Barlowe, Wayne - God's Demon

about Lord Sargatanas. As if the truth, with all of its implications, were not miraculous enough. Nonetheless, tales of apparitions, of giant flaming swords pointing toward Dis, of almost-seen hosts of Seraphim or Cherubim flying downward, of masses of Abyssals congregating in the Wastes, of souls becoming demons, even of Lucifer's imminent return, floated through the streets on currents of excited gossip. All these rumors, she knew, were false, the product of times that were changing too rapidly.

A great caravan was arriving just as she ascended the palace steps, and she recognized the elegant, blue sigil as belonging to Put Satanachia, that most refined and charismatic of demons arrived from his cold, outer realm. With him were his three subordinates, the Demons Minor Aamon, Pruslas, and Barbatos, each as commanding a presence as many Demons Major. Lilith knew enough about Satanachia and his court to be amazed at his apparent new alliance with Sargatanas; there were few demon sovereigns more powerful in Hell, and in some ways he outranked the Lord of Adamantinarx. As Eligor had said, it was, indeed, a new world.

As she negotiated the corridors farther into the palace she wondered, for the thousandth time, about just what had happened to Sargatanas. It had taken them hours to get him back, weak as he was, to his chambers so far above the Shrine. They had wanted to get him there without being seen, but in a palace this active they realized soon enough that this would be an impossibility. Others, the curious and concerned, had gathered around and lent their support, and despite themselves, Eligor and she had been grateful for their help. Once inside Sargatanas' darkened chambers, she had stayed with him for days, but they had not spoken except in the most cursory way. He was distant and seemed to be in enormous discomfort, and she knew better than to press him. Gradually, the apparent physical difficulties subsided and she had left him for longer and longer periods. However, even with his returning strength, he was no more forthcoming.

Today would be different. Enough time had passed that she felt reasonably confident that she could get him to tell her what had happened.

When she approached his chambers, Lilith saw the dozens of Foot Guard, arranged in a square formation that completely blocked the corridor and barred anyone, save herself, Eligor, and Zoray, from entering. Saluting, they opened the door, and she stepped into Sargatanas' private world.

He had pulled up a heavy chair before his wide opened window and was seated, looking out over Adamantinarx, a pale shape against a dark background. His city was now a nexus for the disenfranchised of Hell, and even from this height he could not have failed to see the steady flow that entered it.

'There is little or no difference,' he said without turning, 'between my rebellion and his.'

'My lord?'

'Lucifer. His rebellion. And mine. We are both responsible for what we started.'

'Yes. But surely you can see the differences.'

'What if they're not so clear?' He took a deep breath. 'What I can see is the destruction of those around me because of my own selfish goals.'

She looked at him and felt the radiance of sadness that seemed to emanate from him. 'This isn't a selfish cause. His was.'

Sargatanas remained still. An ash-laden wind was whipping up, and the banners below were beginning to flap.

Lilith stood next to him, watching the city as it grew less distinct for the encroaching ash.

'It's Valefar. His loss is making you question all that you're attempting: that much is clear. He wouldn't want that.'

The demon pursed his lips, the agitation clearly written upon his face. She suddenly realized—amazed after all these weeks that she had not seen it—that he was no longer shifting his form. While he was still very much a demon, his whitened body was as stable as the chair he sat upon. How could I have missed something so obvious? What else has changed within him?

'What was it like?'

'What?'

'In the Shrine.'

His mouth opened as if to speak and he hesitated. She saw him take his eyes away from the window and look down.

'I was ... upon my knees praying.' He shook his head slowly. 'Lilith, I prayed so hard, first for him ... for Valefar ... and then for me. And it was then that the floor shook. I thought it was a response to such selfishness.'

'Eligor and I felt that. I think the entire palace did as well,' she said, immediately sorry she had interrupted him.

'Then there was a brilliance, a living whiteness, that seemed to descend like the furious fall of a sword blade. It hit me so hard, Lilith. And when it did, I thought it the purest anger I've ever known. Directed solely at me. It only touched me for an instant, but even in that span I felt it change ... to the purest imaginable balm. Suddenly my mind was flooded with the Above; I could smell it, see it, hear it ... even taste it. It was like awakening after dreaming of blackness and decay and seeing ... my home.' He paused. 'I'm sorry, I can't truly tell you.'

Lilith smiled. He was right; she could only imagine.

The ash cloud was rising, making its inevitable way up to the lofty heights of the palace towers, and Lilith moved to close the open windows. There were a dozen casements to latch, and as she began she heard Sargatanas rise from his seat and start to close them at the far end of the room.

She glanced at him surreptitiously and saw him pausing, holding his wounded side. Without thinking she went to him, and for a moment, a long, silent moment, they looked into each other's eyes. She had never seen eyes like his, made angelic by the change; past the bony brows and white lids they were deep wells of liquid copper flecked with tiny specks of azure—quite beautiful, she thought. But, more than that, it was the sadness, the inward- reaching longing, she saw within them that she had never seen before. Even the eyes of Lucifer, which she had fallen into, had held more anger than anything else.

Impulsively, keeping her eyes on Sargatanas', she reached out and touched him, running her pale fingers down his steaming forearm and feeling the heat of his flesh and bone. The touch burned but in a way that sent a thrill through her. She saw his eyes widen fractionally, but he did not pull away, and she put her other hand upon