"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.

"No," said Zeus, "a potential ally. He is going to come here and ask for something. We must speak to him reasonably and do what he requires."

"And then?"

"And then, children, it will be our chance to take over the world again."

"Ah, it's the new fellow!" Zeus said when Michael finally arrived.

The archangel found it hateful, the way Zeus referred to him as the new fellow - as if he were some recently jumped-up deity, rather than a spiritual being of a power equal to Zeus'.

"Mind your manners," he said to Zeus. "We still have powers capable of blasting you and your half-naked crew of sybarites to the deepest h.e.l.l."

"We just came from there," Zeus said. "Once the worst has happened, it doesn't have quite the same power over you as before. Anyhow, what did you want to see me about?"

"You are aware, I suppose," said Michael, "that a new power has entered the cosmic stage?"

"The matter has not escaped our attention," said Zeus. "What about it?"

"You know of this immorality play that the demon Azzie is trying to stage?"

"I've heard about it," Zeus said. "Seems a cute idea to me."

"If it has the effect on mankind that I expect, it will serve you no better than it will us."

"How do you figure? We Greek deities don't have much truck with notions of Good and Evil."

"This scheme is beyond Good and Evil."

"Well... So?"

"This scheme is not only amoral, it undermines the idea that Character is Fate."

"What? What was that?" Zeus asked.

"I thought that would gain your attention," Michael said. "But that is not all. Not only is Azzie's play going to prove that Character is not even Fate, but also it will demonstrate that the Unexammed Life is Well Worth Living."

"That is too much!" Zeus said. "How can we put a stop to it?"

"We need to pursue the tactics of delay," Michael said. "There's nothing I can do personally. I have already been warned by Ananke. But if you - or, better, one of your children-would care to do a little favor for me..."

Phoebus arose. He smiled. "I would be delighted to help," he said. "Just tell me what it is you want me to do."

"It would involve the Cyclops," Michael said. "I would have something similar to what Phoebus set up for Odysseus. Only this time better. After that I'll have another little job for whoever among you does storms and rain and high wind."

Athena thought a while, then said, "We divided that function among many G.o.ds, including Poseidon and you yourself, great Zeus."

"That's true," Zeus said. "Well, we'll a.s.sign the weather job to someone. Ares, how would you like a really natural way of making war?"