“And you,” His Highness interrupted, “may be dispensed with if that is true. I am proficient in all the old tricks myself. However, I am disposed to give you a chance to disprove it, being ever kind and just. Is that not true?” The lightning of his look threatened the seven sycophants. “Am I not ever kind and just?” “As the hope of Hell!” “Oftener than ever!” “In our best-worst interests, Sire!” The medley whined from the shimmering shadows. Sin’s voice gained in assurance, even as his mind lost at the trend of Satanic argument. “But, my King, haven’t I had the whole mortal world at war? Didn’t I trick all peoples into slaughter of each other as you planned?” “I notice you use the past-perfect tense in speaking of that late little unpleasantness. As a matter of fact we lost out on it--lost our one best bet since Noah and the Flood. How did you make the mistake of assuming that any scrapper who falls fighting for his country could be condemned by his fellow men? The worst of them is guaranteed a passport to Abraham’s bosom. As for the leaders--the brains of the drive--most of them were lost to us through that meanest of mortal weaknesses, fear for the integrity of their own hides. They all want to live. That is what’s wrong with conquerors. When earth-wars are such good training for----” His Highness’ teeth bit the sentence in two. His saber-like gaze slashed suspiciously from face to face. “You do your own army an injustice to compare its morals with that of any on earth,” soothed the old toady. “I’ll acknowledge that I am somewhat used up. Even Sin might get brain-fag, you know.” “That excuse is antedated. You have had ample time to recuperate.” The royal digits made a crackling sound as they touched. “You failed egregiously on every important specification of the big fight. Did you keep them at it until the world was engulfed in one red sea of gore? Did you inoculate hate until it over-ruled every gentler human impulse? Did you overcome the too-young at home and the too-old who were to instruct them and the women who were to bear the spawn to continue the slaughter? With all the possibilities of modern wholesaleness, that war was not half what it should have been.” “Admitting all you say,” the prime minister defended, “I don’t see cause for your august dissatisfaction over our progress with the mortal world.” “You don’t? What you need is an oculist.” His Majesty descended the steps and began to pace the great room. “I have had a day of realization,” he continued in lifted voice. “Something must be done. Things are too slow to suit my purposes. We are not getting our share of those who enter Shadow Land. Entirely too many are ticketed through to the Fields by Mors.”