Piers Anthony - On a Pale Horse

"Yes," Zane agreed, seeing it now. "I use a camera, you use paints. They used entire caves. The spirits of these animals are still here,"

"No, we are there," Molly reminded him. "Today the caves of Lascoux, Altamira, Perch-Merle, and the rest are tourist traps with no soul remaining. We ghosts are trying to preserve the true spirits, but it isn't easy."

"Of course it isn't easy," Luna said. "But you must keep up the excellent work."

The cart passed through a wall, out of the cave, and into a man-made labyrinth. "The maze of the Minotaur, in old Crete," Molly said. "This is our earliest historical reference to the bull-man."

"I thought you were an illiterate peasant girl," Zane said. "You don't sound that way."

"Oh, I can't read or anything," Molly said. "It is very hard to learn fundamental skills like that after death. I just sell shellfish; it's the one thing I do well. But I've been dead much longer than I lived, and I have had the chance to educate myself that I lacked in life. I wasn't stupid when I lived, just ignorant. There's a lot to learn, simply by watching the follies of the living. See, there's the Minotaur now."

Indeed, the bull-man was pacing about his central chamber, lifting his horns and sniffing the air suspiciously, as if becoming aware of the intruding party. "I don't suppose you want the gossip about how he was conceived," Molly said. "How the Queen Pasiphae of Crete had a passion for the Bull from the Sea, who was really a sort of masculine demon, but the Bull wasn't interested in her, so she — "

"We know the story," Luna said curtly. Zane could understand why she did not want to discuss the matter of lovely women making love to demons.

Then they were out of the maze and rolling along a Roman highway. "Are you enjoying this?" Zane asked in Luna's ear.

"I haven't been on a date — in a long time," she answered obliquely. "Most men shun association with the family of a Black Magician."

"Their loss," he said, drawing her in more closely. She melted against him, and it was very pleasant.

"How can you save the world from Satan in twenty years if you are doomed to die within a month?" Zane asked, remembering something the ghost had said.

"Maybe I can influence Satan in Hell," she suggested.

"I don't want you in Hell!" he protested. "I don't want you dead at all."

"We must all die," Molly said. "What hurts is dying out of turn." She was, of course, in a position to know.

Zane pondered that, as Luna snuggled most pleasantly close. Those were the clients he had trouble with, intellectually and emotionally — the ones who were dying early because of accident or misunderstanding or plain bad luck. A game that played itself out and was finished was one thing; its score was known. But one that was interrupted before its course was run was a tragedy. Maybe he was abusing his office by talking a potential suicide out of it, or rescuing a drowning man, while facilitating the demise of an old and worn-out person, yet that was the way he had to play it. He had precious little of a worthwhile nature to distinguish himself, but it was important to care about people.

"Penny for your thoughts," Luna murmured as they cruised through a medieval Chinese city. Zane was sure each setting on this tour was a highly significant historical event, and Molly was happily describing it all, but somehow he wasn't interested at the moment. "I don't want you dying out of turn," he whispered. "You're a lot better woman than I deserve, and if — "

"Despite my affair with the demon?" she asked.

Why did she have to remind him of that? "To Hell with the demon!" he exploded.

"Which is exactly where he went," she agreed. "I had to tell you, or any relationship we might have would be a lie. I am unclean, Death, and I will never be clean again, and you must know —"

"We've been over this before!" he cried. "You did something horrible to help your father — as I did to help my mother. How can I condemn you for that?" Yet of course he had condemned her, emotionally; he had not been able to avoid it. The notion of some gross demon from Hell sating himself upon her body — "What did you two do that was so horrible?" Molly asked.

"She gave her body to a demon, to learn the magic that might help her father," Zane said.

"And he used a penny curse to make the machinery that was keeping his mother alive against her will malfunction," Luna said.

"I guess those were sins," Molly agreed doubtfully. "I think sometimes you just have to sin in order to do the right thing."

"If I could have helped my father with a penny curse, I'd have done it," Luna said.

"And if I had to romance a demoness to spare my mother her pain, I'd have done it," Zane said.

"Some of those demonesses are mighty sexy," Molly said. "They say there's no sex like succubus-sex. Of course, I wouldn't know."

"That does sound interesting," Zane said.

Luna reached up, caught hold of one of his ears, and drew his face down to meet hers. "Try this first," she said.

The kiss was electrifying. She had forgiven him his prior reaction and was giving him her emotion. It was a wonderful gift.

"And this is Tours," Molly said, gesturing to a new scene beyond the cart. Zane had no idea how many important historical scenes he had missed. "Where the French halted the advance of the Moors, and Europe was saved for the Europeans."

"Good for the Europeans," Luna said, resting her head against Zane's neck. Her topaz joy stones affected him as they touched his skin, suffusing him with rare joy. Or maybe it was just Luna's touch that did it.

Still he cursed inwardly. He had foolishly lost an ideal romance and now had another developing in its place — but this one would end within a month. That might be the reason the first Love stone had not pointed him at Luna, who in certain respects was a better woman than Angelica. He had never gotten to know Angelica, but was judging her on the basis of his expectations. Luna was a poorer match because she would not live long. The Love stone did not care about details; it merely matched up the greatest good for the longest period. That was the trouble with inanimate magic; it left so much untold.

Yet he realized that this misfortune had a perverse enchantment. He had been somewhat diffident about approaching Luna, for he wasn't sure whether Death should date a mortal woman, or whether a Magician's daughter would have anything to do with the likes of him when not compelled by magic, or how he felt about a person who had been used by a minion of Hell. Now, with the awareness of her mortality, he knew such diffidence could not be afforded. Whatever she could be to him, she had to be now — for there would be no tomorrow.

"But you could disassociate immediately, sparing yourself sorrow," she pointed out.

"No, that would be like a rat leaving a sinking ship." Then he did a mental double take. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"I inherited more than Truthstones and Lovestones and Death stones," she said teasingly. "The right spellstones can enable a person to do anything, even read minds."

"But you aren't using black magic now, because it — "

"Brings me closer to the demon," she finished for him. "You're right — I'm not using magic. I merely have a pretty good notion of the nature of your thinking."

"How? You don't know me that well yet."

"Did you desert your mother when she needed your help?"

"That's different — " He paused, reconsidering. "No, I guess it isn't. I have much evil on my soul, but I don't desert sinking ships."

"So you are a mixed person, with good as well as evil, as I am. I am selfish to come to you in this fashion, when I did not do so before."

"Yes, you did. You offered — "

"My body. The least valuable aspect of me. Now I offer more."