"That's quite a bit, Sam . . ."
"The first two merely amount to agreeing that something does exist and has a right to go on. The third will come to pass whether you like it or not, so I'm giving you a chance to be graceful about it."
"I'll have to think . . ."
"Take a minute. I'll wait. If the answer is no, though, we'll pull out and let Renfrew have this city, defile this Temple. After he's taken a few more, you'll have to meet him. We won't be around then, though. We'll wait till it's all over. If you're still in business then, you won't be in any position to decide about those terms I just gave you. If you're not, I think we'll be able to take the Black One on and best him and what will be left of his zombies. Either way, we get what we want. This way is easier on you, though."
"All right! I'll muster the forces immediately. We will ride together in this last battle, Kalkin. Nirriti dies at Khaipur! Keep someone there in the comm-room, so we can stay in contact."
"I'll make this my headquarters."
"Now untie the priest and bring him here. He is about to receive some divine orders, and, shortly, a divine visitation."
"Yes, Brahma."
"Sam, wait! After the battle, should we live, I would talk with you—concerning mutual worship."
"You wish to become a Buddhist?"
"No, a woman again . . ."
"There is a place and a moment for all things, and this is neither."
"When the time and the moment occur, I will be there."
"I'll get you your priest now. Hold the line."
Now after the fall of Lananda, Nirriti held a service amid the ruins of that city, praying for victory over the other cities. His dark sergeants beat the drums slowly and the zombies fell to their knees. Nirriti prayed until the perspiration covered his face like a mask of glass and light, and it ran down inside his prosthetic armor, which gave him the strength of many. Then he lifted up his face to the heavens, looked upon the Bridge of the Gods and said, "Amen."
Then he turned and headed toward Khaipur, his army rising at his back.
When Nirriti came to Khaipur, the gods were waiting.
The troops from Kilbar were waiting, as well as those of Khaipur.
And the demigods and the heroes and the nobles were waiting.
And the high-ranking Brahmins and many of the followers of Mahasamatman were waiting. These latter having come in the name of the Divine Esthetic.
Nirriti looked across the mined field that led to the walls of the city, and he saw the four horsemen who were the Lokapalas waiting by the gate, the banners of Heaven flaring beside them in the wind.
He lowered his visor and turned to Olvegg.
"You were right. I wonder if Ganesha waits within?"
"We will know soon enough."
Nirriti continued his advance.
This was the day when the Lord of Light held the field. The minions of Nirriti never entered Khaipur. Ganesha fell beneath the blade of Olvegg, as he was attempting to backstab Brahma, who had closed with Nirriti upon a hillock. Olvegg then fell, clutching his stomach, and began crawling toward a rock.
Brahma and the Black One then faced one another on foot and Ganesha's head rolled into a gully.
"That one told me Kilbar," said Nirriti.
"That one wanted Kilbar," said Brahma, "and tried to make it Kilbar. Now I know why."
They sprang together and Nirriti's armor fought for him with the strength of many.
Yama spurred his horse toward the rise and was enveloped in a swirling of dust and sand. He raised his cloak to his eyes and laughter rang about him.
"Where is your death-gaze now, Yama-Dharma?"
"Rakasha!" he snarled.
"Yes. It is I, Taraka!"
And Yama was suddenly drenched with gallons of water; and his horse reared, falling over backward.
He was upon his feet with his blade in his hand, when the flaming whirlwind coalesced into a manlike form.
"I've washed you clean of that-which-repels, deathgod. Now you shall go down to destruction at my band!"
Yama lunged forward with his blade.
He cut through his gray opponent from shoulder to thigh, but no blood came and there was no sign of the passage of his blade.
"You cannot cut me down as you would a man, oh Death! But see what I can do to you!"
Taraka leapt upon him, pinning his arms to his sides and bearing him to the ground. A fountain of sparks arose.
In the distance, Brahma had his knee upon Nirriti's spine and was bending his head backward, against the power of the black armor. This was when Lord Indra leapt down from the back of his slizzard and raised his sword Thunderbolt against Brahma. He heard Nirriti's neck break.
"It is your cloak that protects you!" Taraka cried out, from where he wrestled on the ground; and then he looked into the eyes of Death. . . .
Yama felt Taraka weaken sufficiently to push him away.
He sprang to his feet and raced toward Brahma without stopping to pick up his blade. There on the hill, Brahma parried Thunderbolt again and again, blood spurting from the stump of his severed left arm and streaming from wounds of the head and chest. Nirriti held his ankle in a grip of steel.
Yama cried out as he charged, drawing his dagger.
Indra drew back, out of range of Brahma's blade, and turned to face him.
"A dagger against Thunderbolt, Red One?" he asked.
"Aye," said Yama, striking with his right hand and dropping the blade into his left for the true strike.
The point entered Indra's forearm.
Indra dropped Thunderbolt and struck Yama in the jaw. Yama fell, but he swept Indra's legs out from under him, carrying him to the ground.
His Aspect possessed him completely then, and as he glared Indra seemed to wither beneath his gaze. Taraka leapt upon his back just as Indra died. Yama tried to free himself, but it felt as if a mountain lay across his shoulders.
Brahma, who lay beside Nirriti, tore off his harness, which had been soaked with demon repellant. With his right hand he cast it across the space that separated them, so that it fell beside Yama.
Taraka withdrew, and Yama turned and gazed upon him. Thunderbolt then leapt up from where it had fallen upon the ground and sped toward Yama's breast.
Yama seized the blade with both hands, its point inches away from his heart. It began to move forward and the blood dripped from the palms of his hands and fell upon the ground.
Brahma turned a death-gaze upon the Lord of Hellwell, a gaze that drew now upon the force of life itself within him.
The point touched Yama.
Yama threw himself to the side, turning, and it gouged him from breastbone to shoulder as it passed.
Then his eyes were two spears, and the Rakasha lost his manlike form and became smoke. Brahma's head fell upon his breast.
Taraka screamed as Siddhartha rode toward him upon a white horse, the air crackling and smelling of ozone:
"No, Binder! Hold your power! My death belongs to Yama . . ."
"Oh foolish demon!" said Sam. "It need not have been . . ."
But Taraka was no more.
Yama fell to his knees beside Brahma and tied a tourniquet about what remained of his left arm.
"Kali!" he said. "Don't die! Talk to me. Kali!"
Brahma gasped and his eyes flickered open, but closed again.
"Too late," mumbled Nirriti. He turned his head and looked at Yama. "Or rather, just in time. You're Azrael, aren't you? The Angel of Death . . ."
Yama slapped him, and the blood upon his hand was smeared across Nirriti's face.
"'Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,'" said Nirriti. "'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.' "
Yama slapped him again.
"'Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. . . .'"