Time passed, but Natasha did not return. The Livin' Sludge completed its engagement in Hawaii and

made it safely back across the ocean. Now that Orb knew the Song of Day, she had no fear of the

dancing skeletons; indeed, she was not certain they existed any more. She was grateful to Nat for

teaching it to her, wanted to thank him, and could not. Oh, if only she had not affronted him by testing

him! Yet still she did not see what else she could have done, given the warning of Thanatos and

Chronos.

Lou-Mae shook her head. "You had better go to him, Orb," she said. "We've got a few days off now;

why don't we stop at the Llano plain, and you can look for him?"

"I think he would have appeared by this time, if he wanted to," Orb said sadly.

"He's a man. He has his foolish pride. He wants you to make the first move. Go out and sing for him,

and he'll hear."

Orb felt hope. "You think so?"

"I don't know a lot about men, but Jezebel does, and she makes a lot of sense. She says they think they're

superior. They really believe that their animal lust is nature's highest calling. Pretend you can't live

without him."

"I don't think I have to pretend," Orb said forlornly.

Lou-Mae smiled ruefully. "I know how it is. Pretend you're pretending. There's not a man alive and not

too many dead who would turn away from you if you sang and danced and pleaded."

"But I don't want to plead! I have my own pride!"

"What's your pride worth, without him? Same as mine without Danny-Boy?"

"Very little," Orb admitted. "He asked to court me, and I thought it was just opportunism, but every time

I hear him sing-"She shook her head. "I just want to be with him."

"That man certainly can sing," Lou-Mae agreed. "I thought no one could match you, but he-" She

shrugged.

"He can sing," Orb repeated. "I think I live, now, to sing with him."

Jezebel entered the chamber. "Someone sings as well as Orb? That I don't believe."

"You don't?" Lou-Mae asked. "You were there. You didn't like it?"

"I was where?"

"Down on the ocean, when Orb danced with the skeletons."

"Orb did what?"

Both Lou-Mae and Orb looked at her askance. "You don't remember?" Orb asked.

"I certainly don't! What are you talking about?"

Orb glanced at Lou-Mae. Did the demoness have a short memory? How could an episode like that have

escaped her so soon?

"Maybe it was a dream," Lou-Mae said diplomatically.

Jezebel shrugged. "Demons don't dream."

The guitarist wandered in, fuzzy-eyed, for it was still before noon. "Hey, big momma," he mumbled,

embracing Jezebel.
'Sokay, kid," the demoness said, stroking his head.

Orb almost choked. By day? When the succubus was middle-aged?

Then she realized that their relationship had become more than a nocturnal thing. The guitarist, deeply

insecure, had emotional need for a luscious, adoring woman by night and for a mature, supportive

mother figure by day. Jezebel was serving both needs. Orb realized that she had no call to feel disgusted;

it was better that she understand, just as it was better that she comprehend her own nature.

So it was that Jonah swam to the region of the Llano, and Orb got out and took another walk by herself.

It was summer now, and the air was nice.

She sang the Song of the Morning, and the dawn came magically, and the flowers bloomed, but Natasha

did not appear. She sang the Song of Day, but it wasn't the same without him.

Then she experimented with a combination-some of the travel theme merged with some of the storm-

generation theme and some of the Song of the Morning. The result was strange. The night closed, as it

did at the onset of the Song of the Morning, but when the dawn came it was inverted. The land was red-

orange, the sky green, and the sunrise blue. The illuminated clouds were bright, while the sun was a dark

ball. The bright region seemed to be the coldest, while the shadows were warm.

When the flowers bloomed, they started as blossoms and budded stems and roots. Startled, Orb focused

more closely on them, and they came apart into separating circles and ovals and lines, as if reduced to

their composites, which were mathematical. A larger pattern formed as the parts of the flowers

intersected each other, extending their network into the sky and the ground. The ground became

translucent, then lost its remaining cohesion.

Orb found herself standing on a pattern whose reality was shifting. The ground had become the lines of

the pattern, and her feet were sliding down between the lines. Her orientation changed, so that she was

no longer vertical, but it didn't seem to matter. She was as she was, and reality was around her. Reality?

This was no variant of the reality she had known all her life! The pattern fragments of strange flowers

were everywhere, filling her world, displacing what she had known. It was pretty in its fashion, but she

preferred the normal values. She had stopped singing, but the pattern remained. It seemed she could not

simply revert to normality.

She sang again, the straight Song of the Morning, with no admixture of other aspects of the Llano. The

fabric of the inverted flowers tore, and curled to either side as if it were paper, and disappeared.

She stood in a kind of channel that contained a single ridge whose cross section was triangular. It

seemed to be made of firm plastic, bright yellow. It was high enough for her to sit on. Beyond the

channel there seemed to be nothing, no wall, no landscape, just emptiness.

She sighted along the ridge. To one side it narrowed in the distance until it disappeared. To the other, it

broadened until it filled everything.

Perspective? No, it was literal; the size of the ridge really did change with its location; only the

convention of her prior experience had made it seem to be even.

Then she saw something moving. It seemed to be a spindle or double cone, rolling along the ridge. But

as it moved toward her, it expanded in diameter and evidently in mass, for the ridge was vibrating

increasingly. It came toward her, gathering velocity.

She remembered her geometry classes, where much effort had been expended in the analysis of conic

sections. One formula defined a slice of the cone, with the size and shape of the slice determined by the

parameters of the equation. Some sections were perfect circles, others were ovals, and others looped

through on the inside but never closed on the outside. If a knife were taken to a physical cone, so that it

sliced through the cone at different angles, these were the shapes it could make.

Now, it seemed, she had encountered the original cone. Size was one of its variables; as it changed its
location, it expanded to fill the universe as it existed at that site. That meant that there was no room left

for Orb; she was an intruder on its space. What would happen when it reached the spot where she stood?

The thing was coming at her with logarithmic acceleration. She was about to find out! Growing rapidly

enormous, it rolled upon her. She would be crushed!

She sang again, the start of the Song of the Morning. The fabric of the ridge and double cone tore and

curled, exposing the reality beyond.

It was green. A thought gave her momentary hope: the Green Mother, Nature-could she be here? But it

faded.

This was a forest, with huge, quiet trees. Moss and ferns grew up their dusky trunks. Vines descended

from their branches. Thick foliage grew at their bases.

But it was poison foliage. The surfaces of the leaves glistened with exudation. Orb knew it would be

disaster for her to allow that to touch any part of her.

Yet the foliage grew all around. She could not take a step without encountering it. As she watched, it

extended visibly, the branches closing in.

This was not the reality she desired! She sang again, and it tore across as the others had, peeling back to

reveal what lay beyond.

It was a city, with many tall buildings. Highways cut through it, separating the sections, and walks

crisscrossed, reuniting the sections. She was standing in the center of a broad street. A truck came down

that street, its tires squealing. It bore down on her. She ran to the side, but the truck corrected its course

to intercept her. Now she knew that she was no detached spectator; these settings were trying to

eradicate her!

She sang again, and the street carried up, more paper, taking the truck with it. The new reality was

revealed below.

This was a plush chamber, evidently an ornate boudoir, with a huge round bed piled with pillows.

In fact, she was in the bed, clad in a sheer night robe, the type calculated to drive any man who saw any

women in it to a madness of lust.

A door burst open, and a man entered. No, not a man, he had goat's horns and goat's feet and a caprine

beard. His body was furry, his ears were pointed, and his nose projected into a snout. He had one other

attribute that was both obvious and shocking. He was a satyr-the original creature of lust. The satyr's

blazing eye fell on her. He gave a bleat of anticipation and leaped toward her, his salient characteristic

leading. There could be absolutely no question of his intent; it was manifest in his nature and his action.

Orb whammed him in the snoot with a pillow. She rolled off the bed and fled across the floor toward the

door. But as she reached it, it closed, merging seamlessly with the wall. She scraped her fingernails

across it, trying to gain purchase, but there was nothing. The satyr made a grunt of urgency and leaped

again. He was incredibly agile. Orb dodged to the side, but one hooflike hand caught her robe. The

material stretched like hot cheese but did not tear; in a moment he was hauling her in, hand over hand,

the material molding itself to her backside while it stretched out in a tent before her, bringing her

forward in a state worse than nakedness.

She raised a foot to push him away, but he caught her leg and hauled on it, his hoof-fingers hot on her

flesh. Drool spilled from his mouth as he brought that salient characteristic into position.

Orb finally remembered her only weapon here, her voice. She sang, and the fabric of the setting tore and

curled, the satyr's expression of lust converting to rage as he saw her escaping him.

How had she gotten into this? Could she really have found herself raped by a vision conjured by a

modification in the Llano?
Now she stood near the peak of a snowy mountain, the wind cutting cruelly. She still wore the sheer

material of the robe; it bagged in front, clung behind, and offered no protection at all from the wind.

Already her bare feet were slipping on the icy slope, causing her to lurch toward a clifflike descent.

She sang, and the scene tore away. Now she was in deep night, with stars in their myriads surrounding

her. In fact she seemed to be in space, for the stars were in every direction. One was larger than the

others, closer, hotter; it drew on her body, hauling her in to itself. Its sphere seemed to expand

enormously, its fires reaching out like tentacles. Her gown burst into flame.

She sang-and the scene tore. She stood naked at a shellcovered beach, the waves of a restless ocean

surging against it. One wave developed far out, hunching itself into greater mass, looming high and

savage as it crashed toward her. She turned and ran from it-but the beach was a narrow island, with no

high ground at all, no protection. The wave loomed over her, a white crest broadening at its fringe as its

devastating descent commenced.

She sang, and the white crest became a tear. The wave was paper, disintegrating as the tear spread.

She was in a great, dimly illuminated cave, with stalactites extending from the ceiling in toothlike

points. All the hues of precious onyx shone from them; lovely swirls and patterns manifested in the

dripping stone.

This setting, at least, seemed to offer no immediate threat. Orb cast about for some natural exit, knowing

that if she sang again, the scene would tear and thrust her into a new one that might be worse. She had to

find some better way out!

She remained naked. It seemed that whatever she lost on one setting remained in that setting; she could

not recover it in the next. But perhaps she could find new clothing here and keep it with her.

She walked between the stalactites, finding a path through the cave. The light was brighter downslope;

maybe that was the exit to the surface.

It turned out to be the light of a fire. Creatures squatted beside it. She walked toward them, glad for this

sign of civilization. "Do you have-?" she began.

The creatures looked up, then leaped up. They were demons, huge and shaggy!

Orb opened her mouth to sing, but paused. The demons seemed afraid rather than aggressive. One of

their number remained down, evidently wounded or ill.

"I will-trade you," Orb said, poised to sing herself into another setting if attacked. "Some clothing-for

some healing. Do you understand?"

The demons watched noncommittally.

"I-I know a demon," Orb continued. "A succubus. Once I helped her overcome her curse. I think if I

sang a regular song-it might help your friend."

Still they stood. They did not seem to comprehend her words. But as long as they did not attack...

She moved slowly toward the sick one. What could she sing that was not the Llano and that might help?

Did the song matter, as long as her intent was to help? Why not use one of her old favorites, then?

"By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes, Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond..."

She did not have her harp with her, but the magic came, and it touched the sick demon. The demon

stirred, and a light seemed to play about it. It lifted one arm, its paw hesitating in the air.

Orb reached out and caught the paw. With direct physical contact, the channel of magic intensified. She

felt the illness in the creature, but already the malaise was retreating before the healing she was making.

By the time the song was done, the creature was much improved.
She let go its paw. "I think the tide has turned," she said. "It may take a few days yet."

One of the standing demons moved. It tramped to a pile of furs in an alcove. It lifted one and held it out.

They had understood! Gratefully, Orb took the fur. She draped it about her shoulders. It was heavy but

warm, reaching down to her knees. It would do.

"Thank you," she said. "Do you know a way out? A way to reach my kind?"

They shrugged. Then there was a rumble. The floor shook, and a stalactite fell. It was a cave-in!

Orb started to sing the Llano, but paused again. She could escape-but what would happen to these

demons if she did? Would they be crushed in the rail of rock? Some threat always manifested when she

came into a scene; if she had brought this destruction with her, she was responsible.

She could not risk it. "Touch me!" she cried. "Make a chain!" She grabbed at the paw of the ill one and

reached for one of the standing ones. "Everyone must touch!"

Confused, they linked paws, as the shaking of the cave increased. Orb sang the Song of the Morning

again, and the setting tore apart. A new setting was revealed behind it and she and the demons were in it,

standing on a cloud.

Their cloud was floating above a tranquil landscape of crosshatched fields and trees. But the tend was

far below, and there seemed to be no safe way down. Meanwhile, then feet were sinking into the stuff of

the cloud: it would not support them long.

"Must try again," Orb said, linking hands. She sang, and once again the fabric tore.

They were in what seemed to be giant intestines. Fluids pulsed through the flexing walls, and substances

oozed. Thick fluid coursed along the base. Some of it touched the foot of one demon, and the creature

jerked its foot away. Digestive add, evidently!

Orb linked and sang again. The intestines tore. They emerged into a landscape of garbage.

Cans, banana peels, coffee grounds, automobile bumpers, and soiled sheets formed a mountain of refuse.

The smell was terrible. Even the demons shied away from it.

Orb grabbed their paws and sang again. The garbage tore, and a new scene started to form-but this time

she did not stop singing. She knew she had to break the endless cycle of settings somehow; perhaps this

would do it.

The new setting tore even as it formed, and the one after that. Now they were in a mixture of settings, as

parts of partly formed scenes overlapped other parts. It was like the pages of a picture book being

flipped; by the time one scene could be glimpsed, it was gone. Then Orb saw a castle. She stopped

singing, trying to catch that scene, and succeeded. They stood in a lush garden replete with statuary, and

ahead was a large stone castle. "Maybe we can get help here," she said. The demons, bemused, shrugged

and shuffled after her as she marched toward the castle.

They came across three people near the back entrance.

Two women and a man had evidently been relaxing on a stone patio. Both women were supremely

beautiful, and the man Orb made a little scream of astonishment. "Mym!" she cried. "Orb!" he replied.

He rose gracefully to his feet and, in a moment, was embracing her. "How did you come here?"

"That's a complicated story," she said. "Just where are we?"

"In Purgatory. Didn't you know?" Then he stiffened.

"Don't tell me you're dead!"

"Dead? Why should I be dead?"
"Very few living folk come here."

Then she absorbed what he had said. "This is Purgatory? Where the dead get sorted? What are you doing

here?"

He gestured to the demons to make themselves comfortable, then led her to a chair. "I live here, now. I

am Mars."

"Mars?" she repeated blankly. "The Incarnation of War. I assumed the office, after uh, we have much to

catch up on!"

"I should think so," she agreed. "Perhaps you should introduce me to your friends."

"Oh, yes, of course," he said. "But first I must explain that-" He spread his hands, looking embarrassed.

"That our romance is over," Orb said. "Of course." Then she did a double-take. "You aren't stuttering or

singing!"

"The Green Mother took my stutter," he said. "We Incarnations do things for each other." He turned to

the beautiful fair young woman. "This is Ligeia, my beloved. She is a dead princess; I met her in Hell."

He smiled, realizing how that sounded. "Li, this is Orb, my first love."

Ligeia extended her hand. "He has told me much about you," she said graciously.

"And this is Lila, my mistress," Mym said, turning to the dusky woman. "She is a demoness, who can

assume any form."

Lila extended her hand. "I can see why he loved you," she said huskily.

Orb's mouth worked twice before she connected it to her voice. "A demon mistress? Do I

misunderstand?"

Ligeia laughed. "A prince can not be satisfied by a single woman," she explained. "He is best off with a

harem. Since Lila can assume any form, she serves in lieu of a harem. But only when I am indisposed."

"You have been indisposed rather often, Li," the demoness remarked. "Do you think I don't realize that

you are releasing him to me when you don't have to?"

"It becomes a princess to be generous, Li," the dead woman replied. "It is also known that no decent

woman can match the performance of a damned creature." Both smiled; evidently no insult was

intended.

"In my day, it seemed that one was enough," Orb said, deciding to take this lightly.

"After you, no single woman sufficed," Ligeia said.

"You know I didn't leave you voluntarily," Mym said. "I was kept under palace arrest until I agreed to

spend a month with the princess selected for a political marriage. She was Rapture of Malachite, and she

was no better pleased with the notion than I was."

"I saw a picture," Orb said. "Evidently you worked it out."

"I did not want to love her, but I did," Mym admitted.

"Then I became Mars and brought her with me, but this existence wasn't right for her, and she left me.

Now I love Ligeia. It is no affront to you, Orb. Had things been otherwise-"

"I understand," Orb said, beginning to. As a prince, Mym had been subject to the peculiar discipline of

his office. Now he was filling the role of a prince in the form of an Incarnation, and women were indeed

part of it.

"But now you must tell us how you came here in the company of demons," Mym said.

"I was looking for someone, and I sang the Llano incorrectly and got locked into a melange of settings,"
Orb said. "Each had some threat for me, but I could escape it by singing for the next. The demons were

in one; their cave was collapsing, so I brought them along. Now I need to find them a place to be."

Lila rose. "I will see to that," she said. "I know their kind."

"Another demon is my friend," Orb said. "I know you aren't necessarily bad folk."

"Not when we come under the influence of good human beings," Lila said. She approached the other

demons and spoke to them in gutterals.

They clustered about her. At last someone spoke their language!

"Who were you looking for?" Mym inquired. Orb feared she was starting a blush. "Like you, I have

found other company. But we had a-a difference, and he left. So I was looking for him."

"I have no jealousy of your friend," Mym said. "I can have no further relationship with you. Ligeia

knows that no demoness could ever replace her in my life, but you-I think I never stopped loving you,

but now it must be the love of friendship. So it is best that you have your own companion. Tell me his

name, and I will try to find him for you."

"Natasha," she said.

He cocked his head. "It is a man? I never thought-"

It was Orb's turn to laugh. "He is a man. He sings-as well as I do, with the same magic."

"Now I am jealous," Mym said, smiling. "Of course you must love him." Lila returned. "They will take

up residence in our garden," she said. "There is a cave that resembles the one they knew. They say Orb

healed one of them."

"He was ill," Orb said.

"I heard you mention Natasha," Lila said.

"Yes. He is the one I-"

"I knew one by that name once," the demoness said. "Before I departed Hell."

"A demon of Hell?" Orb asked. "Surely a coincidence of names."

"I hope so. This was no demon. He was a pseudonym of Satan himself."

Orb's breath caught. Speechless, she stared at the demoness.

"Orb would not have any interest in Satan!" Mym said.

"I realize that. But I have known Satan for millennia. It is hard for any living person to appreciate the

levels of his deviousness. If he wished to make an impression on Orb-"

"He does," Orb said. "He tried to marry me. Natasha saved me."

"I would not trust that," Lila said. "Such a scene could readily have been staged."

"But I tested him," Orb protested. "I made him touch the cross, sing a hymn-that's why he was angry."

Ligeia nodded. "Those are good tests. Surely, then, this is a legitimate man."

"Not necessarily," Lila said. "While it is true that no creature of Hell, including Satan, can do these

things, Satan can seem to do them when he chooses to. He could devise a cross from infernal material-"

"It was a silver cross, worn by a pure-minded friend," Orb said.

"That would be very hard for him to get around," Lila admitted. "Still, he might wear a glove, or even

generate an illusory hand, so that he only appeared to touch it. There are ways and ways, and Satan

knows them all."
Orb was becoming increasingly upset. "I-I think I am close to loving this man. I can not bear to think

that he could be-"

"Surely he is not," Ligeia said.

But Mym remained doubtful. "It would be better to be absolutely sure," he said. "Is there any way we

can set Orb's mind at ease? The notion of her being with Satan is appalling."

"He can generate an illusion for any purpose," Lila said. "Only through his actions can you know him

absolutely, for he is the Incarnation of Evil."

"What action could Satan never take?" Mym asked.

"He could never do genuine good or side with right against wrong. Evil must do evil, though he may try

to clothe it in a semblance of good."

"Then can we arrange one more test?" Mym asked. "It has become doubly important to me to set Orb's

mind at ease. I would not have her hurt in any way, for she was my first love and my salvation. Also, I

would not give Satan any satisfaction of any nature whatsoever; he is my absolute enemy."

"I don't want any more tests!" Orb said. "I can't even find Nat now, and if-"

"This is for me more than for you," Mym said. "I must be assured that you are in good company, on a

personal and professional level."

"Professional level?"

"I am the Incarnation of War," he reminded her. "If Satan is trying to subvert you, we may be sure it is

for nefarious purpose, and it behooves me to prevent it."

Orb was swayed. She knew that Mym would not play her false, even if their romance was over. Lila's

words had instilled in her a new doubt, and it was indeed best to have it laid to rest. She did feel guilty,

yet still could not see a better course.

She temporized. "I don't even know where he is, now," she said. "Or exactly how I got here. If I sing

again, this reality may tear across, and I'll be lost again."

"The Llano is a dangerous tool," Lila said. "You have to use it properly, or reality does get

compromised."

"You know of it?" Mym asked her. "I have heard of it, but never had experience with it."

"The Llano can move a person in and out of Hell itself," the demoness said. "It is one of the fundamental

tools of magic. The tiniest portion of it can work what some call miracles. When she misapplied it,

naturally she was in trouble. But all she has to do is neutralize the imperfection, and the problem will

end."

"You know how to do that?" Orb asked, excited.

"That much, yes," Lila said. "Of course it won't work for me, because of my origin, and I don't know the

rest of it, but that much I picked up from a former lover, some centuries back. It's just an elementary

counter theme that resets things at their nominal values."

"Will you teach it to me?"

"Certainly. It goes like this." She paused. "Just a moment while I assume my singing form." She

shimmered, and was abruptly in the form of a stout opera singer, complete with medieval robe.

She sang a rather simple melody that nevertheless had an eerie quality. It lasted only a few bars.

"That's it?" Orb asked.

"That's it," the demoness said, shifting back to her sultry, sexy format. "As I said, it can have no effect
when I sing it, but you should be able to make it work. It's the same theme the Purgatory Computer now

uses to cancel its own glitches, but it long predates the computer."

Orb sang it, exactly as she heard it. She felt the magic operating, subtly adjusting what was around her,

as if something that had been unseated was now settling into its proper place.

"I felt it!" Lila said. "Now you can travel under control."

"You mean I can use the same mechanism to change voluntarily?" Orb asked. "I can go to any of those

settings?"

"Of course. Wasn't that what you intended to do before?"

"No. I just got caught up in it."

"That must have been a harrowing experience," Ligeia said sympathetically.

"It was. If I hadn't happened to land here, there's no telling where I would have finished."

"Oh, you would have been all right," the demoness said. "You were just skipping randomly about the

globe. You would have come to somewhere you recognized, eventually."

"But there was danger everywhere I went!" Orb said. "Bad waves, cave-ins, or satyrs chasing me in a

bedroom-" Now, belatedly, she became aware of her attire: the demons fur draped somewhat

haphazardly across her bare body. She must be a sight!

"Probably because of the error in the Llano," Lila said.

"It tended to put you at the dangerous fringe of reality. This site is no exception: Purgatory is the brink

of Hell for many souls."

"Do you-I'm not properly dressed-" Orb said, embarrassed. "Of course, my dear," Ligeia said

immediately. "I have many suitable gowns. Except-"

"They won't hold up beyond Purgatory," Lila finished. "Because they are of supernatural stuff. Let me

make her present material into an outfit." She approached.

"But I can't take it off!" Orb protested, glancing at Mym.

"No need," Lila said. "He's gotten quite enough ogling for this hour." She touched the fur, and it

writhed, changing shape on Orb, becoming a snugly fitting sleeveless dress.

"You are a well-formed woman."

"Mym's taste runs to that," Orb said, glancing at each of the other females significantly.

"But only your flesh is mortal," Ligeia said. "Therein lies its special appeal."

"Yours is mortal!" Mym told her.

Ligeia put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, so it is, now! I forgot! I animated a mortal body for you." She

turned to him. "So why were you ogling her, dear?"

"She didn't realize what she was showing," he said, shamefacedly.

"And there we have the voyeuristic truth of the male nature," Ligeia said. "Always seeking the illicit

thrill. I'm sure he never stared like that when you offered it to him openly, Orb." She frowned. "Do you

realize what this means?"

"I'm banished to the harem," Mym said, chastened. Ligeia turned to Lila. "Can you assume the form of a

zombie?"

"Of course," the demoness agreed, "Exactly how rotten did you have in mind?"

Then, seeing Mym's look of horror, all three women burst out laughing. "Actually, I can play the role
perfectly well myself," Ligeia said. "I was dead a long time before he rescued me from Hell."

Obviously Ligeia was very sure of her man. Orb envied her the relationship, and not just because it was

with Mym.

"If I may change the subject," Mym said determinedly, "we do have a test to run. Let me look up this

man Natasha." He turned and walked into the castle.

"I tease him, but he is a good man," Ligeia said.

"I know," Orb agreed.

"Is it true you had his baby?"

"It is true," Orb said, surprised. "How did you know?"

"I looked you up in the record, of course. I thought it best to learn his past history. It was terrible, what

happened to you."

"I suppose I can't object, since my mother is Fate."

"Do you know why Satan should be interested in you?"

"There was an old prophecy, dating from before my birth, that indicated I might marry Evil," Orb said.

"I suppose that attracted his attention."

"It could simply be the challenge of it," Lila said. "Satan has no shortage of women, demon, dead, and

mortal alike. But like our Incarnation here, he prefers what is forbidden. A lovely mortal woman,

daughter of an Incarnation, forewarned against him-there, perhaps, is the ultimate challenge."

"And so it can remain," Orb said hotly. "I have absolutely no interest in the Prince of Evil!"

"Of course you don't," Ligeia agreed.

Mym emerged from the castle. "I found a listing for a male singer named Natasha," he said. "That must

be him. I noted his summoning theme, so Orb can reach him."

"Summoning theme?" Orb asked.

"Every person has one," Mym explained. "That's how we Incarnations locate individuals accurately and

quickly. I'm sure Thanatos and Fate couldn't operate without that tool."

"And what of the test, dear?" Ligeia inquired.

"There is an action coming up now," he said. "An encroachment on a reservation that could escalate into

bloodshed. I was going to squelch it outright, but it should do for this purpose. The sides of good and

evil are solidly established. Satan is unable to associate with good, so if he's involved, it will be clear

enough."

"A possible escalation into war-and you wish to suppress it?" Orb asked, surprised.

"An irony," he responded. "As Mars, I try to control war, not incite it. Otherwise much evil would

accrue, as Satan well knows."

"And you say I can summon Nat?" Orb asked, not at ease about this. "Yes. I suggest you bring him to

the site and ask him for help in righting wrong. A true mortal will be able to do that; Satan will not."

"But if I test him again-"

"I will intercede," Mym said. "He will listen to me."

She sighed. "I hope so. I don't want another man taken from me in the manner of the first."

"I think your mother would not do that to you again," he said. "Actually, she was not in the office when

it happened. Now take my hand." She took his hand. A great red sword appeared in his free hand,
glowing. Then the scene was moving around them, with blurred rapidity. Suddenly they were standing

at the fringe of an American Indian village. Women and children were packing dried herbs, evidently

preparing them for sale.

"They are magic herbs," Mym explained. "The native Indian magic remains the most potent; they have

had many generations to perfect it. Those herbs are extraordinarily valuable and represent the major

source of income for the tribe."

"Why aren't they reacting to us?" Orb asked.

"We are invisible and inaudible. You will become evident to them when you lose physical contact with

me; my sword does it. But first I must give you the summoning theme. The action is just about to

break."

"But isn't there danger, then?" He brought out a colored stone. "Hold this; it will protect you from

physical harm." She took it. "It looks like one of the Magician's charms that Luna inherited."

"It relates," he agreed. "Now here is the theme." He hummed a brief melody.

"That will summon Natasha?" she asked doubtfully. "It will," he assured her. "Be ready; the raiders are

on their way." He turned loose her hand. Orb walked toward the Indians. "Hello," she called.

"May I see your wares?"

The Indians turned to her, surprised, for they had not seen her arrive.

Then a carpet sailed in, one of the large utility models, supporting four rough-looking men. They carried

rifles and pistols. One of them fired into the air. "That stuff is ours!" he cried.

The Indians were stunned. Their braves were not present; the packing was women's work. They had no

weapons.

The carpet landed beside the table. The men began grabbing at the bags of herbs.

A young woman approached them. "Please," she said. "Those herbs-we have labored all season to grow

and harvest and prepare them, so their magic would be strong. Our tribe will starve if-"

One of the men whirled on her. "Shut up, squaw!" he said, tossing a bag into a bin on the carpet. Then

he took a second look. The woman was lovely, the very picture of the Indian maiden, her black hair

braided with bright beads. "Second thought, I'll take you, too."

The maiden screamed, but the man produced a rope and trussed her up and tossed her onto the carpet.

"You're going to be a lot of fun, breaking in, before I put you on the slave market," he grunted.

Another man spotted Orb. "Hey, there's one for me!" he exclaimed, stepping toward her.

But Orb had seen more than enough. She sang the summoning melody.

Suddenly Natasha was there, looking startled. "Who why-?"

"I did it," Orb said. "These men are stealing these Indians livelihood, and their women, too. We must

stop them!"

"But-"

"It's a plain case of good against evil," Orb said. "Don't you agree?"

"Hey, who's this character?" the first woman-stealing man demanded.

"Is she right?" Nat demanded in return. "Are you stealing what belongs to these Indians?"

"Yeah," the man said, drawing his pistol. "You object?"

Nat looked at Orb, then at the bound Indian woman. "What do you plan to do with the captive?"
The man laughed. "Hey, you a pansy? Whatcha think I'm going to do with the squaw?" He brought the

gun to bear.

"Then I must ask you to desist," Nat said. "What you are doing is wrong."

"Bye-bye, pansy," the man said, and pulled the trigger. But as he did so, Natasha started to sing. It

sounded like another aspect of the Song of Day, but it had more of an edge to it.

The effect was electric. The man froze in place, his finger not quite completing its pull on the trigger.

The others also stood where they were, not moving. The sound mesmerized them, as it did Orb; it was

impossible to act while it dominated.

Then it intensified. Nat's voice seemed to fill the universe with its power, making the trees shiver and

the ground reverberate. He faced the men, and the men crumpled and fell, their eyes staring unblinkingly

into the sky. The effect was directed, for Orb did not fall, and neither did the Indian women and

children.

Then Nat eased off and finally let the song expire. The four raiders were unconscious, sprawled around

the carpet.

"Let's get this trash out," Nat said. He grabbed a man by sleeve and foot and heaved him onto the carpet.

Orb went to the bound woman, quickly untying her. Then the two of them unloaded the bags of herbs,

while Nat attended to the other men. Soon all the bags were back on the table, and all the men were

piled ignominiously on the carpet.

Then Nat stood on the carpet and sang again. This time it was a variant of the travel theme. The outlines

of all of them and the carpet fuzzed and then were gone.

The Indians stared. "I think he's taking them somewhere," Orb said.

Mym appeared. "I apologize for my suspicion," he said. "That man acted for good." He shook his head.

"I thought you were being generous when you said he could sing as well as you could, but though his

voice is different, it is hardly inferior. He is surely a proper match for you."

Natasha reappeared, coalescing at the spot he had left. He was now alone. "I deposited them in Siberia,

the Russian steppe," he said with satisfaction. "They will have a very difficult time getting free of that!

Over there, they don't coddle criminals-" He broke off, spotting Mym.

"This is Mars," Orb said quickly.

"The Incarnation of War?" Nat asked, seeming not entirely pleased. "Aren't you a trifle late?"

"He-I knew him before," Orb said.

"You were involved in war?"

"We were lovers," Mym said.

Nat's mouth hardened. "I never inquired into her past history," he said. "It wasn't my business."

Orb saw any possible reconciliation going up in smoke. "Nat, please, let me explain! It was years ago,

before I knew you, and it's over! He-he has a princess consort and a mistress now."

Nat's grimness did not abate. "You, an Incarnation, dazzled an innocent mortal woman, then threw her

over for a princess?"

"He wasn't an Incarnation then," Orb said desperately. "He didn't throw me over! He was a prince in

hiding, and he stuttered, and I had his baby-"

Nat turned to her. "That seems more than a passing flirtation."

Mym nodded. "It was love. I would have died for her. But my father would have had her killed; I had to
leave, though I wronged her grievously. Now, as she said, it is over."

"It doesn't look over," Nat said.

"Nat, please!" Orb repeated.

Mym's giant red sword reappeared in his hand. "Do you call me liar, sir?" The Sword brightened

ominously, and a trace of blood appeared at his lip.

"No, Mym, no!" Orb cried, knowing what the blood portended. He was a berserker!

Nat considered for an awful moment. "I would not call an Incarnation a liar," he said at last.

Mym relaxed. "Allow me to clarify. I will never stop loving Orb; she is the finest mortal woman I have

known. But what was an affair has become a deep friendship, and I have no romantic designs on her, nor

she on me. We each have developed other interests. I want only what is best for her."

"I appreciate the clarification," Nat said.

"Can't you see she loves you?" Mym flared.

"No!" Orb cried, appalled.

"No?" Nat asked, turning again to her.

A gulf of sorts opened around her. "Please" she whispered. "I shouldn't have spoken," Mym said. "I shall

depart."

He disappeared.

"I thought you thought I was a demon," Nat said.

"I wronged you," Orb said. "I was looking for you, and got lost, and found Mym, and-oh, please, don't

go again!"

"I suppose a person has to be more careful about love than about mere acquaintance, especially when a

prior relationship has been destroyed."

Orb stood there, feeling naked, feeling the tears on her face. "Nat, you once asked to court me..."

Abruptly he smiled. "And shall again!" he said. "I shall sing you the Song of Evening." Without further

preamble he broke into song. It was a theme like the Song of the Morning, and like the Song of Day, but

warmer than either and more tender. The melody of it spread out, bringing a kind of twilight that

intensified the scene. The Indian women stood rapt, becoming beautiful, the beads in their hair glowing.

The trees of the nearby grove were preternaturally green and clear. The sand was golden. The hues of

early sunset spread across the sky.

Orb had never experienced a song like this. It lifted her up, warmed her, suffused her with its tender

emotion, and made her an utterly feeling creature. Her gaze fixed on Nat as he sang, and he seemed to

glow like the sun, so handsome that the pleasure of his visage coursed through and through her. He had

called it the Song of Evening, but she recognized its other identification: the Song of Love.

She moved toward him as if floating on a cloud, her arms spread. The doubt in her faded, banished by

the delightful fire that was spreading from her heart to her bosom and to her whole being. As the song

finished, the seeming night closed in, and she came into his arms.

She did love him.

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