Songs Of The Dancing Gods

by Jack L. Chalker

Marge, he realized suddenly, wouldn't do anything. She'd let go, relax, clear her mind completely and with discipline keep it that way, letting the fairy part take complete control.

  "Check those trees!" a Bentar snapped to subordinates, who galloped toward him.

  Go blank, go blank, let instinct take over....

  Slowly he pressed back into the nearest tree, backing up against the hard, tough bark.

  Something gave, and the bark seemed almost spongelike, enveloping him just as the first Bentar reached the grove.

  "Beat all the bushes and check those treetops!" the Bentar sergeant ordered.

  "Uh—you mean climb 'em?" one of the soldiers asked.

  "No, I mean flap your arms and go up and tweet like a bird!'' their chief responded sarcastically. "Of course I mean climb 'em!"

  Joe was enveloped in a cocoon of darkness, yet he could hear them clearly. Suddenly he felt little, painful pricks and felt a tremendous itch. With a shock, he realized that he was feeling what the tree was feeling, and the Bentar was using its clawed hands and feet and climbing! He could feel the creature on the branches above, but it was like a monkey on an elephant in comparison. The Bentar soldier poked and probed, but finally shouted down, "There's nothing up here, sergeant!"

  "This one's clean, too!" someone else shouted from another point.

  "Aw, we don't even know what we're lookin' for, Sarge, or whether there's anything to look for!'' his soldier protested. "We can't climb and poke every damned tree and bush in the place!"

  "Whatever it was, it was pale red and it flew," the sergeant responded. "I saw the aura briefly. But, yeah, you're right. Come on down, you two! Whatever it is, it isn't here or we'd have seen it or smelled it by now!" He snorted, then muttered, "This is no job for a soldier! If he thinks there's something here, he should send those brainless mortals he's got."

  The Bentar clambered down from the trees and remounted. The leathery wing sound came close enough to rustle the leaves.

  "Start a sweep west of here, and let us know if you spot anything," the sergeant shouted to the flyer. "If you do, we'll come running, but I'm not going to waste time with this. It's pointless!"

  There was a gruff shouted response from above and then the wings flapped harder but grew swiftly fainter as it moved away. The Bentar turned on their horses and were soon gone as well.

  In a few more minutes, it was as quiet as a grave again.

  Joe, however, once more became a bit concerned about being trapped in the tree. Okay, I got in, now how do I get out?

  And, after a moment, it came to him that you got out the same way you got in—by relaxing and willing yourself out. There was a gentle pushing, as if the matter at his back was firming up behind him and expanding, and he emerged from the tree.

  He was relieved to find he was still a Kauri. That meant he was still a were and, therefore, still human, too. For all he knew, the wood nymph thing had nothing to do with it. This might well have been entirely a Kauri defense mechanism, since they were so close.

  The leg no longer hurt very much. The were spell was repairing it, as it tended to repair almost anything except a silver wound.

  If only that fairy soul business had been as a Kauri, he mused. Then he might have been able to accept it. Flying around, seeing the world, maybe even with Marge for company. But a wood nymph!

  He was feeling better, even a bit stronger, but he didn't want to test out his wings yet. No telling what was still around. Best to wait a bit, even if it meant he didn't make it back before dawn. The object was to make it back at all. At least so long as he kept under cover here they were unlikely to come back and check this grove again, but it was a fair distance to the next cover.

  Still, if he got back at all, it would have been worth it. The Baron in league with Sugasto again, and still in Mahalo's sexy body! He wondered what happened to the real Mahalo McMahon. He'd totally forgotten to ask. She was stuck in the Baron's nearly dead body the last he knew and being brought here, kept alive mostly by Ruddygore's magic. Of course, Ruddygore had still had the Lamp at the time, so she could be anything or anybody. She'd have made an ideal Kauri, that's for sure.

  Make a wish. You can be anything and anybody you want to be. What would he do if offered that? He thought about it, and he had a lot more options than she had, because he knew Hu-saquahr and what was available here. There was a male counterpart to the Kauri someplace, he remembered hearing. It'd be nice to fly places and seduce all those troubled women, but as good as the Kauri life-style might be, it was, like most fairy lives, in the end, a pretty one-dimensional life that went on forever, never really adding new dimensions. That, more even than old friendship, was why Marge kept inviting herself along on these missions. It was a way, however limited, to do something a bit different.

  The thing was, he realized that he'd just wish to be his old self again. He liked himself, his body, his image. He'd like to be smarter, or maybe wiser, and know a lot more, but, overall, he liked being Joe just fine.

  Only he wasn't Joe right now, he was a Kauri who looked and felt more like Marge. That body and those Kauri instincts were telling him right now what he needed to do to get his energy back, but he was going to trust to dawn first.

  Still, it was worth risking a bit at this point to see if he could make at least most of the way back the easy way. He looked out and looked around and saw nothing close that was threatening. The wings spread, and he was airborne.

  He was pretty weak, but flying, even from cover to cover, was sure better and faster than walking. By dawn, though, he still wasn't back, and he was just too dead to go much farther. He felt sure he was beyond the first blockade, though, and knew it when he saw a ranch not far away. There was a barn there with a real hayloft, and he made for it, going in the top small door and collapsing on the hay stored there just as the first rays of the sun came over the horizon. Exhausted almost beyond endurance, he lay there, almost too tired to sleep, and watched the golden orb creep lazily up into the sky, its first warming rays coming right in the hayloft door and washing over him.

  Suddenly he stirred himself up and looked down at himself. Wait a minute! This isn't right! Then he sank back, too tired to even think straight anymore.

  The sun was up and it was a bright, new day, and he was still a Kauri.

  Marge was tired, too, but she wasn't about to go to sleep yet. Mia had changed back to herself with the first rays of the sun, and she was frantic. "He is in the hands of those maniacs, I know it!" she wailed. "We must rescue him!"

  Marge shook her head. "No, we can't. I sure can't do a damned thing now, even if I wanted to, and what the hell can you do? You go out there now, hollering that your master's gone, and lots of things are gonna happen. First, they'll all start checking to see if he's still alive by touching your ring. When it's established he is, they'll turn you over to the military camp. The camp will put two and two together—spies last night, a missing master this morning—and send you right up to Sugasto and the Baron. If they've got Joe, then they've got both of you, and that's the end of that and everybody else. You saw those poor mindless zombies. In fact, they might be able to milk you for enough information to do a great Tiana. Remember, they want the palace Ti, the demigoddess Ti, and that's the one you knew. You'd wind up plunging the whole world into darkness."

  "What can I do, then?"

  "Well, I, for one, have known Joe longer than anybody here, and I think that if they had him captured they'd already be here for us. Think about it. He's got no more resistance to common spells than you do, and about now he'd be in his human body again. He'd talk, and we'd be taken. You see any Bentar? Any soldiers coming up the stairs?"

  "No."

  "Then he's not captured. And, thanks to your ring, we know he's not dead. I think he got hurt, maybe badly, in that mess last night—he took that dive steeper than we did."

  "But then—"

  "Hear me out. He's a were. Folks around here, even bad folks, don't carry around silver-tipped arrows
and they sure don't shoot them at Kauris. That means his wounds, no matter what they were, kept him down for the count but that he'll be good as new today. Look at you—not a bruise or sore spot on you! If he's got any sense, he'll hole up someplace, get some sleep, then start back. Since there's another moon tonight, goodness knows what he'll come back as, if it's after dark, but he'll be back."

  "Then what-?"

  "I'm gonna grab some sleep because I want to be fresh tonight in case we have to do a little looking. It won't be easy, since there'll be open season on Kauris, but I've got some experience in this. You'll stick close here because he might come back. If he's not back by tomorrow morning, then we start panicking."

  "I—very well. But what should I do?"

  "You can serve your master best today by convincing everybody that he's still here, and, perhaps, is a bit under the weather. You've got a sick master up here, but not too sick. Just a bug, no big deal. That'll keep people out and questions down to a minimum. Fetch meals as if for him—the kind of stuff he'd order, remember. You get the idea?"

  She nodded. "I understand and will do as you say. For one day and night, anyway."

  "Good girl. Do it right. I just hope nobody notices."

  "Notices what?"

  "We forgot in all the worry to slip on your bracelets and anklets, and you sure aren't gonna get them on now. Just hope nobody up here believes in were anythings any more than most folks do. Don't worry—I doubt if they will. Me, I'm gonna get some real sleep."

  Mia felt momentary panic. The bracelets and anklets! Still there on the floor. The small earrings were still there, too, but she had those with a clasp to allow for full moon times. She moved to put them back in, then thought better of it. No, nothing but the collar and the nose ring. She looked at herself in the mirror. God! So very plain, sexless. But she would leave them off. If anybody asked, it would be that they were cut off by her master's orders, which she could not question.

  Somehow, she knew, they would have to find a way to get a collar with a clasp, against the rules or not. Otherwise, what happened if she changed into something sometime with either too large a neck or, perhaps, an animal like a horse? She wouldn't strangle, but the collar would then fall through the reforming flesh and it wouldn't fit back on, either.

  As ready as she could be, she took a deep breath, tried to stay calm, then opened the door and went down to see about keeping up the lie, wishing all the time that it was true.

  It was a harrowing day for Mia, who was almost a nervous wreck by the time Marge awakened. She had tried getting some sleep, but what little came was fitful, and every noise woke her back up.

  There was no problem taking some of the money they had and getting fake meals. Money was money, although most of the meals were dumped in the chamber pot and the mess, mixed with the usual contents of the chamber pot that she could hardly avoid adding, already attracting flies.

  That worried her a bit. It would be just like the way things were going suddenly for a fly to land on her just at moonrise. Everything worried her, all of a sudden.

  Only the cafe lady had noticed her lack of jewelry, and she'd lied and said it looked just fine. Coming back with the dinner had, in fact, caused her only problem; some of the troops were in town, and apparently word of her dance and extraperformance activities had gotten around fast. She was filled with requests, and feared she would be delayed too long and moonrise would occur right then and there, with her in the middle of the street surrounded by soldiers. She also knew that they'd come after her and maybe up to the room if she said she'd ask permission, but then she-got the bright idea to note that her master was sick. Real sick. Some kind of flu. She didn't know if it was catching . . . . Kerchoo! She had a clear field.

  Marge sat there, nervously waiting for her. "About time!" "I had to get through a horde of lustful soldiers, my lady," she apologized. "I was not sure I would be here in time."

  "Yeah, well, I kinda figured something like that. You still got a few minutes yet, and I'm still only mildly worried about Joe. After all, he'd be naked and on foot, with those patrols about, and it's a long way. I—"

  There was a sudden figure at the window, that of a Kauri. Joe climbed in, and Mia and Marge both frowned, then Mia looked down at her unchanged self and Marge at Mia's normality.

  "I don't know what the hell's wrong with this crazy curse!" he grumbled. "This never happened before. Never."

  Quickly he filled them in on what had happened—up to a point.

  Marge, of course, caught it immediately. "Uh, Joe . . . You look awfully good and awfully fit and strong by Kauri standards for somebody who got drained by a spell that strong."

  His eyes rolled heavenward, then to Mia, then back to her. "The curse must have restored it as I slept," he responded at last. "Maybe that's why I didn't change back."

  Until that moment, Marge had never thought a Kauri could look embarrassed. She knew that there was only one way he could have gotten that kind of energy recharge, but she resisted the urgings of her Texas fairy soul to bring it up and rub it in. If he was as drained as he said, and then still made it that far, when he woke up it wouldn't have been an option but a compulsion.

  "So what do we do now?" Marge asked instead. "The only way I know to go when you have a bent curse is to visit a witch doctor, but somehow I don't think we want a Kauri walking into any witch doctor in these parts and saying she's really a were and couldn't switch back because of a sorcerous jolt!"

  "Perhaps it will repair itself now, Master," Mia said hopefully. "The moon will be up any moment."

  "Jeez! That's a point!" Marge commented. "Maybe we should get into some kind of position ..."

  But it was too late. He saw Mia's form blur and twist, actually saw her very brief change into Kauri form. He, too, felt it, but he suddenly realized that he was out of position.

  "Well, we've got two of us, anyway," Marge noted, looking at her twin where Mia had stood moments before. Joe, however, had been slightly closer not to Marge, but to Mia.

  "I never realized that before," the Kauri went on, staring at the new Joe. "It even duplicated the nose ring! Holy smoke, Joe! You own yourself!"

  Joe let out a long, exasperated sigh.

  Chapter 9

  Fifty Ways To Leave Your Lover

  Black shall be the color of the forces of evil; gold or silver trim is optional. Good shall have use of any other appropriate color combinations. One of the few tangible benefits of good is that they shall be able to use the better clothing designers.

  —The Books of Rules, II, 447(b)

  Joe stood there, feeling pretty stupid. He'd been so convinced, considering the day, that there would be no change at moonrise, that he'd been very sloppy.

  "I have seen the objects transferred before, my lady," he responded, the title coming unbidden. Just as he'd inherited an entire duplicate set of Kauri powers and instincts, and, yes, compulsions, so, too, had the damned curse duplicated not only Mia, but the full deck of Rules governing her as well. "As weres are supposed to exactly duplicate what they are nearest, it can happen."

  "This is madness!" Mia protested. "How can he own himself?"

  "Because the ring's a fake, really part of him," Marge answered. "He's not really a slave, he's just duplicating, imitating one exactly." She sighed. "So now what do we do?"

  "He surely cannot go out like that," Mia pointed out.

  "And I can't stay in," Marge said. "After last night I need a recharge and a hotshot in spades, and, Mia, since you duplicated me exactly, so do you."

  "I can do nothing but spend the night here, my ladies," Joe responded. "There is clearly nothing else I can do."

  "Yeah, and hope that this at least means the curse is no longer out of whack," Marge responded. "Otherwise, tomorrow daytime, there'll be two slaves and no master."

  Mia thought for a moment. "Uh, I would not leave this room all night in any case," she told him. "The town is filled with soldiers and they all have been pressing me to dance
, and, you know."

  "Besides," Marge noted, "you don't have the collar."

  "I shall behave, my lady," he responded. How odd to be doing that to Mia! "I shall sit here and worry about the two of you."

  Marge laughed. "Don't worry about us! We're .not about to do any snooping tonight. Too hot out there for that! Come on, Mia! Let's blow this joint!"

  Joe watched them go, then went over to the nightstand where there was some barely nibbled-on fruits and vegetables. What a time! he thought grumpily, finishing them off. While doing so, he was suddenly seized with the thought of how unkempt and messy it all was. By the time he was finished, he'd practically scrubbed the place down with the washbasin water and was checking for things to mend. The only thing he could do nothing about was the dishes and the festering food in the chamber pot.

  The trouble was, he couldn't just throw it out the window as he had the dirty water.

  It was quite late by this time; all the raucous noises of earlier in the evening had died down, and the town was basically closed. Maybe he could just sneak down . . . .

  No, that was madness. Suppose he ran into a bunch of drunken soldiers who wouldn't take no for an answer? He'd already been the victim of one compulsion he hadn't wanted to do; he sure as hell didn't want that.

  Why couldn't I be standing next to Sugasto when a full moon comes up sometime? he wondered, frustrated and upset. Of course, he then would have Sugasto's potential, but it would be moot, since he wouldn't have all those years and years of training, practice, and self-discipline to make any real use of it. Still, it certainly would be better than this.

  That mess in the chamber pot kept bothering him, though. The accumulated buzzing of the flies alone was enough to drive him nuts. He went over to the window and stuck his head out and listened. Almost dead quiet. The hell with it. I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. Maybe this is one of them, he thought, but he picked up the trash can, gingerly, then, quietly, opened the door. The hall was dark, the only illumination coming from the reception area downstairs, which was just fine with him.