Part 26 (1/2)

”That's me,” Michael said.

”Sign here,” Quentin said.

Michael scribbled his signature on the gold-leaf bill of lading Quentin handed him. The boy folded it and put it away, and gave the heavy package to Michael.

”You aren't an angel, are you?” Michael asked.

”No, sir.”

”You're a little human boy, aren't you?”

”I believe I am,” Quentin said.

”Then why are you working in a supernatural messenger service?”

”I don't really know,” Quentin said. ”But it's loads of fun. Is there anything else?”

”I suppose not,” Michael said.

Quentin turned on his spell and was gone.

Michael scratched his head, then turned to his package. It was wrapped in plain gray paper. He tore it open and removed a large brick made of bra.s.s. Turning the brick over, he saw writing. Holding the thing up to the light so he could make out the letters, he read: ”Michael! Stop interfering at once with the demon Azzie's play. Go put on your own play if you want, but stop being swinish about Azzie's. Yours faithfully, Ananke.”

Michael put down the brick, his mood entirely ruined. Who did Ananke think she was, giving orders to an archangel? He had never really accepted the notion that Necessity, Ananke, ruled both Good and Bad. Who said it had to be that way? Sloppy planning, that's what it was. He wished G.o.d hadn't gone away. He was the only one who could really arbitrate this mess. But He had gone away, and somehow this Ananke person had been left in charge. And now here she was trying to tell Michael what to do.

”She can't make laws against me like that,” Michael said. ”Maybe she's Destiny, but she isn't G.o.d.”

He decided he'd better do something about it.

A little checking by Research showed him there were several ways of doing something about Azzie's play. Simple delay might be enough.

Chapter 2.

Try again,” Hephaestus said. ”I am trying!” Ganymede said. ”I tell you, I can't get through.”

All the G.o.ds were cl.u.s.tered around their side of the interface, the other side of which was Pandora's box in Westfall's chambers on Earth. This was the route Zeus had taken to free himself, and now all of the G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses wanted out, but the interface refused to allow them through. Hephaestus, the craftsman of the G.o.ds, had tried various tricks to enlarge the pa.s.sage. He had never worked on interfaces before, though.

It suddenly gave off a faint humming sound, and they all stepped back. A moment later Zeus walked through and stood before them in all his strength and glory.

”So the great man returns!” Hera said. She always had had a bitter tongue in her mouth.

”Peace, woman,” Zeus said.

”Easy enough for you to say,” Hera said. ”You get to play your dirty little games out in the world while we stay imprisoned here in this hateful place. What kind of a chief G.o.d do you think you are?”

”The very best,” Zeus replied. ”I have not been idle. I have a plan. But you must do what I say, for your very freedom depends on it, and upon your cooperating rather than squabbling as you usually do. I understand Michael the Archangel is coming here soon.”

”Hah! The enemy!” cried Phoebus Apollo.