dropped the salamander, stepping hastily back before it could snap at him. Then he glanced about, perceived no other demon, and fetched an armful of slightly damp leaves from the adjacent forest floor. He dumped these on the salamander's head.
Of course the creature fired the leaves. A dense cloud of smoke and steam puffed up, covering the path.
Now Mym spoke the name: "Sweetbreath."
The salamander froze in place. Mym stepped into the smoke, deliberately breathing and keeping his eyes open, and verified that he was unaffected. There were certainly compensations to being an Incarnation! His vision was impaired because of the thickness of the smoke, but there was no personal discomfort.
He felt along the wall, but found no opening. Had he misunderstood? The smoke was beginning to thin.
Then he realized that there were two walls here. He lurched across to the other, and passed through it and into the ground. Success after all!
He was in another cave, this time a dry one. He touched the Sword, and it emitted a glow that enabled him to proceed without stumbling. The cavern wended its way through the hill and emerged at the other side.
A lovely valley opened out before him, with ornate bushes and colorful grasses. From above, the pattern of vegetation resembled a labyrinth, but there were no teeth in it, for it was easy to pass around the bushes. Here, too, it would have been pleasant to remain and relax if he only had time.
He strode on through but as he proceeded he discovered that the bushes were getting denser and thornier, closing off the routes around them. He had to pick out an appropriate route, and finally found himself channeled into one, that led to a central glade at the deepest crevice of the valley. Above, on the far side, stood the Green Mother's fancy tree house, not far away at all. At last!
But in the glade was a single item of standing deadwood, a petrified tree, and on a branch of that tree perched a harpy. He would have recognized her by the smell alone.
Well, challenges seemed to run in threes. He would have to phase in to her and learn the correct way past.
"Ho, miscreant!"
Another demon! "How did you get through?" Mym demanded, frustrated by this pursuit by his likenesses.
"I masked myself as a piece of stone and watched what you did," the demon said. It was evident that these creatures lacked the subtlety of their master. It didn't occur to them not to answer a direct question. "Then I did likewise. Now I shall watch you again."
"Oh, no, you shan't!" Mym returned, drawing the Sword.
The demon showed no fear. It drew its own sword, which looked identical, and met him at the edge of the glade. The two blades touched and the demon's was cut in half. It was no more than normal demon substance, having no super-hardness.
But how, then, had the other demon slain the salamander? There had to be more to the weapon than this!
The demon leaped at him, striking with the remaining part of the sword. Mym dodged and ran his own point through the other's torso. The blade slid through and emerged on the other side, but the demon did not stop; it walked on up the Sword and struck again at Mym.
There was a clang as the demon's weapon stuck Mym's cloak and rebounded. Mym felt the impact; that sword certainly did have substance!
He twisted his own weapon about and lifted it in an upward sweep. It cut the demon in half, from the belly up through the head, but the creature did not fall. Mym brought his blade down and chopped from the side, and half of the upper torso of the demon, including its left arm, fell off, cleanly severed along horizontal and vertical lines. But the right side continued to fight.
Mym increased his effort and hacked the demon to pieces. Now at last it was finished. This business of fighting demons was strange. They seemed to feel little or no pain or fear, had no blood, and they talked and fought freely while intact. What motivated them? They could seem most human at times, yet most alien at other times.
He turned again to the harpy, who had watched this without reaction. He was sure he could deal with her but how could he be sure that more demons weren't watching? If they could mask themselves as stones or other items, they could be all around. It would be better to wait a bit before making his move.
"How are you?" he asked the harpy.
Now she reacted. "Unsex me here!" she exclaimed, spitting at him.
"I gather you are not very sociable," he said with a smile. He had hardly expected otherwise.
"I have given sssuck!" she screeched indignantly.
Mym still saw no other demons, so he proceeded. He picked up one of the destroyed demon's arms and tossed it to her. The harpy caught it with one claw and tore into it with her teeth; in a moment the demon-substance was being shredded. But while she was partially distracted with that morsel, Mym reached up to touch her wing, channeling his identity quickly through the connection and phasing in with her as well as he was able.
She was Lady Macbeth, and when a cloud of dust obscured the region, a hole would open in the ground. That was all; this was just another variant of the usual device.
He disengaged and picked up a larger morsel of demon. He heaved it at the harpy, but it fell low, so that she could not catch it. In a fury she flapped her wings so hard that a cloud of dust was stirred up.
Now he spoke her name: "Lady Macbeth." The harpy froze, and Mym walked into the dust and found the hole in the ground. He stepped down into it and found himself in still another cave.
This time he did not proceed forward. He turned and waited.
Sure enough, a demon followed. Mym lopped off the thing's head, then sliced up the rest of the body, until the pieces lost their animation.
Another demon appeared. Mym dispatched that one too.
He waited, but no more demons came. This, then, should be the end of them; as far as he could tell, demons were not bright creatures and acted the moment they saw reason to. Any who were able to follow should have done so by now. He turned and went on down the passage he was in. It brought him to a nether gate. He opened this and found stairs leading up. At the top of the flight he found a green and brown room.
"Why, fancy meeting you here," Gaea said. "The approach was more difficult than I expected,"
Mym said, realizing that he had at last entered her domicile.
"Those demons are a nuisance," she said. ''Permit me." She gestured, and a swarm of flies seemed to issue from her hand. They buzzed about Mym and landed on his cloak.
Suddenly there were puffs of smoke all about him.' 'Ww-w-what?" he asked, startled.
"They are stinging the remaining demons into oblivion," Gaea explained.
Mym was dismayed.' 'You mean I brought some in with me?" he sang.
"Indeed," she agreed. "But I have dealt with them now."
"But then your barriers they didn't work!" Gaea smiled. "They worked, Mars. They showed me which of the thousands of false images was the real Mars. I have no fear of demons here; I merely dislike being deceived. I would have had no rest at all if I had watched every image; as it is, I have to watch only you. What brings you here?"
"I am supervising an engagement in which one side means to use gene-splicing to create a virus that infects only the folk of the other side. I thought you would have an interest."
Gaea pursed her lips. "Indeed I do. Mars! I thank you for bringing this to my attention!"
"Well, I have been encountering so much difficulty with the other Incarnations that I thought"
The Green Mother smiled. "I appreciate your consideration, Mars. Certainly I could not have let such a ploy pass. I shall straighten this out for you but in return you must give me an intimate part of yourself."
"I must give you?" Mym sang indignantly. "I came here to"
"Indulge me. Mars," she said.
"Oh, take what you want!" he sang angrily. He should never have expected gratitude from another Incarnation!
"In due course."
She questioned him closely, then lifted her hand to her face. She leaned forward and touched one eye with her right forefinger, and her left with her left forefinger. Two glistening tears fell to the fingers and clung there in globules. She put the globules into separate little sponges. "Take these to your battle zone," she said. "Put them together there."
"T-t-two t-t-tears?" he asked, astonished.
"Not ordinary tears, Mars. When these merge, they will form a compound that nullifies what Satan has done in Ireland. Their virus will expire and be beyond recovery. No one will die of this particular plague."
"What Satan has done?" he sang.
"Obviously Satan has been behind all the mischief you have encountered," she said. "He caused the drafting of children for battle, revealed to another party the secret substance to make zombies, sent a vision to yet another to reveal the technology of the time bomb, and gave the secret of the Protestant plague to another. He has been working you over. Mars."
Mym formed an angry fist, knowing that this was true. Why hadn't he seen it before? That vision in Cush obviously Satanic! "D-d-d-d-damn him!" he swore.
"Which means you must deal with him directly," Gaea said. "Only then will you be free of his interference."
"I shall challenge him now!" Mym sang.
"He will not meet you on a field of your choice," she warned. "Be careful. Mars; you can nullify the Incarnation of Evil only by properly understanding him. Bide your time; you will know when your opportunity comes."
Mym knew she was right. "I shall," he sang. "Now, will I be able to leave here without going through all the challenges again?"
She laughed. "Of course, Mars! But first" She touched him with one hand. He felt a peculiar wrenching and knew that something vital was indeed gone from him. Nature had taken her payment.
Then he stepped out of her front doorway, which was an opening in the trunk of the great tree she lived in, and saw the Castle of War just across the open valley. There were no barriers at all.
