“The same person?”
“I’d bet money.”
“Could it be part of an Accelerationist plot?”
“I find this difficult to believe. Those who are sympathetic to Accelerationism have no real organization. Accelerationism is returned too recently to Heaven for it to amount to more than that. A cabal, perhaps. Most likely a single individual did it, independent of backers.”
“What other reasons might be present?”
“A vendetta. Or some minor deity out to become a major one. Why does anybody kill anybody?”
“Can you think of anyone in particular?”
“The biggest problem, Yama, will be eliminating suspects, not finding them. Has the investigation been given into your hands?”
“I am no longer certain. I think so. But I will find who did it, whatever his station, and kill him.”
“Why?”
“I have need of something to do, someone to. . .”
“Kill?”
“Yes.”
“I am sorry, my friend.”
“I, also. It is my privilege and my intention, however.”
“I wish you had not spoken with me at all, concerning this matter. It is obviously quite confidential.”
“I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”
“I assure you I shan’t”
“And you know I’ll take care of the karmic trackings, against the psych-probe.”
“That is why I mentioned it, and spoke of Shiva also. Let it be so.”
“Good day, my friend.”
“Good day, Yama.”
Yama departed the Pavilion of the Lokapalas. After a time, the goddess Ratri entered there.
“Hail, Kubera.”
“Hail, Ratri.”
“Why sit you there alone?”
“Because I have none to make me unalone. Why come you here — alone?”
“Because I had none to talk with, till now.”
“Seek you counsel, or conversation?”
“Both.”
“Sit down.”
“Thank you. I am afraid.”
“Are you hungry, too?”
“No.”
“Have a piece of fruit and a cup of soma.”
“All right.”
“What is it that you fear, and how may I help you?”
“I saw Lord Yama leaving here . . .”
“Yes.”
“I realized when I looked upon his face that there is a god of Death, and that there is a power which even gods might fear . . .”
“Yama is strong, and he is my friend. Death is mighty, and is no one’s friend. The two exist together though, and it is strange. Agni is strong also, and is Fire. He is my friend. Krishna could be strong if he wished. But he never wishes so. He wears out bodies at a fantastic rate. He drinks soma and makes music and women. He hates the past and the future. He is my friend. I am least among the Lokapalas, and I am not strong. Whatever body I wear goes quickly to fat. I am more father than brother to my three friends. Of them, I can appreciate the drunkenness and the music and the loving and the fire, for these are things of life, and so can I love my friends as men or as gods. But the other Yama makes me to be afraid, also, Ratri. For when he takes upon him his Aspect he is a vacuum, which sets this poor fat a-tremble. Then he is no one’s friend. So do not feel awkward if you fear my friend. You know that when a god is troubled, then his Aspect rushes to comfort him, oh goddess of the Night, as even now it becomes twilight within this bower, though the day is far from ended. Know that you passed a troubled Yama.”
“He returned fairly suddenly.”
“Yes.”
“May I ask why?”
“I am afraid the matter is confidential.”
“Does it concern Brahma?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I believe Brahma is dead. I fear that Yama was summoned to find his slayer. I fear he will find me, though I call down a century of night upon Heaven. He will find me, and I cannot face the vacuum.”
“What do you know regarding this alleged slaying?”
“I believe I was either the last to see Brahma alive or the first to see him dead, depending upon what his twitching signified.”
“What were the circumstances?”
“I had gone to his Pavilion early yesterday morning, to intercede with him that he might lift his wrath and permit the return of Lady Parvati. I was told to seek him in the Garden of His Joys, and I walked there—”