"It is only a few years. Not even a century."
"I shall have to do something!"
"My Lord, you have been trying to!"
"No, I mean something substantial. It is time that Satan made his presence felt."
"As you say. Master," she said noncommittally.
She didn't believe he could do it. Angry, Parry cast about for some new approach.
He had two areas of potential impact: Hell and the mortal realm. His prior approaches had been effective in neither. What he needed was superior management. He had been trying to do it himself, and obviously he wasn't good at this. He had depended on Asmodeus, who obeyed his every command but somehow without much effect.
Maybe it was time to replace Asmodeus. But with whom? Mephistopheles would be no better, and he did not trust Lucifer.
Then he had a notion. "Lilah, go thaw Ozymandias."
"My Lord?" For once he had caught her by surprise.
"I'm going to put him in charge of Hell for a decade or so, and see how he does. He's a competent organizer, isn't he?"
"Indubitably, my Lord. But—"
"And he will serve me loyally, won't he?"
"In the circumstance, yes. But—"
"Then what's the problem?"
"He's a damned soul. Locked in the ice. You know how I have to thaw him. If he remains thawed, he will expect—"
"Um, yes. We'll have to assign a demoness to keep him warm. Whom would you recommend?"
"My Lord, he will know the difference. He will insist on me, personally. I know him; he always demands the best."
Parry considered. "The man has excellent taste. Well, then you keep him warm. I'll borrow another demoness. Or a damned soul. Nefertiti, perhaps. She could be fun." He had encountered the damned Egyptian soul in the course of his efforts to reform Hell, and she had indicated a willingness to cooperate, in return for better treatment. She had certainly been in Hell long enough to know the nature of the cooperation that would be required.
Lilah stared at him, shifting back to her natural state. "Are you dismissing me, my Lord?"
"By no means, Lilah! But we must be realistic. If I must do without your services for a time, I must have a replacement. It wouldn't do for the Lord of Evil to be without a consort, or to be known to be sharing one. Or to accept a substitute from the bottom of the heap. Protocol requires only the best, which is of course you, or one of the second best, such as Nefertiti. When Ozymandias tires of you, you may return to me, no questions asked."
"You are generous, my Lord Satan," she said with irony. She seemed to be not completely impressed with his elegant rationale.
Parry scowled. "Lilah, I want to get moving. I'm tired of this stasis! If you have a better way, tell me!"
"I would not presume, my Lord," she said. "But you know that Ozymandias is a powerful soul, and I have been known to fall in love with that kind."
"Not this time, I think," he said. "Ozymandias is history; I am not. Go entertain him, demoness; the break should refresh us both."
She walked out. She could have vanished, but chose to make a more dignified exit. She had reformed nude, so as to give him an excellent view of her posterior as she walked. It was the most shapely and supple posterior known to man or demon, and she knew how to make it smile and frown and dance on its own.
Parry was indeed tempted to call her back, but as a matter of principle did not. He did not want her to think she owned him.
Ozymandias took hold immediately, glad for the chance to show what he could do. Hell stirred restlessly under his lash, as overseers were replaced and damned souls shifted to new locations. Lilah kept him satisfied, but Parry suspected that he would have continued working regardless, because of his overwhelming love of the exercise of power. Certainly it was better for him than the ice!
Meanwhile, Nefertiti was an intriguing change-off, partly because she was a good deal more naive than Lilah and had a certain remaining modicum of queenly pride. Lilah had, he realized, been too obliging; there had been none of the excitement of challenge with her. Nefertiti, in contrast, reacted with shock when he essayed certain configurations; it was a challenge and a pleasure educating her. In due course all her barriers would be down; then she would be less intriguing. But with proper management, she could last for a decent interval.
Still, Parry wasn't satisfied. It would be years, decades or even centuries before Hell was fully reorganized, and it was an internal affair. He wanted to make his mark on the mortal realm, and to repay the Incarnations for their early humiliation of him. If only he had an opening!
Then, abruptly, it came. The Incarnation of Nature retired, and a new woman took her office.
Of all the scores Parry had to settle, this one was the most nagging. He owed Gaea a serious humiliation! He had been unable to make headway against the old one, but the new one would be inexperienced, liable to make errors before she consolidated her power. Now was his time to strike! It was true that the new Gaea had done him no injury, but she had been admitted by the old one, and the old one was now a mortal, able to see what happened to her erstwhile office. She would rue the day she retired!
He scouted for prospects. What was in Gaea's domain that the Incarnation of Evil could influence? It was almost impossible to change the operations of another Incarnation unless that Incarnation were careless or inexperienced, which was why the opportunity had to be grasped immediately.
He found a good one. In 1331 there had been a plague in China of a particularly nasty variety. The Mongols maintained trade routes between China and the West, and episodes of that plague had been known along that route. How fitting that this time, instead of arranging for a message to be delivered from the East, he arrange for an illness! The plague should drive Gaea to distraction, and she might prove unable to stop it at all. That would be an excellent humiliation! In addition, it could send a number of souls to the Afterlife before their normal time, confounding Fate's threads and overworking Thanatos. Because those souls would come early, their proprietors would not have enough time to make up for their bad deeds. They would be caught with negative balances, and Hell would profit.
Yes, this was indeed beautiful! All he needed to do was implement it, immediately, before the other Incarnations caught on and acted to nullify it.
Parry took care of it personally. He went to Samarkand in Transoxiana, a nexus of the eastern trade route. The plague had not spread beyond here, because it depended on dense populations for its propagation, and this was a sparsely populated mountainous region. He found a man who had suffered the first fever but had good resistance; his fever was coming down. He was with a merchant party and able to travel, but they would not take a sick man along that rugged trail. This was not because of any spirit of kindness, but because it was too awkward to dispose of bodies appropriately, and the pace of travel would be seriously slowed before the death.
Parry changed to an appropriate mortal form and approached the caravan master. "I need a package delivered," he said in the local language, using his prerogative as the Father of Lies to accomplish his purpose. "But I do not trust just anyone to carry it. I have found a sick man, whom robbers would not dare approach for fear of contamination. I have given my package to his care. Here is ample gold; will you see that he is conveyed in isolation?"
The caravan master made ready to protest. Then he saw the nature of the coinage proffered. It was three times as much as was warranted, even for a treacherous mission like this. He was a reasonably honest man, and not a murderer; he decided to accept the money and accept the traveler.
The sick man, eager to get home rather than being stuck for three more months here, did not quibble. He took the package Parry gave him. The package was genuine: a precious Oriental gem, for delivery to a jeweler. But it was a pretext, not the real cargo.
Parry departed, not lingering a moment after his transactions had been completed, in order to avoid calling attention to his presence. Though his simulation of a mortal had been impeccab
le—he had worked hard on such things during off moments in the past century—even casual questioning would reveal that no one of this region knew him. He wanted to evoke no such dialogue. He let his messenger carry his burden.
Months later, the plague struck Asia Minor. It spread through the eastern part of Anatolia and reached the developing Ottoman Turk Empire. The following year it crossed the Dardanelles and infected Constantinople. Now it was in Europe, and on its way. The new Gaea and the other Incarnations were scurrying about like dispossessed rat fleas, trying to stem the black tide of it.
Chronos called on him. "I do not wish to interfere in your business, my friend," he said gravely. "But if I might ask a favor—"
For Chronos, Parry would grant it.
"It is that you arrange to spare the city and environment of Milan, Italy. This region is destined to become a leading force in the Renaissance, and—"
Parry had no notion what that might mean, but he did not argue. "Milan will be spared," he agreed. Then he summoned Beelzebub, and directed him to see to the preservation of Milan from this scourge of the Black Death.
In 1348 it spread throughout the Mediterranean region, wiping out one third of the population. Gaea was distraught; by the time she realized the significance of this invasion, it was beyond her means to cope with it. This was success beyond Parry's expectation!
But there was a strange gap in its progress, or rather an omission. Milan was untouched. Beelzebub had gone there and fashioned a spell that eradicated all the rat fleas in the vicinity; as the Lord of Flies, he had this power. Because the plague was transmitted to man via the bites of fleas, that region was spared the ravage of the Black Death.
Parry also had Beelzebub do his thing in southern France, in the vicinity of Parry's original home. He realized he was being foolishly sentimental, but he did not want his ascendancy to the Office of Evil to penalize the folk of that region. No one he had known remained alive, of course, but still... In 1349 the Black Plague spread throughout Spain and down the west coast of Africa, north across France and into southern England. The other Incarnations remained helpless to stem its progress. Thanatos fell months behind on his rounds, and made increasing errors of classification. A number of souls that should have been relegated to Heaven arrived instead in Hell. Ozymandias had to set up a separate section for them, an emulation of Heaven, with demons masquerading as angels and doing nice things. It was a joke, but it had its appeal; those souls who were favored were allowed vacations there, provided they kept silent about its true nature. Parry knew that in due course those undamned souls would have to be reassigned to Heaven, and he did not want them to suffer culture shock.
In 1349 the plague spread throughout England and Ireland and the Holy Roman Empire, skipping only Flanders, because Father Grief had a Franciscan friar friend there.
At this time Parry received a visitor. It was a young mortal woman from the city of Warsaw, in Poland. She had committed her soul not for riches or happiness but for the privilege of this single interview with the Incarnation of Evil. Intrigued, Parry granted it, and had Nefertiti usher her in.
By an eerie coincidence, the woman bore a resemblance to Jolie, Parry's first love. Perhaps it was no more than the fact that she was of peasant stock, garbed in the rags that were her nearest approach to finery, and was young and thin and terrified. It had after all been more than a hundred and forty years since the frightened Jolie presented herself at his door.
He looked at the spot on his wrist. It was so faded as to be almost invisible against his darkened skin, but it was still there. Was she still present, sleeping in that dehydrated drop of blood? Or had she at last been released to Heaven? Suddenly he missed her with an overwhelming nostalgia. His first love? His only love! He had been corrupted by the demoness, and had much joy of her malleable body, but he had never truly loved her.
"My Lord Satan," the girl said timorously. "Before You relegate my soul to eternal torture, I have one—one boon to ask of You, and I—I pray that You grant it." She was shaking with her fear, but something drove her on.
What could such a creature desire so badly that she would throw away the one asset she had, her immortal soul, to gain it? "Ask," Parry said, not unkindly. That resemblance to Jolie still shook him.
"Your Lordship, the plague—they say it is Your doing, to get back at those who humbled You."
"True."
"But it is hurting everyone, the good and the evil alike, and most of these never tried to humble You. I was visiting in Prague, and—oh, my Lord, if You could only see!"
It was ridiculous, he knew, but Parry wanted a pretext to remain a while longer with this girl. He knew she wasn't Jolie, but the atmosphere of the encounter was so evocative that he could not help himself. Perhaps it was also her innocence that fascinated him, for that was a quality he seldom saw these days.
"Show me," he said. He stood from his throne and extended his hand.
The girl nerved herself and took his hand.
He worked his magic, and suddenly they stood in Prague, in the Kingdom of Bohemia. As a mortal he had been virtually unable to conjure, but his office enhanced his powers of magic, and he had been at pains to master useful disciplines. Now he could conjure himself and others anywhere with ease, not merely within Hell but in the mortal realm.
It was a horror. There were bodies piled in the street, and these were purplish, almost black in hue, the features of their faces locked in the rictus of their closing agony. Men with wagons were going about, picking up the bodies, piling them up and hauling them to a mass burial pit beyond the city.
They walked through Prague, hand in hand. Parry did not need to maintain the contact to keep her with him, but the girl did not know that, and he did not undeceive her. The feeling of being with Jolie was heart-wrenchingly strong.
They saw the victims in every stage. The early sufferers had headache, aching joints, and a general feeling of malaise. Some had nausea, and some were vomiting. Swollen nodes developed in the groin, some the size of hens' eggs; it was possible to spot a sufferer of the plague by the way he walked. They developed high fever and congestion of the eyes and face. Many suffered from severe thirst, gulping down water that often was simply vomited out again. Their tongues were gross, thickly coated.
Those who were more advanced were exhausted and depressed. Some ran around crazily, as if they thought they could escape their pain. Others seemed dizzy, and some evidently suffered delirium. Then they sank into stupor, and their color started to turn. That was the signal that death was imminent. Many, Parry knew, required the personal service of Thanatos, for their souls were nearly in balance between good and evil, but Thanatos was not in evidence. That meant added suffering, for they could not quite die until the Incarnation of Death arrived.
Indeed, it was much worse than Parry had thought. He had started the plague, impinging on Gaea's domain, thinking it would embarrass her and cause her mischief, but the ploy had succeeded beyond his expectation. It was wiping out one third of the population it attacked, and doing it in a grotesque manner.
"O my Lord," the girl said. "When I think of this coming to my own city, to Warsaw, to Poland—"
Parry released her hand and snapped his fingers. "Beelzebub," he said.
Beelzebub appeared. He glanced around. "Hell on Earth!" he said approvingly.
"Turn off the plague," Parry said.
Beelzebub had held the office of the Incarnation of Evil in olden times. He had become an increasingly open supporter of the present regime as the plague progressed; Parry was doing the Office proud, scoring a coup against Gaea and Thanatos and perhaps against God Himself. This order could hardly have been to his liking! But he had discipline.
"My Lord Satan, the magnitude of it is too great. Only Gaea can suppress it, when she masters her powers. I can halt it only in a limited region, by piping away the rat fleas that carry it."
Parry nodded, knowing that Beelzebub was giving an accurate report. "Then save Poland,"
he said. "Make sure Prague is included in the plague-free area."
"That I can do, though it is the limit of my power," the damned soul said. He vanished.
The girl turned a wondering gaze to him. "That demon will stop the plague?"
"In Poland," Parry said. "He can do no more. It will proceed elsewhere until it runs its course."
"Then I am ready for my fate," she said simply. "Throw me into Hell."
Parry took her hand again, and used his magic to take them to Warsaw. Here life was normal; the plague had not struck, and would not. "Return to your family," he said. "You are not dead, and need not die soon. You will never come to My realm, good woman." He turned her loose.
She stared at him. "But I gave up my soul—"
"For one interview with Me. I granted the interview, but will not take your soul. You are good, not evil, and do not belong in My realm." He turned away.
He was about to conjure himself back to Hell, but he paused, lingering one more moment in the presence of this girl who so reminded him of his lost love. He knew he had done the favor not because it was right but because he could not resist the foolish impulse to please her, and thereby in some devious manner perhaps make up for what he had done to Jolie by his defection to evil.
She spoke once more, her voice almost a whisper. "Thank you, Parry."
He stiffened, hardly believing what he had heard. Then, slowly, he turned, but the girl was gone.
Had he heard her call him by the name that only Jolie would have known, or had he imagined it? He realized that he might never know for sure, but he preferred to believe that Jolie had awakened for this moment, when he was out of Hell and away from the demoness and doing a bit of good that was out of character for his office, and that she had in that moment animated the girl and spoken to him.
He had his reward.
The plague did run its course, proceeding through the rest of Europe in 1350 and 1351 but bypassing the huge area of Poland from just north of Prague to north of Warsaw. In 1352 and 1353 it moved on past Novgorod and through Russia, doing decreasing damage. By that time Gaea had gained facility with her office, and though she still had a problem with other illnesses, such as smallpox, she never again allowed as massive a sweep of the Black Plague as had occurred in these eight years. Parry had, in his fashion, his revenge, and now it was done.