“Very clever, Kubera. Who else is familiar with this strange reasoning?”
“No one, yet. Yama, soon though, I fear. He always solves problems.”
“Why do you place your life in jeopardy by seeking me thus?”
“One does not generally achieve your age, my age, without being somewhat reasonable. I knew you would at least listen to me before striking. I know, too, that since what I have to say is good no harm will come to me.”
“What do you propose?”
“I am sufficiently sympathetic with what you have done to assist you in escaping from Heaven.”
“Thank you, no.”
“You would like to win this contest, would you not?”
“Yes, and I’ll do it in my own way.”
“How?”
“I will return to the City now and destroy as many of them as I can before they stop me. If enough of the great ones fall, the others will not be able to hold this place together.”
“And if you fall? What then of the world, and of the cause you have championed? Will you be able to rise again to defend it?”
“I do not know.”
“How did you manage the comeback?”
“One time was I possessed of a demon. He rather took a liking to me, and he told me at a time when we were in peril that he had ‘strengthened my flames,’ so that I could exist independent of my body. I had forgotten this until I saw my mangled corpse lying beneath me upon the streets of Heaven. I knew of only one place where I might get me another body, that being the Pavilion of the Gods of Karma. Murugan was there demanding service. As you say, my power is electrodirection. I learned there that it works without a brain to back it, as the circuits were momentarily interrupted and I went into Murugan’s new body and Murugan went to hell.”
“The fact that you tell me all of this seems to indicate that you intend to send me after him.”
“I am sorry, good Kubera, for I like you. If you will give me your word that you will forget what you have learned and that you will wait for some other to discover it, then I will permit you to live and depart.”
“Risky.”
“I know that you have never given your word and broken it, though you are as old as the hills of Heaven.”
“Who is the first god you would slay?”
“Lord Yama, of course, for he must be closest upon my heels.”
“Then must you kill me, Sam, for he is a brother Lokapala and my friend.”
“I am sure we will both regret it if I have to kill you.”
“Then has your acquaintanceship with the Rakasha perhaps given you some of their taste for a wager?”
“Of what sort?”
“You win, and you have my word not to speak of this. I win, and you flee with me upon the back of Garuda.”
“And of the contest?”
“Irish stand-down.”
“With you, fat Kubera? And me in my magnificent new body?”
“Yes.”
“Then you may strike first.”
On a dark hill on the far side of Heaven, Sam and Kubera stood facing one another.
Kubera drew back his right fist and sent it forward against Sam’s jaw.
Sam fell, lay still for a moment, rose slowly to his feet.
Rubbing his jaw, he returned to the spot where he had stood.
“You are stronger than you seem, Kubera,” he said, and struck forward.
Kubera lay upon the ground, sucking in air.
He tried to rise, thought better of it, moaned once, then struggled back to his feet.
“I didn’t think you’d get up,” said Sam.
Kubera moved to face him, a dark, moist line descending his chin.
As he took his ground, Sam flinched.
Kubera waited, still breathing deeply.
Run down the gray night wall. Flee! Beneath a rock. Hide! The fury turns thy bowels to water. The friction of this crossing grates upon thy spine. . . .
“Strike!” said Sam, and Kubera smiled and hit him.
He lay there quivering, and the voices of the night, compounded of insect sounds and the wind and the sighing of grasses came to him.