Zane decided to ponder that later. Right now he had to organize himself. He needed to figure out what to do with the baby soul, for one thing. He was not going to send it to Hell, and might not be authorized to send it to Heaven. Probably he should take it to Purgatory for expert designation. He assumed that if Heaven and Hell were literal, so was Purgatory — but where was it?
"There is so much I don't know!" he exclaimed.
"This, too, shall pass," someone answered him.
Chapter 3
EWES AND DOES
Zane jumped. A man sat in the adjacent seat. He was perhaps fifty, with a mustache and goatee and piercing blue eyes. He held a small double cone in his hand.
"You must be immortal," Zane said, after a moment of fevered thought.
"In a sense," the man agreed. "I am another Incarnation, like Fate and Death."
Zane studied him, suspecting that he should recognize the man, but he did not. "Who — ?"
"I am Chronos, colloquially known as Time." He tilted the cones, and fine sand sifted from one to the other. It was an hourglass.
"Time!" Zane exclaimed. "But you're young!" Only that was inaccurate. "At least, not old — "I am ageless," Chronos corrected him. "I realize I have been depicted by ignorant artisans as ancient, but I prefer to operate in my prime."
"Did I — the watch — ?"
"Yes, Death, you summoned me. I am, of course, attuned to all manner of chronometry, especially that practiced by key figures. You signaled me by locking the countdown on ten minutes. Ordinarily Death either freezes the timer where it is or resets it to gain necessary travel time; to do both is a code. Naturally I came to see what you wished, as we Incarnations do try to accommodate one another. It is, after all, one firmament."
"I didn't realize I was signaling you," Zane said sheepishly. "I'm new at this. In fact, I hardly realized you existed as a person."
"As a personification," Chronos corrected him. "An Incarnation of an essential function of existence. Persons differ, but the role continues."
"That's another thing it's hard to get used to — the notion that things like Death and Time are offices, not physical laws or whatever."
"We are roles and offices and laws and more," Chronos assured him. "We are also human beings, and that human quality is important."
"I was just trying to find out how the watch worked. There doesn't seem to be any function for the hours dial."
"It records your schedule backlog," Chronos said easily. "You have recycled your next client by seven minutes and thirty-seven seconds; you have also placed the entire program on hold. This is, of course, your prerogative; you are Death. You can even halt the passage of all time by pulling out the center button. But if you maintain the hold more than half an hour, it will register on the hours dial as a tardy schedule that needs to be made up. If you run more than twelve hours late, overflowing the capacity of the watch, there will be an investigation by the authorities at Purgatory that could damage your performance rating."
"Oh? What happens to me if my rating is bad?"
"That counts as evil on your soul, shifting your balance toward Hell. Of course, you are in perfect balance during your initiation period; every officeholder needs time for trial and error. But when that passes, and at such time as you give up the office, for whatever reason, a negative rating could make your soul most uncomfortable."
Zane was getting it straight. He held the office of Death, but he remained alive, and the account of his soul was yet to be settled. "My predecessor — where did his soul go?"
"He had done an adequate job, generally; I'm sure he found his way to Heaven, which is the last refuge of adequacy."
That made Zane feel easier. "And if I do a good job, I will go to Heaven, too — when the time comes?"
"If it comes. You should. Since you commence the office balanced, and performance is fairly straightforward, it should not be difficult for you to improve your position."
"How do you know my soul is balanced?"
"If it were not, Death would not have had to come for you individually — "
Zane laughed. "You know, I never thought of that! My good and evil were even, so when I tried to suicide, I had to be collected by Death himself. And if I hadn't seen Death arriving, I would be dead now!"
"It is an unusual situation," Chronos agreed. "But at the same time normal. Each Death assassinates his predecessor, thereby burdening his own soul with more evil, but postponing his own reckoning indefinitely. I hardly envy your system."
"Your system differs?"
"Certainly. Each office has its own mechanism of transmittal, some gentler than others. But all of us work together as required, treating one another's offices with due respect. I feel indebted to the prior Death, who did me a favor on occasion, and regret that it was necessary for him to leave the office. Now I will facilitate things for his successor, as he would have wished."
"He doesn't hate me?" Zane asked, bemused.
"There is no hate in Heaven."
"But I murdered him!"
"And you will be murdered by your successor. Do you hate him?"
"Hate my successor? I don't even know him!"
"Your predecessor did not know you. Otherwise he would have been more careful."
Zane changed the subject. "I have just taken a baby. It is perfectly balanced, a uniform shade of gray. I don't know how it can have so much evil on its soul, so well integrated, or what I should do with the soul. Can you advise me?"
"I can clarify the matter. The baby is probably the child of incest or rape, so carries the burden of intensified Original Sin. Such children, conceived in evil, do not commence life with a clean slate."
"Original Sin!" Zane exclaimed. "I thought that was a discredited doctrine!"
"Hardly. It may not be valid in non-Christian parts of the world, but it is certainly operative here. Belief is fundamental to existence, and guilt is very important to religion; so guilt does carry across the generations."
"I don't like that!" Zane protested. "A baby has no free will, especially before it's born. It can't choose the circumstances of its conception. It can't sin."
"Unfortunately, you do not determine the system; you only implement it. All of us have objections to aspects of it, but our powers are limited."
"And I don't know where to take the baby soul. I don't know how to get to Purgatory, assuming that is the proper place."
Chronos laughed. "It is the proper place, and it is simple enough for you to reach. You reside there."
"I do?"
"When not actively pursuing souls. You have a fine Death house, a mansion in the sky."
"Well, I've never seen it," Zane said, nettled. "How do I —?"
"You ride your fine pale horse there."
"My pale horse?"
"Death rides a pale horse. Surely you were aware of that. Mortis is always with you."
"Of course I know about Death's traditional steed! But I don't know where any such horse is!"
Chronos smiled indulgently. "You know where; you don't know what." He patted the dash panel. "This is Mortis."
"The car?" Zane was baffled. "I know its plate says MORTIS. But it's a machine!"
"Press this button." Chronos indicated one on the dash that Zane hadn't noticed before. It had an embossed motif of a chess piece — the knight, the image of the head of a horse.
Zane pressed the button — and found himself astride a magnificent stallion. The hide of the horse was as pale as bleached bone, his mane was like flexible silver, and his hooves were like stainless steel. He lifted his great equine head, perked his ears forward, and snorted a snort of pale vapor.
Zane had daydreamed of owning a flying horse. Now he knew his dream had been amply fulfilled. This horse had no wings, but he could go anywhere!