Piers Anthony - On a Pale Horse

Satan harrumphed, and his horns glowed. "A month ago you were the least of pip-squeaks scrambling to pay your back rent. The assumption of a cloak and scythe does not convert a nothing-creature to a something-creature. You have delusions of grandeur that will quickly be dispelled. You bluff, mortal man."

For answer, Zane swept the deadly scythe at Satan's ankles and tail.

The Prince of Evil jumped back, avoiding the cut. He flicked his fingers, and a sparkling globe of energy floated at Zane's face. "Fool! Then feel the wrath of Satan!"

Zane stood still, not even attempting to evade the globe. It settled about his head, blazing high, coloring his vision as if he looked out from an inferno, but there was no heat. In a moment it dissipated harmlessly. The Deathhood had protected him. "The bluff is yours. Father of Lies."

Satan sneered. "You talk big, mortal man, holding the magic scythe and wrapped in the magic cloak, backed by the magic steed. These are mere tools of the office. Without them you are nothing."

"You lie again," Zane said. "You have no power over me, regardless." He set down the scythe and lifted the cloak from his shoulders.

"No!" Luna cried from the chair. "Don't let Satan trick you into powerlessness, Zane!"

Now it was her faith that was weak, instead of his. Zane smiled and threw the cape aside. Then he removed his shoes and stripped off his gloves and gems.

"You are indeed a fool," Satan gloated.

"Then all you have to do is stand still," Zane said, "and we shall make the proof of my prerogatives." Slowly he reached one bare hand toward the Devil.

Satan nudged back. "What idiocy is this? I can destroy you with a single flick of My finger!"

"Then you had better do it," Zane said, "for I am about to hook your soul with my own finger." He extended his hand farther.

Satan moved back some more, staying just clear. "Pool! I am trying to spare you the ignominy of being humiliated!"

"How very kind of you. Father of Lies." Zane leaned forward, shooting his hand at Satan's midsection.

The Devil puffed into nothingness.

Zane turned to see the Prince of Evil reform behind him. "So you got behind me, Satan," he remarked. "I have moved you. Do you think that improves your position? Strike, Lucifer! Do not spare my feelings any further. Humiliate me. Destroy Death while he stands vulnerable. I turn my back on you again, to facilitate your chastisement." And he turned away.

Satan sighed. "You have prevailed. Death. You called My bluff and forced Me to give way. You have at last realized your full power."

"What else is news?" Zane picked up his cloak and got dressed again.

"If I may inquire," Satan asked without sarcasm, "as one Incarnation to another — what gave you the clue?"

"The fifth pattern of matchsticks," Zane said.

"Intuitive thinking," Satan agreed, comprehending immediately. "That would do it."

"I realized that if there were any way for you to meddle in the affairs of Death, or to stop Death from performing his duty, you would have done so long ago. No magic cloak would have stopped you, the Incarnation of Evil, the personification of black magic, whose powers of enchantment are not matched anywhere on Earth. It had to be inherent in the office, not in the paraphernalia. Death has to be inviolable, absolutely certain. Not even God, the Incarnation of Good, acted against Death when I declined to exercise my power in the world. Only Death can determine his business. Therefore you had to be powerless against me in this instance. I cannot defend this by logic; I simply know it is true. I have faith in my office."

Satan nodded. "You do indeed. Against that faith, even I can not prevail. Yet had you chosen another issue, you would never have been able to oppose Me. Your power is less than Mine, as evil lives after death."

"I recognize that," Zane said. "But I met you on my own turf, which is not a matter of physical locale. Never again will you bluff me there."

"You were a man performing an office," Satan said. "Now you have become the office."

"Yes."

"And who informed you about the formations of matchsticks?"

"Nature," Zane said, realizing only now the extent of her oblique advice to him.

"That green mother!" Satan snarled with disgust, and vanished.

Zane went to Luna. "Begone, vermin," he told the thugs, who hastened to oblige.

"But how did you do it?" Luna asked as he untied her and put the Death cloak about her bare torso. "No one is stronger than Satan, except maybe God."

Zane realized that she had not grasped all the implications of his confrontation with the Prince of Evil. She still thought of him as a man — and indeed, he was a man, with a man's love for his woman. "To be strong is not to be omnipotent," he explained. "There are seven Incarnations, not five, when we include Good and Evil, rendering them G-od and D-evil. No one can say for sure whether one Incarnation is superior to another, but certainly each is supreme in his own bailiwick. So while Death can not balk Satan's administration of Hell, however corrupt it may be, Satan cannot balk Death's activity either. And no Incarnation can directly harm any other, unless that other accedes by design or ignorance or carelessness. Once I realized that and truly believed it and comprehended its implications, Satan had no further power over me." He smiled. "Or you. I'll take you by Purgatory now, to verify that Satan has dropped his claim to your early demise. Then I'll resume my job."

"You are brilliant!" she exclaimed. "Once you had that revelation, Satan himself was unable to oppose you. I see now the wisdom of my father's decision in giving me to you. I'm sorry I lacked the faith in you that you had in me."

She did not realize how weak his faith had been, before his intuition! "I hoped Satan could not oppose me," he admitted.

She stared at him. "You mean you didn't know?"

"How can one know an intuition? There is no direct connection between question and answer. I could not be sure of its validity until I tested it."

"So you deliberately stripped yourself of all your magic and challenged Satan — not sure you were right?"

"That is so," he confessed, embarrassed.

"Why, Zane, that's the most courageous act I ever saw!"

"It was my final desperation ploy, when I realized that Satan himself was participating. If there had been any other way — "

"I thought I could love you, before," she said. "Now I am sure of it."

"It was not, ultimately, for love I did this," he said. "Love counseled me to let you die and go to Heaven so you would not suffer any more pain. But I had to keep you alive for your role in saving humanity from Satan twenty years hence."

"Yes," she agreed. "Now I know I will never yield to Satan. I have come to understand him too well." She paused, turning to Zane. "One other thing — "

He looked at her. The torture had not broken her spirit. Her flesh surely had not recovered, but she was radiantly beautiful in the Deathhood. "Yes?"

Luna flung her arms about him and kissed him with amazing passion. "Those, twenty years until my turn comes," she said. "You and I — "

"Life and Death," he agreed.

They mounted Mortis and leaped for Purgatory.

They arrived at the Mansion of Death, and Zane conducted Luna inside. She was mortal, but somehow he had known he could take her with him this time. He could take her anywhere — alive. She was now his acknowledged Death maid.

They settled in the living room, relaxing, and watched the television. "The hearing petitioned by Death has been canceled," the news announcer said. "The issue has been resolved privately." The announcer smirked. "It is rumored that the horns of the Prince of Evil are still steaming."

"That's what I wanted to verify," Zane said. "You definitely will not die before your time, Luna. Now I can return to my work."