deity,” he reminded her firmly. “You can call it a temple if you like. I don’t know what it is yet, but they’ve got to have something to do, so they’ve got to build it. Just think if mortals were to pray to us, to me and to you, and make blood sacrifices in this place. And then my servants will sacrifice themselves.”
“You are unbearable.”
“I had someone to learn from,” he remarked reasonably, perhaps recalling his former lord. His words made sense, Rhianon thought.
“Stop this construction,” she asked.
“Why is it?”
“It is to please me.”
He seemed to find that answer to his liking. She couldn’t turn around to look him in the face as he hurtled across the sky with her, but she thought for a moment there was a contented grin on his face.
“You’re just like me. And you don’t like their cries either. They make me feel better sometimes, though. It’s always nice to know that someone is suffering a little, and not just enjoying the pain of the world. I can never get used to the suffering of others, Rhianon. I can’t imagine why these things whimper when the real pain is unknown to them.”
“I suppose it is known only to you.”
“Oh, yes, it is,” he said. He had already brought her into the tent and set her on the bed. The folds of the new smoky gold garment he’d given her rustled pleasantly. It seemed that this dress of unknown fabric could change color on its own. Not long ago it had been blue, then emerald, and now gold again. The whole gamut of colors was in that fabric, just as the whole palette of pain was reflected in the eyes of the fallen angels.
Madael understood without words what she was thinking and crouched beside her.
“I won’t let you suffer,” the lilies were ready to bloom from his touch, but she remembered the blood and the fire and the screams of hell.
“You won’t have to go through what they did, believe me, I won’t let that happen.”
“Why is it not?”
The answer stunned her.
“I don’t know.”
At first she didn’t even believe it. Whether he was joking or trying to fool her again with his heavenly philosophy, but his voice sounded quite serious. Only someone who really couldn’t comprehend himself could speak so thoughtfully. She looked at him and realized, he really didn’t know. How complicated he was, a mistake of nature and at the same time its crowning glory, he could not comprehend his own feelings.
“Then can you answer one question about my kingdom for me?”
“Yes,” he looked at her eagerly.
Rhianon hesitated for a moment. It was hard for her to ask and she was afraid to hear the answer.
“I’ve asked you this before, but I want your answer honestly. Why is it Loretta? Why would you fight on their side if there was no justice with them?”
“No,” he agreed. “But there’s more evil on Menuel’s side.”
He lowered his head for a moment, unsure of what to say. There was a moment of hesitation on his handsome face, and then he spoke again.
“You see, there are chosen ones… These people are a mistake, but they are extraordinarily valuable. God wants them to know the world in suffering, only then can they create. My demons whisper to people to do evil to these chosen ones, but in turn, anyone who has wronged them will face unbearable punishment. It’s an endless cycle, and I’m tired of it. In Menuel, on the other hand, there are blacksmiths who are almost as gifted as my Zwergs. They’re almost as close to divinity, and for that alone they should be gone, or at least those of them who are particularly gifted. But that doesn’t bother me anymore, because I’ve seen many civilizations crumble, countries and cities disappear, villages burn. I myself have often accompanied this along with my fallen armies. I don’t care which side I fight on, because I support no one myself.
“Except justice,” she reminded me.
“That’s God’s notion, not mine, and it’s pretty streamlined,” he reached up and gripped the hilt of the sword against the stock. “Justice is in the blood. It’s the way of the world. And it makes me sick.”
He looked as if he were about to let out a sigh of fire from his pale lips that would devastate everything. Rhianon shrank back involuntarily. But in a moment he looked back at her, and his eyes were clear.
“It was as if I wanted to say, before I met you,” he said, “that I have someone to defend and a fighter on whose side I must fight now. I am always on your side.”
“And what is it about Menuel?” She asked after a lingering silence.
He shrugged dismissively.
“The wretched workmen and drunks. They had not only made fun of one of the chosen ones, they had almost killed him. They’d had their fun that day. Arnaud barely got away from their dogs, barely survived… but he stayed. I think he had already forgotten about the incident, but the payback came, in due time, in my person… You see, it’s all an endless cycle, and the deceptive feeling of peace only makes it harder to come back. And everyone on this earth can be considered a sinner, and I will catch up with them sooner or later. First is Menuel, then it is Loretta. Believe me, after a deceptive victory, defeat will be even harder for them.”
“Yes, and now I have to do with my own hands all the things I opposed. And, believe me, that’s the worst punishment.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Rhianon,” he put his hands on her shoulders, careful not to crush her fragile human bones. Strange, he could have killed her, and she was not afraid.
“God makes you do things that even from the outside you couldn’t bear to watch. He destroys you with your own hands. What a cruel way to crush a strong will.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You would have, if after your first defeat, you hadn’t grown indifferent. All the desires in you fell asleep as soon as you lost.”
“You woke them up.”
“But you still obey his orders.”
“Do you?” He drew her to him, as if to say that he’d already broken a cardinal command by forbidden intimacy with a human. For some reason he had always put her above all humans. He did not even express it with words, only with quiet gestures of reverence, admiration, even some kind of adoration, rather than love. She had learned to guess his thoughts. He thought about taking by force something that should never have belonged to him.
One thought roused him. It was time to discard not only his sword, shield, and cloak, but also the clothes that were no longer necessary. He quickly freed himself from his armor. With his hands he helped Rhianon remove her dress. He needed her scalding kisses, as he had once prayed. He needed this beautiful toy on his bed with a human body and a consciousness close to that of an angel. If God thought that expelling him from paradise deprived him of heavenly pleasure, how misguided he was.
“This is where paradise is,” Madael whispered, pressing his lips against hers and running his fingers along the exposed curves of her body. “The paradise I was never supposed to return to, but here it is…”
All the gloomy thoughts were really gone. The crushing pain was gone, dissolved into the bliss of earthly coitus. That pain had clutched him in a vise ever since he’d fallen, and now it was gone. Perhaps when he awoke in Rianon’s arms it would resume, but at least not as much as when his bed was empty. In those days he could not sleep, sleep would not come to him, oblivion would not come, his scorched mind would rush like a fever. Perhaps that was the punishment, no one explained to him, but his mind was racing as if caged. The gloomy, empty world, devoid