st half century-- can Heaven hold  this  world in fief
much  longer? Heaven  fell that day at  Keenset. Another generation, perhaps
two,  and  its power over  mortals  will have  passed.  In  this battle with
Nirriti  they will be  hurt  further, even in victory. Give them a  few more
years  of  decadent glory.  They become  more and more impotent  with  every
season. They have reached their peak. Their decline has set in."
     Yama lit a cigarette.
     "Is it that you want someone to kill Brahma for you?" asked Sam.
     Yama sat  silently,  drew upon the cigarette, exhaled. Then, "Perhaps,"
he said. "Perhaps that is it. I do not know. I don't like to think about it.
It is probably true, though."
     "Would you like my guarantee that Brahma will die?"
     "No! If you try it, I'll kill you!"
     "You  feel that  you do not really know whether you want Brahma dead or
alive.  Perhaps it is that you love  and hate simultaneously.  You  were old
before you were young, Yama, and she was the only thing you ever cared  for.
Am I right?"
     "Yes."
     "Then I have no answer  for you,  for  your own troubles, but you  must
separate yourself this much from the problem at hand."
     "All  right,  Siddhartha.  I vote to stop Nirriti  here  at Khaipur, if
Heaven will back us."
     "Does anybody have any objections to this?"
     There was silence.
     "Then let us  journey to the Temple  and commandeer  its communications
unit."
     Yama put out his cigarette.
     "But I will not speak with Brahma," he said.
     "I'll do the talking," said Sam.

     <i>Ili</i>, the fifth note of the harp, buzzed within the Garden of the Purple
Lotus.
     When Brahma activated the screen within his Pavilion, he saw  a man who
wore the blue-green turban of Urath.
     "Where is the priest?" asked Brahma.
     "Tied up  outside. I can have him dragged in, if  you'd like to  hear a
prayer or two. . ."
     "Who are you that  wears the turban of the First and  goes armed in the
Temple?"
     "I have a strange feeling of having been through all this once before,"
said the man.
     "Answer my questions!"
     "Do you want Nirriti  stopped. Lady?  Or do  you want  to  give him all
these cities along the river?"
     "You try the patience of Heaven, mortal? You shall not leave the Temple
alive."
     "Your  threats of death mean  nothing  to the  chief of the  Lokapalas,
Kali."
     "The Lokapalas are no more, and they had no chief."
     "You look upon him, Durga."
     "<i>Yama</i>? Is that you?"
     "No, but he is here with me-- as are Krishna, and Kubera."
     "Agni is dead. Every new Agni has died since. . ."
     "Keenset. I know, Candi. I was not  a member of the original team. Rild
didn't kill  me. The phantom  cat who  shall remain nameless did a good job,
but it  wasn't good enough. And now I've crossed back over the Bridge of the
Gods. The Lokapalas  have  chosen me as their leader. We will defend Khaipur
and break Nirriti, if Heaven will help us."
     "Sam . . . it couldn't be you!"
     "Then call me Kalkin, or Siddhartha, or Tathagatha, or Mahasamatman, or
Binder, or Buddha, or Maitreya. It's Sam,  though.  I have  come  to worship
thee and make a bargain."
     "Name it."
     "Men have been able to live with Heaven, but Nirriti is another matter.
Yama and Kubera have  brought weapons into the  city. We  can fortify it and
whip up  a  good defense. If Heaven will add its  power  to our own, Nirriti
will meet his  downfall at Khaipur. We will do this, if Heaven will sanction
Acceleration  and  religious  freedom, and  end  the  reign of  the Lords of
Karma."
     "That's quite a bit, Sam . . ."
     "The first two merely  amount to agreeing that something does exist and
has a right to go  on.  The  third will come to pass whether you like  it or
not, so I'm giving you a chance to be graceful about it."
     "I'll have to think . . ."
     "Take a minute. I'll  wait. If the answer is no, though, we'll pull out
and let Renfrew have this city, defile this Temple. After  he's  taken a few
more, you'll  have to meet him. We won't  be around then, though. We'll wait
till it's  all over. If you're  still in business then, you won't  be in any
position to decide about those terms I just gave you. If you're not, I think
we'll be able to take the Black One on and best him and what will be left of
his  zombies. Either way, we get what we  want. This  way  is easier on you,
though."
     "All right! I'll muster  the forces immediately. We will  ride together
in this last battle, Kalkin. Nirriti dies at Khaipur! Keep someone there  in
the comm-room, so we can stay in contact."
     "I'll make this my headquarters."
     "Now untie the priest and bring him here. He  is about to receive  some
divine orders, and, shortly, a divine visitation."
     "Yes, Brahma."
     "Sam,  wait! After the battle, should we live, I would  talk with you--
concerning mutual worship."
     "You wish to become a Buddhist?"
     "No, a woman again . . ."
     "There is a place and a moment for all things, and this is neither."
     "When the time and the moment occur, I will be there."
     "I'll get you your priest now. Hold the line."

     Now after the fall of Lananda, Nirriti held a service amid the ruins of
that city,  praying for  victory over the  other  cities. His dark sergeants
beat the  drums slowly and  the zombies fell to  their knees. Nirriti prayed
until the perspiration covered  his face like a mask of glass and light, and
it  ran down inside  his prosthetic armor,  which  gave  him the strength of
many.  Then he lifted up his face  to the heavens, looked upon the Bridge of
the Gods and said, "Amen."
     Then he turned and headed toward Khaipur, his army rising at his back.

     When Nirriti came to Khaipur, the gods were waiting.
     The troops from Kilbar were waiting, as well as those of Khaipur.
     And the demigods and the heroes and the nobles were waiting.
     And the high-ranking Brahmins and many of the followers of Mahasamatman
were waiting. These latter having come in the name of the Divine Esthetic.
     Nirriti looked  across the  mined  field that  led to  the walls of the
city,  and  he  saw the four horsemen who were the  Lokapalas waiting by the
gate, the banners of Heaven flaring beside them in the wind.
     He lowered his visor and turned to Olvegg.
     "You were right. I wonder if Ganesha waits within?"
     "We will know soon enough."
     Nirriti continued his advance.

     This was the day  when the Lord of Light held the field. The minions of
Nirriti never entered Khaipur. Ganesha fell beneath the blade of  Olvegg, as
he  was attempting  to  backstab Brahma, who had closed with Nirriti  upon a
hillock. Olvegg then fell, clutching his stomach, and began  crawling toward
a rock.
     Brahma and the Black One then  faced one another on  foot and Ganesha's
head rolled into a gully.
     "That one told me Kilbar," said Nirriti.
     "That one wanted Kilbar,"  said Brahma, "and tried to  make  it Kilbar.
Now I know why."
     They  sprang together and Nirriti's  armor  fought  for  him  with  the
strength of many.
     Yama spurred his horse toward  the rise and was enveloped in a swirling
of dust and  sand. He raised his cloak to his eyes and  laughter  rang about
him.
     <i>"Where is your death-gaze now, Yama-Dharma?"</i>
     "Rakasha!" he snarled.
     "Yes. It is I, Taraka!"
     And Yama  was suddenly  drenched with gallons of  water;  and his horse
reared, falling over backward.
     He was  upon his  feet  with his blade  in his  hand, when the  flaming
whirlwind coalesced into a manlike form.
     "I've washed you clean of that-which-repels, deathgod. Now you shall go
down to destruction at my band!"
     Yama lunged forward with his blade.
     He  cut through his gray  opponent from shoulder to thigh, but no blood
came and there was no sign of the passage of his blade.
     "You cannot cut  me down as you would a  man, oh Death! But see  what I
can do to you!"
     Taraka leapt upon him, pinning his arms to his sides and bearing him to
the ground. A fountain of sparks arose.
     In the  distance,  Brahma  had  his  knee upon Nirriti's spine  and was
bending his head backward, against the power  of the black  armor. This  was
when Lord  Indra leapt down  from the back  of his  slizzard and raised  his
sword Thunderbolt against Brahma. He heard Nirriti's neck break.
     "It is your cloak that protects you!"  Taraka cried out, from  where he
wrestled on the ground; and then he looked into the eyes of Death. . . .
     Yama felt Taraka weaken sufficiently to push him away.
     He sprang to his feet and  raced toward Brahma without stopping to pick
up his blade. There on the hill, Brahma parried Thunderbolt again and again,
blood spurting from the stump of his  severed  left  arm and streaming  from
wounds of the head and chest. Nirriti held his ankle in a grip of steel.
     Yama cried out as he charged, drawing his dagger.
     Indra  drew back,  out of  range of  Brahma's blade, and turned to face
him.
     "A dagger against Thunderbolt, Red One?" he asked.
     "Aye," said Yama, striking with  his right hand and dropping the  blade
into his left for the true strike.
     The point entered Indra's forearm.
     Indra dropped Thunderbolt and struck Yama in the jaw. Yama fell, but he
swept Indra's legs out from under him, carrying him to the ground.
     His Aspect possessed him completely then, and as he glared Indra seemed
to wither  beneath his gaze. Taraka leapt upon his back just  as Indra died.
Yama tried  to  free himself, but it felt as if  a  mountain lay across  his
shoulders.
     Brahma, who lay  beside Nirriti, tore off  his harness, which had  been
soaked with demon repellant. With his right hand he cast it across the space
that separated them, so that it fell beside Yama.
     Taraka withdrew, and Yama  turned and gazed upon him. Thunderbolt  then
leapt up from where it had fallen  upon  the ground  and sped toward  Yama's
breast.
     Yama seized the blade with both  hands,  its point inches away from his
heart. It began to move forward and the blood dripped from the palms of  his
hands and fell upon the ground.
     Brahma turned a death-gaze upon the  Lord of Hellwell, a gaze that drew
now upon the force of life itself within him.
     The point touched Yama.
     Yama  threw  himself to  the side,  turning,  and  it  gouged him  from
breastbone to shoulder as it passed.
     Then his  eyes were two spears,  and the Rakasha lost  his manlike form
and became smoke. Brahma's head fell upon his breast.
     Taraka screamed as Siddhartha rode toward him  upon a white  horse, the
air crackling and smelling of ozone:
     "No, Binder! Hold your power! My death belongs to Yama . . ."
     "Oh foolish demon!" said Sam. "It need not have been . . ."
     But Taraka was no more.
     Yama fell to his knees beside Brahma and tied  a tourniquet  about what
remained of his left arm.
     "Kali!" he said. "Don't die! Talk to me. Kali!"
     Brahma gasped and his eyes flickered open, but closed again.
     "Too late," mumbled Nirriti. He turned his head and looked at Yama. "Or
rather, just in time. You're Azrael, aren't you? The Angel of Death . . ."
     Yama  slapped  him, and  the blood  upon his  hand  was  smeared across
Nirriti's face.
     "'Blessed  are  the  poor  in spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  kingdom of
heaven,'"  said Nirriti.  "'Blessed  are they that mourn, for  they shall be
comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.' "
     Yama slapped him again.
     "'Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after  righteousness, for
they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. . . .'"
     "'And blessed are  the peacemakers,'" said  Yama, "'for they  shall  be
called the children of God.' How  do you fit  into  the picture. Black  One?
Whose child are you, to have wrought as you have done?"
     Nirriti smiled and  said, "'Blessed are  they  who  are persecuted  for
righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.'"
     "You  are  mad," said  Yama,  "and I will not take your life  for  that
reason. Give it away yourself, when you are ready, which should be soon."
     He lifted Brahma then in his  arms  and began  walking back toward  the
city.
     "'Blessed  are ye,  when men shall revile  you,'"  said Nirriti,  "'and
persecute you, and say all manner of evil things against you falsely, for my
sake. . . .'"
     "Water?"  asked Sam, unstoppering  his canteen  and  raising  Nirriti's
head.
     Nirriti  looked  at him, licked his lips,  nodded slightly. He trickled
the water into his mouth.
     "Who are you?" he asked.
     "Sam."
     "You? <i>You</i> rose again?"
     "It doesn't count," said Sam. "I didn't do it the hard way."
     Tears filled  the Black  One's eyes. "It means you'll  win, though," he
gasped. "I can't understand why He permitted it . . ."
     "This is only one world, Renfrew. Who knows what goes on elsewhere? And
that  isn't  really the fight I wanted  to win,  anyhow. You know  that. I'm
sorry for you, and I'm sorry about  the whole thing. I agree with everything
you said to Yama, and so do the followers of the one they called the Buddha.
I  don't recall any longer  whether I was really that one, or whether it was
another.  But I am gone away  from  that one now. I shall  return to being a
man, and  I  shall  let the people keep  the Buddha who is in  their hearts.
Whatever the  source,  the message was  pure, believe me. That  is  the only
reason it took root and grew."
     Renfrew swallowed another drink.
     "'Even so every good tree bringeth forth good fruit,'" he said. "It was
a will greater than mine that  determined  I die in  the arms of the Buddha,
that decided upon this  Way for this world. . . . Give me  your blessing, oh
Gautama. I die now. . ."
     Sam bowed his head.
     "'The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north. It
whirleth about continually, and  the wind  returneth again according  to his
circuits. All the rivers run into the sea, yet the sea is not full. Unto the
place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again. The thing that
hath been, it is that which shall be, and  that which is done is that  which
shall be done. There is no remembrance of former things, neither shall there
be  any remembrance of things that  are to  come with those that  shall come
after. . . .'"
     Then he covered the Black One with his cloak of white, for he had died.

     Jan Olvegg was born  in a litter into the town. Sam sent for Kubera and
for Narada to meet him at the  Hall of Karma,  for  it  was  apparent Olvegg
would not be long alive in his present body.
     When  they entered the Hall, Kubera  stumbled over the dead man who lay
within the archway.
     "Who . . . ?" he asked.
     "A Master."
     Three more wearers of the yellow wheel lay within the corridor that led
to their transfer rooms. All of them bore arms.
     They found another near the machinery. The thrust of a blade had caught
him precisely  in the  center of  his yellow  circle, and  he  looked like a
well-used target. His  mouth  was  still opened  for the scream  he'd  never
screamed.
     "Could the townsmen have done this?"  asked  Narada.  "The Masters have
grown more unpopular  in recent  years. Perhap they  took  advantage of  the
battle frenzy. . ."
     "No," said Kubera, as he raised the stained sheet that covered the body
upon the  operating table, looked beneath it, lowered it. "No, it wasn't the
townsmen."
     "Who, then?"
     He glanced back at the table.
     "That's Brahma," he said.
     "Oh."
     "Someone must  have told  Yama he couldn't  use the machinery  to try a
transfer."
     "Then where's Yama?"
     "I have no idea. But we'd better work  fast if  we're going  to  manage
Olvegg."
     "Yes. Move!"

     The  tall youth  strode  into  the Palace of Kama and  asked after Lord
Kubera.  He bore a long, gleaming  spear across his shoulder, and  he  paced
without pause as he waited.
     Kubera entered the chamber, glanced  at  the spear, at the youth,  said
one word.
     "Yes, it is Tak," replied the spearman. "New spear, new Tak. No need to
remain an ape any longer, so I didn't.  The time of departure  is near, so I
came to say good-bye-- to you and to Ratri. . . "
     "Where will you go, Tak?"
     "Td like to  see  the rest of  the world, Kubera, before  you manage to
mechanize all the magic out of it."
     "That day is nowhere  near at hand, Tak.  Let me persuade you to stay a
while longer. . ."
     "No, Kubera. Thank you, but Captain Olvegg is  anxious to get along. He
and I are moving out together."
     "Where will you be going?"
     "East, west.  . . who  knows?  Whatever quarter beckons. . . . Tell me,
Kubera, who owns the thunder chariot now?"
     "It belonged to Shiva  originally, of course. But there no  longer is a
Shiva. Brahma used it for a long while."
     "But  there no longer is a Brahma. Heaven is without  one for the first
time-- as Vishnu rules, preserving. So . . ."
     "Yama built it. If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to him . . ."
     "And he has no use for it," finished Tak. "So I think Olvegg and I will
borrow it for our journeying."
     "What mean  you he  has no use for it? No one has  seen him these three
days since the battle-- "
     "Hello,  Ratri,"  said Tak, and the goddess of Night  entered the room.
"'Guard us from the  she-wolf and the wolf, and guard us from the  thief, oh
Night, and so be good for us to pass.'"
     He bowed and she touched his head.
     Then he  looked  up into her  face,  and  for  one splendid  moment the
goddess filled wide space, to its depths and its heights. Her radiance drove
out the dark. . ..
     "I must go now," he said. "Thank you, thank you-- for your blessing."
     He  turned quickly  and started from the chamber.  "Wait!" said Kubera.
"You spoke of Yama. Where is he?"
     "Seek him at the Inn of the Three-Headed Fire-Hen," Tak said,  over his
shoulder,  "if you  must  seek him, that is.  Perhaps 'twere better you wait
till he seeks you, though."
     Then Tak was gone.

     As Sam approached  the Palace  of  Kama, he  saw  Tak hurrying down the
stair.
     "Tak, a good  morning  to you!" he called, but Tak did not answer until
he was almost upon him.  Then  he halted abruptly and  shielded his eyes, as
against the sun.
     "Sir! Good morning."
     "Where hurry you, Tak?  Fresh from trying out your  new body and off to
lunch?"
     Tak   chuckled.   "Aye,  Lord  Siddhartha.  I've  an  appointment  with
adventure."
     "So I've heard.  I  spoke with Olvegg  last night. . . . Fare thee well
upon thy journeying."
     "I wanted to tell you," said Tak, "that I knew you'd win.  I knew you'd
find the answer."
     "It wasn't <i>the</i> answer,  but it was an answer, and it wasn't  much, Tak.
It was just a small battle. They could have done as well without me."
     "I mean," said  Tak, "everything. You figured in everything that led up
to it. You had to be there."
     "I suppose I  did . . . yes, I do suppose I did. . . . Something always
manages to draw me near the tree that lightning is about to fall upon."
     "Destiny, sir."
     "Rather an accidental social conscience and  some right mistake-making,
I fear."
     "What will you do now. Lord?"
     "I don't know, Tak. I haven't decided yet."
     "Come with Olvegg and me? Ride with us about the world?  Adventure with
us?"
     "Thank you, no. I'm  tired. Maybe I'll ask for your old job  and become
Sam of the Archives."
     Tak chuckled once more.
     "I doubt it. I'll see you again. Lord. Good-bye now."
     "Good-bye. . .. There is something . . ."
     "What?"
     "Nothing. For a moment, something you did reminded me of someone I once
knew. It was nothing. Good luck!"
     He clasped him on the shoulder and walked by. Tak hurried on.

     The innkeeper  told  Kubera  that they  did have a guest who  fit  that
description, second  floor,  rear room, but that perhaps  he  should not  be
disturbed.
     Kubera climbed to the second floor.
     No one answered his knocking, so he tried the door.
     It was bolted within, so he pounded upon it.
     Finally, he heard Yama's voice:
     "Who is it?"
     "Kubera."
     "Go away, Kubera."
     "No. Open up, or I'll wait here till you do."
     "Bide a moment, then."
     After a time, he heard a  bar lifted and the door  swung several inches
inward.
     "No liquor on your breath, so I'd say it's a wench," he stated.
     "No," said Yama, looking out at him. "What do you want?"
     "To find out what's wrong. To help you, if I can."
     "You can't, Kubera."
     "How do you  know? I,  too, am an artificer-- of  a different  sort, of
course."
     Yama  appeared  to  consider this, then he  opened the door and stepped
aside. "Come in," he said.
     The girl sat on the  floor,  a heap of various  objects before her. She
was scarcely more than a child, and she  hugged a brown and  white puppy and
looked  at  Kubera  with wide, frightened eyes,  until  he gestured and  she
smiled.
     "Kubera," said Yama.
     "Koo-bra," said the girl.
     "She is my daughter," said Yama. "Her name is Murga."
     "I never knew you had a daughter."
     "She is retarded. She suffered some brain damage."
     "Congenital, or transfer effect?" asked Kubera.
     "Transfer effect."
     "I see."
     "She is my daughter," repeated Yama, "Murga."
     "Yes," said Kubera.
     Yama dropped to his knees at her side and picked up a block.
     "Block," he said.
     "Block," said the girl.
     He held up a spoon. "Spoon," he said.
     "Spoon," said the girl.
     He picked up a ball and held it before her. "Ball," he said.
     "Ball," said the girl.
     He  picked  up the  block  and  held it before  her again. "Ball,"  she
repeated.
     Yama dropped it.
     "Help me, Kubera," he said.
     "I will, Yama. If there is a way, we will find it."
     He sat down beside him and raised  his hands. The spoon came alive with
spoon-ness  and the  ball with  ball-ness and the block with block-ness, and
the girl laughed. Even the puppy seemed to study the objects.
     "The Lokapalas are never defeated," said Kubera, and the girl picked up
the block and stared at it for a long time before she named it.

     Now it is known  that Lord Varuna returned to  the Celestial City after
Khaipur. The promotion system within the ranks of Heaven began to break down
at about this same time. The Lords of Karma were replaced  by the Wardens of
Transfer, and their function was divorced  from the Temples. The bicycle was
rediscovered. Seven Buddhist shrines were erected. Nirriti's Palace was made
into an art gallery and Kama Pavilion. The Festival of Alundil continued  to
be  held every year, and its  dancers  were  without equal. The purple grove
still stands, tended by the faithful.
     Kubera remained with Ratri  in Khaipur. Tak departed with Olvegg in the
thunder chariot, for an unknown destination. Vishnu ruled in Heaven.
     Those  who  prayed  to the seven Rishi thanked them for the bicycle and
for the  timely avatar of the Buddha, whom they named Maitreya, meaning Lord
of  Light, either because he could  wield lightnings or because he refrained
from doing so. Others  continued to call him Mahasamatman and said he  was a
god.  He  still preferred  to drop  the Maha- and  the -atman, however,  and
continued to call himself Sam. He never  claimed to  be a  god. But then, of
course, he never  claimed not  to  be a god.  Circumstances  being what they
were, neither admission could be of  any  benefit.  Also, he did not  remain
with his people for a sufficient period  of time to warrant much theological
by-play. Several conflicting  stories  are told concerning  the  days of his
passing.
     The one  thing  that is common to all the legends is  that a large  red
bird with a tail thrice the length of its body came  to him  one day at dusk
as he rode upon his horse beside the river.
     He  departed Khaipur before sunrise  the following day and was not seen
again.
     Now  some  say  the occurrence of the bird was  coincidental  with  his
departure, but in no way connected with  it. He  departed to seek  anonymous
peace of a  saffron robe because  he had finished the task for which  he had
returned, they say, and he  was already tired of the noise and  fame of  his
victory.  Perhaps the bird reminded  him how quickly such brightness passes.
Or perhaps it did not, if he had already made up his mind.
     Others say  that  he did  not take up the robe again, but that the bird
was a messenger of the Powers Beyond Life, summoning him  back  again to the
peace of Nirvana, to  know  forever the Great Rest, the perpetual bliss, and
to hear the songs  the stars sing upon the shores of the great sea. They say
he has crossed beyond the Bridge of the Gods. They say he will not return.
     Others say that he  took  upon him a new identity,  and  that  he walks
among mankind  still, to guard and guide in the  days of strife,  to prevent
the exploitation of the lower classes by those who come into power.
     Still others say that the  bird was a messenger, not of the next world,
but of this one, and that the message it bore was not meant for him, but for
the  wielder of Thunderbolt,  Lord Indra, who had looked into  the  eyes  of
Death. Such a  bird as the red one had  never been seen before, though their
kind is now known to exist upon the eastern  continent, where Indra had held
battle  against the witches. If  the  bird bore  something like intelligence
within its flaming  head, it might  have carried the message of some need in
that far-off land. It must be remembered that the Lady Parvati, who had been
either his wife, his mother, his  sister,  his  daughter, or perhaps all  of
these to  Sam,  had fled to that  place  at the time the phantom cats looked
upon Heaven, to  dwell there with the witches, whom she  counted as  kin. If
the bird bore such a message, the tellers of this tale do not doubt but that
he departed immediately for the eastern continent, to  effect  her  delivery
from whatever peril was present.
     These are the four versions of Sam and the Red Bird Which Signalled His
Departure, as  told  variously  by  the moralists, the  mystics,  the social
reformers, and the romantics. One may, I  daresay,  select whichever version
suits his fancy. He should, however, remember that such birds definitely are
not found upon the western continent, but seem  to be quite prolific in  the
east.
     Approximately a half year later, Yama-Dharma  departed Khaipur. Nothing
specific is known of the  days  of the deathgod's going,  which most  people
consider ample information. He left his daughter  Murga in the care of Ratri
and Kubera and she  grew  into a  strikingly beautiful woman.  He  may  have
ridden into the  east, possibly even crossing  over the sea. For  there is a
legend in another place of how One in Red went up against the  power  of the
Seven  Lords  of  Komlat in the land of  the witches. Of this, we cannot  be
certain, any more than we can know the real end of the Lord of Light.
     But look around you . . .
     Death and Light are everywhere,  always,  and they begin, end,  strive,
attend, into and upon  the Dream of the Nameless that is the world,  burning
words within Samsara, perhaps to create a thing of beauty.
     As  the  wearers of the  saffron robe  still meditate upon the  Way  of
Light, and  the  girl who is named Murga  visits the Temple daily, to  place
before her dark one in his shrine the only devotion he receives, of flowers.