What followed was very much like a honeymoon. They made love often at first, then settled down to a pleasant routine. They finished the puzzle and started on another. They toured the estate, which was vast and rich, with apartments on several levels of the city, a marked section of Penthouse Park, and a private matter transmitter in the basement level. There was even a section of a posh sports club; Gawain owned an enclosed tennis court and a table in the restaurant. Gawain had never played tennis; it was only an investment to him, handled by the anonymous experts who ran his financial affairs. But Norton knew tennis, and so did Orlene. Neither of them was professional level, but both were adequate, and they enjoyed playing each other. Norton was a healthy man, and Orlene was a fine figure of a woman, especially when exerting herself physically.
There was no discernible point of demarcation, but it was not long at all before Norton knew he was thoroughly in love. Orlene never said she actually loved him, but he understood that; she was loyal to her technical marriage to the ghost. In every other respect she was Norton’s. She fixed his meals like a housewife; she hiked with him in the park, being thrilled when she caught a new bird on camera; and she shared his sleeping bag at night. If he had found a woman like her before, he certainly would have married her. They even had quarrels-but never, now, was there any mention of his leaving. They were wedded in all but name.
The ring she had given him turned out to be no minor trinket. It was magic. She refused to tell him how it was magic. “A woman needs some secrets,” she said teasingly. “Since my body has none remaining for you, the mysteries of the ring will have to do.”
That intrigued him mightily-but several things prevented him from cracking that riddle promptly. First, Orlene kept him busy with a whirlwind of joint activities. They viewed the latest top-grade holoflicks together, went null-gravity swimming, and visited the estate’s outlet on the planet Venus-no wonder Orlene was able to get delicious, fresh, Venusian fungus for meals!-which was less impressive than he had expected, because the Venus apartment was merely another chamber with a single thick lensed viewport opening onto the perpetually murky storm of the surface. It would have been hard to tell it was another planet if it hadn’t been for the changed gravity. When nothing else offered, Orlene would teasingly display portions of her perfect body, and duty as well as inclination compelled him to pursue it. But there came a moment when she slept and he was awake, and he remembered the ring. Now was his chance!
He took hold of the ring with thumb and forefinger to pull it off-and discovered the second problem. It would not budge. It was not tight on his finger; in fact, it was so comfortable that he was never aware of it unless he focused on it-but it seemed to constrict itself when he drew on it. The harder he pulled the tighter it was. It was also invulnerable to twisting. He went to the bathroom and soaped his finger-the bars of soap were an affectation, since the sonic shower made them unnecessary, but affectations had a long shelf life-yet his efforts made no difference. He tried to pull the skin of the finger tight so it couldn’t bunch up under the ring, but that, too, was ineffective. “This thing must have an adhesive-spell!”
“No, it doesn’t,” Orlene said behind him. He jumped guiltily; he hadn’t been aware of her waking. Spying his discomfort, she laughed merrily and proffered a kiss; it was three more days before he thought of the ring again.
This time she was visiting the estate doctor for her routine weekly checkup. Part of the condition of her marriage to the ghost was that she remain healthy so she could bear a healthy heir. She was fastidious about all her duties. Thus Norton had a little time to himself in the doctor’s lounge.
He contemplated the ring. The tiny gem eyes of the metallic serpent seemed to look back at him. “So you stay with your owner,” he remarked. “Is that the extent of your magic?”
Then he almost leaped out of his chair. The ring had pulsed twice, gently squeezing his finger!
Norton was alone, but was aware that doctors’ premises had ways to observe their occupants. Therefore, he acted as if he were in public and subdued his reaction. Perhaps, anyway, he had imagined those pulses. “Did you do that, ring?” he asked it in a low voice. There was a single squeeze, firm but not painful. He was onto something here! “You understand me?” One squeeze, constriction and release, brief but definite.
“And you respond to questions by squeezing?”
One squeeze. “One squeeze for yes, two for no?”
Squeeze. “Do you ever do three squeezes?”
Squeeze.
“When?”
This time there were three squeezes.
“That doesn’t answer my question!” he whispered. “What does it mean when you do three?”
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
Norton pondered. “Let’s see-you answer yes or no. Would three squeezes mean you can’t answer yes or no?”
Squeeze.
“So three means either you don’t know the answer or you can’t phrase it as a yes or no?”
Squeeze. “When I ask you a non-yes-no question, the answer has to be three squeezes?”
Squeeze, squeeze. Two? What did that mean? It was “No,” but was it for the answer to a non-yes-no question having to be three Squeezes? Norton pondered, then saw what he had missed. “When I ask you a question whose answer is a number, then your squeezes indicate the number?”
Squeeze. “Such as: what is the product of three times seven?”
Squeeze. Oops. “I meant, please give me the answer to that question.”
There was a pause, then three squeezes. “That’s not the answer, ring! What happened?”
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
“Oh-you mean you aren’t good at math?”
Squeeze!
Norton smiled. “We all have our weaknesses. No shame in that! But you can count?”
Squeeze.
“How many fingers do I have?”
There were ten squeezes.
Norton smiled again. “Ring, I think I understand you now! Have you other properties?”
Squeeze.
“But you can’t tell me outright what they are?”
Squeeze. “But if I guess, you’ll tell me?”
Squeeze.
“Very good!” Norton pondered again. Twenty Questions had never been his best game, but he was sure he could get the information he wanted, given unlimited questions. This was exciting!
Then Orlene reappeared, and he had to stop.
“Well, I’m not pregnant yet,” she said. “Despite your efforts. I don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. The doctor will see you next.”
“Me?” he asked, startled.
Squeeze.
That startled him again. Apparently, now that he had evoked the ring, it answered any questions it heard.
“To make sure you’re fertile,” Orlene said.
“Oh.” Of course that would be a requirement of the ghost-bride’s consort. Suppose he were infertile? That might be the end of their relationship.
“Go on in,” she said. “She’s waiting for you.”
“She?”
Squeeze.
Orlene smiled. “You don’t think I’d trust this to a male doctor, do you?”
“But I’d rather see a male!”
“Too bad,” she said wickedly. She leaned forward and kissed him briefly on the lips. “Enjoy yourself.”
“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, disgruntled.
The doctor was a stern, middle-aged woman. “Strip, son.”
“Look, I- “
She cracked a cold smile. “Would you prefer to have a male orderly present to safeguard your virtue?”
“Oh, no, thanks. But- “
“This is routine. Believe me, young man, I’ve seen it before.”
Surely true! Norton did not consider himself, in his latening thirties, as young, but didn’t care to make an issue of that at the moment. He bowed to necessity and stripped to his trunks.
She ran him through the normal paces, checking his temperature, blood pressure, ears, eyes, tongue, muscle tone, and whatever else her instruments were set for. Then came the awkward part. “Now the trunks, please.”
He clenched his teeth and obeyed. After all, women had to suffer examination by male doctors; this could be considered turnabout. She hooked a finger into his crotch. “Cough.”
He coughed, and repeated it for the other side. Then she donned a plastic glove. “Bend over, son. Put your hands against the support.”
“Don’t you have some more modem way to-?”
“It’s much more fun this way,” she assured him. He obeyed instructions again, and she greased her glove and did what doctors always did to men, physically. “Hey!”
“Hold still. I’m securing the specimen.” Evidently so. In a moment she took a glass smear off to her lab, and he was permitted to clean off the grease and redress. All this indignity just to verify-
“Ring,” he asked, suffering a belated inspiration, “am I fertile?”
Squeeze.
To think of the awkwardness he could have spared himself! But the doctor probably wouldn’t have believed the ring.
As it turned out, the ring was correct; he was fertile. Then he wondered how the ring had known. The fact that it could respond to a person’s questions did not guarantee that it was omniscient. Magic came in many forms and degrees.
He rejoined Oriene, who was suppressing a smirk. “You knew I was fertile!” he accused her.
“Of course. Otherwise you wouldn’t have glowed.”
“Then why did you send me in to the doctor?” She tried valiantly to contain it, but her giggle managed to escape. Why, indeed! Even nice girls liked to turn the tables on men on occasion. He would find a way to get even.
They returned to the whirl of activities, including more efforts to complete the ghost’s mission. It was another week before Norton had a moment to question the ring again. By then he had figured out how to make his questions count. Orlene was taking an old-fashioned bubble bath. The estate had sonic showers for each bedroom, but there was something about bubbles and bathing that delighted women. Actually, he wouldn’t have minded taking one himself, but his masculine image forbade it.
Norton was theoretically watching a news program on holo, but he tuned that out mentally and talked to the ring instead.
“Parliamentary procedure,” the holo announcer was saying, his head appearing to be right in the room, talking directly to Norton. “The Satanic forces admit they don’t have the votes to override the expected veto this time, but they hope to show substantial strength. Any break in the ranks of- “
“Ring, what shall I call you?” Norton asked. “Do you have a name?”
Squeeze, squeeze.
“Would you like one?”
Squeeze.
“Then suppose I make up a name? You are my Snake Ring; I’ll call you Sning, for SNake rING. How’s that?”
Squeeze! Evidently the ring was enthusiastic.
“Good enough, Sning. Are you of Evil Magic?”
Squeeze, squeeze.
“Good Magic?”
Squeeze.
The ring could be lying, for Evil lied, but he didn’t think so. Orlene would never have sought an evil artifact. That meant he could trust it.
It? “Um, Sning, are you male or female?”
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. . ,
“Sorry. I’ll rephrase that. Male?”
Squeeze.
“Okay, you’re a he. Now, I believe you said you have other abilities?”
Squeeze.
He zeroed in on the answer. “What else you have- is it something you do or something you are? Do?”
Squeeze. “Are?” Squeeze. “So it’s both?” Squeeze. This sounded good! “Are you animate or inanimate?” Again he got yes to both. “You can change?” Squeeze. “When I ask you to?” Squeeze. “In fact,” he concluded triumphantly, “you can be a live snake!” Squeeze.
Now he had to figure out what advantage this might be to the owner of the ring. In due course he established that Sning could come alive, slither off his finger-all he had ever had to do was ask Sning to come off, and removal would have been easy; he had stupidly tried force instead- scout the local territory, return, and report via squeezes what was going on.
Norton pondered only momentarily before grinning wickedly. “Go scout Orlene,” he ordered. “Very closely.”
The ring turned a brighter green, slid off his finger, dropped to the floor, and slithered rapidly toward the bathroom. Sning, extended, was only five or six inches long, but lively enough.
A minute passed. Then there was a scream. A few seconds later Sning zipped back, trailing some bubble froth. Norton put down his hand, and the tiny snake wrapped around his finger and went metallic.
“She saw you?”
A wet squeeze.
“Close?”
Squeeze.
“She screamed?”
Squeeze.
“And threw bubbles at you?”
Squeeze.
“Anything else to report?”
At this point Orlene appeared, half-clothed in bubbles. “Don’t you dare!” she snapped at the ring.
Norton laughed, his revenge complete-until she pounced on him, glistening wet and slippery, and doused his hair with bubbles. “So you found out how to use the ring!” she exclaimed severely. “I gave you too much time to yourself!” She jammed bubbles in his eyes, but they were the nonsting kind. “Send him after me again, and I’ll drown you both in bubbles!” She stalked off, leaving a trail of dying bubbles.
“I only wish it could have been that female doctor,” Norton muttered rebelliously.
One other thing he learned about Sning: he was poisonous. His fangs were tiny, of course, but his venom was potent. A single bite could not kill a creature the size of a man, but could make him very sick for several hours, so that he might think he was dying. Suing would bite on order, but then would require a day to restock his poison.
“That’s all right,” Norton said. “I have no enemies; you don’t need to bite anyone for me.” But it was perhaps just as well that he had not known about Sning’s poison when encountering the doctor.
Later, after Orlene had calmed down-her annoyance had been mostly because he had unraveled the secrets of the ring so quickly-he asked her where she had gotten it. It turned out to have been in the family for generations, passed from parent to child or from spouse to spouse.
“But then it should go to your child!” he said. “I’m not technically your spouse.”
“It’s not a technical thing,” she said. “I-care for you, Norton. I want you to have it.”
“Then I’m glad to have it.” He kissed her.
The following month she was verified pregnant. Then she changed; her interest in entertainments diminished, and she oriented increasingly on the family-to-be. “But don’t go away, Norton,” she cautioned him. “I need you more than ever now.”
Norton wasn’t sure of that, but certainly he needed her. He hoped that after the baby was born and the estate heir established, he and Orlene could travel again. But if not, then not. He was bound to her regardless. The baby would never legally be his, but the blood was his. However unconnected officially, he still cared. He had never figured himself to be a family man before, but it seemed he was. Orlene made it clear that she continued to need his presence and support, and he was glad to comply. He was a kept man-but, like many a kept woman, he had no interest in breaking free.
Time passed, and Orlene’s girth grew. Norton started handling some of the household chores, simple as they were. It was surprising how readily he had been domesticated-but it seemed the glow had spoken truly. He was good at this. And she did need him-not for the routine, but for his continuing emotional and physical support.
The ghost stayed away, to Norton’s relief. His other association with magic, Sning, was entertaining for a time, but he really had no reason to spy on anyone and had no questions in pressing need of answers, so he didn’t use the snake ring for much except decoration. As Orlene’s condition advanced, his romantic activity with her diminished and finally ceased; she wanted nothing to interfere in any way with the developing baby. He would have liked to resume his hikes in the park, but she could no longer come along, and he didn’t care to leave her alone for any extended period.
As a result, he took to viewing historical holographs. He had grown tired of contemporary entertainment programs, but the historicals enabled him to indulge his urge to explore in time as well as space. His wanderlust was balked by his commitment to Orlene, but this was a fair sublimation. He also took holo courses in a number of subjects, improving his array of background skills. He learned the geography of the world in greater detail, and of Mars, Venus, and Mercury; he studied that of the Milky Way Galaxy itself, though, of course, most of it was well out of reach. Oh, to explore those farthest stars...!
In due time the baby arrived. Orlene was radiant. She had done her job; she had produced the heir. He was a robust boy who seemed to resemble Gawain more than Norton and was named Gawain II. Norton was glad for her, but felt somewhat out of sorts. His own service had now been performed, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave, and Orlene didn’t want him to. “We’ll start doing things again,” she promised him. “As soon as Gaw-Two is ready for baby-sitting.”
But she didn’t use any baby-sitters, human, robot, or golem. She was too attentive a mother for that. That was, of course, one reason she had been selected for the ghost marriage. She paid attention to Norton in a dutiful manner, and very sweet attention it was, but she paid more attention to the baby. She insisted on personally breastfeeding Gaw, because that was nature’s way, and on washing his soiled diapers by hand, because she didn’t want to risk the chemicals of mechanized washing. She wouldn’t put him in the sonic shower, concerned that the sonics could injure his undeveloped nervous system. She supervised every aspect of his little life with loving concern, because that was what she deemed a good mother was for.
Norton could hardly quarrel with this; he believed in nature. Yet aspects of it bothered him. For he was largely excluded from the process; officially he had nothing to do with the baby. The comprehensive equipment of the estate went mostly unused, and he was part of the equipment. Orlene also took Gaw to visit his legal grandparents, who, she reported, exclaimed in pleased wonder at his resemblance to his ghost-father. Norton, of course, was not invited on that trip.
He sank into a pointless depression. He was glad for Orlene’s success and he had known the nature of his position from the outset. But still he found it difficult to accept. He had somehow supposed that the arrival of the baby would free Orlene to be with him, Norton, as she had been before the conception; now it was apparent that the baby had pre-empted whatever attention she might have been ready to bestow on him. He wished that somehow all this could have been his to share, estate, baby, and Orlene. He had become accustomed to the luxurious lifestyle of Gawain’s means and to the constant attentions of a lovely young woman. In fact, he realized, he had been spoiled. He wanted, as Orlene had said at the outset, too much.
In the midst of one such reverie, the ghost reappeared.
Norton was almost glad to see him. “Well, sport, you’ve had a year,” Gawain said. “How’s it going?”
“Successfully,” Norton said. “You now have your heir.”
“Ah, yes!” Gawain was so delighted he sailed into the air. “I can finally go to Heaven!”
Gawain was going to Heaven? Norton shrugged. “Only you can decide that. Take a look at your son. He’s sleeping in the crib in the bedroom.”
“But I can’t go near Orlene.”
“She’s in the kitchen now, I believe, taste testing new baby food. She wants Gaw’s first solid food to be just right.”
The ghost popped out. In a few minutes he popped back, looking worried. “He resembles me too much.”
“You object to that?”
Gawain paced the floor. “Something I should tell you, Norton. On my travels this past year I met some interesting people.”
“Why not? I certainly have no objection, and if I did, it wouldn’t matter. I like to travel myself.”
“I met some of the Incarnations.”
“The whats?”
“The Incarnations. Two of them, anyway. War and Nature.”
“I’m not sure I follow you, Gawain.”
“They are personifications of fundamental concepts or forces. There are a lot of them, but only a few major ones. They sort of supervise their functions-Well, my point is, I talked with Nature, the Green Mother Gaea, and she promised to put my essence in my heir.”
Norton wasn’t sure how serious or relevant this was. “There can’t be a literal blood connection- “
“Yes, there can be-if Nature so decrees. I saw some of her power-I tell you, I wouldn’t want to cross that creature!-and as a favor to me, she- “
“You mean there is a literal Incarnation of Nature, who can change-?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“So Gaw-Two really is of your bloodline-by magic?”
“I think so. I didn’t stick around to watch; I just took Gaea’s word. She scared me some; I mean, I’m a ghost, but the things she can do, that any of them can do-it’s a completely different kind of power.” Gawain wiped his brow, looking pale. “But there’s one aspect I forgot.”
“The baby certainly resembles you! I thought it was coincidence.”
“No. Gaea did it. I think she’s the strongest of the earthly Incarnations, but I wouldn’t want to cross any of them.”
Norton didn’t quite believe this, but did have respect for nature. A literal Incarnation of Nature should indeed be formidable. “So why are you worried? She delivered, didn’t she?”
The ghost paced faster. Had he been solid, he would have stirred up dust from the aseptic rug. “There’s a family malady, one of those recessive things, that tends to skitter sidewise across generations. My older brother died of it; that’s why the estate devolved to me. It usually takes them out young-before age ten, sometimes sooner. And it’s getting worse.”
“But you were taken out by a dragon!”
“An allosaur.”
“Whatever. You didn’t die of the malady.”
“No. But I carry it in my genes.”
Norton began to get an ugly suspicion. “You don’t mean-?”
“Yes. I think the baby shows the stigma.”
“But Caw-Two is healthy! Orlene had that checked out thoroughly!”
“This malady doesn’t show at birth. It’s a semipsychic thing that starts as a corruption of the soul and spreads to the physical body. The victim is literally damned-to a short life and a long hereafter in Hell. A doctor wouldn’t be equipped to recognize it; even in this modem age, they tend to be skeptical of the supernatural. They think they know everything and that what doesn’t show on their charts doesn’t exist. But- “He shrugged wearily. Evidently he knew, or supposed he knew, the signs.
“You say it kills the victims young or not at all?” Norton asked, dismayed despite his uncertainty. “So if you’re wrong about the stigma, then Gaw will make it through without getting it later?”
“Young, yes. Always. Once the stigma becomes evident to a doctor, it’s way too late. It’s probably too late when the baby is born; it’s an incurable, nonreversible progression, like a tree rotting at the core. The victim just wastes away and dies.”
“Surely modem science or magic can- “
Gawain shook his head. “No. They tried everything to save my brother, but he died at age seven. I was only four at the time, but I remember- “He shook his head. “Oh, I should have kept my finger out of the pie! I’ve ruined it! There will be no heir! Oh, woe, woe!” He tore his insubstantial hair.
This looked serious. But Norton had an idea. “Maybe Sning knows.”
“Sning?”
“A friend of mine.” Norton touched the ring, to wake it, though he wasn’t sure the little snake ever slept. “Sning, go check Gaw-Two. I want to know if he’s got the fateful malady that runs in Gawain’s family.”
Sning came to life, slithered off his finger, and zipped across the floor. Gawain stared. “Where did you get that? That’s not part of my estate!”
“Your wife gave it to me. In return for your baby.”
The ghost shrugged. “Oh, well. I’m nervous about reptiles now, since one killed me. Will it hurt the baby?”
“No. Sning will just check.”
In a moment Sning came back. Norton put his hand down and the snake curled back into ring form. “Does Gaw have the malady?” Norton asked.
Squeeze.
Norton felt cold. “You’re sure?”
Squeeze.
“How long will he live? How many years?”
Squeeze.
“Only one year?” Norton asked, appalled.
Squeeze.
“It says only one year?” Gawain demanded tightly.
“That’s what he says,” Norton agreed heavily. “Of course, Sning could be wrong. He’s not good at math.”
“No, it’s not wrong. I saw the stigma. It doesn’t matter whether it’s one year or seven; it’s inevitable.” The ghost paced in another ragged circle. “That Green Mother! She must have known! No wonder she granted me that ‘favor’ so readily!”
“These Incarnations you describe-are they evil creatures?”
“Well, Satan is the Incarnation of Evil. But God is the Incarnation of Good. Most are neutral, though I think they favor God, or at least the existing order. But Nature- Gaea, the Earth-Mother-if you cross her, she’s real trouble, and you don’t always know when you cross her. She can be nice, real nice, but she can be real mean too. Oh, she’s cost me everything!”
Norton didn’t comment. It seemed to him that even if a personified Nature existed, it would be hard for her to keep track of every detail of the heredity of every baby born on Earth. It had probably been an oversight. But Gawain did not seem to be in any mood at the moment to concede that.
“We should have this verified medically,” Norton said after a pause. “Even though this may be beyond medical competence. There are always breakthroughs, so that what is terminal in one generation becomes curable in the next. Can you direct the estate doctor to investigate your brother’s history and compare symptoms?”
“I’d better,” Gawain agreed glumly. “But you’ll have to tell Orlene.”
“The doctor can do that.”
“Sure-his way. Look, Norton, I may be crude, but even I can see that’s no good. Some of those doctors get their kicks needling people. Better it be done your way.”
Norton thought of the doctor who had tested him for fertility. He sighed. “Yes.”
The ghost vanished. With dread in his soul, Norton went to tell Orlene.
First she refused to believe it. But when the estate doctor conducted his investigation, using as thorough a program of scientific and magical tests as existed, guided by the case histories of others in the family, and verified the condition, Orlene had to believe. Then she was angry- at Gawain, Nature, Norton, herself-everything. She concocted desperate schemes to undo the damage, to bargain for her baby’s life, to arrange somehow divine intervention to save Gaw-Two. But, of course, all this came to nothing, and she sank into a terrible depression. Nothing could console her.
Norton was helpless, as the baby’s health declined. Gawain had been right; the malady had become worse in recent generations, and its course was savage. He could not comfort Orlene, for now it was apparent that her love for Norton was definitely secondary to her love for the baby. He could only accept her as she was, the perfect mother rather than the perfect partner. Gawain the Ghost disappeared.
The end came with seeming suddenness, though most of a year had passed since the baby’s birth. Orlene was sitting, garbed in black, by the crib where the failing infant lay. She was only a shadow of her former self, looking almost as wasted as Gaw-Two. Both science and magic had failed; all they could do was leave the baby alone. It was a death watch.
Death came, personified. He was a hooded figure garbed in black. Orlene saw him first, issued a stifled scream, and flung her emaciated arms protectively about her baby. The dark intruder paused-and now Norton was able to perceive him more clearly. At first Death had been no more than a shadow, but now he was solid.
“Must you do this?” Norton demanded of the figure. “Who are you, that you bring such grief?”
The figure turned to face him. Under his hood was a skull, bare of hair or skin or flesh. His eyes were hollow squares. “I regret the necessity,” he said, his voice oddly soft. “I am Thanatos, and it is my duty to collect the souls of those who expire in balance.”
“You are-the Incarnation of Death?”
“I am.”
“And you get your kicks from stealing innocent babies?”
Thanatos’ dark hood turned toward Orlene, then toward the crib, and finally back to face Norton. He drew back one sleeve to expose a heavy black watch. One skeletal finger touched that timepiece. “Come with me a few minutes, mortal, and we shall talk.”
Norton experienced a chilling awe of this somber figure. He had not believed in the so-called Incarnations, despite the ghost’s assurances, except possibly as mock presentations. Now conviction was growing. Thanatos was no joke; neither was he callous or indifferent.
They walked out of the room. Orlene did not move. She stood by the crib, her thin arms extended in a futile gesture of protection. Her face was drawn, her hair dull, with only her eyes still large and beautiful. She did not even breathe. Time seemed to have halted.
Outside the apartment, in the hall, a gallant pale horse stood. Somehow this did not seem surprising. Norton got up behind Thanatos on the horse. Then the horse leaped.
They passed through the levels of the city as if these were holograph images. Halls, apartments, service areas- all shot past like so many segments of a cutaway dollhouse as the horse sailed up. In a moment they reached the park at the surface. The animal’s gleaming hooves landed without jarring, and now they were riding through the forest.
They came to a glade where the sun angled warmly down, and the horse halted and the two riders dismounted. The horse fell to grazing while Thanatos and Norton sat on a fallen log and talked. Somehow it no longer seemed strange to be talking with a skeleton in a cloak.
“I wish to explain about the baby,” Thanatos said. “He is not innocent, odd as that may appear to you. He is in balance. Do you comprehend the term?”
“Balance? Not the way you must intend it. Do you weigh him?”
Perhaps the skull-face smiled; it was hard to tell, through the fleshless grin it always had. “In my fashion. I have devices with which to measure souls, determining whether the accumulated evil overbalances the good. If the balance favors good, that soul is sent to Heaven; if evil. Hell. A person really does determine the nature of his afterlife by the nature of his life, by exercising his free will. But some souls are in perfect balance between good and evil at the time of the client’s demise, and these must remain in Purgatory.”
“You mean there really are places called Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory? I thought they were mere constructs of human imagination.”
“That, too,” Thanatos agreed. “They are not precisely places so much as states of being. They exist for our culture, as do the several Incarnations, for here there is sufficient belief in them. In other cultures, other frameworks exist. I have very few clients in those cultures where other beliefs obtain.”
“But I never believed in Heaven, Hell, or Incarnations!” Norton said.
“Not consciously, perhaps. Do you believe in Good, Evil, and personal choice?”
Telling point! “The baby-how can there be evil on his soul? He has not harmed anyone. In fact, he’s a victim of circumstances manipulated by others.”
“True. Gaea is very sorry about that; she had not been paying full attention, so her gift to Gawain was flawed. By the time she discovered that, it was too late for her to correct it. Ge must obey Ge’s laws, too.”
“Gaea-Ge-you mean Mother Nature?”
“The Green Earth-Mother, yes. She is extremely powerful, but also extremely busy. She thought it a simple favor to one who was trying to do better in death than he had done in life, and she did not look deeply. Even Incarnations make errors-and such errors can be worse than those of mortals.”
“This error destroyed a man’s line!” Norton cried.
“Gawain will be given a second chance,” Thanatos said. “Gaea has interceded with Clotho for that. This is her manner of apology.”
“The baby will be cured?”
“No. That case is lost. Gawain will have the opportunity to remarry, more successfully.”
Norton felt another chill. “Remarry? He’s going to divorce Orlene?”
“No.”
“She’ll bear another baby for him? But why, then, should he remarry?”
“Orlene will have no other baby. This is the major portion of this first baby’s accumulation of evil-responsibility for his mother’s untimely demise.”
“His mother’s demise!” Norton repeated, shocked.
“I regret to inform you of this. But it will be easier for you if you understand. You bear no share of the guilt for this disaster. The blame is the baby’s.”
“But the baby has done nothing!”
“The baby is about to die. That destroys the mother.”
“But the baby didn’t choose to die!”
“In this case, I regret, the sin of the father is visited on the son. Had Gaea not interfered, the baby would have been healthy. You are of excellent genetic stock.”
“Oh, certainly,” Norton agreed. “My family has always been healthy. But still-this transferal of guilt-I was the one who sired the baby! I had a dream-had I not- “
“I do not profess to agree with every aspect of the system,” Thanatos said gently. “I only assure you that it is so. You are blameless, in the case of the son and the case of the mother. You must understand that, while the fate of the baby is in doubt, that of the mother is not; she will proceed directly to Heaven. She is a good woman, as pure in her distress as she was in her happiness, and insufficient evil attaches to her for the manner of her demise to deny her, her destiny. I will not be present for her; you will be. I hope your knowledge of the full situation will abate your discomfort. You are a good man and can have a good life, if you can pass this crisis without being corrupted.”
“The concern of Death for my welfare is touching,” Norton said bitterly. “You tell me my-Gawain’s baby must die, and the woman I love must die, but I should ignore all that and enjoy myself? Why do you bother?”
“Because I dislike unnecessary pain,” Thanatos replied seriously. “Death is a necessary thing and it comes to all living creatures in its proper time; it is right that this be so, for a proper death is the greatest gift to follow a proper life, but the manner of its occurrence differs. I prefer that the transition be accomplished with as little unpleasantness as possible and that no extraordinary measures be taken either to extend the agony of demise or to shorten the natural term decreed by Atropos.”
“Atropos?”
“An aspect of Fate, who is another Incarnation. Atropos cuts the threads of life. When a person dies, the primary burden always falls on the living; therefore much of my own concern is with the living, as it is with you. I feel compassion for mortals, for their lot is often difficult.”
“Compassion!” Norton exclaimed.
“I realize this is difficult for you to understand or accept, but it is so.”
Norton stared into the hooded skull-face and discovered that he believed. This Death-specter, Thanatos, really did care. Thanatos was trying to help Norton bear what it seemed had to be borne. “That’s all? You use your valuable time just to ease my concern?”
“No time is passing,” Thanatos said. He lifted his arm, showing the solid black watch. “I used the Deathwatch to suspend time so that I could converse with you at ease.”
“Thank you,” Norton said, finding it simplest to accept this additional incredibility. He remembered how Orlene had frozen in place and he saw now that nothing in the forest moved, except themselves and the horse. Even the clouds were frozen in the sky, and the shadows had not budged. Truly, a supernatural power was in operation! “Must be nice, having a device like that. To control time itself, at need.”
“You have a similar artifact,” Thanatos said. “That may be the other reason I paused for you.”
“Other reason? What is the first reason?”
“The fact that you were able to perceive me. Few people not directly involved with death can sense my presence.”
“I love Orlene!” Norton said. “Anything that affects her welfare affects mine!”
“Demonstrably true. And so you saw me-and I saw your ring.”
Norton glanced at his left hand. “Oh, Sning. Orlene gave him to me.”
“Excellent magic can be incorporated in small things,” Thanatos said. “Sning, as you call him, is of demonic origin, and almost as old as Eternity.”
“But he’s not evil! How can he be a demon?”
“Demons, like people, differ. He is good-as long as he remains bound to the service of Good. You are fortunate to command his loyalty.”
This turn of conversation was so surprising that it distracted Norton from the horror of the main topic. “Sning,” he asked the ring, “is Thanatos genuine?”
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
“How can you verify this? Do you need to touch him?”
Squeeze.
“You object?” he asked the specter.
Thanatos shook his skull, no.
“Do it, then, Sning.”
Sning slithered off Norton’s finger, into his palm, and toward the hooded figure. Thanatos pulled at the bone fingers of his left hand, and they slid off-in the form of a glove. Beneath it was a human hand, fully fleshed, complete with a smidgeon of dirt under the nails. He extended his hand, and Sning touched it with his tongue. Then the little snake curled back around Norton’s finger, while Thanatos donned his glove and the hand became bone again. When in place, the glove did not show at all; the hand seemed to be genuinely fleshless, and Norton was sure it would feel that way.
“He’s genuine?” Norton asked Sning again.
Squeeze.
“And all that he tells me is true?”
Squeeze.
“You are a good demon?”
Squeeze.
It was enough. “You have amazed me,” Norton said to Thanatos. “I did not believe in you, but now I do. I appreciate your courtesy-but I’m going to try to save Orlene.”
“Naturally. It is your way. The world is better for your concern.” Thanatos stood and gravely extended his hand.
Bemused, Norton stood also, accepting the hand. It did indeed feel like bare bones.
“Mortis!” Thanatos called. The magnificent stallion trotted back, and they mounted. Then the animal ran a short distance and plunged down through the ground and the occupied levels of the city. This time Norton could see that all the people there were as still as statues. One, in a rec-room, was caught in mid-leap, hovering half a foot above the floor. Time was indeed frozen.
All by the mere touch of a bone finger on the Deathwatch! What dreadful power this Incarnation possessed, to be thus casually employed for the sake of a private interview. If this was an adjunct to Death, what power did the Incarnation of Time possess? Norton’s imagination failed.
They landed on the floor of Gawain’s level, dismounted, and reentered the apartment. Orlene remained frozen by the baby. Thanatos reached again for his watch.
“Uh, thanks,” Norton said, somewhat awkwardly. He was not resigned to what was happening, but he no longer blamed Thanatos. The somber figure nodded. Then time resumed.
Thanatos stepped to the crib and reached for the baby. Orlene stared at him and screamed: “No! No! Go away, Death! You shall not have him!”
Thanatos paused. “He is in pain. I will relieve him of that.”
“No! We have medicine!” She shoved at Thanatos, but her hands passed through him without resistance, as if he were a ghost. He had been solid for Norton, but not for her.
“There is a time to die, and his time has come,” Thanatos said sadly. “You would not want him to suffer longer.” He reached down and drew out the baby’s soul, like translucent tissue. Gaw-Two’s labored breathing stopped and he relaxed, looking strangely comfortable in death. His travail was over.
Orlene sank to the floor in a faint.
Thanatos faced Norton again. “I regret,” he repeated. “Yet it is a necessary thing I do.” He folded the soul and put it in a black bag he had brought forth. He walked out.
Norton felt numb. He went to Orlene and lifted her to the couch. She felt horribly light; she had lost even more weight than he had thought. This ordeal was destroying her!
Then he used the phone. “There has been a natural death,” he told the face that came on the screen. “Please send appropriate service to this unit.”
The girl nodded. This was routine to her; she did not feel the horror of it. He held the connection long enough for her to get a fix on the address, then disconnected. He went to attend to Orlene.
Now, he knew, came the hard part. He was numb, but not insensitive. What would he do when she woke?
She woke, and he did it. He told her the baby was gone. This was not the occasion for euphemism.
“I know it, Norton,” she said. “Please excuse me. I have some things to attend to.” She went to the bedroom.
Was that all? He could hardly believe it!
She was that way for several days, calmly going about her business. Norton did not know what to make of it. She had been so desperate and, now that the worst had happened, was so composed. Had Thanatos misjudged her? Perhaps, after a suitable period, the two of them could enjoy each other’s company again and generate another baby, a healthy one, for the estate. Slowly, Norton’s hope strengthened.
Then, ten days after the death of the baby, when Orlene had set all her affairs in proper order, including careful instructions for the disposition of her few individual belongings and her body so that there would be no awkwardness, she took poison. Norton found her slumped at the piano and knew as he saw her that it was too late, that her last note had been played. She had, of course, arranged it that way. She had not even said good-bye- and in that she had not been cruel but sensible, knowing he never would have let her do it, had he known.