Lord of Light

"The same. When you dispersed your lancers after your battle in Mahartha, he retreated into the backlands with a service of retainers. He packed with him all the equipment you had taken from the Hall of Karma. I located him many years ago. Subsequent to Keenset, after my escape from Heaven by the Way of the Black Wheel, I brought Kubera out from his vault beneath that fallen city. He later allied himself with Narada, who now runs a bootleg body shop in the hills. They work together. We have set up several others in various places, also."

"And Kubera comes? Good!"

"And Siddhartha is still Prince of Kapil. A call for troops from that principality would still be heard. We have sounded them out."

"A handful, probably. But still good to know—yes."

"And Lord Krishna."

"Krishna? What is he doing on our side? Where is he?"

"He was here. I found him the day we arrived. He had just moved in with one of the girls. Quite pathetic."

"How so?"

"Old. Pitifully old and weak, but still a drunken lecher. His Aspect served him still, however, periodically summoning up some of his ancient charisma and a fraction of his colossal vitality. He had been expelled from Heaven after Keenset, but because he would not fight against Kubera and myself, as did Agni. He has wandered the world for over half a century, drinking and loving and playing his pipes and growing older. Kubera and I have tried several times to locate him, but he did considerable traveling. This is generally a requirement for renegade fertility deities."

"What good will he be to us?"

"I sent him to Narada for a new body on the day I found him. He will be riding in with Kubera. His powers always take to the transfer quickly, too."

"But what good will he be to us?"

"Do not forget that it was he who broke the black demon Bana, whom even Indra feared to face. When he is sober he is one of the deadliest fighting men alive. Yama, Kubera, Krishna, and if you're willing—Kalkin! We will be the new Lokapalas, and we will stand together."

"I am willing."

"So be it, then. Let them send a company of their trainee gods against us! I've been designing new weapons. It is a shame that there must be so many separate and exotic ones. It is quite a drain on my genius to make each a work of art, rather than to mass-produce a particular species of offense. But the plurality of the paranormal dictates it. Someone always has an Attribute to stand against any one weapon. Let them face, though, the Gehenna Gun and be fibrillated apart, or cross blades with the Electrosword, or stand before the Fountain Shield, with its spray of cyanide and dimethyl sulfoxide, and they will know that it is the Lokapalas they face!"

"I see now, Death, why it is that any god—even Brahma—may pass and be succeeded by another—save for yourself."

"Thank you. Have you a plan of any sort?"

"Not yet. I will need more information as to the strength within the City. Has Heaven demonstrated its power in recent years?"

"No."

"If there were some way of testing them without showing our hand. . .. Perhaps the Rakasha ,.."

"No, Sam. I do not trust them."

"Nor I. But they can sometimes be dealt with."

"As you dealt with them in Hellwell and Palamaidsu?"

"Well answered. Maybe you are right. I will give it more thought. I wonder about Nirriti, though. How go things with the Black One?"

"In recent years, he has come to dominate the seas. Rumor has it that his legions grow, and that he builds machines of war. I once told you, though, of my fears in this matter. Let us stay as far away from Nirriti as possible. He has but one thing in common with us—the desire to topple Heaven. Neither Accelerationist nor Deicrat, should he succeed he would set up a Dark Age worse than the one we're beginning to come out of. Perhaps our best course of action would be to provoke a battle between Nirriti and the Gods of the City, lie low and then shoot at the winners."

"You may be right, Yama. But how to do this?"

"We may not have to. It may happen of its own accord—soon. Mahartha crouches, cowering back from the sea it faces. You are the strategist, Sam. I'm only a tactician. We brought you back to tell us what to do. Pray think about it carefully, now that you are yourself once more."

"You are always stressing those last words."

"Yea, preacher. For you have not been battle-tested since your return from bliss. . . . Tell me, can you make the Buddhists fight?"

"Probably, but I might have to assume an identity I now find distasteful."

"Well. . . perhaps not. Keep it in mind, in case we're hard put. To be safe, though, practice every night in front of a mirror with that esthetics lecture you gave back at Ratri's monastery."

"I'd rather not."

"I know, but do it anyway."

"Better I should practice with a blade. Fetch me one and I'll give you a lesson."

"Ho! Fair enough! Make it a good lesson and you've got yourself a convert."

"Then let us adjourn to the courtyard, where I will proceed to enlighten you."