She told the others, of course, for the pursuit of the Llano was their common mission. Even Betsy, who had known nothing of it at first, had become interested as she realized what it could do for the organist and her folks' farm.
They were also interested in Natasha. "You're the only loose cog aboard, you know," the drummer remarked. "Everyone else has paired off, one way or another. But maybe we should meet this guy, just to be sure he's right for you."
"You have no authority over my social life!" Orb exclaimed indignantly.
"Yes we do," Lou-Mae said. "Because we care."
That undermined her righteous ire. "I really don't know much about him, except that he's the finest singer I ever met and he knows aspects of the Llano."
"And he saved you from Satan," Jezebel added. "That's enough to recommend him by itself. Only—"
"Only what?" Orb asked, aware that the succubus might have an important qualification.
"Well, you know I'm a demon. I didn't ask to be, any more than the rest of you asked to be human. I'm not of Satan's camp; demons come in many varieties, just as mortal creatures do. But some things—are more demonic than others."
"Whatcha saying, woman?" the guitarist asked. "You think Nat's a demon?"
"It is possible," she said. "If I could meet him, I could tell."
"I hadn't thought of that," Orb said, dismayed. "A demon?"
"Demons can do things that mortals can't. Like singing you know how we can change our forms. Well, some of us can change our voices, too. Our substance is more malleable; and, of course, eternity allows us to perfect something, if we work at it."
"But not all demons are bad," the guitarist said, evidently sensitive about this matter.
Jezebel smiled. It was night now, and she was in her sultry stage. "That depends on how you see it. To some, I am the most evil of creatures, because—"
"Well, they don't know anything!" he said. "You just never had a chance, before you got aboard Jonah."
"True. But still, it is not wise to trust a demon before you know him well. We don't know what motivates this Natasha, and if anything happened to Orb—"
"But it's only speculation that he's a demon!" Orb protested. "Still, maybe it would be better to be sure," the drummer said. "We don't want to interfere, but if we could just get to know him, maybe..." He trailed off.
"I will ask him to come and meet you, next time I see him," Orb promised, knowing there was justice in their doubt. Meanwhile, she practiced the Song of Awakening, which she knew as the Song of the Morning. The others were awed as the miraculous sound filled the fish and caused the chamber to darken, then brought the beautiful dawn and the sprouting of plants and blooming of flowers. It was illusion, of course, that faded slowly after the song was done, but a marvelous one. As Orb perfected it, the effect intensified, so that it was hard not to believe in its reality.
"You know," Betsy said, "the time may come when you do it so well that it will become real, and dawn will come a second time in one morning." She was a farm girl and really appreciated nature.
Orb laughed, but privately she wondered. The Song of Awakening was the human version, while the Song of Morning was nature's version. There were surely ramifications that she did not know, but if she perfected them, so that her version more closely approached the natural one, it might indeed have that effect. After all, the Song of Travel enabled her to jump across the globe. The magic music did relate to real things, when properly executed.
She thought also about Natasha. It had not been coincidence that he had rescued her from Satan, for she had sung a portion of a fragment of the Llano, and he was attuned to the Llano. But it had been a most important event in her life, for Satan had indeed trapped her and almost completed the prophecy. She had a common interest with Natasha in the Llano, as she did with the members of the Livin' Sludge and with Jezebel and Betsy—and with Jonah. That interest bound them all together, however diverse their origins and natures. But it was more than that, for Nat was a handsome and talented man, and she was without a man. She had not felt deprived, but now her interest was quickening. His Song of Awakening, presented as courtship, had indeed moved her.
Now she remembered her childhood vision. A wedding! She had never thought of it in the excitement and horror of Satan's attempted forced ceremony; and indeed, that had not been the wedding of the dream. Mym had not been there to conduct her down the aisle. But if she—with Natasha could it be? Then what of the other part of the dream, the devastated world?
And if Natasha were nonhuman—what then? She could not dismiss Jezebel's warning. The succubus was in a position to know. A demon was a creature of a different order from the human. The sprites were of the demon kind, and the dryads, different phyla of the Demon Kingdom. They varied as widely as did the creatures of the Animal Kingdom, or the plants of the Vegetable Kingdom, or the stones of the Mineral Kingdom. Just as she could love a pretty flower or a sparkling gem, she could love a demon like the hamadryad of the water oak. No, demons were not by definition evil! But to develop a romantic relationship with one—that was another matter.
Was she prejudiced, she asked herself. The guitarist had a romantic relation with the succubus, and Orb could not fault it; Jezebel was a good woman in every human sense of the word, as long as her passions were under control. Why should Orb feel that the kind of relationship that was good for a fellow human being should be bad for her? She couldn't answer that, except to acknowledge that she could not accept it for herself with equanimity. Perhaps a relationship was possible, but she would first have to know for certain exactly what Nat was. If human, fine; if demon, she would have to consider longer before deciding how or whether to proceed. Yet when he had sung the Song of Awakening—ah, what a stirring there had been in her breast! There had been a seeming dawn within her awareness, as well as in the world. Who could say where this day might lead?
"Mrs. Glotch has scheduled us for Hawaii," Betsy announced brightly, looking up from the pile of correspondence she was handling. "I've always wanted to see their pineapple farms." Orb pursed her lips. "I'm not sure that's wise. Jonah doesn't like to pass over large bodies of water."
"Oh? Why not?"
"He is cursed. He can not swim in water, and if anything should happen over the ocean, he would be in terrible trouble." Betsy's brow wrinkled. "Why? What could happen to him?"
"Well—" But Orb found herself stumped. "What could happen to a creature cursed to be immortal until his punishment was terminated?"
"Probably a lot of pain," Lou-Mae said. Orb nodded. That would be enough. "I suppose we'll just have to see whether Jonah will take us," she said. "If not, it's understandable, and we'll simply have to cancel the engagement."
When the time came, they asked the big fish to go. Jonah hesitated at the verge of the ocean, then lifted high and braved it. They were on their way.
At first it was intriguing, swimming above the great ocean, for they had never done this before. But it was a long swim, and soon the novelty dulled. They settled down to the routine of rehearsing, eating, talking, and sleeping.
Lou-Mae came to wake Orb. "Something's wrong," she whispered urgently.
Orb rubbed her eyes. "You quarreled with—?"
"No, I mean with Jonah!"
Now Orb was alert. "Jonah! How do you mean?"
"He's swimming crazy. I think he's sick."
What would it mean to be inside a sick fish? "Oh, I hope not!" Orb said sincerely. She flung on a housecoat and dug her toes into her slippers.
Now it was evident: the big fish's course was erratic. He seemed uncertain where to go and kept changing course.
"I wish we could talk to him!" Lou-Mae said nervously. "Ask him what's wrong..."
But Orb had discovered it. "There's a storm out there; I can see the lightning flashes through his scales," she said.
"He don't much like storms!" Lou-Mae said.
"He's trying to avoid the rain," Orb said. "But it has closed in all around. He's cornered, as it were."
"But he can dive down underground and—oops, we're over the ocean!"
"Now we know why he doesn't like to swim over the ocean," Orb said.
"What happens if he gets rained on?"
"I don't know. He is cursed to avoid water. I suppose it would be a violation of the terms of his curse. But what that means in a practical sense..." She shrugged.
Jezebel appeared, in her ravishing nocturnal aspect. "I have a notion. It strikes me that Jonah is much like a demon, during his curse. Demons don't die, but they can hurt. Probably every drop burns like fire. A moral would die pretty soon and be out of his pain, but for a demon it goes on and on."
"How would that affect us?" Orb asked.
"Well, he's sure to thrash around. You would, too, if someone kept poking you with a red-hot poker. It won't be too comfortable in here."
The guitarist showed up, looking green. "Can't we get this tub out of the rollers?" he asked plaintively. "I get seasick."
"Cheer up, lover, the worst is yet to come," Jezebel informed him maliciously. The news of their liaison had of course circulated quickly enough; the secret was only maintained against outsiders.
"You're a demon!" he said.
"I had noticed. Can I help you?"
"Just pull out your blouse so I have somewhere to vomit," he said miserably.
"Mortals have odd tastes," the succubus remarked as she pulled out her blouse, showing her full breasts. Others laughed appreciatively, but the guitarist for once had no interest. "Come on, sailor." She herded him off toward a bathroom.
Orb gazed out through the scales. "We've got to do something," she said. "It's our fault Jonah got caught here."
The organist appeared, with Betsy. "You conjured rain, Orb; can you make it go away?"
"I could try. But I don't know the proper theme. I might just make things worse."
"Better not risk it," he agreed. Then he had another notion. "You can keep us off the H when you have to; can you get Jonah off his problem with water? So he can swim in it again?"
"Again, I could try, if I knew the theme. But if I got it wrong—"
"Well, it's the Llano he's looking for, same's us. Maybe if you—I mean we could all try the Song of Morning, and maybe—"
"I don't know," Orb said. Then the fish lurched, throwing her against the wall. "But then again—"
They tried it. The guitarist was too sick to participate, but the drummer and Lou-Mae and the organist joined. Orb sang the Song of Awakening, and Lou-Mae made a harmony, and the others accompanied. The magic spread out strongly, animating them all, and it developed into the best rendition yet, with the darkness closing in so absolutely that stars appeared above.
Jonah's lurching stopped. He relaxed, slowly sinking down through the turbulent atmosphere.
But what would happen when he touched the restless surface of the ocean?
Orb peered through the scales as the magic sunrise formed. She could see that it was raining now, outside, and the rain was washing across Jonah's surface. That meant that their song was enabling the fish to tolerate water. Perhaps the sea would be tolerable, too.
They completed the rendition. Flowers bloomed across the floor, and the chamber was fragrant.
"Sheez, we should do this number on the tour!" the drummer exclaimed.
Lou-Mae considered. "Why not? So it's a piece of the Llano; it's the greatest music we know. Everybody should hear it."
Orb nodded. "I suppose we could try it." She walked to the wall, to get a better view of the exterior.
Jonah made a shudder. "Maybe we better sing it again," Lou-Mae said.
"Try it without me," Orb said. "I'll try to help you with the magic. If we can do it in relays, maybe we can keep him quiet without wearing ourselves out."
Lou-Mae and the drummer and the organist tried it by themselves. It wasn't as good as before, but it did quiet the fish.
Orb watched as Jonah sank slowly toward the heaving ocean. The key point would be when he touched. If he could do that without damage, they would be all right.
The fish shivered. They felt it as if it were an earth tremor: minor motion, but significant alarm.
Jezebel reappeared. "Jonah's afraid," she said.
Orb pointed down. "Of that?"
"I don't think so. The song's calming him. It doesn't seem that he can't touch water, just that he's afraid to. The Llano helps quell his fear, but not all the way."
"What could a creature like him be afraid of?"
"I don't know, but I think we'd better not dismiss it till we know what it is."
Jonah settled onto the water. His nervousness increased despite their music. Yet the water did not seem to be hurting him. He floated like a ship, rocking gently to the swells.
Then the big fish jerked into motion. His side fins raked through the water like oars, and the bottom portion of his tail threshed the liquid into foam. He was not swimming, so much as stroking across the water.
"Something's out there!" Jezebel said. "I'd better take a look." She strode to the wall and through it, startling Orb. But of course she was a demoness, able to dematerialize and walk through walls so she could reach her prey. She just hadn't done it openly before.
Almost immediately the succubus reappeared. "There's something ugly out there," she reported. "There's a glow, and what look like ghosts, and Jonah's trying to get away from them. You'd better look."
"I can't go out there," Orb protested. "I'd drown!"
"I can take you to the top of the fish," Jezebel said. "It's pretty flat there, and you can hold on to a fin. I really think you should go."
Orb trusted the succubus' judgment. She took Jezebel's hand, and they walked through the wall and up, coming out on the fish's broad back. The rain was pelting down, but the skin was rough, offering good traction, and Orb had no trouble keeping her feet.
"There," Jezebel said, pointing.
Orb looked. She saw the glow, and it was not a healthy illumination. Grotesque shapes moved within it. She squinted, brushing the spray from her face. "What is it?"
"I think it's demonic," Jezebel said. "But there are different kinds of demons, as you know, and some in-between forms like zombies that—"
"Zombies?"
"Well, I'm not sure. What do they look like to you?"
Orb continued peering. The fish was slowing, and the shapes were gaining, spreading their unhealthy light. "Skeletons."
"Same thing, maybe. Do you think that's what Jonah's afraid of? Looks to me he can handle water, maybe not to swim in, but to float on, but those things are walking on it, which means they're supernatural, and I'd guess they're after him. If he knew it, he'd stay well clear if he could."
"We've got to stop them!" Orb exclaimed.
"The super-natural's hard to stop, when it's in its element. I don't want to scare you but—"
"With the Llano!" Orb cried. "I've got to try!"
The succubus shrugged. "I'd help you if I could, but you know my talent isn't singing."
Orb started singing herself, trying the Song of the Morning, the only significant fragment of the Llano she knew.
The skeletons marched right on, their bone legs walking across the water, their skulls facing Jonah. The song had no effect.
"Worse," Jezebel murmured. "Now I see why he slowed. There're more on the other side."
"Maybe if I had my harp," Orb said doubtfully.
"I can fetch it for you."
"Thank you." Orb was too distracted to say more.
The dancing skeletons closed in inexorably. Jonah's shuddering became more violent. Orb had no reasonable doubt, now; this was the menace the big fish feared. "Jonah, I will try to protect you," she said aloud.
The shuddering eased. Jonah had heard and understood.
But could she do it? The Song of the Morning hadn't worked; what would? Sometimes the magic had worked with other songs—but what applied to skeletons?
Their forms were coming clearer as they approached. They were not simply dancing; they were doing a crazy sort of jig. She would have thought it random, if they were not all doing it together, perfectly synchronized. Their bone legs moved this way and that, and their bone bodies seemed to lose balance and almost fall over before abruptly snapping back to the vertical. The effect would have been eerie, even if performed by fully fleshed folk.
Jezebel reappeared, leading the drummer by the hand. Orb realized that she had done an absent-minded double take when the succubus chuckled. "No, I'm not two-timing my man," Jezebel said. "We figured you could use help, and there's no way to plug in the organ up here, so I brought the drummer instead." She handed Orb her harp.
"But the rain will ruin the drums!" Orb protested.
"No more than it will your harp," the drummer said. "What use will either be, if Jonah gets wiped out?"
Orb acknowledged the validity of that. "I tried the Song of the Morning, but it didn't work."
The drummer stared at the advancing horde. "Know any songs about skeletons?" he asked with a certain bravado.
"Just one my father used to sing me," Orb said. "A joke, a Halloween kind of round."
"Try it," he said, setting up his drums.
"This is ridiculous!" Orb muttered as she took up her harp. But then, so were the dancing skeletons.
"Say, isn't that the Drunken Sailor's Hornpipe?" Jezebel asked, gazing at the dancers.
"The what?" the drummer asked.
"It's a dance. I learned it about fifty years ago, when I worked a dancing group."
"You were a dancer?"
"I didn't say that."
"Oh." He was disgruntled.
Orb started to sing and play, and the drummer picked up the beat and amplified it powerfully. "Have you seen the ghost of Tom? Round white bones with no skin on!" It was a humorously grisly song, but it held nostalgia for her, taking her back to the years of her childhood when Pacian held her and tickled her and sang to her, and the orchestra of his magic presence filled her limited universe. Oh, she loved her father! Now he was gone, and if there were skeletons where he was, surely he was singing to them, too, and making them laugh.
Orb was uncertain how much of the wetness on her face was rain and how much was tears.
But the song wasn't stopping the skeletons. They were coming quite close, in seeming phalanxes, and the first phalanx was now quite near Jonah's huge tail.
Orb tried another song, one from their repertoire, with no better effect. Music simply wasn't doing it.
One skeleton separated from the lead phalanx. It danced crazily forward, toward the tail, its bone feet treading the water as if it were completely solid.
"That is the Drunken Sailor's Hornpipe!" Jezebel said. "See, it's one of the few dances I can do." She went into the jig, and it was the same motion, lean and lurch as the skeletons were doing. "You step here and here, around and back, and that off-balances you, so you switch feet, so," she explained as she did it, her flesh heaving dynamically.
The closest skeleton paused, its skull facing the succubus.
"Hey!" the drummer said. "They're dancers! So they tune into dancing!"
The skeleton resumed its forward motion. It came to the tail and reached out to embrace it. But at the touch, Jonah jumped as if receiving an electric shock, and indeed there was a flash at the point of contact.
Then the skeleton was gone—and one section of Jonah's tail had become skeletal.
"Geez," the drummer said.
"I told you he'd have reason to fear demons," Jezebel said. "They want to make him one of them—and I'll bet there are enough of them to do it."
Another skeleton detached itself from the phalanx and danced forward.
"I've got to stop this!" Orb said, handing the succubus her harp and striding along the back of the fish. Part of her mind remarked on the confidence with which she gave her invaluable harp to a demoness—but she knew the harp would not tolerate the touch of a deceitful or evil creature, and Jezebel was neither, despite being of demonic stock.
"Hey, don't!" Jezebel cried, following. "It'd only take one skeleton to convert you! I think they take out their own mass!"
Orb paused. Obviously there was justice in this notion. What could she accomplish, if she became an instant skeleton? Yet how could she let this horror proceed without even challenging it? She was afraid and angry.
"They're dancers," the drummer called, coming up behind them. "Orb, you know a dance that'd stop anything in its tracks."
Orb stiffened. But now a realization came: the huge fish had accepted her after she had danced the tanana for him. Was this the reason? Insurance against these awful dancers?
The second skeleton was approaching the tail. "Beat the cadence for the Song of the Morning," Orb said tersely to the drummer. "I'm going to dance to it."
"Got it," he said, scrambling to set up his drums again.
"I'll tell the others," Jezebel said, stepping down through the fish's flesh.
He started the beat, and it was good, but not good enough. "With the magic," Orb said, touching his shoulder.
As she did so, the magic came, her power transferring to him. "Got it," he repeated.
The beat took hold, and there was indeed magic to it, creating the semblance of the song. Orb began to dance. She was conscious now of her housecoat plastered to her body, and dragging at her legs. Impatiently she struggled out of it and threw it aside, wearing only her nightie. She was aware that this was clinging to her torso like a wrinkled second skin, worse in its fashion than nakedness, but she had no choice; she had to have freedom of motion.
She danced the tanana to the beat, addressing the skeleton. The thing paused, then matched her, switching from its hornpipe to the tanana. It coordinated with her motions, completing the dance. It leaped and spun and gazed sidelong at her with its bony sockets. There was no doubt that she had found the key to making the skeletons react. But where could this lead?
Well, if the others did not advance until this one was through, and she distracted it long enough, the storm might clear, and Jonah would be free to swim back into the sky, escaping the skeletons.
The beat of the drums intensified, seeming to pound against the entire universe. Boom, boom, BOOM, BOOM! The skeleton danced more wildly, matching the increasing emphasis—and then began to fall apart. The violence of this dance was becoming too much for it, and it was self-destructing!
The bones flew off randomly, leaving the skeleton without part of one arm, then part of the other, then its skull. Finally the rest of it collapsed and fell into the water, sinking out of sight.
Orb breathed a panting sigh of relief. They had done it! They had stopped the skeleton from touching Jonah!
A new skeleton detached itself from the phalanx and danced toward the tail.
Oops! The job wasn't finished! Orb set herself, the drumbeat resumed, and she began to dance again. She addressed the second skeleton, and it reacted as had the first. They danced together, and the skeleton was a marvelously fine dancer; she found herself picturing it as a handsome Gypsy man, strutting and posturing and turning on in the timeless manner.
Then the beat intensified; the man flew apart, and his pieces sank into the rain-wet waves, his magic gone.
But the storm had not abated, and the skeletons had massed until they were closing in on every side. Another emerged from the phalanx near the tail, but now others were stepping out from other phalanxes, to approach the large fins on either side and the head. Jonah's nervousness increased.
"We're in trouble," the drummer said. "You can't dance forever, and you can't go one-to-one with three or four at once."
Jezebel emerged with Lou-Mae on one hand and the organist on the other. "Maybe each of us can address one skeleton, and hold them off each section," she suggested.
They tried it, but the others did not know the tanana and the skeletons responded to nothing else well enough to make a difference. There was not time to teach them; it had taken Orb hours of practice, many days in succession, to perfect it. Even had there been time, she doubted that Lou-Mae could learn it; the dance appeared indecent to outsiders. Meanwhile, the skeletons were marching in on every side.
"We have to have stronger medicine," Lou-Mae said. "You said your friend Nat knew strong songs—"
"Natasha!" Orb called, hoping he could hear. The skeletons were about to touch on every side; if the man did not come. There was the distant sound of a sustained note, as of someone singing an extraordinarily powerful melody. The very surface of the ocean seemed to quiet as the music stroked it. The skeletons paused in their dancing, exactly as they were, canted to one side. Natasha had heard!
The note became a melody, growing louder. The song spread out to fill the region, beautiful and resonant and profoundly moving. "That man can sing!" Jezebel murmured. There was no response; the others were mesmerized by the song, human beings and skeletons alike, listening.
Natasha approached, still singing, his voice holding the horde in stasis. He appeared on the surface of the water, walking on it in the manner the skeletons did. He passed by them and stepped onto the skin of the fish, climbing the steep side until he reached the relatively flat back where Orb and the others stood.
He paused in his singing, standing before them. The skeletons resumed their dancing and advancing.
"They're trying to make a skeleton of Jonah!" Orb exclaimed. "Can you stop them?"
"With the Song of Power," Nat replied. "You may know it as the Song of Day."
"Quick, before they touch!" Orb urged.
"Give me a beat," he said, spotting the drummer.
The drummer settled down to his drums and started the beat. It was a standard pattern, as he did not know what was wanted.
Natasha resumed his singing. It was the same song as before, but more forceful; the sound seemed to make the very atmosphere reverberate. The night lightened, then became day, the sun riding high and striking through the mass of the storm cloud, vaporizing it and turning the black waves green. The light became intense, causing the white bones of the skeletons to shine.
Nat gestured to the drummer, and the beat picked up. The song became louder, the feeling in it so intense that Orb felt as if she were riding a muscular stallion through an endless fire. Her nightie dried and became diaphanous.
The skeletons felt it, too. They started to move, but not in their dance. They were trying to escape, but could not; the sun's beams bore pitilessly on them. They were rocking to the drum beats, as if shaken by some invisible hand. Then they were falling apart, their bones disassociating and dropping into the water with little splashes. In a moment, all the skeletons were gone.
Nat brought his song to a close. As he did so, the day faded, and the night of reality returned. But the storm was gone, and so were the skeletons; those abolitions had not been illusions.
Orb flung her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. "You rescued me again!" she exclaimed.
"It was my pleasure," he said gallantly.
Then Orb remembered her situation. She was in her scant nightie, on the back of a monstrous fish, and her friends were watching. She let go and drew back a little.
Somewhat awkwardly, she performed introductions. "Nat, this is Lou-Mae..." She went through the names; Natasha acknowledged them gracefully, and the others were polite.
"Maybe we should go inside and let Jonah swim back into the sky where he likes it," Jezebel suggested. Nat looked about. "Just how did you get up here?" he inquired.
"Jezebel brought us," Orb said. "She—"
"No secret," Jezebel cut in. "I'm a demoness. Take my hand; I'll lead you in."
Orb, knowing the succubus' suspicion about Natasha, kept quiet. Nat took her hand, and Orb took the other, and they walked down through the flesh and into the fish's comfortable interior.
Jezebel turned them loose and went back for the others. "Not to appear unduly critical," Nat said, "but are you sure you can trust a demon?"
"This one, yes. Demons vary as widely as do living creatures; they fit no single mold."
He shrugged. "I wouldn't know."
Abruptly, the scene froze. All sound and motion ceased, leaving Orb alone untouched. Natasha stood like a statue, three-quarters of the way through his shrug.
Then two new figures appeared. They did not enter; they simply became present. One was cloaked in black, the other in white.
"Let me guess," Orb said. She glanced at the black figure, then at the white. "Thanatos—and Chronos." Of course it was no guess for Thanatos; she had interacted with him before, when he put her together with the Livin' Sludge.
"Even so," the Incarnation of Death agreed, with a hideous smile on his skull-face. This time he did not lay back his hood, so the effect continued, but Orb now had no concern about it. Any person Luna trusted was worthwhile. "Chronos has stopped time so that we may converse. We fear you are being deceived."
"I hate being deceived," Orb said. "My mother warned me of a trap before, and even with that warning I barely escaped it. Is there more trouble coming?"
"There may be," Thanatos said. "It is our concern that this individual may be demonic, perhaps an agent of Satan. It is not safe for you to be involved with him if this is the case."
"Involved!" Orb exclaimed. But of course she was, in the general sense; for the second time, Natasha had saved her from a very bad situation. "What gives you the notion that Nat could be demonic? He was just saying that—"
"We believe that your objectivity is vital to certain future events," Thanatos said. "Satan is aware of this and may be trying to influence you by sending a minion. The realms of time on Earth and of the Afterlife may be subject to compromise. We would not want your future to be distorted by any agent of Satan."
"My future? If one of you is the Incarnation of Time, surely you can readily check my future and satisfy yourselves as to its adequacy!"
"Not readily," Chronos said, speaking for the first time. He looked like a normal living man, once allowance was made for his office. "The future is not fixed; it is multiple, and it is constantly changing. There are variants covering a spectrum of alternatives, some of which are positive, some negative. It is our interest to encourage the positive."
"But surely you can see whether Satan has any influence on many of those variants, and whether Natasha has any involvement," Orb protested. "Intact, you can follow Nat's life forward and back, and discover whether he is human or demon, can't you?"
"Not readily," Chronos said. "Satan is adept in his manipulations and can clothe reality with illusion so cleverly that it becomes almost impossible to separate the two. The real Natasha could have been replaced by a demon who emulates him perfectly, and I would have to devote far more of my attention to tracing this down than I can spare from my duties."
"Needle in the haystack," Orb said, seeing the problem.
It had not occurred to her that a real man could be replaced by a demon, but of course it was possible. "In that case, you, Thanatos, should be able to test this man and verify his nature directly. After all, you can read souls, and demons don't have souls, do they?"
"It is true that they don't," Thanatos agreed. "But for a deception of this nature, it would be relatively simple for Satan to provide a demon with the simulation of a soul. My tools for measuring souls are relatively crude; I am not God." He smiled grimly.
"You are saying that with all the powers the two of you possess, you can not tell whether a given entity is human or demon?" Orb asked incredulously.
"Ordinarily it would be no problem," Thanatos said. "In this case, it may be."
Orb whistled internally. Obviously she had overrated the powers of the Incarnations! "How then should I tell whether Natasha is human or demon?"
"I suspect you will have to fall back on the old-fashioned devices," Thanatos said. "Demons are not subject to certain limitations of human beings, such as their fixed forms, but do have limitations of their actions that living people lack, such as what they may touch or say."
"You mean the Christian Cross? A demon can't touch it?"
"And holy water, or any sanctified relic. Neither can a demon say the name of God or sing a hymn. He may undertake enormous convolutions to avoid exposure by such means, to divert the subject, perhaps to ridicule the necessity, but when directly challenged, he can not do these things."
"But not all demons are creatures of Satan!" Orb protested. "Some can be quite decent folk."
"The limits do not reflect decency," Thanatos said. "They reflect origin. We concede that a good demon may be a better friend than a bad human being—but the bad human can touch the Cross, while the good demon can not. The barrier is absolute. That is why such tests have been established; it is not possible to cheat such identification."
"So you want me to test Natasha? To see whether he is of human or demonic stock?"
"Correct," Thanatos said.
"And if I do, and he turns out to be a demon—what does that prove? As you said, a good demon may be better than a bad human being—and a bad man could be an agent of Satan, too."
"Unlikely, in this case," Thanatos said. "The original Natasha is a good man; Chronos has already checked his timeline and verified this. He would never align with Satan; indeed, he would oppose Satan with all his power. Only Satan could arrange to replace such a man with a demon simulacrum. Therefore, if this is a demon, it has to be Satan's minion. We hope this is not the case, but we believe it must be tested."
Orb sighed. Their logic seemed tight. "Very well; I will test him—in my own time. If he should turn out to be a demon, I certainly shall have nothing to do with him. But I'm sure this is not the case; after all, he has twice rescued me from severe distress and he has taught me part of the Llano."
"What he claims is the Llano," Chronos said, gesturing with his left hand.
Orb saw that there was a ring on one of his fingers. It looked just like the one Mym had given her: a tiny coiled snake.
"That ring!" she said. "How did you come by it, Chronos?"
He glanced at it, as if startled. "Oh, this charm? It is of demonic nature, but aligned with the forces of good. There are many of them, all very similar."
"Luna has some," Thanatos said. "I'm sure she would give you one, if you asked."
Disgruntled by this revelation of the commonness of a charm she had thought unique, Orb retreated. "No, of course not; I was just curious." For an instant she had almost had a bad vision of someone stealing the ring from her baby; but of course, that was impossible; the ring could not be stolen or taken by force; it had to be honestly given. Her daughter would keep her ring until reaching the age of discretion; then she could do with it as she chose.
Unless Tinka had not put it on Orlene's finger, but instead had sold it...
No! Orb knew her friend would never have done such a thing. She adjusted her emotion and addressed the present situation. They had been talking about the Llano—and there was another body blow to her certainty. "You mean that was not part of the Llano Natasha taught me? The Song of the Morning?"
The two Incarnations exchanged glances. Both shook their heads in perplexity. "I'm afraid neither of us knows that song," Thanatos said after a moment. "The Llano is a different kind of magic from that we utilize. Perhaps what he has taught you is valid. That would not necessarily exonerate him; if it is not a religious piece..."
"It's a—a natural piece," she said, lacking a proper description. "It makes the dawn come, and the day brighten, and it destroyed the dancing skeletons that threatened us. Would an emissary from Satan sing such a song?"
"That does seem doubtful," Thanatos admitted. "You say it actually banished demonic creatures?"
"It actually did."
"I don't see how a creature of Satan's would do that." Thanatos shrugged. "But of course that is not my specialty. Mars would know the answer; he is the expert in combat, especially against demonic forces."
"Well, at such time as I encounter Mars, I will ask him," Orb said. "Meanwhile, I can certainly make the other tests; that should make the matter academic."
"We appreciate your cooperation," Thanatos said. Then Chronos lifted his other hand, which now held a large, glowing hourglass, started to tilt it—and abruptly the two were gone, and Natasha resumed animation.
Orb scrambled feverishly amidst her thoughts. What had they been talking about, before the stasis? She hated deceiving the man, but until she was sure of his nature. Ah—about demons. They had agreed that not all demons were evil. That seemed ironic, in view of the timing of the arrival of the visitors.
"I can show you how nice Jezebel is," Orb said. Then Jezebel reappeared, with Lou-Mae and the drummer at her hands.
"Jez, would you mind very much if I performed a test on you?" Orb asked, feeling embarrassed.
"Welcome," the succubus said. "Just let me fetch in the last pair." She disappeared through the wall and soon returned with Betsy and the organist.
They assembled in the main chamber. "What was this test?" Jezebel inquired.
"Well, I have been warned that—" Orb hesitated, but saw no diplomatic way to say it. "—that Natasha might be of demonic origin. So—"
Nat straightened. "How's that?"
"So I need to run a test," Orb continued doggedly. "But I need a—a control person, to verify that the indications are valid. That the test works."
"Who made such a suggestion?" Nat asked, becoming nettled.
Orb forced herself to face him. "Chronos and Thanatos.
They told me that—well, never mind that. I hope you're willing to—"
"I hardly expected a reception of this nature," Nat said. "It would seem to me that—" But now he broke off, for the others were gazing at him.
"You know," Jezebel said, "if there is one thing that demon skeletons would respect, it would be an agent of Satan's."
Nat stared at her angrily. "You ought to know, demoness."
"They told me that my—my destiny was important," Orb said. "That Satan might try to influence me. So I really have no choice."
Nat grimaced. "You insist on this—this trial?"
"I'm afraid I do," Orb said miserably.
"Then let's have the test," he snapped. "What do you have in mind?"
Orb addressed Jezebel. "Please repeat after me the words I say." The succubus nodded. The others were silent; they were embarrassed by this scene.
"Demon," Orb said.
Jezebel smiled. "Demon."
"Person."
"Person."
"Angel."
Jezebel shook her head. "You know I won't say that."
"But could you if you wanted to?"
"Want to? I wish I could! But it's impossible."
"Hell," Orb said.
Betsy jumped. Jezebel smiled. "She's not swearing," she explained. "Hell."
"Earth."
"Earth."
"Heaven."
Jezebel balked. "If only..." she said sadly.
"Satan."
"Satan."
"God."
Jezebel spread her hands, defeated.
"Thank you," Orb said. She turned to Natasha,
"Angel. Heaven. God," he said, disgusted.
Orb felt guilty. "Does someone have a cross?"
"I do," Lou-Mae said quickly. She drew on a thin gold chain at her neck and brought up a fine silver cross.
"Give it to Jezebel," Orb said.
"Please, no," Jezebel said. "Its approach would damage me."
"I'll take it," Nat said. He extended his hand and took the cross. He glanced at Orb. "Satisfied?"
"Almost," Orb said, wishing she had never gotten into this. "I would like to sing a hymn."
"Let's spare the demoness the pain of attempting that," Nat said grimly. He handed back the cross, then inhaled, and sang:
"I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger, A-traveling through this world of woe; But there's no sickness, toil nor danger, In that bright world to which I go."
As he sang, the walls of the chamber faded, and the gloom of the exterior night developed. The darkness was not total; rather, it was the murk of a dismal twilight, through which the man seemed to be trudging. The world of woe.
He proceeded through it, concluding:
"I'm going there to meet my Savior, To sing his praise for evermore, I'm just a going over Jordan, I'm just a going over home."
As he did, the light increased, as from the overflowing brilliance of a transcendent realm ahead. Then, at the seeming point of realization, the effect faded, and the walls of the chamber reappeared.
Natasha glanced once more at Orb, then faced about, and stalked toward the wall.
"Wait!" Orb cried. "I had no choice—"
But already he was fading out. She picked up the harmonies of the traveling theme and knew he was going to some other point on the globe. She tried to match it, but could not. He was gone, and she had no way of telling where.
"I guess I'd be mad, too, if someone accused me of being a demon, and I wasn't," Jezebel said.
"Especially after he helped someone out of a jam," the drummer added.
"You're not helping much, you know," Lou-Mae said.
Orb fled to her bedroom, where she flung herself down sobbing. She was hardly aware as the big fish resumed swimming, moving up through the air, reorienting on the original destination.
What else could she have done?