Lord of Light

"Come sit by me. Binder of Demons, and tell me of the days of your glory—when you, with the immortal goddess, rode abroad in the world, scattering chaos like seed."

"It was long ago," said Sam.

"Might those days come again if you win free?"

"They may."

"That is good to know. Yes . . ."

"You will do this thing?" "Hail, Siddhartha! Unbinder!"

"Hail?"

"And lightning and thunder. May they come again!"

"It is good."

"Now tell me of the days of your glory, and I will speak again of mine."

"Very well."

Dashing through the forest, clad in a leather belt, Lord Krishna pursued the Lady Ratri, who had declined to couple with him after the rehearsal dinner. The day was clear and fragrant, but not half so fragrant as the midnight-blue sari he clutched in his left hand. She ran on ahead of him, beneath the trees; and he followed, losing sight of her for a moment as she turned up a side trail that led out into the open.

When he glimpsed her again, she stood upon a hillock, her bare arms upraised above her head, her fingertips touching. Her eyes were half closed, and her only garment, a long black veil, stirred about her white and gleaming form.

He realized then that she had taken on her Aspect, and might be about to wield an Attribute.

Panting, he raced up the hillside toward her; and she opened her eyes and smiled down upon him, lowering her arms.

As he reached for her, she swirled her veil in his face and he heard her laugh—somewhere within the immense night that covered him over.

It was black and starless and moonless, without a glint, shimmer, spark or glow from anywhere. It was a nighttime akin to blindness that had fallen upon him.

He snorted, and the sari was torn from his fingers. He halted, shaking, and he heard her laughter ringing about him.

"You have presumed too much. Lord Krishna," she told him, "and offended against the sanctity of Night. For this, I shall punish you by leaving this darkness upon Heaven for a time."

"I am not afraid of the dark, goddess," he replied, chuckling.

"Then your brains are indeed in your gonads. Lord, as hath often been said before—to stand lost and blinded in the midst of Kaniburrha, whose denizens need not to strike—and not to be afraid—I think this somewhat foolhardy. Good-bye, Dark One. Perhaps I'll see you at the wedding."

"Wait, lovely lady! Will you accept my apology?"

"Certainly, for I deserve it."

"Then lift this night you have laid upon this place."

"Another time, Krishna—when I am ready."

"But what shall I do until then?"

"It is said, sir, that by your piping you can charm the most fearsome of beasts. I suggest that if this be true you take up your pipes at this moment and begin your most soothing melody, until such a time as I see fit to let the light of day enter again into Heaven."

"Lady, you are cruel," said Krishna.

"Such is life. Lord of the Pipes," and she departed.

He began to play, thinking dark thoughts.

They came. Out of the sky, riding on the polar winds, across the seas and the land, over the burning snow, and under it and through it, they came. The shape-shifters drifted across the fields of white, and the sky-walkers fell down like leaves; trumpets sounded over the wastes, and the chariots of the snows thundered forward, light leaping like spears from their burnished sides; cloaks of fur afire, white plumes of massively breathed air trailing above and behind them, golden-gauntleted and sun-eyed, clanking and skidding, rushing and whirling, they came, in bright baldric, wer-mask, fire-scarf, devil-shoe, frost-greaves and power-helm, they came; and across the world that lay at their back, there was rejoicing in the Temples, with much singing and the making of offerings, and processions and prayers, sacrifices and dispensations, pageantry and color. For the much-feared goddess was to be wed with Death, and it was hoped that this would serve to soften both their dispositions. A festive spirit had also infected Heaven, and with the gathering of the gods and the demigods, the heroes and the nobles, the high priests and the favored rajahs and high-ranking Brahmins, this spirit obtained force and momentum and spun like an all-colored whirlwind, thundering in the heads of the First and latest alike.