“Hear me, Death and Destruction,” said Ganesha, “Brahma is dead and only we five now know of it.”
“How did this thing come to pass?” asked Yama.
“It appears that he was poisoned.”
“Has there been an autopsy?”
“No.”
“Then I shall perform one.”
“Good. But now there is another matter, of even graver consideration.”
“Name it.”
“His successor.”
“Yes. Heaven cannot be without a Brahma.”
“Exactly. . . . Kali, tell me, would you consider being Brahma, of the golden saddle and silver spurs?”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Then begin thinking about it, and quickly. You are considered the best choice.”
“What of Lord Agni?”
“Not so high on the list. It does not appear he is so anti-Accelerationist as Madam Kali.”
“I see.”
“And I.”
“Therefore, he is a good god, but not a great one.”
“Yes. Who might have killed Brahma?”
“I have no idea. Have you?”
“Not yet.”
“But you will find him, Lord Yama?”
“Aye, with my Aspect upon me.”
“You two may wish to confer.”
“We do.”
“Then will we leave you now. An hour hence we shall dine together in the Pavilion.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Till then. . .”
“Till then.”
“Till then.”
“Lady?”
“Yes?”
“With a changing of bodies one is automatically divorced, unless a continuation contract be signed.”
“Yes.”
“Brahma must needs be a man.”
“Yes.”
“Refuse it.”
“My Lord . . .”
“You hesitate?”
“It is all so sudden, Yama . . .”
“You pause even to consider it?”
“I must.”
“Kali, you distress me.”
“Such was not my intention.”
“And I bid you refuse the offer.”
“I am a goddess in my own right, as well as your wife, Lord Yama.”
“What does that mean?”
“I make my own decisions.”
“If you accept. Kali, then all things are come to an end between us.”
“That is apparent.”
“What, in the names of the Rishis, is Accelerationism but a storm over an ant hill? Why are they suddenly so against it?”
“It must be that they feel a need to be against something.”
“Why choose you to head it?”
“I do not know.”
“Unless there is some special reason for you to be anti-Accelerationist, my dear?”
“I do not know.”
“I am but young, as gods go, but I have heard it said that in the early days of the world the hero with whom you rode—Kalkin — was the same as the one called Sam. If you had reason to hate your ancient Lord, and Sam was truly he, then could I see their enlisting you against this thing he had started. Might this be true?”
“It might.”
“Then if you love me—and you are truly my lady—then let another be Brahma.”
“Yama . . .”
“They will want a decision within the hour.”
“And I will have one for them.”
“What will it be?”
“I am sorry, Yama . . .”
Yama departed the Garden of Joys before dinnertime. Though it seemed an unhealthy breach of etiquette, Yama, among all the gods, was deemed hardest to discipline and was aware of this fact, as well as the reasons that lay behind it. So he left the Garden of Joys and journeyed to the place where Heaven stops.
He dwelled that day and that night at Worldsend, nor was he disturbed by any callers. He spent time in each of the five rooms in the Pavilion of Silence. His thoughts being his own, you leave them alone, too. In the morning, he returned to the Celestial City.
There, he learned of the death of Shiva.
His trident had burnt another hole in the dome, but his head had been smashed in by means of a blunt instrument, as yet unlocated.
Yama went to his friend Kubera. “Ganesha, Vishnu and the new Brahma have already approached Agni, to fill the place of the Destroyer,” said Kubera. “I believe he will accept.”
“Excellent, for Agni,” said Yama. “Who killed God?”
“I have thought much upon it,” said Kubera, “and I believe that in the case of Brahma it must have been someone with whom he was sufficiently familiar to have taken refreshment, and in the case of Shiva, someone well enough known to have surprised him. More than this deponent knoweth not.”