To Reign in Hell: A Novel

by Steven Brust

  “Sith.”

  “Yes, Kyriel?”

  “Have you heard?”

  “You’re talking about the meeting at the Southern Hold, aren’t you?”

  “Right.”

  “What of it?”

  “Well, I have to say that I’m surprised that there are some who still oppose the Plan, even after what happened.”

  “Yes. But I guess there’s no understanding some angels.

  “I guess not.”

  “I wonder what Yaweh will do.”

  “Do? Why should Yaweh do anything?”

  “Well, doesn’t this threaten the Plan?”

  “Nothing can threaten the Plan. Yaweh isn’t going to worry about a few hotheads.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  Yaweh tried to think above the noise of the workers putting in a second throne next to his. He tried to organize his thoughts, blamed the inability to do so on the noise, and realized that that, too, was a lie.

  After a while he looked at Yeshuah, who stood by his side, smiling warmly. As their eyes met, Yeshuah’s face became troubled.

  “What is it, Father?” he asked.

  Yaweh’s voice was the smallest whisper. “I don’t know what to do, Yeshuah. Now they are conspiring openly against me. They are going to bring together the hosts and undo all the good we did. How can I stop it without doing more hurt? And can I let them do this to the Plan?”

  Yeshuah’s eyes suddenly moistened, and he dropped to his knees beside the throne. “Father,” he said. “You must do the right thing. I know that you love them—Satan, Lucifer, and the rest. I know, because I feel it too. But—to abandon the Plan—that is unthinkable, isn t it?”

  Yaweh nodded.

  “But wouldn’t it be worse to carry it out, but only part way? To try it, and have it fail? To lose thousands of angels in vain?”

  Again, Yaweh nodded.

  “Then it is no kindness now to show kindness. If you act quickly, decisively, and firmly, we can end this rebelliousness. It may hurt you, Father, and I feel for that, but what choice do you have? If you make a single, strong showing, there may not be any need for any more. If you hesitate, it can only lead to disaster.”

  Yaweh looked up and searched the other’s face.

  “I’ll think it over,” he said at last, his voice still only a whisper. “I’ll think it over.”

  Camael had no idea what he was doing there, but it made him nervous. He had been lounging around the Palace when suddenly Zaph-kiel had appeared with Abdiel, pointed directly at him, then left without a word. Abdiel had approached, called him by name, and escorted him to a place just outside the throne room. Then he had left.

  For five minutes, Camael stood there, and he had known days that went by faster than those five minutes.

  Then the door opened and a Seraph appeared, motioning him in. He was escorted up to the throne, where he was flanked by Abdiel and Michael. Yaweh looked at him.

  “You are Camael?”

  He bowed deeply. “Yes, Lord. How may I serve you?”

  “I asked Zaphkiel for the name of someone who could be chief of a new Order of angels that I am now creating, and he gave me your name.”

  Camael gasped.

  “My name, Lord?”

  “Yes. This new Order will be called Powers, for through it, the Power of my will shall be felt throughout Heaven. The Order will number five thousand, whom you will select. Swords will be provided. You will take these five thousand angels and you will go to the Southern Hold. In nineteen days, there will be a gathering of miscreant angels there. You will have weapons; they will not. You will attack them as my right arm. Michael will be there with one thousand angels called Virtues, Yahriel with five hundred angels called Dominions, and Abdiel with the two hundred Thrones. What say you?”

  None noticed, but Abdiel paled slightly as Yaweh said this.

  “My Lord,” stammered Camael, “I’m honored. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Do you want it?”

  “Yes, my Lord! That is, if you think I can do it.”

  “I think you can. Very well. It is settled. Go and select the angels of your company.”

  “Yes, Lord. At once. And, thank you, Lord.”

  Yaweh smiled. Camael bowed low and departed.

  “He’ll do, I think,” said Yaweh.

  “I hope so, Lord,” said Abdiel.

  Michael said nothing.

  Lilith was tired when she got there, but it was nothing compared to when she had run for Belial. She stood by the shore for a moment, gasping, then began walking along it. She studied the rolling waves, looking for a break in them.

  After a time, she saw an angel seated against a rock near the shore. She approached and said, “Good day, Harut.”

  “Why, hello, Lilith. What you doin’ here?”

  “I have to speak with Leviathan.”

  He nodded. “She’ll show up. You may as well get comfortable, honey. It could be a while.”

  “All right.”

  “Well, what do you think? How many will we have?”

  “I don’t know, Asmodai. I hope a good number.”

  “Yes. Fourteen more days.”

  “That’s right. And we should step up the pace. We’re going to have to take about four days after we get there to set up everything.”

  “I know. Lucifer? Do you really think we can pull this off?”

  “You mean the trick part?”

  “Yes.”

  “It depends on Leviathan’s control of her element. I made a study of it shortly after it happened. She has a profound control of that water, and it seems to extend to other bodies of water near her. I think it’ll work.”

  “Hmm. Okay.”

  “If it doesn’t work, it won’t matter all that much. The important thing is going to be the speech. I’ve never given a speech before.”

  “Just explain the bare facts. That will do a great deal. Satan will do the rest.”

  “He certainly can do the rest—but will he?”

  Asmodai shrugged. “If not, Lilith will speak to them. She’s good with words.”

  Lucifer smiled. “I know.”

  “So,” said Lilith, “what do you think?”

  “I’m with you,” said Leviathan. “I don’t know if what you’re doing is right, but what Yaweh is doing is wrong. It’s obvious that he condoned the killing of Ariel, and I can’t forgive that. And what you say about this new angel—no. I can’t support that, and I can’t stand neutral.”

  “I’m glad,” said Lilith. “What about Lucifer’s idea?”

  “I think I can do my part. Water is water. But I wonder how much good I’ll be able to do, if there’s trouble?”

  “That doesn’t matter. We want the effect.”

  “All right, then.” Leviathan looked down at the other angel. “What about you, Harut?”

  “If Lilith will guide me, I think I can walk to the Southern Hold in ten days.”

  “I’ll guide you,” said Lilith.

  “It is good,” said Leviathan.

  “I,” announced Asmodai, “am beat.”

  “That’s too bad,” said Lucifer. “We haven’t started working yet.”

  “I know. But we made that trip fast, and I’m not cut out for long walks.”

  Lucifer shrugged. “We got here ahead of everyone. That’s the important thing. Now let’s get to work.”

  “How?”

  “Uh . . . .” He looked around the area near the Southern Hold— flat and rock-strewn. “There,” he announced, pointing to the northwest. “That will do, I think. I’ll mark out the perimeter; you figure out a way to make the hole.”

  “What about filling it?”

  Lucifer looked at the sky. “Soon,” he said, “it will begin to rain.”

  Abdiel marched at the head of two hundred Thrones. “How does this keep happening to me?” he wondered. “Every time I begin to think I’m safe, something comes up.”

  He sighed. He was well a
ware that Satan would be looking for him, along with Beelzebub and who knew who else? There had to be a way to get out of this without looking as if he were running from battle. Only four days left, and they would be there. What he wanted to do was to turn command over to Zaphkiel and go back home.

  He snapped his fingers. He could . . . but then, of course, he’d be taking other risks. What if they didn’t show up on time?

  This wasn’t very good, he realized, but it seemed to be safer than the other way, while looking even better. And might even do some good.

  Yes, he decided, he’d do it.

  He turned his head. “Zaphkiel!”

  Zaphkiel caught up to him.

  “Take over here. I’m going up ahead. I have an idea that ought to help. Make sure you don’t delay your attack. Arrive as quickly as you can and keep a watch on things. When the right moment comes, go ahead. All right?”

  “Yes,” said Zaphkiel.

  “Good.” Abdiel nodded to him and ran on ahead, up the trail and out of sight.

  Zaphkiel continued walking as he had, but now in the front of the line as if it were his right and natural place. The Thrones, marching behind him, hardly noticed the change.

  Call it an exodus, if you wish to be dramatic. You wouldn’t be far wrong, at that.

  They came from the center of Heaven to its southernmost reaches and gathered there before the Southern Hold. There were some who didn’t know why they were there, only that friends had told them to be. Others thought to hear more of the Plan revealed; still others hoped only for a good show.

  But they came. By the middle of the allotted day, nearly a third part of the angels of Heaven had gathered, including all who dwelt in the Southern Regency.

  Slowly, from those who dwelt there, rumors began to spread, and the angels began to cluster around the lake, and it was said that this lake had never before been there, and those to whom the sight of the Hold was commonplace wondered at how it had come to be.

  Gradually, the space near the lake became more and more crowded, but they feared to touch the water, as if it were cacoastrum itself. They came near to it, and some found stones and threw them in, but nothing unusual occurred.

  Soon, they knew, things would begin. By unspoken agreement, they kept their eyes on the water and waited.

  Satan was staring out the window at the gathered angels and the new lake when he was told that Lucifer wished to be admitted to the Hold, and to see him. He nodded. When Lucifer arrived, Satan fixed him with a cold stare while motioning him to sit down. When he had done so, Satan took a chair opposite. His eyes never left Lucifer’s face.

  “Good day, Lord Satan.”

  “Good day? Is that what you have to say to me? Good day? By the flux! Is this your doing, Lucifer?”

  “Yes it is, Satan. I’ve brought them.”

  “You say that pretty calmly!”

  “Thank you very much.”

  Satan stood quickly. “I’m not joking, Lucifer. Do you know what you’ve done? I don’t know what you have planned, but whatever it is will be attributed to me. And what about that lake?”

  “Asmodai and I built it.”

  “Why?”

  “We needed it.”

  “Indeed? You are out of your Regency now, Regent of the East.”

  Lucifer, still sitting, snorted. “Don’t speak to me of Regencies. You saw what Yaweh did. Do you think the idea of a Regency means anything any more?”

  “You came here and brought with you I don’t know how many angels, and dug up half a square league of my land, and all you can say is that it is because Yaweh needed some flashy nothingness to get Heaven behind him? So what?”

  “Is that how you view what Yaweh did? Flashy nothingness? Humbling all of Heaven? Those lies—”

  “They weren’t lies, Lucifer. Distortions at worst, and not even that, necessarily.”

  Lucifer brushed it aside. “I see it as a threat to the freedom of every angel in Heaven—that’s more than ‘flashy nothingness.’”

  Satan snorted.

  “All right, then—see how he reacts to this gathering, and then tell me that our freedom isn’t threatened.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think Yaweh will attack us.”

  “What? Don’t be absurd. Why?”

  “Because he has no choice. We threaten the Plan. More, we threaten to expose all the lies the Plan is built on. He has to stop us.”

  Satan stood and stared down at Lucifer, green fires in his eyes. “I think that is nonsense, Lucifer. But if you really believe it, how dare you subject thousands of helpless angels to an attack?”

  Lucifer looked up at him and smiled slightly. “Not helpless,” he said. “That makes all the difference. They won’t be helpless, because you are going to prepare them.”

  Satan’s eyebrows climbed. “Indeed?”

  “Yes. If they are prepared—if they know they are in danger and are ready to face it, the weapons of the others won’t matter. Yaweh is sending their own brothers to attack them. If the Thrones, or whatever, see the hosts ready to defend themselves—a united, solid body— few of them will attack. Therefore, we’re asking you to speak to them and prepare them.”

  Satan turned and resumed his seat. For long moments, he sat in silence.

  “I think you really believe all this, Lucifer.”

  “I do.”

  “What if I say no?”

  “Then Lilith will speak to them. Think about it, though. You’d be far more effective.”

  Again, Satan was silent for a time. “All right,” he said at last. “I’ll think about it.”

  Lucifer rose and left the room. Satan wandered back to the window and presently saw Lucifer emerge, pass through the crowd, and be joined by Asmodai. The gathered angels made way for his gold cloak, and he and Asmodai came to the edge of the water.

  For a moment they stood there; then the angels around them began to back away. Soon, even from his window, Satan began to feel the power that they were calling upon.

  They stood, side by side, hands extended out over the lake. The angels around them continued to move away, and Satan could hardly blame them.

  Then there came a faint movement within the water, as if the middle of the lake were boiling. Steam began to escape from it, and waves began to lick at Lucifer’s and Asmodai’s feet. Then, amid a great cloud of smoke and a boiling of waters and splashing in all directions, a great head appeared, dark and scaled.

  Leviathan stood before them in her power and surveyed them all. There were cries and screams from the host of angels, and they scrambled to escape.

  But the angels had heard of her, and didn’t fear her. As the first shock wore off, and Leviathan remained motionless, silence settled over the assembly, and those who had fallen regained their feet.

  Lucifer turned toward them, and in a clear, piercing voice, which carried to each of the thousands of angels there, he said, “We will begin soon. Be patient.”

  Then he and Asmodai walked through them, and so came to the great doors of the Southern Hold and passed within.

  TWELVE

  “Tis written: ‘In the Beginning was the Word.’

  Here am I balked: who, now, can help afford?

  The Word?—impossible so high to rate it;

  And otherwise must I translate it,

  If by the spirit I am truly taught.

  Then thus: ‘In the Beginning was the Thought.’

  This first line let me weigh completely,

  Lest my impatient pen proceed too fleetly.

  Is it the Thought which works, creates, indeed?

  ‘In the Beginning was the Power,’ I read.

  Yet, as I write, a warning is suggested,

  That I the sense may not have fairly tested.

  The Spirit aids me: now I see the light!

  In the Beginning was the act,’ I write.”

  —Goethe, Faust

  “They seem to be returning, milord.”

  “Yes.
They probably want to wait, to let the tension build before they start.”

  “There’s contempt in thy voice, milord.”

  “Hm. Well, shouldn’t there be?”

  “Perchance, milord. But wilt thou speak to them?”

  “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  “As thou wilt, milord, yet—hark!”

  “What do you hear?”

  “They come anon, methinks.”

  There was a knock. “Yes?” said Satan.

  Lucifer’s voice came from the other side. “I’d like to speak with you again. Lilith and Asmodai are here.”

  Satan bit his lip, then shrugged. “All right. Come in.”

  The door opened. “Thanks,” said Lucifer.

  “Sit down.”

  They sat.

  “Well?”

  “What do you think about the Plan?”

  “You asked me that once before, Lucifer. At that time, as I recall, you were for it, and were upset that I wouldn’t help with it. Now it seems that you’re upset that I won’t help against it.”

  “Things have changed,” said Asmodai.

  “Such as?”

  “Ariel.”

  Satan nodded, slowly. “Yes, there is that. But is that enough to make you decide that a Plan that will benefit all of us is now somehow wrong?”

  “Don’t you think it’s enough?” asked Lilith.

  “It didn’t change my opinion of the Plan; it changed my opinion of a few people, that’s all.”

  “It’s all a matter of people, isn’t it?” said Lilith. “ Yaweh is a friend, so you won’t oppose the Plan, even though you don’t like it. You dislike Mephistopheles, so it doesn’t matter to you whether he’s on our side or the other side. It’s all just a matter of personalities, isn’t it?”

  Satan shifted uncomfortably. “I’m reminded,” he said, “of a conversation I had with Mephistopheles recently. But still—what else can we judge by?”

  “How about right and wrong?” said Lilith, a touch of irony in her voice.

  “Well, that makes it simple, then, doesn’t it? But, as I’ve said before, I’m not sure that the Plan is wrong. How can I be? You know what Yaweh is hoping to gain. Is that something that is wrong?”