without depriving him of his realistic cynicism about the outcome. He knew his cause was in doubt and perhaps hopeless, but he would not let it go.
'Is this campaign against me legal?' Zane asked. 'Won't there be an investigation if I am dispatched?'
'Satan honors few rules that are not convenient for him. By the time his foul play is revealed, he will have had his way. Justice may pursue him, but he is the most elusive entity in the cosmos.'
Which meant that Satan was cheating again, and could probably get away with it. Accomplishment was ninetenths of the law, in Eternity as well as on Earth. Zane wasn't even angry; he knew he had to deal with reality rather than with idealism. He might be in the right, but without his defensive Deathmagic, he was fairly helpless.
Still, he recalled how rapidly, efficiently, and viciously he had acted when Luna had been directly threatened and when the Hellhounds had come for him. There was a lot of evil in him yet, being turned to good use against the greater evil of Satan's minions. Now that he had something to fight for, a new aspect of his personality was manifesting, making him more like Mars. He might be far from Heaven, but he wasn't entirely helpless.
Mortis swerved. 'There is one ahead,' the horse explained. He galloped down a side alley. 'Oops!' came a neigh of dismay.
Even as the horse tried to dodge, Zane saw it. A tattered beggarman stood close, intercepting them, his arm swinging in a throwing motion.
Suddenly Zane was choking. He was breathing, but suffocating. There seemed to be no oxygen in the air!
Mortis turned his head, aware that something was wrong. 'You have been hit by a suffocation-spell!'
'Yes!' Zane gasped. He could speak, for there was atmospheric pressure, but he couldn't breathe!
'The scythe! Use the scythe!'
Bewildered, Zane wrenched the folded scythe from its holster on the horse. Through tear-blurred eyes he saw a hole in the end of the handle. He put his mouth to it — and sucked in oxygenated air.
'It's a small-diameter suffocation-spell,' Mortis explained. 'Doesn't reach to my head. So the scythe tube is out of its range. The spell is bound to you, therefore you can't run away from it — but it loses power a meter out. In a few minutes it will dissipate; these things don't usually need much duration.'
Zane could appreciate why. If he hadn't had horse and scythe to extricate him — !
In due course the spell dissipated as predicted, and Zane was able to put away the scythe and breathe freely. 'Why is there a tube in the scythe handle?'
'This sort of thing must have happened before,' Mortis said. 'My former master once used it to blow a dart; that's how I knew.'
Had attempts been made on Death's life before by supernatural agencies? It made a certain sordid sense. Surely Death had not universally pleased all parties at all times in the course of Eternity, and Satan was obviously one to try any means to get his way. So some Death officeholder along the line had had the scythe handle hollowed. Very nice.
If Death had been under siege before, it seemed he had survived it. Otherwise he would not have been able to modify the scythe handle. That was a positive sign.
No, maybe it was intended as a drinking straw, when water was available only from some well without a bucket, too deep to reach directly. He would probably never know. So he had no certainty. Were there other little things about this office that he ought to find out? His continuation as Death might depend on his information.
'What other resources do I have?' he asked Mortis.
'I hardly know,' the horse confessed. 'I have the impression that the powers of the office are far greater than normally employed, but your predecessor did not employ them.'
It did make sense. Death should not be balked or intimidated by others, not even by Satan. Otherwise the office would soon become meaningless. But what powers did the office retain, once its magic had been turned off? Had Death ever gone on strike before? If so, how had that been resolved?
Mortis snorted. 'Monster intercepting. I don't think I can avoid it.'
'Don't try,' Zane said. 'It's my quarrel, not yours. Set me down in the monster's vicinity.'
'You have courage.'
'No. I'm just doing what has to be done. I'm walled in by circumstance, like water in a channel. If I had choices, I'd flow away into the ground and be lost. I'm nothing by myself.'
'You have a choice. You can resign the office.'
'No.'
'Any Incarnation can resign without prejudice. I think that's how the others usually change personnel. They get tired or bored and make way for a successor.'
'Without prejudice?'
'Reverting to the state of the soul when that person ended forma! life. For you, this means balance.'
'So I would go to Heaven or Hell, exactly as I would have, had I not killed my predecessor. Nothing would have changed for me.'
'Yes. Of course, after your initiation period is done, your balance of good and evil will change, and your resignation would be on different terms.'
'Interesting.' Zane considered. 'No, I can't resign. My successor would take Luna, and Satan would win. I can't allow that to happen.'
'Then you do have courage. You have an easy way out that you do not accept.'
'No, if I had any acceptable way out, I would take it. That's not the same.'
Mortis halted at a green golf course. 'The monster from Hell has intercepted us. You would have a better chance against it if you rode me.'
'You need to survive for my successor. You have not betrayed your office; I will not involve you further in my problem.' Zane dismounted, took the scythe, and stepped forward. Then he paused and turned back. 'What type of monster is it?'
'A preying mantis.'
'Praying mantis? They're small.'
'Preying mantis. A minion of Hell never prays, but does prey. They're large.'
Now the monster appeared. It was shaped like a praying mantis, but it was five meters tall. Its huge pincer legs looked capable of crushing a man in one fell squeeze. Its small head peered down at Zane from its awful height, judging at what point to pounce.
Zane looked up at the mantis and was terrified. Courage? He had none of it! But he thought of Luna dying and Satan prevailing on Earth, and stood firm. 'All right, move out,' he told Mortis. 'Fast!'
The horse bolted — and the mantis struck. Its body launched forward so rapidly it blurred, and its massive forearms unbent and clapped together again like those of the insect monster it mimicked.
It missed. Its pincer arms crunched together empty. Almost empty — there were a few strands of horsehair in that grasp.
The mantis had been going for Mortis, the moving target. Zane had not moved at all, so had not triggered the monster's attack response. Blind luck! The horse had moved suddenly and so rapidly that he had escaped — but that episode was enough to demonstrate the blinding speed of the monster. Zane knew he could not outrun it. He could not even bring his scythe into play before the creature grabbed him; his reflexes simply were not fast enough.
The lofty, tiny triangular head tilted as if trying to discover what had become of the prey. Then the mantis got back to its feet, poising for a new launch. It had four legs besides the heavy front set, and four huge wings now folded along the back of the long body. The preying mantis looked clumsy, like a wooden branch propped on stilts but Zane had seen that creature move. It was no more clumsy than was Satan's tongue!
Zane had had some notion of standing his ground and swinging the scythe, but now knew this was hopeless. All he could cut with the scythe was the middle pair of legs — and long before he got there, the front legs would catch him and crunch him. In fact, he couldn't move at all without getting pounced on; he had been warned by Mortis' departure. What, then, could he do?
Well, he could wait. It seemed the mantis would not pounce as long as there was no motion. Probably it wasn't sure whether Zane was alive and, like the Hot Smoke dragon, did not feed on carrion. When he moved, it would know he was alive and would act accordingly, rendering him dead. What chance did he have? He couldn't
