Lord of Light (38 page)

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.'"

He bowed and she touched his head.

Then he looked up into her face, and for one splendid moment the goddess filled wide space, to its depths and its heights. Her radiance drove out the dark. . ..

"I must go now," he said. "Thank you, thank you—for your blessing."

He turned quickly and started from the chamber. "Wait!" said Kubera. "You spoke of Yama. Where is he?"

"Seek him at the Inn of the Three-Headed Fire-Hen," Tak said, over his shoulder, "if you must seek him, that is. Perhaps 'twere better you wait till he seeks you, though."

Then Tak was gone.

As Sam approached the Palace of Kama, he saw Tak hurrying down the stair.

"Tak, a good morning to you!" he called, but Tak did not answer until he was almost upon him. Then he halted abruptly and shielded his eyes, as against the sun.

"Sir! Good morning."

"Where hurry you, Tak? Fresh from trying out your new body and off to lunch?"

Tak chuckled. "Aye, Lord Siddhartha. I've an appointment with adventure."

"So I've heard. I spoke with Olvegg last night. . . . Fare thee well upon thy journeying."

"I wanted to tell you," said Tak, "that I knew you'd win. I knew you'd find the answer."

"It wasn't
the
answer, but it was an answer, and it wasn't much, Tak. It was just a small battle. They could have done as well without me."

"I mean," said Tak, "everything. You figured in everything that led up to it. You had to be there."

"I suppose I did . . . yes, I do suppose I did. . . . Something always manages to draw me near the tree that lightning is about to fall upon."

"Destiny, sir."

"Rather an accidental social conscience and some right mistake-making, I fear."

"What will you do now. Lord?"

"I don't know, Tak. I haven't decided yet."

"Come with Olvegg and me? Ride with us about the world? Adventure with us?"

"Thank you, no. I'm tired. Maybe I'll ask for your old job and become Sam of the Archives."

Tak chuckled once more.

"I doubt it. I'll see you again. Lord. Good-bye now."

"Good-bye. . .. There is something . . ."

"What?"

"Nothing. For a moment, something you did reminded me of someone I once knew. It was nothing. Good luck!"

He clasped him on the shoulder and walked by. Tak hurried on.

The innkeeper told Kubera that they did have a guest who fit that description, second floor, rear room, but that perhaps he should not be disturbed.

Kubera climbed to the second floor.

No one answered his knocking, so he tried the door.

It was bolted within, so he pounded upon it.

Finally, he heard Yama's voice:

"Who is it?"

"Kubera."

"Go away, Kubera."

"No. Open up, or I'll wait here till you do."

"Bide a moment, then."

After a time, he heard a bar lifted and the door swung several inches inward.

"No liquor on your breath, so I'd say it's a wench," he stated.

"No," said Yama, looking out at him. "What do you want?"

"To find out what's wrong. To help you, if I can."

"You can't, Kubera."

"How do you know? I, too, am an artificer—of a different sort, of course."

Yama appeared to consider this, then he opened the door and stepped aside. "Come in," he said.

The girl sat on the floor, a heap of various objects before her. She was scarcely more than a child, and she hugged a brown and white puppy and looked at Kubera with wide, frightened eyes, until he gestured and she smiled.

"Kubera," said Yama.

"Koo-bra," said the girl.

"She is my daughter," said Yama. "Her name is Murga."

"I never knew you had a daughter."

"She is retarded. She suffered some brain damage."

"Congenital, or transfer effect?" asked Kubera.

"Transfer effect."

"I see."

"She is my daughter," repeated Yama, "Murga."

"Yes," said Kubera.

Yama dropped to his knees at her side and picked up a block.

"Block," he said.

"Block," said the girl.

He held up a spoon. "Spoon," he said.

"Spoon," said the girl.

He picked up a ball and held it before her. "Ball," he said.

"Ball," said the girl.

He picked up the block and held it before her again. "Ball," she repeated.

Yama dropped it.

"Help me, Kubera," he said.

"I will, Yama. If there is a way, we will find it."

He sat down beside him and raised his hands. The spoon came alive with spoon-ness and the ball with ball-ness and the block with block-ness, and the girl laughed. Even the puppy seemed to study the objects.

"The Lokapalas are never defeated," said Kubera, and the girl picked up the block and stared at it for a long time before she named it.

Now it is known that Lord Varuna returned to the Celestial City after Khaipur. The promotion system within the ranks of Heaven began to break down at about this same time. The Lords of Karma were replaced by the Wardens of Transfer, and their function was divorced from the Temples. The bicycle was rediscovered. Seven Buddhist shrines were erected. Nirriti's Palace was made into an art gallery and Kama Pavilion. The Festival of Alundil continued to be held every year, and its dancers were without equal. The purple grove still stands, tended by the faithful.

Kubera remained with Ratri in Khaipur. Tak departed with Olvegg in the thunder chariot, for an unknown destination. Vishnu ruled in Heaven.

Those who prayed to the seven Rishi thanked them for the bicycle and for the timely avatar of the Buddha, whom they named Maitreya, meaning Lord of Light, either because he could wield lightnings or because he refrained from doing so. Others continued to call him Mahasamatman and said he was a god. He still preferred to drop the Maha- and the -atman, however, and continued to call himself Sam. He never claimed to be a god. But then, of course, he never claimed not to be a god. Circumstances being what they were, neither admission could be of any benefit. Also, he did not remain with his people for a sufficient period of time to warrant much theological by-play. Several conflicting stories are told concerning the days of his passing.

The one thing that is common to all the legends is that a large red bird with a tail thrice the length of its body came to him one day at dusk as he rode upon his horse beside the river.

He departed Khaipur before sunrise the following day and was not seen again.

Now some say the occurrence of the bird was coincidental with his departure, but in no way connected with it. He departed to seek anonymous peace of a saffron robe because he had finished the task for which he had returned, they say, and he was already tired of the noise and fame of his victory. Perhaps the bird reminded him how quickly such brightness passes. Or perhaps it did not, if he had already made up his mind.

Others say that he did not take up the robe again, but that the bird was a messenger of the Powers Beyond Life, summoning him back again to the peace of Nirvana, to know forever the Great Rest, the perpetual bliss, and to hear the songs the stars sing upon the shores of the great sea. They say he has crossed beyond the Bridge of the Gods. They say he will not return.

Others say that he took upon him a new identity, and that he walks among mankind still, to guard and guide in the days of strife, to prevent the exploitation of the lower classes by those who come into power.

Still others say that the bird was a messenger, not of the next world, but of this one, and that the message it bore was not meant for him, but for the wielder of Thunderbolt, Lord Indra, who had looked into the eyes of Death. Such a bird as the red one had never been seen before, though their kind is now known to exist upon the eastern continent, where Indra had held battle against the witches. If the bird bore something like intelligence within its flaming head, it might have carried the message of some need in that far-off land. It must be remembered that the Lady Parvati, who had been either his wife, his mother, his sister, his daughter, or perhaps all of these to Sam, had fled to that place at the time the phantom cats looked upon Heaven, to dwell there with the witches, whom she counted as kin. If the bird bore such a message, the tellers of this tale do not doubt but that he departed immediately for the eastern continent, to effect her delivery from whatever peril was present.

These are the four versions of Sam and the Red Bird Which Signalled His Departure, as told variously by the moralists, the mystics, the social reformers, and the romantics. One may, I daresay, select whichever version suits his fancy. He should, however, remember that such birds definitely are not found upon the western continent, but seem to be quite prolific in the east.

Approximately a half year later, Yama-Dharma departed Khaipur. Nothing specific is known of the days of the deathgod's going, which most people consider ample information. He left his daughter Murga in the care of Ratri and Kubera and she grew into a strikingly beautiful woman. He may have ridden into the east, possibly even crossing over the sea. For there is a legend in another place of how One in Red went up against the power of the Seven Lords of Komlat in the land of the witches. Of this, we cannot be certain, any more than we can know the real end of the Lord of Light.

But look around you . . .

Death and Light are everywhere, always, and they begin, end, strive, attend, into and upon the Dream of the Nameless that is the world, burning words within Samsara, perhaps to create a thing of beauty.

As the wearers of the saffron robe still meditate upon the Way of Light, and the girl who is named Murga visits the Temple daily, to place before her dark one in his shrine the only devotion he receives, of flowers.