Free To Reign in Hell: A Novel by Steven Brust Page A

doing. Then suddenly discovering by accident that perhaps there could be more to existence than this struggle. He remembered how they had shared the joy when he who would later be called Michael was born of their battles with the flux, and then others.
    He remembered the time, brief as it seemed now, after the First Wave, when they knew peace. He shook his head. Satan remembered these things too, didn’t he?
    Yaweh walked about the large room. He wondered whether Satan would return with the page. He thought so, but then he thought not.
     
    “ ’Twas painful, was it not, milord?”
    “It was painful, Beelzebub. But they’re only doing what they think is right.”
    “As art thou, milord.”
    “I suppose. What about you?”
    “Milord?”
    “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
    They stood at the door of the Southern Hold, watching the vanishing figures of their friends. Beelzebub was silent.
    “Well?” inquired Satan after a suitable time had elapsed.
    “Methinks to speak to Yaweh is good, milord. Yet methinks ’twill not solve what thou hopeth to solve. ’Tis thyself thou must answer to, and none can do it for thee.”
    “I’m afraid you may be right.”
    The four figures before them dwindled into nothingness.
     
    It was just a few minutes after Michael, Lucifer, Lilith, and Asmodai had passed by where Abdiel hid that he saw a lone figure walking toward him. About the right size, from the right direction—yes.
    He concentrated on feeling a ball of white fire in his stomach.
    “Gabriel!”
    “What—? Lord Abdiel!”
    “Ah! You recognize me.”
    “Of course, Lord Abdiel.”
    “I am pleased, Gabriel. What brings you here?”
    “An errand, Lord.”
    “Yes, of course. To the Southern Hold, no doubt. But I meant, what errand?”
    “I’m afraid I can’t speak of it, Lord.”
    “I see.”
    “I’m sorry, Lord.”
    “That’s quite all right, Gabriel. I understand.”
    “Thank you, Lord.”
    “And please call me Abdiel.”
    “Why, thank you—Abdiel.”
    “And, as to your message, you don’t have to tell me. I can guess it.”
    “You can?”
    “Certainly. You are going to summon the Lord Satan.”
    “How did you know?”
    “I guessed. But I can save you the rest of the trip.”
    “Lo—Abdiel? You can?”
    “Yes. By giving you the answer. The Lord Satan will not return with you.”
    “How—?”
    “He feels he cannot be bothered just now. Lord Yaweh will haveto wait. Perhaps in twenty or thirty days something could be arranged.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “What is there to understand, Gabriel? You spoke to the Lord Satan, and that was the answer he gave you. Should I repeat it?”
    “No, but—”
    “Then where’s the problem?”
    “But I haven’t spoken to him, so how—”
    “Gabriel.”
    “Yes, Abdiel?”
    “I notice a certain tension in your shoulders and neck. Try to relax—you won’t tire so quickly.”
    “And yet, Abdiel, it seems—”
    “You’re still tense, Gabriel.”
    “I don’t understand how—”
    “Wait. Do as I say, now. Relax your shoulders. Breathe evenly and deeply. There, that’s better. Do you feel better?”
    “Yes, but—yes, I do, Abdiel. But still—”
    “Look at me, Gabriel. You have known me for a long time, haven’t you? Would I give you false guidance? Of course not! You are about to waste your time and energy, and I wish to save you from that. Also, the Lord Yaweh will want to learn this news as soon as possible. Don’t you trust me, Gabriel? Come, remember now, you came to the Southern Hold, and spoke with the Lord Satan in his great hallway, with his friend, Beelzebub, standing there. And the Lord Satan explained that he had nothing to say to the Lord Yaweh and directed you to inform him of it. You pleaded, remember? But he wouldn’t listen. Is it coming back? Think . . . do you see it? Think of his voice. Can you hear it? Now you are going to return to Yaweh, and report to him. You met no one on the journey, except for