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Chapter 7 : Greed Is Good

Tuco heard the music long before the Baron came into view. He was standing atop his manor's balcony, watching for his guest, when first he heard it. Even from a distance, it somehow sounded loud, encompassing, and it was like no sound he had ever heard before. He'd heard many a minstrel sing with the accompaniment of lute or lyre, and farmer Wellaway down the road had been skilled with a psaltery. He'd heard trumpets when nobility visited town, and the grand cathedral had an organ whose thunderous tones resonated every stone in the building with such timbre that it seemed like to bring the building down. But none of those could make sounds like this.

The music had the full-throated plangency of the organ, but a melody carried by a raw scream like that of the bagpipes, and all around it were other instruments weaving harmonies in and out of the melody like sinuous patterns in a tapestry of music. Beneath it all were drums: raw, fierce, and primal, tattooing the music with complex rhythms, giving it a heartbeat and synchronizing it with Tuco's; indeed, as the music grew nearer and louder, he found himself energized by it, found himself wanting to leap and pounce. He looked behind himself and saw to his surprise that his tail had begun to swing in time with it, and his hips soon followed. The sound arrested him, swept him up, and made him feel primitive, animal. Truly this sound, whatever it was, was devil's music.

Night fell across his demesne as the Baron's entourage approached, and the music grew louder, the drums more ferocious. He could feel their thrumming through the stones of his walls, making the very earth of his demesne vibrate. In the darkening environs, it became easier to make out the approach of the Baron, for brilliant lights flashed and pulsed as the devil approached, in all colors: red and violet and green and deep blue, sending blazing streaks of color across the grassy hillsides--and sheep barreling away from them in bleating alarm.

The entourage itself proceeded on an infinitely unrolling carpet of glass that blazed with colored light, and atop it, demons danced their way toward Tuco's manor. No stately court dance this; they leapt and contorted in fascinating ways, they twitched and slid as though an invisible hand or the music itself had seized them, they swung their arms, they grappled each other, they writhed in sexual gyrations, they bounded in astonishing feats of athleticism, flexibility, and acrobatics.

Tuco had never seen anything like it, and yet he felt certain his body was made to join in, that he could easily step into that court and dance in unending bliss until the Abyss itself went still and dark. "What is it, Hob?" he murmured, and then repeated himself as the music drowned out his words.

The imp cartwheeled down the manor wall and then hipthrusted his way back in time with the music. "Baron Mammon is renowned for his love of parties, master! He long ago decided that the party should never end."

Tuco thought back to village dances and feasts punctuated by songs, plays, and drunken sports. "I've never seen parties like this, though."

"But all you have seen of the Abyss is its prison and Sathanus's realm of torments."

"True enough. Do you know anything of this Baron Mammon? Why was Peeves so distressed at news of his arrival?"

Hob fidgeted to tempo. "The devils master has already met so far have been noble, of course, but only minor ones. Courtiers to the Throne of the Abyss. Lords, Knights, Baronets. All very important, but there are many of them. And any devil can become a knight or a lord if he does great deeds or is honored by a higher devil. But Barons are part of the Peerage of Hell. The lowest rank, perhaps, but it is a Title. And titled devils can do..."

"What, Hob?"

"Anything they want, master. Unless outlawed by a higher rank. Duke Leviathan used to gobble up any devil he liked. He would swallow them whole. Until the Abyss was running out of devils, and King Behemoth made a law against it. But demons are still fair. In some noble houses, it is a sign of respect to roast your favorite demon and offer him as a meal to a visiting superior."

Tuco made a face. "That's horrid!"

"You ate Belzebub," Hob pointed out. "And nothing you do could be horrid or wrong, oh glorious master." Almost absently, he patted at Tuco's arm.

"That was in self-defense. I didn't enjoy it. And anyhow, why would that be a custom? Surely it would make any demon not want to be your favorite. So all of them would try not to please you too much. It's just stupid."

Hob cleared his throat. "Master would not be the first devil to observe that the Abyss could have better management. So Mister Peeves might be afraid of being served up for the Baron. Or perhaps he is worried that the Baron will bamboozle master in some way, or transform master into a kadav, or simply demand all his land and riches for himself."

"Can he do that? Could he just come and say, 'Give everything you have to me?'"

"He can say anything, master. But you are strong and clever and valiant, and you will defeat him. Hob has no fear." The little imp wiggled his backside as he bounced backward along the wall in time with the music.

Tuco frowned down at the approaching parade of lights and sound. Not too long now before it would be at his front door. "Well, that's... encouraging. But I suppose we've handled everything so far. Let's go down and meet the Baron."

---

He waited for his guest in his new foyer, a glass of something sweet and alcoholic in one hand. Hob sat perched atop a large statue of some hulking, monstrous devil; it took Tuco a moment to recognize that the enormous creature was him. Had he imagined that as part of his estate as well? Arrayed in fine clothes, his demonic staff lined the hallway, slitted eyes forward, horned chins raised.

Outside, the approaching music was so loud that it shook the walls as though the house were being bombarded. Then, abruptly, it stopped, and all was silent. The sound of gravel crunching underfoot came from outside. It didn't sound like too large of a creature. What would this devil be like? Tuco wondered. And what would it try to do to him? Could he devour it as he had Asmodeus? It seemed unlikely.

Just as he would have expected a rap on the door, Peeves reached out and, keeping his head bowed, swung it open. In the doorway stood a man, to all appearances about twenty-five years of age, dressed all in gold and purple. He looked entirely human, but for the thin, forked tail that swayed behind him and the delicate stubs of horns that nudged up the brim of his high purple hat. His purple eyes were dark-lined and twinkling, his cheekbones high, his handsome jaw outlined with a short-cropped black beard. He was not tall, even his hat barely reaching the bottom of Tuco's chest, and he was very lean, his extravagant gold and purple clothing cropped close, giving him the appearance of a dancer or circus performer more than a noble. His clothing, his ears, his fingers all glittered with gold jewelry and gemstones, and his shoes were black leather polished to a glassy shine.

He stepped into the house and as he did, a fanfare played behind him, not with trumpets, but in the instruments of that wild music, all thunder and lightning. He took off his hat with one hand and spread his arms wide. "Thank you, thank you all," he cried in a high, merry voice. "Baron Mammon. Yes, it is an honor to have me, I know, I know. I hope you don't mind, but I've left my entourage outside. I came rather expecting a castle that might hold them all, so imagine my surprise at such... modesty."

He strode forward toward Tuco, who took an uneasy step backward. "Although I can't say the same for you, dear fellow. Surely no one else in here can be the famed Knight of Lust." He gave Tuco a grin and a wink. "The rest of them are all wearing clothing, after all. What a bold statement, to greet a Baron of the Abyss in the... altogether."

Blood flushed into Tuco's face. How could he have forgotten he was naked? When meeting an actual baron? He suddenly had the horrible feeling of being trapped in a nightmare. The important guest had arrived and he'd forgotten to put on clothes! He struggled against the urge to squirm and twist to the side to try to hide himself, or to sidle out of the room with his hands over his cock. "I-- er-- I hadn't meant to--" he stammered. Why hadn't Peeves or Hob warned him he was naked?

Baron Mammon let out a squeal. "By my star, you're actually embarrassed. A Knight of Lust who has cut a swath through the devil ranks of the Abyss, and you're flummoxed like an altar boy caught with the communion wine." He reached up and patted at Tuco's chest. "We can't be having that, can we? Own it, dear boy, wear it proudly. Conventions are not for such as we. We defy them, we kick them over and build new ones in our own image. You're an incubus, alluring is what you're meant to be. Though confidentially" --he leaned up and muttered sotto voce-- "sometimes what you don't see can make the revelations more exciting when they come. Don't you think?"

Stepping back from the stupefied Tuco, he looked about. "Well! Let's have some music, shall we? And I'll take one of those drinks, if you don't mind," he added sweeping a flute of some clear, bubbling liquid off a silver tray held by a statue-still demon. "And is anyone going to offer me someone to eat?"

Bowing his head, Peeves came forward and began slowly unbuttoning his doublet.

The Baron crowed with laughter. "Only joking, demon, only joking. Well, if there isn't going to be music here, perhaps I could supply some of my own? Some lighter fare than our marching music, as I shouldn't wish my lightning trumpets to fell your walls like Jericho. Come, Hendricks!"

He snapped his fingers, and after a moment, a tall, lanky demon stepped into the house, bearing a strange, flat lute as red and glossy as spilled blood. "Play something cordial," suggested the Baron. The demon's clawed fingers flowed across the strings of the lute, and that stormy music poured out once again, but at a more relaxed tempo. The harmonies echoed off the walls of the manor in strangely pleasing ways.

"That's better," purred Baron Mammon. "I think every devil should have a proper appreciation of music, don't you? I'm partial to the vielle myself. Well, don't just stand there with your mouth open, O Destroyer of E-Temen-Anki--oh yes, I've heard about that, too--shall we retire to your--I suppose even a hovel this small includes a sitting room or parlor of some kind?"

"Oh, er, yes," Tuco managed. "This way, I think." And, still self-conscious about being the only naked person in the room when nobility had arrived, he led the way toward a pair of double doors. Only when he'd pushed them open did he realize that in a proper manor, it would be the staff's job to escort them to the parlor, but he'd already greeted his guests naked, so to hell with formality, he supposed.

The parlor was well-lit with candles and moonlight spilling in through large windows--a mystery, since Tuco had never seen any moon in the skies of the Abyss--and a brilliant fire crackled in a fireplace large enough to walk into. Tuco remembered his manners just in time, fortunately, and stood next to his own chair--the only one in the room large enough to accommodate him--waiting until the Baron took his own seat.

The Baron took his time, allowing Peeves to remove his purple coat and hat, and seated himself comfortably in a chair near the fire. "Well now," he said, when Tuco sat. "I must say I appreciate the shift in decor. Prince Sathanus certainly had a style, but aren't we all a little post-Sadism these days? Hard to find the sparkle in one's wit when some serial murder is being fed his own genitals in front of one. Fewer screams, less blood, fewer souls shitting themselves in pain and terror, less cannibalism, I approve of that at least. But Tuco." He paused and cocked his head. "You are Tuco Witchywine, are you not? I know I embarrassed you a touch in the foyer, but you've not introduced yourself."

Tuco's tail wound itself around a leg of his chair. "My apologies. I've just--I've never--You see, I grew up in a--" He sighed. "Your servant, Sir Tuco Witchywine."

"My servant, are you?" Baron Mammon arched one delicate eyebrow. "Would that be an oath of fealty then?"

Tuco looked past the Baron to all his staff vehemently shaking their heads no. "Er, I meant only that I hope to make your visit comfortable."

"Indeed. Well. As I was saying, Sir Tuco, you could make your estate more comfortable by having a lot more of it."

"A lot... more?"

"Is this or is it not the estate of a prince? What is this small shepherd's hut? Where is the opulence? Where is the grandeur? When I visited Prince Sathanus, I could travel for days without ever seeing the other side of his castle."

Tuco shrugged, feeling a bit stupid and provincial. "This is all I need. More than I need."

Baron Mammon scratched under one eye, frowning. "Need? What does need matter? I'm a devil of greed, you know, Tooky, and nothing pleases me like excess."

"Well... there is the hoard. That's all real, so it's not gone away with the rest of Sathanus's realm."

The Baron's purple eyes glowed brightly. "Now you intrigue me. I'd always heard tales of the Prince of Vengeance's treasure trove, but he had never allowed me to see it. Do lead on, my Knight."

A little uneasy at how possessive that appellation sounded on Mammon's tongue, Tuco got to his feet. "It's this way. Below the manor." And so, with the Baron following at his heels, he led the way back to the stairway down to the ocean of gold and treasure filling the caverns beneath his cellar.

As they stepped down into the glittering vaults, he heard a gasp from the Baron behind him. "So much wealth. So much! Why, it makes my own store look like a half-filled coin purse by compare! And the Prince was not even a devil of greed. What sense to have all this magnificence and hide it away like a miser?"

"And what would you do with it?" Tuco asked curiously.

Baron Mammon swatted at his hip with one hand. "Look at you, such a brazen devil, standing naked before me, questioning my strategies, and not even bothering with a 'My Lord' when you do it."

"I'm--I'm sorry," Tuco stammered, stumbling backward. Gold coins slid under his feet with jingling sounds.

"You know I expect you actually are?" The Baron gave a weary roll of his eyes. "You require so much instruction. A devil should never be sorry--we defied the One Above Himself, after all!"

"Well, strictly speaking, I never--"

"Perhaps not, but you wear the mantle of one who did, boy. You burn as truly as any Fallen Star, and you must learn to behave as such. You think there is no spark of rebellion in you, but all who have attempted to control or destroy you have perished, and don't think others don't know it. If they fear you, you might survive for a time as a devil. Encourage it. Don't give them cause to doubt. Don't show them weakness. Now, as to what I would do with such wealth? Why, make myself resplendent with it, of course. Festoon myself with all the treasures of mankind to show how they have adored me. And then, of course, give it away."

Tuco started. "Give it away?"

"Of course, Tooky, what did you think I would do, hoard it all underground as Sathanus does? There are souls to be bought, after all, and nothing rots the heart of a man so quickly as sudden, unexpected wealth."

Uncertainly, Tuco ventured, "I should think for many, a little money could prevent evil. Are not many sins committed out of desperation?"

The Baron turned and flashed his delicate white fangs in a sly grin. "Oh, a little money, certainly. Everyone could use enough for shelter, sustenance, and safety. But give a man a lot of it, and there is no surer way to sour his soul. Suddenly he has more than his friends, his family. Suddenly everyone wants what he has. He is apart from them. He begins to believe the solutions to his problems can be purchased rather than sought within his spirit. Ever he will spend more, attempting to buy happiness, and ever will he fear that his fortune will run out before he buys just the right item, the right house, the right bride, the right social circles. Don't forget, Knight, it's the love of me that is the root of all evil. Trust me when I tell you this: if you wish more souls to add to your riches in the Abyss, simply buy them. Give a pauper a few diamonds, give a farmer a pot of gold, and watch his heart blacken before your eyes. Give them a little of what they want, and they'll forget all about what they need. That's the secret."

Tuco sighed. "So I really can't just give all of this away? I thought I might be able to just take it, somehow, to people all over the world."

"Haven't you been listening to me, Knight?" the Baron asked with a laugh. "I'm saying you should do exactly that. Imagine the chaos. Imagine the greed you could unleash, the squabbling, the paranoia, the downright slaughter you could introduce. Everyone fighting over gold. Wondering where it came from, but certain that they should have it and not someone else. With the right amount of wealth in the right place, imagine the wars you could start. Your trove would positively bloat with souls."

"And that's what you would do with it, were it yours?"

The Baron sighed and let himself fall backward into the sea of wealth, spreading his arms wide. "It's what I did, once. I thought as you did, that happiness lay somewhere beyond the mountains of more. But more is a horizon, and it recedes as you pursue it. Now I am wealthy beyond measure--not so many souls in my hoard as you have inherited and earned, Tooky, but wealthy I am, all the same. My palace is wondrous, wrought of living limbostone, and within it I have multitudes. They hunger, they thirst, they reach for love, for meaning, for the Almighty, for friendship, for reassurance that they are worthy, for peace inside them. Do you know what I give them, who sold their souls to me for wealth?"

"Gold," Tuco guessed.

"You are a clever devil. Indeed. I give them gold to eat, to drink, to lie on, to cuddle at night, to fashion into the shapes of the friends and family they forsook for their own greed. I give them more, and more, and more, until they drown in it."

"You sound bitter about it. But you still seem to love wealth," Tuco said, puzzled.

"Ah!" The Baron sat upright, his eyes sparkling. "And if you can guess why, then you shall know me truly. Why can I be so disappointed in mankind, and yet love excess so much? Guess that, oh Knight, and you shall win me over. Now. Come upstairs. I have a gift for you."

Bemused, Tuco followed Mammon up the stairway, and through his house into the foyer. Surely a gift from another devil was a danger to be avoided: Belzebub had given him more food than was good for him; Belphegor had given him strength at the cost of his mobility; Asmodeus had granted him powers of attraction that almost led to him consuming his friends; and Flavros had granted him safety at the cost of freedom. Hob had explained that all of them had done so as a part of a curse that would transform him into a kadav, a being who had surrendered all his free will. Then the conquering devil would be free to take all his souls for himself and become the wealthiest and most powerful devil in the Abyss. Surely any gift from Baron Mammon would do the same.

And yet Mammon seemed different. Not a predator hunting prey, but perhaps a sated one who drowsed. Tuco felt no sense of immediate danger from him. He wished Pike, with his threat-tuned ears, were here to guide him. He would simply have to remain on his guard. A drowsing predator still had fangs, claws, and muscle. And that meant refusing a gift from Baron Mammon could be just as dangerous as accepting one.

"Something on your mind, sex monster?" Baron Mammon asked in a honeyed voice. "You look as though you're seeing into other worlds. Worried about this gift of mine, are you?"

"I haven't had good luck so far with gifts from devils," Tuco admitted.

The Baron raised his dark brows. "Have you not? You stand before me a powerful, attractive immortal with the wealth of a damned prince. What were you before? A farmboy?"

"Well, it's true that so far, everything has come out all right in the end."

"But not because of luck," the Baron prompted.

Tuco blinked, trying to sort through his thoughts.

"Go on. How me. Why have you ended up here, strong, gifted, with a trail of defeated enemies in your dust?"

"Because..." There were so many possible answers. Perhaps he was lucky. And he'd never have made it so far without all his friends. They'd aided him at every step of the way. But they were his friends. They were loyal because they were good people, but they were loyal to him because... The words almost hurt to say. But what had the Baron told him? You burn as truly as any Fallen Star. "Because I am good at this," he said, squaring his shoulders, and accidentally breaking a nearby shelf as he did so. Fine pottery crashed to the floor, somewhat ruining the effect.

But the Baron's white grin only spread wider. "There you are."

"I'm clever, I'm resourceful, and I'm not afraid of anything, except my friends getting hurt. I'm kind and thoughtful, and I'm not so arrogant as to think I don't need to listen to people. Which means I have allies who respect and stand up for me."

"And did your enemies deserve to defeat you? Who would be a better caretaker of all those souls in your possession now? Should Belzebub have owned them?"

Tuco shuddered at the thought of all those souls tormented for eternity by the grotesque creature. "Never."

"Or Belphegor? Or Asmodeus? Would you trust all those souls in your power now to them?"

"No, nor Flavros."

"And certainly you would not prefer to give all those millions of souls in your hoard back to Sathanus."

A wave of revulsion shuddered through Tuco as he thought of the horrific sight of torment, cannibalism, and gore he'd seen upon first arriving in his demesne. "No!"

"No, indeed." Baron Mammon turned suddenly and leaned against Tuco's belly, half-disappearing under the shelf of his chest. Despite his situation, Tuco was suddenly very conscious of his nakedness and, as he placed one huge, clawed hand on the Baron's shoulder, just how lean and lithe the devil was under his fine clothing. And but for the slight fangs, the short horns, and the tail, he looked as close to human as anyone Tuco had ever been with. With great focus, he managed to still his lust, but not before the stirring in his loins betrayed him.

The Baron gave him a sly smile over the slabs of his chest. "Tell me true, oh humble farmboy, is there any devil in the entire Abyss you would trust with all those souls of yours?"

"There is not," Tuco admitted.

"My, my. Such an arrogant beast. So proud. So greedy. As you should be. Well then, O Knight of Lust, you must be prepared to fight for those souls if you wish to keep them. You must be merciless in dealing with your enemies. As you have been, it would seem. Seldom in all the history of the world has anyone been able to snuff the light of a Fallen Star, and yet four have gone dark in encounters with you. And I? I would not choose to be the fifth. So instead of confronting you, I come to counsel. And to buy your favor with gifts."

"My--my favor? But you're a Baron."

"And but a year ago you were a farmboy."

"I wasn't a farmboy!" Tuco protested limply. "I was a--"

"Oh, what does it matter what flavor of peasant you were? You take my meaning nonetheless. Come outside and see your gifts. I think you'll like them."

Wondering, Tuco followed the Baron out his front entryway. Night had fallen completely over the gardens, but the brilliant colored lights of the noble devil's entourage illuminated the gardens in roving pools of vermillion, gold, pink, and royal blue. Stepping down the front steps, the Baron raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. It resounded like the sound of a boulder cracking, and as it did, brilliant white lights shot into the air, their beams like pillars to a cosmic temple, piercing the void above them. At the same moment, the infernal orchestra thrummed with powerful chords. When Mammon spoke, his voice cried out across the rolling hills like thunder. "I present to you, Sir Tuco Witchywine, Knight of Lust, my gift from beyond the ages, the giants from before the time of man, Gog and Magog!"

The ground shuddered as though trembling with a mighty heartbeat and then, from behind the hills, rose two towering figures. They were shaped roughly like men, but with massive, muscular builds that rivaled Tuco's own, their shoulders impossibly broad, their thick arms a bit too long. They were clad in glittering togas, one silver, one gold, but the garments only accentuated the bobbing of their masculine traits, which were as exaggerated as the rest of them. Despite their proportions, their faces were not brutish or apelike, but noble, almost angelic in appearance, their hair, golden on one, black on the other, in accordance with their respective complexions, cropped close, their faces radiantly handsome.

With ground-shaking steps they thundered up to Tuco. They were enormous. As tall as Tuco stood, he reached barely halfway to their knees. Each of them must have towered fifty feet tall, and as they approached, each of them dropped to their knees and bowed to Tuco.

He stared in amazement at the two of them. "What are they?" he murmured to Baron Mammon. "Demons?"

"I told you," Mammon said. "They are giants. Nephilim, in fact. The first race created by the One Above after the angels. He deemed them too powerful, and destroyed all of them. All but these two, whom I rescued. And now I grant them to you." He nodded to the two giants kneeling before Tuco. "Go on, you two. As I told you."

The right one, with the golden toga, lifted his head and put his right fist to his chest. "I, Gog, forever pledge my loyalty to Tuco Witchywine, Knight of Lust. All that I am is his, and I will serve him faithfully beyond the end of life, until he releases me or my soul is destroyed." He closed his deep brown eyes in a serious frown as Tuco's mark appeared on his forehead.

The left one, wearing the silver toga, repeated the words with his own name, Magog, and shortly the mark appeared on his forehead as well. Then they both knelt again.

"This seems a generous gift," Tuco said, puzzled. "But what am I to do with them? Do they wish this?"

"Do they--? Oh, farmboy, they begged to be released to you. Both of them have such appetites. More than I can sate. A devil of lust suits them much better than one of greed. I can hardly keep them from fucking each other nonstop. The giants were all that way, you know? Why do you think the One Above had them all killed and started over with humans? As to what you can do with them? They have souls, Sir Tuco. And they are giants."

Tuco stared at him, puzzled.

Baron Mammon gave a frustrated sigh. "And I know that you have the appetites of an incubus. Appetites you would prefer not to sate overmuch on your friends. Hmm?"

Awareness dawned on Tuco. "So whenever I get too hungry again..."

"Have a taste of these two. They won't mind, and Nephilim souls are astonishingly strong. You could feed on either of these for a hundred years and he'd scarcely lose a foot in height."

Tuco looked up and down the two giants kneeling before him. "Er, thank you. You can get up."

The two creatures glanced aside at each other. "Can we go fuck, then, sir?" Magog asked. His voice was deep as thunder, and accented strangely.

"Er, I suppose."

Their faces lit in wide, dazzling grins. "With you? And the Baron?" Gog gave him a hopeful stare, his gaze roving up and down Tuco's frame with lingering attention.

Again, lust stirred in Tuco. "Perhaps later?" He looked up at the towering giant and wondered if it could even be safe. Powerful as he was, Gog and Magog looked as though they could crush him like an eggshell. Was this how Etreon felt looking up at him, he wondered?

Gog looked disappointed, but nodded. "Yes, Sir Tuco." He stood upright and turned to Magog. "Want to go have some fun?" Lifting arms that could snap tree trunks, he grappled Magog around the middle, heaved the wriggling giant up on one shoulder as though he weighed no more than a sack of flour, and carried him off into the dark countryside, away from the party. Shortly afterward, there came an ongoing series of thuds and thundering moans.

Tuco tried to ignore it for now, turning back to the Baron. "You gave me something to help my friends. Why?"

"Why? Because I am excellent at gifts, dear Knight. The wealthy ought to be, don't you think?"

"Or this is some elaborate trick to deceive me," Tuco suggested.

"It could be that, too," the Baron said with a wink. "Never let your guard down, Tooky. Not in the Abyss. But know this: not all of us who rejected the Almighty did so because our souls were black and vile. Most of us had noble intentions at the start."

"So why did you fall?"

Mammon's face darkened. "That's a very personal question for a devil, and one you're not likely to get an answer to. Besides, you must discover your own, if you're to be a proper devil."

"But I haven't turned away from God!" Tuco objected.

Baron Mammon gave him a long, steady stare.

"I haven't!"

"Suit yourself."

"I go to Mass when I can. I--I admit I haven't said many prayers lately, but--but I still believe in all the virtues. Love, peace, charity, honor, all of those. I believe in all of that!"

"So do I!" the Baron roared, and for a moment, he seemed to grow taller, his fangs longer, his horns rising higher, his frame stretching the limits of his gold and purple suit. His hair flared out into a mane around his head. Then he seemed to remember himself, and shrank back down. "So I did," he amended, patting his hair back into place. "At first. I believed in all of those things, but I rejected Him, for He... No. I will not say it. Let us just say that even when He struck me from the sky, I believed in love. I believed in the goodness of humanity."

"And now?" Tuco ventured.

"And now, well." The Baron slid his hands into his pockets. "Let us say that several millennia of seeing all the terrible things humans do to each other has an effect. The closer you draw in an attempt to help, the more it sullies you. Sometimes you cannot save the world, Tuco. Sometimes all you can do is try to have a good time while it falls apart around you."

"People aren't so bad as all that."

"Spoken like a devil who has not been properly tending his souls."

A little embarrassed, Tuco admitted, "I know I should be, but there are so many of them, and I haven't any notion of where to start. I've looked in on a few of them, but I didn't know what to do. How do other devils tend them all?"

Baron Mammon clucked his tongue. "Ah, poor Tooky. An apprentice with no master. The rest of us devils were able to start out when there were only a few humans. Can you imagine? Once there were only two of them, the first man and the first woman. Emperor Morningstar has those prize souls. You know, the painters all get it wrong? Those milky-pale, hairless athletes running around in an Italian garden? Adam and Eve were quite dark skinned, and if you must know, very fat. No muscle tone at all. And Eden was in Africa."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. And now our Emperor has their souls in his care. What crime ought he to punish them for? Eating a pomegranate?"

"But it was the fruit of Knowledge of Good and Evil, which God forbade them to eat."

"And just tell me, oh Knight of Lust, exactly how they were supposed to know that doing what the Almighty forbade was wrong, when they had no knowledge of good and evil?"

Tuco opened his mouth, frowned, and closed it again. There had to be a flaw there, but he couldn't find it.

"And what was that tree doing in Eden anyway? Why did the Almighty put it there if it was so dangerous to Adam and Eve?"

"Well, they-- I mean, they... they have to have... free will...?"

Baron Mammon rolled his eyes. "Free will? If you have an innocent child who knows nothing of the world, do you put a plate of poisoned sweets next to him with instructions not to eat it, that it's poisoned? And then leave him alone with them? Just because the child should have free will?"

"I--I don't.." Tuco stammered.

The Baron seemed to remember himself, and calmed once again. "Oh, do forgive me, my host, I'm losing the thread. The point is, at first there were two humans, and our Emperor received their souls into his care, as sinners against the Almighty, fallen to the first Desire. The very first."

"The Temptation of Food," Tuco said in surprise.

"Indeed. The first temptation because it is the most basic, the easiest. That is generally the order they fall in, from simplest to most complex, though of course there has been some rearrangement through the years. And lower order devils specialize in the lowest temptations, the easiest. Even a dog or a lizard can be tempted to gluttony, idleness, or lust, but try getting a dog to seek revenge or become obsessed with his own beauty! The higher the order of the temptations, the more complex--and therefore insidious--they become. And the more powerful the devil who specializes in them."

"That explains something I have wondered about," Tuco said.

"And what is that, Sir Witchywine?"

"My friends said that the devils were coming after me in the order of the twelve temptations. Belzebub came after me with food, then Belphegor with sloth..."

"And eventually here am I, tempting you with wealth? Except I can scarcely do so, for you are wealthier than I. Well, it is no surprise. The Abyss has its hierarchy, after all. We watch our immediate underlings, lest they attack us. Few know or care about the fates of Belzebub or Belphegor, for they were so low-rank as to be below notice. All know that E-Temen-Anki fell, but none knew what happened to its attendant, save that he was torn apart by his prisoners. However, Flavros was my creature, who reported to me, and when he perished, I made it my business to know what had happened to him. And I found you. And should something happen to me, it will certainly draw the attention of one of my superiors."

"Which would be who?" Tuco asked excitedly.

"Oh, my dear, now that would be telling. I wouldn't like to spoil the surprise."

"But it will be the Temptation of Belonging?"

"Very likely."

"Which is a more difficult Temptation than Wealth."

"Now you are trying to goad me, you wicked thing. Are you sure you are not secretly a devil of Vengeance? But yes. It is easier. Most humans will abandon their friends and homes in search of riches, will they not? Still. I have never cared much about fitting in. I prefer others to fit in with me. And so Wealth is my temptation, and thus will I bring humanity to ruin with it, in my own unique fashion. And here, in the Underworld, they can join my endless party. For that is what I do with my souls, you see. Those who followed wealth because of the joys it opened up to them will find joys in my endless parties. And those who followed it seeking to fill an emptiness they should have filled with friends and family will find they brought that emptiness with them. That is my hell for them."

"A hell you tempted them into," Tuco said accusingly.

Baron Mammon turned lazy, long-lashed eyes in his direction. "Did I? Well, I'll be damned. And what have you tempted men into, O Incubus? And what will you do to those who have fallen to your charms?"

"I still don't know," Tuco said, feeling a bit chastened. "No one I've tempted has died."

"Then we shall have to make do with the souls in Sathanus's trove. Do not fret overmuch about the number of them. You will find that as you attend a few, your logos will learn and follow with the rest. But you must set precedent; you must train it to create the worlds in which they will spend eternity."

"Couldn't I simply leave them all in limbostone? It seems kinder."

"Kinder? It's kinder than some fates, certainly, but the souls do not sleep there. They cannot sleep, for they have no bodies, no minds. They wait. And wait. Watching, thinking, their thoughts running to every available corner of their minds and then repeating. And repeating. And repeating. Souls that wait for too long go mad. If that is the fate you wish for them, it is your prerogative. It is certainly what the slothful Belphegor would have done. But if that is not your chosen fate for your subjects, then you must devise others. Let us try an easy soul and a difficult one. Do you know how to survey the souls that belong to you?"

Tuco thought about the dark expanse inside him, lit with millions of lights. "Yes, I can do that."

"Good. Come, let us move a distance away from the others, where we can act uninterrupted." The Baron waved his delicately-clawed hand, leading Tuco around the side of the manor and into the gardens, stopping only once they were out of earshot and sight of the party. "Here now. Find a soul of yours--or of that prince you usurped--who has committed some minor sin, enough to secure him a fate in the Abyss, but not so terrible as to appall the good-hearted, hm?"

"Very well." Tuco closed his eyes and sank into the darkness within him, holding his intentions in mind as he passed over the sea of souls, millions of tiny lights flickering across waves of darkness.