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Chapter 6

 
"Evil has no friends, and therefore need not concern itself with loyalty."
—Conrad Bland

 

Ibo Ubusuku stepped off the lift, walked down the corridor to his apartment, and punched out the combination to his lock. As the door opened he tossed his red satin cape onto an ebon clothespole that had been carved to resemble an enormous phallus. Then he walked through the foyer to the kitchen, deposited two canisters of liquor he had purchased on the way home from work onto a counter, poured himself a tall drink from one, dialed a pair of ice cubes from his freezer unit, and went to his study with the intention of doing a little reading. When he got there he found a blond man of nondescript features sitting at his desk, staring emotionlessly at him.

"Who the hell are you and what do you think you're doing here?" demanded Ubusuku.

"I thought perhaps you'd like to purchase a Red Letter facsimile edition of the Compendium Maleficarum in the original Latin," said Jericho.

Ubusuku threw back his head and laughed. "You scared me half to death! Why didn't you contact me through the newspaper?"

"I ran a test ad yesterday afternoon to see if there would be any reaction."

"And they spotted it?" said Ubusuku. "Well, so much for my great idea about covert contact."

"Nobody spotted anything that I know of," said Jericho.

"Maybe I'm missing something, but if the ad went through, why didn't you follow it up with the real one?"

"Instinct," replied Jericho. "Nothing I could put my finger on. But something told me not to try it again, and I didn't make it this far by not listening to my instincts."

"How did you find me, then?" asked Ubusuku, offering Jericho his drink, which he refused.

"It wasn't that difficult. I knew there had to be a list of resident aliens somewhere in the city, and it stood to reason that the post office would possess it. So I broke in there last night, found your address, and came here."

"You broke into the post office?" repeated Ubusuku with a smile.

"Sneaked in is perhaps a better way of describing it," said Jericho. "Everything is as it was, nothing was taken, no trace of my presence was left. The video monitors will show anyone who checks them out that no one entered or left after hours."

"And you just strolled over to my apartment and made yourself at home?"

"It wasn't quite that simple," said Jericho. "I had to make sure that no one saw me enter, and that's quite a little lock you've got on your door. It took me almost ten minutes to break the code."

"Ten minutes!" exclaimed Ubusuku. "Do you know how much I paid for that damned lock?"

"I wouldn't worry about it," said Jericho impassively. "I doubt that anyone else on this planet could break in here except by force."

"Well, you're here and you're safe and sound and that's all that counts," said Ubusuku, trying to put the ease with which Jericho had gotten there out of his mind. "I've been waiting for the Republic to send someone down here for almost a year. I think you'll enjoy. Amaymon. It's got a beautiful climate and the people are—"

"I didn't come here to enjoy myself," said Jericho.

"Sorry." Ubusuku grinned. "But I've got to warn you to get rid of all your preconceptions about witchcraft and devil worship. They simply don't apply."

"Oh?"

"I thought the same as everyone else when I arrived," said Ubusuku, his enthusiasm growing. "I thought there'd be people ripping babies open by the light of the full moon and all that kind of shit. But it's not like that at all. I took a good hard look at what these people were doing and what they had, and by God—or by Lucifer, I suppose I should say—I converted!"

"I noticed the trappings," said Jericho, looking about the room, which was littered with Satanic artifacts. "This is the first private dwelling I've been in since I got here. Is it typical?"

"Not for everyone," said Ubusuku, adding with a touch of pride. "Just for my cult."

He put his glass down and started walking around the room, pointing out the various things that made it unique to him. "See this baphomet, now? All of them have goat's heads, but the beard makes it the property of the Order of the Golem. And this big round thing over here that looks like an oversized talisman? It's the Seal of Solomon, which is the seal of my cult."

"And all the pornographic paintings on the walls—are they religious symbols too?" asked Jericho with a smile.

"Absolutely!" said Ubusuku. "My cult is a little more hedonistic than most, which is really saying something for a Walpurgis cult. We're very conscious of the need for pleasure, so we surround ourselves with enchantments, so to speak. Old Nellie here," he said, giving a fond pat to the posterior of a shapely young woman who was copulating with three man-sized toads at once, "is my favorite. She was painted by a fellow who lives in the building, if you'd like to meet him—but no, of course you wouldn't. Excuse me for running off at the mouth. What's your mission here and how can I help you accomplish it?"

"I'm afraid its nature is confidential."

"It's got to have something to do with Conrad Bland, right?" said Ubusuku with a smile.

"Why should you think so?"

"Oh, come on!" Ubusuku laughed. "What else could the Republic be interested in on this planet? My guess is that you're here to kidnap him or kill him—not that I personally give a damn, mind you."

"Why not?" asked Jericho, fingering a sacrificial dagger graven with images of toads, snakes, and lizards.

"What's he to me?" said Ubusuku. "The man's a goddamned butcher, isn't he? That's got nothing to do with Satanism."

"Isn't Satan supposed to be a butcher?" asked Jericho mildly.

"No!" exclaimed Ubusuku. "You see, that's where your preconceptions lead you astray! We believe in pleasure, in indulgence, in gratification. Oh, we're opposed to turning the other cheek and a lot of that lily-white crap, but we're a religion that's based on satisfaction of the senses, not termination of them."

"From what I understand, Bland gets his satisfaction from terminating other people's senses," commented Jericho dryly.

"That's why I don't give a damn what happens to him!" said Ubusuku, seemingly unaware of the faulty logic behind his statement.

Jericho decided to let it pass. He was not, after all, here to engage in a theological debate.

"Getting back to your offer," he said at last, "you can help me by giving me some background on the society."

"History or religion?" asked Ubusuku.

"Neither, at least in an academic sense. But I'm going to have to pass for a native, and I've got to know enough about it so that I don't make any mistakes that will identify me."

"How long have you got?"

"I'm not sure," replied Jericho, wondering how close Sable was to guessing the truth. "Maybe a day, possibly two."

"It can't be done," said Ubusuku. "Oh, I could tell you what the major sects are, and how they differ in their beliefs, and what constitutes a major social blunder, and how we got to be this way . . . but I can't pass you off as a Walpurgan in two days."

"I adapt very quickly."

"No one adapts that quickly," said Ubusuku. "It took me months, and I had nothing else to do with my time except learn how to fit in. It's tricky, because it's so much like any other world of the Republic. We eat the same food, we use the same transportation, we live in the same buildings, we pay for products with currency. But on a deeper, subtler level, it's as different as a society can be."

"For example?"

"For example, I say a Regie Satanis instead of an Our Father. I don't use credits unless I'm dealing with another Republic world. I buy steaks and bread and wine, but I also buy bat wings and dead spiders. I'll walk under a ladder, but I make the Sign of the Horns whenever I hear a clap of thunder. But I speak the same language as you do, I put my clothes on the same way, I can't imagine that my sexual techniques are a hell of a lot different. Do you begin to see the problem?"

"Let me approach it another way," said Jericho. "Does everyone make the Sign of the Horns at the sound of thunder?"

"Of course not," said Ubusuku. "The Daughters of Delight do, but the Brotherhood of Night makes the Sign of Five, and I doubt that the other sects do anything much except get in out of the rain or open their umbrellas."

"Good!" said Jericho. "You've made everything a lot simpler."

"I have?"

Jericho nodded. "Now I don't have to learn every gesture and symbol around. What I need from you is a list of those symbols, reactions, beliefs, whatever, that everyone displays, no matter what their sect is."

"I can do that," said Ubusuku. "I will do that. But it won't be enough."

"Why not?"

"Because if you don't practice some form of religion you're going to stick out like a sore thumb. Look: spaceflight is cheap, worlds are cheap, and Walpurgis is on its fifth or sixth generation. Anyone who didn't believe in Satanism or witchcraft to some greater or lesser degree didn't emigrate to Walpurgis to begin with, and of course the children have been brought up with their religious principles intact for more than a century. We don't have any Christian or Buddhist underground here. Why would we, with tens of thousands of planets for the asking, and the motive power to get there affordable to just about everyone? You don't have to be a Golemite or a Messenger or an Infernal, but you've got to be something." He lit a cigar, offered one to Jericho, who refused, and began using various portions of an obscene little statue as an ashtray.

"I see."

"I could school you on the Order of the Golem," offered Ubusuku, trying unsuccessfully to hide his eagerness.

"I think not," said Jericho. "After all," he lied, "if I should be captured during the course of my mission, I wouldn't want anything about my manner or my trappings to lead them to you."

"You've got a point there," said Ubusuku. "Well, at the risk of sounding like a salesman, what sort of religion are you looking for?"

"A popular one," said Jericho. "One of the largest."

"Funny," came the reply. "I would have thought you'd have preferred one of the tiny ones."

"It's easier to get lost in a big crowd than a little one," said Jericho. "And I want a religion where the layman carries no symbols or tokens around with him, where he just goes to the rituals, mumbles a few words, and goes home."

"Well," said Ubusuku, nodding, "I suppose you'll want to become a member of the Church of Satan. Voodoo's almost as big, but most of them are black and you'd be too obvious."

"If voodoo appeals to blacks, how come you didn't join?" asked Jericho.

"And spout a bunch of mumbo-jumbo and say the Lord's Prayer backward and all that crap?" said. Ubusuku with a grimace. "No, thanks! Even if I didn't agree with their principles, I would have joined the Order of the Golem just for the sex alone! Let me tell you, friend, you can lose twenty pounds the first month before you convince yourself it's not all a dream and everything will still be there tomorrow."

Jericho remained silent.

"Well, suppose I dial us up a little dinner and we'll get to work?" said Ubusuku. "I'll also see if I can get us into a Satanic service tonight In the meantime, my home is your home, although I realize that I'm offering it to you somewhat after the fact."

"Does that include your library?"

"Absolutely," said Ubusuku, rising and walking toward the kitchen.

"Do you have any maps in your study?" asked Jericho.

"Top left-hand drawer of my desk!" called Ubusuku from the kitchen.

Jericho knew where the maps were, of course; he had had about two hours to go over every inch of Ubusuku's apartment before he returned home, and the maps were the first thing he had sought out. However, to make a suitable impression on his unsuspecting host, he pulled out the map of Amaymon and spread it on the desk.

He then pulled out a somewhat less detailed map of the entire planet—the map he needed. If the police hadn't figured out who he was yet, they soon would; and they'd probably warn Bland to be on the lookout for a Republic assassin coming from Amaymon, which was almost three thousand miles south and a bit east of Tifereth.

He had already decided against the two most obvious and direct routes before Ubusuku arrived home, and now he began searching for alternatives. Finally he found what he had been looking for: a little town some two hundred miles north and east of Tifereth. It was called Malkuth, and had a population of about fifty thousand. He decided that his best bet was to approach Malkuth from the north, assimilate himself into the population if possible, and go south to Tifereth from Malkuth. If Bland didn't have an army he would at least have an enormous security force, and if they conscripted from beyond Tifereth itself, Malkuth seemed one of the likelier principalities. Possibly he could even manage to get himself drafted into Bland's forces; it was worth a try.

He studied the map further. Walpurgis was relatively newly settled, and the population wasn't going to be able to cover its adopted world with a network of cities and villages and hamlets for quite a few centuries yet. In fact, the mere existence of almost one hundred cities spread across the planet was unusual in itself; most colony worlds started with one or two central villages which radiated outward and evolved into hugely diverse cities in a matter of a few decades but left most of the planetary surface untouched. Probably Walpurgis had developed as it had because the sects found each other's beliefs inimical, but he made a mental note to check on it.

He spent a few minutes committing the vital portions of the map to memory, then folded it neatly and replaced it in Ubusuku's desk. He felt no need to remove his fingerprints; he had had none for fifteen years.

Then, rising, he walked through the apartment, scanning the titles of the books and tapes that cluttered the shelves. Most of them were either treatises on chlorine-world entomology or else works of pornography, which he took to be his host's academic and nonacademic fields of interest and expertise.

He went next into Ubusuku's bedroom, which was filled almost to overflowing with paintings and statues and holograms of demons and women locked in various perverted forms of sexual congress. He paid them scant attention and walked quickly to the mounds of books and journals that were piled carelessly on the floor. He hadn't had time to get to them before, and he was hoping they might include some local publications. To his disappointment, most of them were scholarly journals relating to insects.

He returned to the study just before Ubusuku came in with a huge smile on his face.

"I know it sounds corny as all hell," he said, "but how would you like deviled eggs?"

"They'll be fine," said Jericho. "And after dinner, perhaps you can recommend a couple of books or magazines that might help me."

"We'll discuss the universal customs and superstitions while we eat," said Ubusuku, "but you won't have any time for reading after we're through with dinner."

"Oh?"

"I've got a friend who's a member of the Church of Satan. He's been trying to convert me for months, and he agreed to get us into a Black Mass tonight."

"Good," said Jericho, following Ubusuku from the kitchen to the dining room.

"We'll be having some steak with our eggs," said Ubusuku, placing a pair of plates on the table and seating himself. "Which brings up the first of many points we've got to cover: There aren't many food taboos on Walpurgis, but the ones we have are pretty broad-based."

"Such as?"

"Such as never eating goat or any goat product."

"Why not?"

"The goat is one of our sacred symbols. It crosses just about all religious lines."

"Then why would anyone offer it on a menu?" asked Jericho, cutting into his steak.

"Because we've got about two million of them on the planet," said Ubusuku. "And some of the restaurants will serve goat meat or goat milk for the whites."

"What are whites?"

"White witches," said Ubusuku. "There aren't a lot of them, but there are enough in every city so that a few restaurants will cater to them."

"How does a white witch differ from any other one?"

"They believe in using magic for good," said Ubusuku.

"Seems kind of unrewarding on a world like Walpurgis," commented Jericho.

"It is," agreed Ubusuku. "Which leads me to another taboo: Don't wear white."

"I've noticed that hardly anyone does."

"There's a reason for it," explained Ubusuku. "Black is the holy color of most of the sects. White will identify you as a white witch, and there are so few of them that one of them will probably spot you as an impostor. Also, you'll run into trouble if you try to get into any place that's forbidden to them."

"Such as?"

"It's too involved to go into. Just make sure you don't wear white."

Jericho nodded. "Can a man be a white witch?"

"Certainly. Of course, we'd call such a man a white warlock, but it comes to the same thing. The witches aren't too thrilled with them, though; they've got enough troubles without them. Women have a rather ambiguous position on Walpurgis."

"In what way?"

"Politically they're equal to men in every respect, just as they are in the rest of the Republic. But our religions require them to practice various forms of enchantment. Most of these enchantments are ritualistic, but some of them are sexual, and this creates some conflicts. A number of women have risen to positions of enormous power: there's the Magdalene Jezebel, who's the head of the Daughters of Delight, and even the Cult of the Messenger has a High Priestess. But all in all, most of the religions are holdovers from the days when women were objects of lust and desire, and some of them have trouble balancing their positions in the church with the economic and political power they possess outside of it. It's a bad situation, and it's going to boil over one of these days. I hope I'll be peacefully dead and buried before it happens."

"How are women treated by men?" asked Jericho.

"I just told you."

"I mean on the streets."

"Ah!" said Ubusuku, his face lighting up. "Well, as I've said, they are political equals, and of course we believe in the principle of selfishness, so don't go opening doors for them, or tipping your hat, or treating them any differently than you'd treat a man. Chivalry is a Republic custom. And, on the subject of the Republic, try not to say anything civil about it. There's been a worldwide hate campaign going ever since the Republic tried to get Walpurgis to extradite Bland. And if you know any Republic slang, I'd advise you to forget it until you leave the planet. We've had so little contact with the other worlds that any slang that's cropped up in the past few years would be pretty easy to spot"

"What else?" said Jericho, finishing his steak and starting on the deviled eggs.

"Offhand, I wouldn't shake hands with anyone if I were you," said Ubusuku. "Rudeness is not the social stigma here that it is elsewhere, and there are so damned many secret handshakes that you'll never know which one you're getting or how to respond to it. Oh yes, and you'd better have a secret name."

"A secret name?"

"Everyone has one. Again, it's an almost universal trait among cultists. And it's best to be prepared—if you try to join a church, they may ask for yours. My own," he said with a touch of pride, "is Ehlis."

"Then I think I'll take Judas," said Jericho with a secret smile.

"That's not a demon," Ubusuku pointed out.

"I feel a certain kinship to him nonetheless," said Jericho.

"Whatever you want," said his host with a shrug. "And you'd better have a home town."

"What's wrong with Amaymon?"

"It's the biggest city on the planet, and most people have been here at one time or another. I think you'd be better off choosing a smaller city that almost no one goes to so you'll be less likely to be tripped up if someone questions you about it."

"Can you suggest one?"

"Well," said Ubusuku, "there's a tiny little town called Tannis about five hundred miles west of us. I know they've got a Church of Satan there, and I've only met three people from it in a year. Also, if anyone questions you closely, you can lie about it, which you can't do about Amaymon."

"Why should that be?"

"Amaymon was the first city on the planet, but a lot of the cults didn't like the religious freedom and tolerance Amaymon was forced to display as the home of maybe seventy sects. So they started their own outposts, which over the years have grown into cities. Most of them are on the River Styx, since barge traffic is still the cheapest way to ship goods between cities, but a lot of them are closed to outsiders once you get past their docking facilities. Since Amaymon has the only spaceport capable of handling the really big ships, it has always had more of a mix of religions."

"Have you been to any of the other cities?" asked Jericho.

"Why should I?" asked Ubusuku. "I like it here just fine. And besides, some of those other places take their religion a little too seriously."

"I thought you were serious about yours," commented Jericho.

"I'm serious about fucking a lot of women and having a good time for myself," said Ubusuku. "Some of those cities pay more than lip service to evil, let me tell you. I don't think Bland wound up in Tifereth by accident; it was a pretty strange place long before he got there. But to get back to some of the things you'll have to watch for, I'd strongly suggest that you never mention God, or Allah, or Jehovah, or whatever name He goes by in your culture, in conversation or even when cursing." He smiled. "We tend not to mention the enemy here. Also, don't whistle."

"Why not?"

"Many of the sects have secret identifying whistles, just as they have secret handshakes and passwords. Whistle the wrong thing and you might find yourself in a hell of a lot of trouble."

"I notice that you use 'hell' and 'damn' frequently in your speech," said Jericho. "Is that usual?"

"Except among the whites," said Ubusuku. "And while I'm thinking of it, some people will make the Sign of the Horns or the Sign of Five the way Christians make the Sign of the Cross. Your church doesn't have any such sign, so don't go trying to emulate it when you see someone else make it."

"Anything else I should know about the Church of Satan?"

"Just that your talisman is a goat's head inside a five-pointed star, which in turn is inside a circle. You'll see it a lot around Amaymon."

"I've seen a lot of talismans," said Jericho.

"Well, avoid the others. Most of the sects own various bars and restaurants and businesses, and when they display their talisman it's like hanging up a sign that says 'For Members Only.' You can get in a lot of trouble if you disregard it."

"You wouldn't happen to have a book on the local customs, would you?" asked Jericho.

"I've got a little giveaway pamphlet that they handed to me when I arrived," said Ubusuku. "And it's probably only valid in Amaymon."

"I'd like to take a quick look at it before we leave for the church."

"No problem," said Ubusuku. "I'll show it to you after dinner."

"Good," said Jericho, shifting carefully in his chair so as not to dislodge the sacrificial dagger he had taped to his leg.

 

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