Like On a Pale Horse, this second, complete-in-itself novel of the Incarnations of Immortality is a richly imagined and always fascinating story. And again, Piers Anthony adds to his gripping plot a serious, though-provoking study of good and evil.  When life seemed pointless to Norton, he accepted the position as the Incarnation of Time, even though it meant living backward from present to past.  The other seemily all-powerful Incarnates of Immortality—Death, Fate, War, and Nature—made him welcome. Even Satan greeted him with gifts. But he soon discovered that the gifts were cunning traps. While he had been distracted, he had become enmeshed in a complex scheme of the Evil One to destroy all that was good.  In the end, armed with only the Hourglass, Norton was forced to confront the immense power of Satan directly. And though Satan banished him to Hell, he was resolved to fight on. When life seemed pointless to Norton, he accepted the position as the Incarnation of Time, even though it meant living backward from present to past. The other seemingly all-powerful incantations of Immortality--Death, Fate, War, and Nature--made him welcome. Even Satan greeted him with gifts. But he soon discovered that the gifts were cunning traps and he had become enmeshed in a complex scheme of the Evil One to destroy all that was good.... When life seemed pointless to Norton, he accepted the position as the Incarnation of Time, even though it meant living backward from present to past. The other seemingly all-powerful incantations of Immortality--Death, Fate, War, and Nature--made him welcome. Even Satan greeted him with gifts. But he soon discovered that the gifts were cunning traps and he had become enmeshed in a complex scheme of the Evil One to destroy all that was good.... Piers Anthony , sometimes called Pier Xanthony, is the pseudonym of a Mundane character who was born in England in 1934, came to America in 1940, was naturalized in 1958, and moved to Xanth in 1977. His first story was published in 1963, and his first novel, Chthon, in 1967. His first Xanth novel, A Spell for Chameleon, won the August Derleth Fantasy Award as the best novel for 1977, and his fantasy novels began placing on the New York Times bestseller list with Ogre, Ogre . He shifted from writing in pencil to writing on the computer, and Golem in the Gears was his first novel created on the machine; naturally, the computer found its way into Xanth. 1–   GHOST MARRIAGE   Norton threw down his knapsack and scooped up a double handful of water. He drank, delighting in the chill that struck his teeth and stiffened his palate. It was easy to forget that this was an artificial spring, magically cooled; it seemed natural.   He had hiked twenty miles through the cultivated wilderness of the city park and was ready to camp for the night. He had food for one more meal; in the morning he would have to restock. That could be awkward, for he was out of credit. Well, he would worry about that tomorrow.   He gathered dry sticks and leaves, careful not to disturb any living plants, and structured his collection for a small fire in a dirt hollow. He found some desiccated moss and set it within his pyramid. Then he muttered an incendiary-spell, and the flame burst into existence.   He fetched three rocks, set them against the expanding fire, and unfolded his little fry-pan. He unpacked his Spanish rice mix and poured it in the pan, shaking the mix to keep the rice turning as the heat increased. When it browned, he added handfuls of water, evoking a strenuous protest of steam, until satisfied. Then he rested the pan on the stones and left it to sizzle nicely alone.   “Can you spare a bite?”   Norton looked up, surprised. Ordinarily he was alert for other creatures, especially people, even when concentrating on his cooking, for he was attuned to the sounds of nature. But this one seemed to have appeared from nowhere. “This is what I have,” he replied. “I’ll share it.” Actually, that meant he would be hungry on a half-ration, but he never liked saying no.   “The man stepped closer, his feet making no noise. He was evidently in his mid-to-late twenties, about a decade younger than Norton, and in unusually fit condition. He was well dressed in upper-class city style, but had the calloused palms of a highly physical man. Wealthy, but no effete recluse. “You’re an independent sort,” he remarked.   It took one to know one! “Wanderlust, mostly,” Norton clarified. “Somehow I always want to see the other side of the mountain. Any mountain.”   “Even when you know the mountain is artificial?” The man’s eyes flicked meaningfully about the landscape.   Norton laughed easily. “I’m just that kind of a fool!”   The man pursed his lips. “Fool? I don’t think so.” He shrugged. “Ever think about settling down with a good woman?”   This fellow got right down to basics! “All the time. But seldom for more than a week or two.”   “Maybe you never enc