“Is it true what they say about Kali?” asked Lakshmi.
“What do they say?” grunted Kubera, reaching for a bowl of soma.
She took the bowl from his hands, sipped at it, returned it to him. He quaffed it, and a servant refilled it as he placed it back upon the tray.
“That she wants a human sacrifice, to celebrate her wedding?”
“Probably,” said Kubera. “Wouldn’t put it past her. Bloodthirsty bitch, that one. Always transmigrating into some vicious animal for a holiday. Became a fire-hen once and clawed Sitala’s face over something she’d said.”
“When?”
“Oh, ten—eleven avatars back. Sitala wore a veil for a devilish long time, till her new body was ready.”
“A strange pair,” said Lakshmi into his ear, which she was biting. “Your friend Yama is probably the only one would live with her. Supposing she grew angry with a lover and cast her deadly look upon him? Who else could bear that gaze?”
“Jest not,” said Kubera. “Thus did we lose Kartikeya, Lord of the Battles.”
“Oh?”
“Aye. She’s a strange one. Like Yama, yet not like him. He is deathgod, true. But his is the way of the quick, clean kill. Kali is rather like a cat.”
“Does Yama ever speak of this fascination she holds for him?”
“Did you come here to gather gossip or to become some?”
“Both,” she replied.
At that moment, Krishna took his Aspect upon him, raising up the Attribute of divine drunkenness. From his pipes there poured the bitter-dark sour-sweet melody contagious. The drunkenness within him expanded across the garden, in alternating waves of joy and sadness. He rose upon his lithe, dark legs and began to dance. His flat features were expressionless. His wet, dark hair lay in tight rings, like wire; even his beard was so curled. As he moved, the Apsarases came forth from the pool to follow him. His pipes wandered along the trails of the ancient melodies, growing more and more frenzied as he moved faster and faster, until finally he broke into the Rasa-lila, the Dance of Lust, and his retinue, hands on their hips, followed him with increasing speed through its gyrating movements.
Kubera’s grip upon Lakshmi tightened.
“Now there is an Attribute,” she said.
Rudra the Grim bent his bow and sent an arrow flying. The arrow sped on and on and finally came to rest in the center of a distant target. At his side. Lord Murugan chuckled and lowered his bow.
“You win again,” he said. “I can’t beat that.”
They unbraced their bows and moved toward the target after the arrows.
“Have you met him yet?” asked Murugan.
“I knew him a long time ago,” said Rudra.
“Accelerationist?”
“He wasn’t then. Wasn’t much of anything, politically. He was one of the First, though, one of those who had looked upon Urath.”
“Oh?”
“He distinguished himself in the wars against the People-of-the-Sea and against the Mothers of the Terrible Glow.” Here, Rudra made a sign in the air. “Later,” he continued, “this was remembered, and he was given charge of the northern marches in the wars against the demons. He was known as Kalkin in those days, and it was there that he came to be called Binder. He developed an Attribute which he could use against the demons. With it, he destroyed most of the Yakshas and bound the Rakasha. When Yama and Kali captured him at Hellwell in Malwa, he had already succeeded in freeing these latter. Thus, the Rakasha are again abroad in the world.”
“Why did he do this thing?”
“Yama and Agni say that he had made a pact with their leader. They suspect he offered this one a lease on his body in return for the promise of demon troops to war against us.”
“May we be attacked?”
“I doubt it. The demons are not stupid. If they could not defeat four of us in Hellwell, I doubt they would attack us all here in Heaven. And even now, Yama is in the Vasty Hall of Death designing special weapons.”
“And where is his bride-to-be?”
“Who knows?” said Rudra. “And who cares?”
Murugan smiled.
“I once thought you more than passing fond of her yourself.”