it?”
“Like it, Lord? It hadn’t occurred to me to wonder. Yes, I like it. I think it would be a wondrous thing.”
“Good. Do you know that there are those who would stop it?”
“I’ve heard it rumored, Lord, but I don’t know if it’s true or not.”
“It’s true.”
“This grieves me, Lord.”
“And me also.”
“Is there something I can do, Lord?”
“Yes, Uriel, there is.”
“I am ready, as always, Lord.”
“Good. Find two hundred angels and bring them here.”
“Two hundred?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, Lord.”
“But before bringing them, have each of them find a sapling—a straight sapling of good wood about his own height, and sharpen one end of it.”
“Sharpen it, Lord?”
“That’s right.”
“Very well, Lord.”
“Have them back with the prepared saplings in one hour.”
“As you say, Lord.”
“Then find the archangel Albrot, who worked with Asmodai. Have him fashion swords, to look like Michael’s, only smaller. I want them soon. When they’re ready, replace the saplings with the swords.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“Go, then.”
Uriel bowed and left. Yaweh leaned back and closed his eyes, trying not to think of what he had just done.
“One thing about these sticks.”
“What’s that, Sith?”
“Well, if we poked someone with them, it would hurt, wouldn’t it?”
“Huh? It sure would! So what?”
“Well, I wonder if that’s what they’re for?”
“To poke someone with?”
“Well, what else?”
“I don’t know. What makes you think of that?”
“The Plan.”
“You mean we might have to poke angels who don’t go along with the Plan?”
“It could be.”
“You don’t really think so, do you?”
“I don’t know. How’s this?”
“Uh . . . that’s good. Check mine?”
“Ow!”
“I guess it’s good enough, huh?”
“Oh, shut up.”
Yaweh stood before his throne. To his left were twenty angels; to his right were eighty angels; in front of him were another hundred. Also before were Uriel, Gabriel, and an archangel named Raziel.
Yaweh cleared his throat and began. “Greetings to you, my loyal and true angels.”
The angels before him looked at each other.
“I have called you here because I need you,” he continued. “Some of you may have heard of a great Plan being formed. It is true that there is such a Plan. We are trying to make a safe place for us all to live. That is the Plan. You are to be its guardians.
“Why does it need guardians? Because some of your brethren wish to stop it. I will not say who, because I’m not sure of them. I can not say why, because I don’t know. None of them has spoken to me.
“But I know this is the case. I am deeply saddened—” He stopped for a moment and looked away. When he looked back, his face was normal. “I am deeply saddened, but it cannot be helped. The Plan is for all of us equally. I cannot let them stop it by destroying me, as they may wish to do.
“I might be wrong. I hope I’m wrong, but, for the sake of the Plan, I cannot risk myself now.”
He looked at the hundred angels directly in front of him. “You,” he said, “will guard the outside of the Palace, so that none may come near in force. There must be some of you there at all times. You may let groups of four pass; you must stop any group larger than that. You will be called Thrones, for you will extend my throne outside of the Palace, and any gathering that wishes to appear before the throne shall appear before you, instead.” He pointed with his right hand. “You will guard the inside of this palace. You will stand together, taking turns while your comrades sleep, so that none may enter without my leave. You shall be named Cherubim, after Cherubiel who fell in the Third Wave.” He pointed with his left hand. “You,” he said, “will stay near me, around my throne, so that any who get past the Cherubim will be stopped. You will be called Seraphim, after Seraphiel, who also fell in the Third
“Like it, Lord? It hadn’t occurred to me to wonder. Yes, I like it. I think it would be a wondrous thing.”
“Good. Do you know that there are those who would stop it?”
“I’ve heard it rumored, Lord, but I don’t know if it’s true or not.”
“It’s true.”
“This grieves me, Lord.”
“And me also.”
“Is there something I can do, Lord?”
“Yes, Uriel, there is.”
“I am ready, as always, Lord.”
“Good. Find two hundred angels and bring them here.”
“Two hundred?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, Lord.”
“But before bringing them, have each of them find a sapling—a straight sapling of good wood about his own height, and sharpen one end of it.”
“Sharpen it, Lord?”
“That’s right.”
“Very well, Lord.”
“Have them back with the prepared saplings in one hour.”
“As you say, Lord.”
“Then find the archangel Albrot, who worked with Asmodai. Have him fashion swords, to look like Michael’s, only smaller. I want them soon. When they’re ready, replace the saplings with the swords.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“Go, then.”
Uriel bowed and left. Yaweh leaned back and closed his eyes, trying not to think of what he had just done.
“One thing about these sticks.”
“What’s that, Sith?”
“Well, if we poked someone with them, it would hurt, wouldn’t it?”
“Huh? It sure would! So what?”
“Well, I wonder if that’s what they’re for?”
“To poke someone with?”
“Well, what else?”
“I don’t know. What makes you think of that?”
“The Plan.”
“You mean we might have to poke angels who don’t go along with the Plan?”
“It could be.”
“You don’t really think so, do you?”
“I don’t know. How’s this?”
“Uh . . . that’s good. Check mine?”
“Ow!”
“I guess it’s good enough, huh?”
“Oh, shut up.”
Yaweh stood before his throne. To his left were twenty angels; to his right were eighty angels; in front of him were another hundred. Also before were Uriel, Gabriel, and an archangel named Raziel.
Yaweh cleared his throat and began. “Greetings to you, my loyal and true angels.”
The angels before him looked at each other.
“I have called you here because I need you,” he continued. “Some of you may have heard of a great Plan being formed. It is true that there is such a Plan. We are trying to make a safe place for us all to live. That is the Plan. You are to be its guardians.
“Why does it need guardians? Because some of your brethren wish to stop it. I will not say who, because I’m not sure of them. I can not say why, because I don’t know. None of them has spoken to me.
“But I know this is the case. I am deeply saddened—” He stopped for a moment and looked away. When he looked back, his face was normal. “I am deeply saddened, but it cannot be helped. The Plan is for all of us equally. I cannot let them stop it by destroying me, as they may wish to do.
“I might be wrong. I hope I’m wrong, but, for the sake of the Plan, I cannot risk myself now.”
He looked at the hundred angels directly in front of him. “You,” he said, “will guard the outside of the Palace, so that none may come near in force. There must be some of you there at all times. You may let groups of four pass; you must stop any group larger than that. You will be called Thrones, for you will extend my throne outside of the Palace, and any gathering that wishes to appear before the throne shall appear before you, instead.” He pointed with his right hand. “You will guard the inside of this palace. You will stand together, taking turns while your comrades sleep, so that none may enter without my leave. You shall be named Cherubim, after Cherubiel who fell in the Third Wave.” He pointed with his left hand. “You,” he said, “will stay near me, around my throne, so that any who get past the Cherubim will be stopped. You will be called Seraphim, after Seraphiel, who also fell in the Third
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