“Did you not offer him godhood once?”
“Yes. He did not accept it, however.”
“Supposing you did so again?”
“Why?”
“The present problem would not exist were he not a very talented individual. His talents would make him a worthy addition to the pantheon.”
“This thought has occurred to me, also. Now, however, he would agree, whether he meant it or not. I am certain that he wishes to live.”
“Yet, there are ways in which one can be sure in these matters.”
“Such as?”
“Psych-probe.”
“And if this shows a lack of commitment to Heaven—which it will . . . ?”
“Could not his mind itself be altered—by one such as Lord Mara?”
“I have never thought you guilty of sentiment, goddess. But it would seem you are most anxious for him to continue existing, in any form.”
“Perhaps I am.”
“You know that he might be—very changed. He will not be the same if this thing is done to him. His ‘talent’ may then be totally absent.”
“In the course of ages all men change naturally—opinions, beliefs, convictions. Parts of the mind may sleep and other parts may awaken. Talent, I feel, is a difficult thing to destroy—as long as life itself remains. It is better to live than to die.”
“I might be convinced of this, goddess—if you have the time, most lovely one.”
“How much time?”
“Say, three days.”
“Three days, then.”
“Then let us adjourn to my Pavilion of Joys and discuss the matter fully.”
“Very well.”
“Where is Lord Yama now?”
“He labors in his workshop.”
“A lengthy project, I trust.”
“At least three days.”
“Good. Yes, there may be some hope for Sam. It is against my better thinking, but then I can appreciate the notion. Yes, I can.”
The eight-armed statue of the goddess who was blue played upon the veena, making music to fall about them as they walked in the garden, that summer.
Helba dwelled on the far side of Heaven, near to the wilderness’ edge. So near to the forest, in fact, was the palace called Plunder that the animals stalked past the one transparent wall, brushing against it as they went. From the room called Rape, one could look out upon the shaded trails of the jungle.
It was within this room, its walls hung with the stolen treasures of lives past, that Helba entertained the one called Sam.
Helba was the god/goddess of thieves.
No one knew Helba’s true sex, for Helba’s was the habit of alternating gender with each incarnation.
Sam looked upon a lithe, dark-skinned woman who wore a yellow sari and yellow veil. Her sandals and nails were the color of cinnamon, and she wore a tiara that was golden upon her black hair.
“You have,” said Helba, in a voice soft and purring, “my sympathy. It is only during those seasons of life when I incarnate as a man, Sam, that I wield my Attribute and engage in actual plunder.”
“You must be able to take on your Aspect now.”
“Of course.”
“And raise up your Attribute?”
“Probably.”
“But you will not?”
“Not while I wear the form of woman. As a man, I will undertake to steal anything from anywhere. . .. See there, upon the far wall, where some of my trophies are hung? The great blue-feather cloak belonged to Srit, Chief among the Kataputna demons. I stole it from out his cave as his hellhounds slept, drugged by myself. The shape-changing jewel I took from the very Dome of the Glow, climbing with suction discs upon my wrists and knees and toes, as the Mothers beneath me—”
“Enough!” said Sam. “I know all of these tales, Helba, for you tell them constantly. It has been so long since you have undertaken a daring theft, as of old, that I suppose these glories long past must be oft repeated. Else, even the Elder Gods would forget what once you were. I can see that I have come to the wrong place, and I shall try elsewhere.”
He stood, as to go.
“Wait,” said Helba, stirring.
Sam paused. “Yes?”
“You could at least tell me of the theft you are contemplating. Perhaps I can offer advice—”