power the will of gods. I thought you were he."
18 ROGER ZELAZNY
"I am"ўhe squinted againў"Sam. I am Sam. Once
ўlong ago ... I did fight, didn't I? Many times . . ."
"You were Great-Souled Sam, the Buddha. Do you
remember?"
"Maybe I was ..." A slow fire was kindled in his
eyes.
"Yes," he said then. "Yes, I was. Humblest of the
proud, proudest of the humble. I fought. I taught the
Way for a time. I fought again, taught again, tried
politics, magic, poison ... I fought one great battle so
terrible the sun itself hid its face from the slaughterў
with men and gods, with animals and demons, with
spirits of the earth and air, of fire and water, with
slizzards and horses, swords and chariotsў"
"And you lost," said Yama.
"Yes, I did, didn't I? But it was quite a showing we
gave them, wasn't it? You, deathgod, were my chario-
teer. It all comes back to me now. We were taken
prisoner and the Lords of Karma were to be our
judges. You escaped them by the will-death and the
Way of the Black Wheel. I could not."
"That is correct. Your past was laid out before them.
You were judged." Yama regarded the monks who now
sat upon the floor, their heads bowed, and he lowered
his voice. "To have you to die the real death would
have made you a martyr. To have permitted you to
walk the world, in any form, would have left the door
open for your return. So, as you stole your teachings
from the Gottama of another place and time, did they
steal the tale of the end of that one's days among men.
You were judged worthy of Nirvana. Your atman was
projected, not into another body, but into the great
magnetic cloud that encircles this planet. That was over
half a century ago. You are now officially an avatar of
