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

whoever was next to him had four legs and wasn’t very big.”
    “Yes, I guess that does sound like Satan and Beelzebub.”
    “That’s what I thought.”
    “But it’s strange.”
    “What’s strange, honey?”
    “There’s a lot going on, Harut. I wish I understood it. But I don’t think anyone does, two legs, four legs, or no legs. Eyes or no eyes.”
    “There somethin’ I can do?”
    “No . . . yes. Follow Ariel. See if you can find Satan and learn whatever you can. Ariel doesn’t always see everything he might.”
    “Sure.”
    “But play me a song first.”
    Harut smiled. Leviathan wished for a moment that he could see his own smile. It would brighten his day, too.
     
    Abdiel heard them before he saw them, which was lucky for him.
    “This road is in good shape, isn’t it?”
    “Aye, milord. ’Tis said there are those who work at keeping it.”
    “Really?”
    “So ’tis said. And that they extend it, so that someday it may link the Palace and the Southern Hold.”
    “That would be good, I think.”
    “And I, milord.”
    “But if we’re going to be leaving Heaven, I guess we’ll never see it.”
    “Think’st thou that we shall leave, milord? What of thy doubts?”
    “Hmmm. Beelzebub, are you under the illusion that anything we’re going to do or not do will stop the Plan?”
    “Well, milord, my thought hath been—”
    “Well, it shouldn’t have. I’m not interested in stopping the Plan, nor am I capable of it. The only question is whether or not I’m going to participate. Do you think I’m irreplaceable? I’m not.”
    “As thou sayest, milord.”
    By this time Abdiel was well up the path. He found a spot amid the trees to one side where he could see the road, but was still partially sheltered.
    He sat down to rest and wait, and think about a ball of white fire, burning in his middle.

    “He wouldn’t see me, Asmodai.”
    “Oh, hello, Lucifer. Who wouldn’t? Yaweh?”
    “That’s right. I went to see him as I said I would, and he wouldn’t talk to me.”
    “Why?”
    “He said he was busy.”
    “That’s absurd.”
    “Yes.”
    “How did he seem?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t actually see him. His page relayed the message. He seemed very apologetic.”
    “The page? Gabriel?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Hmmmm.”
    “What are you thinking?”
    “I’m thinking that it was this same page who was to bring the Lord Satan. And he’s the one who relayed the Lord Satan’s answer, which wasn’t anything like the answer we, who’d just spoken to him, would have expected.”
    “I think I see what you mean.”
    “Yes. I’d like to speak to Yaweh.”
    “You’re right. I don’t think he can keep us out no matter what he does, if we really want to get in. Are you with me?”
    “Yes! When?”
    “Now.”
    “Let’s go.”
     
    Alone in the dark, Yaweh nursed his sorrow and his doubts. If he could have solved the problem by abandoning the Plan, he would have done so, but it was beyond that now—Raphael had made that clear to him.
    If he could have convinced himself that Abdiel was wrong, he would have done that, but he couldn’t—it fit the pattern too well. First Satan, then maybe Michael, perhaps Lucifer—no, this was organized,not random. He could feel it. And that meant that Abdiel was right.
    If he could have been sure the Plan could go on without him, he would let them destroy him when they wanted to, because he could see no more pleasure in life, with his friends deserting and hating him. But he couldn’t. Of them all, he was the only one who could see the Plan through.
    The conclusion was inescapable—-he would have to do what Abdiel suggested.
    Since Yaweh had no understanding of hate, he couldn’t know that, as he summoned his page to bring Uriel, he hated himself.
     
    Uriel bowed very low, “How may I serve you, Lord?”
    “Uriel,” said Yaweh, “you know much of the Plan, do you not?”
    “I know somewhat of it, Lord.”
    “And do you like