The Great Hall of the Palace of the Morning Star was awe-inspiring, even for one who had grown up on Mount Olympus. Easily the size of a large stadium, the hall rose eight stories into the air, topped with a massive series of frescoes depicting the start of the rebellion in Heaven, the attack of the rebel angels, the fall of Lucifer and his cadre, and the establishing of the Kingdom of Hell. If an observer didn't know better, she would have thought the frescoes looked like they could have been Michaelangelo's work; if she thought further about it, she would realize with shock that this was because they were Michaelangelo's works. And what works they were! Compared to them, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel looked rather drab; Michaelangelo had labored two hundred years on this ceiling, or perhaps two thousand; time has no real meaning in Hell.

The hall itself was astonishing, decorated in chandeliers that blazed forth with constant cold fire, illuminating statues and monuments aplenty to the angels who had rebelled, and to Hell's best agents on Earth. The obsidian columns that supported the great ceiling were crowned in gold, and silver stripes two feet wide bordered the main walkways into and out of the chamber. It was more opulent than Olympus, or Yhwh's palace in Heaven, but then, Lucifer had always been rather keen on proving his worth.

The most shocking thing to Eros would have been seen as almost mundane to the casual observer. Halfway through the hall, columns arranged themselves into a rotunda the size of a football pitch. The ceiling here rose over a hundred meters to a domed ceiling painted with the morning sky, a single star blazing forth in the east, right above the purplish-red of sunrise. Well, not a star; not exactly.

The star's identity was given by the gold symbol inlaid in a platinum circle on the floor of the rotunda. It was a symbol that Eros knew well:

a92;

His mother's symbol, the symbol of Venus. He hadn't thought of it before, but it was Lucifer's symbol, too: the symbol the planet Venus, the symbol of the Morning Star.

He and Virgil stopped right at the point where the cross of the symbol met the O, for two figures had entered the rotunda from the other side.

They were two demons. One was clearly a minor functionary, off to the side, carrying parchment; he did not draw attention. No, Eros's attention was drawn by the other figure, another demon, and a high-ranking one at that. He wore black vestments trimmed in red, and an ostentatious robe made of peacock feathers. He wore a heavy medallion on a gold crest bearing the open-pentagram Seal of Satan. The demon leaned his bulky upper body on an exquisitely fashioned copper cane

The functionary cleared his throat, and said, “May I present His Excellency, Polymitis Adramelech, Chancellor of Hell, President of the Senate, High Councilor to Shaitan Lucifer Iblis.”

The Chancellor smiled. “Hello, son,” he said.

“Hello, Hephaestus,” Eros replied.

* * *

The nightmare was all-consuming. Marbas was assaulting Stephanie, raping her. But Adam was his tiny self, and though he tried over and over to stop Marbas from defiling his wife, Marbas simply swept him aside each time as an afterthought. Adam screamed in fury, and rose again, and again, and again....

His eyes popped open. He heard a sound, a rustling, scratching sound. He rose gingerly, body feeling fine, but soul still wounded from Tanith's assault the afternoon before.

“Hello?” he called into the empty lab. The room was dark, save for a safety light in the corner. He shrugged. Must be hearing –

No, there it was again, a scuffling, scampering noise from the floor. He put his ear to the bars, and tried to listen, tried to hear what it was.

He screamed and jumped backward as the monster leaped up onto the counter top, and ambled over toward his cage. It was a rat, a giant, black rat the size of two bears.

Adam rushed to the middle of the cage, eyes wide. He had to hope the beast wouldn't pay him attention, because there was no way he could fight the beast. No way. He just had to hope the creature wouldn't be interested in him, or at least, that it wouldn't be able to break into his cage.

His first hope was immediately dashed, as the rat snorted, and looked around the side of the cage, moving quickly toward the cage door. Adam watched in horrified fascination; the beast almost seemed to be looking with intelligence, as it reached out with its paw for the latch.

Adam's stomach sank. He wondered if this was one of Marbas's tests; it seemed impossible that a rat could be fumbling with the latch of a cage, but then, it seemed impossible that his penis could be still attached after a hundred-foot-tall woman had mashed it to a pulp, and yet it seemed perfectly fine. Nothing was impossible.

His very existence was proof of that.

The creature had the latch undone now. Adam swallowed. If this creature came into the cage, he was done for. Rats are vicious omnivores, and if this one attacked him, he would die. He couldn't watch. He closed his eyes, and a prayer danced through his head, one he hadn't said since he was a child.

Now I lay me down to sleep...

And now it was opening up the door, and Adam was sure this was it; he could not fight off the rat, and he would not survive its attack.

...I pray the Lord my soul to keep....

But maybe, maybe, maybe that was for the best. He heard the creature move through the door.

...should I die before I wake....

He would be released from this hell. He could wait for Stephanie in the afterlife, or wait for her in the deep and silent dark; either was better than this.

...I pray the Lord my soul to take.

He could smell the creature's rancid breath on him, and he was at peace.

Amen.

He waited for it to strike.

He waited.

He waited.

After what seemed like forever, he opened his eyes. The beast was gone. It had been his imagination. Maybe a dream. Or a hallucination. Probably a hallucination. He was going crazy. So crazy that a few feet distant, it still looked like the door was open.

Wait – what?

He stared it down, daring it to close on him, but the door to his cage stood resolutely open.

He walked over, climbed up to it, and stuck his head out. The rat was gone. But it had opened up the cage.

He wondered, idly, if this qualified as a miracle.

Deciding he didn't care, he swung himself out the door and onto the counter. He would have to move fast. Morning would be here all too soon, and he was determined to be far from here by the time Marbas and company returned.

He didn't know if he'd survive. He was less than three inches tall. And the world was four times as big as it had been when it had been already too big for him to negotiate alone. But he didn't care. At worst, he'd win the most important victory. He'd die free. And God willing, he'd at least find a way to let Stephanie know that he died free.

* * *

“Anansi is a swing vote,” Mami Wata patiently explained to Aphrodite. “And he will be your most cunning questioner. He owns all the stories, you know. He has a smoother tongue than Loki and Lucifer could ever dream of. Be on your guard when he speaks, but answer him truthfully.”

“What do you mean, he owns all the stories?” Aphrodite said, jotting a note down absently.

Mami Wata smiled. “You know the story of how Anansi freed the stories from Nyame, do you not?”

“I know he's a Storytelling God and a Trickster God, but I've never crossed his path; I do not know his story.”

Mami Wata smiled wider. “Good. For this will be a story you should hear. It will help you, if you listen carefully. Indeed, even had you known the story, I would have told this to you, before the trial.”

The Goddess of Beauty cleared her throat, and began:

We do not really mean, we do not really mean that what we are about to say is true. A story, a story; let it come, let it go.

Once, Nyame, the Sky-God, owned all the stories. He was a jealous god, and he would not share his stories with anyone. One day, Kweku Anansi went to Nyame to see what it would cost him to buy the stories.

Nyame did not wish to share his stories, and so he set a very high price. Anansi would have to bring to the Sky-God the Python, Onini; the Leopard, Osebo; the Mmoboro Hornets; and the dwarf Mmoatia.

Anansi wanted the stories for himself, and so he went to collect his payment to Nyame. He went first to where the Python lived.

“I wonder,” Anansi said to himself, “If it is true what Aso says, that Onini is as long as the palm branch. I do not think he is; I think the palm branch is larger than he.”

Hearing this, Onini came out to challenge Anansi. “I am larger than the palm branch, foolish spider,” the Python said.

“Prove it,” Anansi said. “Lie along this palm branch.”

The Python lay along the branch. Anansi clucked his tongue. “I cannot tell – you are too crooked, Onini! Let me tie you to the branch to straighten you out. Then I can tell for sure.”

Anansi tied Onini to the branch, and when the Python was secure, he took the Python to Nyame.

“Impressive. But you have three more gifts to bring,” Nyame said, “before I will give you the stories.”

Anansi next went to collect Osebo, the Leopard. He dug a pit near Osebo's home, and covered it with leaves. Osebo soon fell into the hole, and Anansi went to the edge.

“Are you all right, Osebo?” Anansi asked, innocently.

“All right? I'm trapped in a hole, you foolish spider!”

“Ah, ah, Osebo! Insults will get you nowhere. But if you flatter me, perhaps I can spin webs for you, that you may climb out.”

And so Osebo flattered Anansi, calling him the wisest and kindest of all the creatures. And Anansi spun webs for Osebo to climb out of the hole. But when the Leopard got to the top, he found that he was thoroughly tangled in the spider's webs. Anansi then brought Osebo to Nyame.

“Impressive. But you have two more gifts to bring,” Nyame said, “before I will give you the stories.”

Anansi next went to find the Hornets. He took a calabash – the bottle gourd – from a vine, and filled it with water. He poured water over a banana leaf, which he held over his head. He then poured some on the hornets' nest.

“What are you doing, spider?” the Hornets demanded.

“It is raining! Such a rain as I have never seen! I have come to warn you, and to help you to safety.”

“Noble Anansi, thank you! What shall we do?” the Hornets asked.

“Quickly, into the calabash! It is thicker than your hive, it will protect you!”

And when all the hornets had flown into the calabash, Anansi sealed it, and brought it to Nyame.

“Impressive. But you have one more gift to bring,” Nyame said, “before I will give you the stories.”

Anansi then went to the odum tree where the dwarves play, and fashioned a baby doll from tar, straw, and gum. In front of the baby doll, he placed a succulent yam.

Mmoatia came along presently, and ate some of the yam. “This is excellent!” the dwarf said to the doll. “Thank you for it!”

The tar-baby said nothing.

“Did you not hear me? I said that this was excellent! And I thanked you!”

The tar-baby said nothing.

Annoyed at the tar-baby's bad manners, Mmoatia struck the doll, but found her hand stuck.

“Grabbed me, did you? I will show you!”

And so Mmoatia struck and grabbed and wrestled with the doll, until what was tar and what was gum and what was straw and what was Mmoatia was all mixed up and stuck together. And with the dwarf immobilized, Anansi took her to Nyame.

The Sky-God was angry. He made it thunder, he made it rain. He called on the wind to blow, and he bellowed with rage. But he had no choice; Anansi had met Nyame's demands. And so the Sky-God gave the tales to the God of Tricks, and that is why, ever since, we call stories Anansesem – Anansi Stories.

This is my story which I have related. If it be sweet, or if it be not sweet, take some elsewhere, and let some come back to me.

Aphrodite was quiet some time, before saying, “Well, if you wanted to teach me that Anansi is a devious bastard, you've done that.”

“That is half of what you should learn,” Mami Wata said. “The other half – you will figure it out.”

* * *

“It is a shame,” said Hephaestus, as they walked deep into palace, “that you could not have been here for my induction. It was a party for the ages. Why, I imagine your mother and you could have had a very good time. Why, there was this one satyr –”

“How long?” Eros asked, tersely.

“Oh, a foot at least, maybe –”

“Not that, demon scum. How long have you been working with The Adversary?”

Hephaestus chuckled. “Ah, still as direct as ever. If you must know, it's been several centuries now, though most of my work was as a consultant. Wasn't until Ba'al Adar-malik decided to retire that Lucifer asked me to come on in my current role, though, and that was just a few years ago; by your lights, I've only officially been on the job for three months, though of course, I've been part of the Senate of Hell for seventy years.

“But really, did you come all this way just to curse me? Come on, Eros. You know damn well that you're just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Eros said, stopping. Virgil put up a warning hand, but Eros ignored it.

“Jealous. You know how much power a demon has. It's more than a quasi-retired Greek God. I'm more powerful than I've been since before your mother first cheated on me; I'm more powerful than Zeus is, now.”

“Your power is in service to evil,” Eros said. “I choose to work on behalf of love.”

“Ha!” Hephaestus said. “'Love.' Right. But you know all too well that your work with hot, man-on-man action would have been considered 'evil' just a few decades ago. Your work in making women all hot and bothered about men is considered anathema to the good, virginal way girls are supposed to be. And don't tell me you've never been involved in separating a man from his wife, or a woman from her husband?

“Good and evil are cute labels. But you and I both know that there is only chaos and order, and that what is evil and what is good change like women's hemlines.”

Eros stewed. But what Hephaestus said next sent him into a rage.

“You could join us, son,” Hephaestus said, calmly.

“I'm not your son!” Eros roared.

“Yes, you are,” Hephaestus and Virgil said, together.

“No,” Eros said evenly, to Virgil, “I'm Ares's son.”

“Biologically, yes,” said Virgil. “At least, if Gods had DNA, he'd come up as the father. But Hephaestus raised you, did he not?”

“As my own son,” Hephaestus said. “I ignored your mother's betrayal and set out to raise you as my own.” He gestured the pair through a door.

“And yet you betrayed my mother as casually as you claim she did. And for what?”

“For Me, of course,” said a voice from behind them.,

Eros turned, and saw a thin man approaching them. He was ruddy, with a neatly trimmed goatee and jet-black hair that was slicked back, wearing a pin-striped black suit, and a black shirt with a brilliant red tie, which matched perfectly the red rose in his lapel. He was, Eros thought, beyond handsome; the demon that confronted him was beautiful.

“Hello there,” the demon said pleasantly. “I am Lucifer Iblis. Welcome to Hell.”

* * *

Adam had never been a lucky man, not even before he started shrinking. His successes had come through hard work. Yes, he'd struck gold with Stephanie – but he had always figured she was fate's great equalizer.

But today – today, Adam's luck was bordering on the miraculous. He'd quickly found a power cord leading from the countertop to the ground, rappelled down an extension cord, and then, to his delight, he found the door to the lab sitting slightly ajar.

He dashed out into the small building, finding what appeared to be a largely abandoned front office – a few desks had some signs of life, but most lacked chairs and computers. He shook his head; he wondered if anything Marbas had done to him was in the pursuit of information, or if the bastard was simply into torture, and thought a three-inch man would be easily tortured.

But he shelved that debate for the moment, as he wound his way closer and closer to the window that bordered the office's front door. That door was wooden, and not ajar, but he was less than three inches tall, and the door lacked weather stripping; by getting down on his stomach and wriggling, he was able to just slip under it, and out into the tiny foyer that led to another door, this one clear glass, that led to the outside world.

And there he had waited, coiled like a spring, ready for what surely had to come next.