Renfrew swallowed another drink.
“‘Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit,'” he said. “It was a will greater than mine that determined I die in the arms of the Buddha, that decided upon this Way for this world. . . . Give me your blessing, oh Gautama. I die now. . .”
Sam bowed his head.
“‘The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north. It whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits. All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full. Unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again. The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be, and that which is done is that which shall be done. There is no remembrance of former things, neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after. . . .'”
Then he covered the Black One with his cloak of white, for he had died.
Jan Olvegg was born in a litter into the town. Sam sent for Kubera and for Narada to meet him at the Hall of Karma, for it was apparent Olvegg would not be long alive in his present body.
When they entered the Hall, Kubera stumbled over the dead man who lay within the archway.
“Who . . . ?” he asked.
“A Master.”
Three more wearers of the yellow wheel lay within the corridor that led to their transfer rooms. All of them bore arms.
They found another near the machinery. The thrust of a blade had caught him precisely in the center of his yellow circle, and he looked like a well-used target. His mouth was still opened for the scream he’d never screamed.
“Could the townsmen have done this?” asked Narada. “The Masters have grown more unpopular in recent years. Perhap they took advantage of the battle frenzy. . .”
“No,” said Kubera, as he raised the stained sheet that covered the body upon the operating table, looked beneath it, lowered it. “No, it wasn’t the townsmen.”
“Who, then?”
He glanced back at the table.
“That’s Brahma,” he said.
“Oh.”
“Someone must have told Yama he couldn’t use the machinery to try a transfer.”
“Then where’s Yama?”
“I have no idea. But we’d better work fast if we’re going to manage Olvegg.”
“Yes. Move!”
The tall youth strode into the Palace of Kama and asked after Lord Kubera. He bore a long, gleaming spear across his shoulder, and he paced without pause as he waited.
Kubera entered the chamber, glanced at the spear, at the youth, said one word.
“Yes, it is Tak,” replied the spearman. “New spear, new Tak. No need to remain an ape any longer, so I didn’t. The time of departure is near, so I came to say good-bye—to you and to Ratri. . . ”
“Where will you go, Tak?”
“Td like to see the rest of the world, Kubera, before you manage to mechanize all the magic out of it.”
“That day is nowhere near at hand, Tak. Let me persuade you to stay a while longer. . .”
“No, Kubera. Thank you, but Captain Olvegg is anxious to get along. He and I are moving out together.”
“Where will you be going?”
“East, west. . . who knows? Whatever quarter beckons. . . . Tell me, Kubera, who owns the thunder chariot now?”
“It belonged to Shiva originally, of course. But there no longer is a Shiva. Brahma used it for a long while.”
“But there no longer is a Brahma. Heaven is without one for the first time—as Vishnu rules, preserving. So . . .”
“Yama built it. If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to him . . .”
“And he has no use for it,” finished Tak. “So I think Olvegg and I will borrow it for our journeying.”
“What mean you he has no use for it? No one has seen him these three days since the battle—”
“Hello, Ratri,” said Tak, and the goddess of Night entered the room. “‘Guard us from the she-wolf and the wolf, and guard us from the thief, oh Night, and so be good for us to pass.'”