Changewinds 03 - War of the Maelstrom

by Jack L. Chalker

  This kind of responsibility had been the sort that Her feminine half had been fearful of and had not wanted; that her male half had wanted above all else but with no clear direction as to what he wanted that power for. Now he would provide the drive, the joy of power, and she, through whom it must be filtered and accommodation reached, would temporize and shape and guide it. Together, the three in one, the male, the female, and the Wind, might well make something worthwhile, something great. And if She could not banish the horrors of the world and the darkest parts of the human soul, then at least She might provide justice.

  Lonely figures, like tiny dots against a sea of white, crawling, clawing their way forward, yet freezing, without a place to go….

  Other creatures, strange and hideous yet impervious to the cold, clawing around the edges of what remained of Klittichom's redoubt.

  Two in particular drew Her interest; the others could claw and mew and stalk each other through eternity on that ice for all she cared, and dream only of what might have been.

  She reached psychic fingers down to them, to the two strange figures back on the ice and to the tiny dots fighting their losing battle against the elements, knowing, at least, what to do with them. But she held them suspended, for a brief moment, in the netherworld between the ticks of the clock. She had something else to do first, one last obligation, one last, personal bit of housekeeping, before She withdrew to oversee her grand design, knowing that in the times to come She could no longer afford such personal attachments, that the greater good would come first.

  There was a sound, like the gentle tinkling of bells in the breeze, that woke Charley up. She sat up in the bed, frowning, for it was quite dark and the snores around told her that she alone had heard what it was and come awake.

  For a moment she thought it was just the child, now perhaps only days from being born, and that would be a relief. She hadn't slept too well these past couple of weeks as it was because of that.

  Something formed in front of her bed, out of the darkness; a shimmering mass, and two strange figures, semi-transparent, superimposed over a seething mass of clouds formed there. The vision made no intellectual sense; the smaller figure superimposed on the larger seemed paradoxically to be the greater. A small, yet increasingly familiar feminine form, atop a larger, more imposing, father figure.

  "We had to come back, for just this once," the female figure said.

  She frowned, unsure whether she was dreaming this or what. The others apparently heard nothing and slept on. "Sam?" she said, hesitantly, "Is that you?"

  "It is and it isn't," the figure replied. "Once I was Sam, and he was Boolean, but it is becoming harder and harder with each passing moment to tell one from the other. Our time is short, and full integration of my three parts proceeds at a pace even I can barely comprehend, so this is the last time this will be possible."

  "Sam—what happened to you? Up there… ?"

  "I can't explain. The results will be apparent to you all in the days and years to come. Let it suffice that Klittichom is dead, and while there may well be others like him in the ages to come, none will ever again pose the kind of threat he did. The others will be returned here shortly; they can give you as much as any person can about what happened. This last visit is for me alone, for the sake of what has gone before."

  There was a sudden blurring of the images, and me figure struggled to come back and retain full focus and form.

  "The time is shorter than I thought," the Sam figure told her. "We must go."

  "Go? Go where? Sam, where are you? What happened to you? Will I see you again?" And where'a you get that vocabulary?

  "I can't explain and it makes no difference anyway. You were always bright; you will be able to figure out a tittle of it— The rest you will simply not believe. It doesn't matter. Only false gods are dependent upon belief. That's none of your concern. I came here just to see you this last time, and to tell you a few things about your own self."

  "What? What's this all about, Sam?"

  "The child is no longer a Storm Princess, just a beautiful little baby girl who will need love. The position of Storm Princess has been abolished. It is redundant. Love her, Charley. Think of her as your own."

  "Uh, yeah, okay, Sam. But…."

  "You have a lot of potential, Charley, that you either threw away or had thrown away. You have a second chance now. Tell me, would you rather go home, now? Have the baby in a real hospital, live in the world you grew up in?"

  Charley had thought about that for a long time but had never expected to be asked the question when it meant something. "No, Sam, I don't think so. I don't think I could just pick up, not as somebody else, which I am now, after all this here."

  "Then remain in Masalur, Charley. Here there will be no more war, no more slavery. Trust me on this. The rest of Akahlar will be in torment for many years, perhaps a generation or more, but not here. And here, as the creation of Boolean the Great, surrogate of Sam, you'll have additional position, power, and prestige. Nor will you be alone. What wealth you need you will find; what you do with your life and how you spend it is your own affair, as they should be. But you'll make your own choices from here on in; they will not be imposed. Farewell, Charley. Remember us fondly. And if our daughter ever asks about Sam Buell—lie."

  "Sam, you should know…. Cromil told me. All that hell we went through, all that shit they put us through—most of it was deliberate. Sam! They used us!"

  "We know, Charley. We have a far better understanding of it and source of information than Cromil. Charley, just, well, don't waste yourself as a bimbo any more. Make some right choices for a change. Live your life and enjoy it. For our sake, and for our daughter. Don't stay blind to everything, now you can see. Farewell, Charley. We didn't ask for this, didn't want it, but we couldn't avoid it. Live a life like Sam still dreams of living, and know, curiously, that she envies you."

  The vision flickered again, this time worse, the white smoky background seeming to reach out and swallow them up.

  "Sam! Wait!" But the vision had vanished, gone into the darkness.

  "Damn you, Sam!" she grumbled. "I'm still fat!"

  14

  Aftermaths and Beginnings

  THEY WERE SCATTERED along the beach like bits of flotsam and jetsam washed in from a storm, although the sky was sunny with just a few fleecy clouds and had been for many days.

  It was Dorion who found them, while out walking along the shores of the lagoon and trying to decide on the meaning of things. Charley had had a vision, or so she said; Sam had come, sort of with Boolean, almost as ghosts, to announce both a victory and a farewell, yet the promise of Charley's weight loss had not been fulfilled. A dream? Perhaps, but why had Charley, who had never been able to master the language, awakened now speaking flawless Akhbreed? And acquired a voice that was still her voice, but a bit higher, softer, definitely in the feminine registers, and kind of sexy? A dream? A new spell? Or, in fact, had things truly changed, and, if so, how?

  And what about him? Sometime yesterday, he was suddenly aware that the spell binding him as her slave had simply vanished; the ring was not inert, just a piece of jewelry, and in a very silly place for jewelry. She hadn't known, and he hadn't told her, although their relationship remained ambivalent. She was so hung up on her looks she couldn't seem to think of anything else; so long as that was so, the fact that she thought the ring bound him was sufficient to keep him there and on hand, not allowing her reason to dismiss him.

  Suddenly he stopped dead on the beach and stared. By the gods the beach was littered with bodies! He broke free of his shock and ran to the closest one and stared down at it.

  This one was familiar, although a bit different-looking; Etanalon had never looked so radiant, and the silver robe did wonders for her. He bent down, fearing she was dead, but she stirred, frowned, then opened her eyes and saw him, and then she smiled.

  "Help me up, Dorion, if you please," she asked him kindly, and he did so. She looked around.
"The others?"

  "I'll see more over there. You were just the first."

  She nodded. "Let us check them." She yawned, stretched, and stamped her feel to get herself going. "Not bad for an old ice monster," she muttered to herself, and followed him.

  Next, bundled in furs and sweating like a stuck pig in them under the tropical sun, was Crim, looking like he needed a bath, shave, and a very long rest. Etanalon checked him out while Dorion went to the next figure down. Crim opened his eyes and did an imitation of Etanalon waking up. "Huh? What? Where…?"

  "Hey! There's a real pretty naked lady over there." Dorion shouted, and Etanalon left Crim to manage and rushed over to the next patient. Dorion turned over the nude form and gasped; the sight also startled Etanalon, even though she might have expected it.

  "It's Kira!" Dorion breathed, then looked back at Crim, just making it as far as sitting up. "But, I thought" His head went back and forth between the pair. "How… ?"

  "Their curse is ended, undone to the core," Etanalon told him. "Yet she as well as he are whole, and in the prime of their half-spent best years." She chuckled. "If you think you are shocked, imagine what it's going to be like when they see each other."

  They heard a familiar voice cursing and rushed to the next figure, who was even now getting up on her own. Boday groaned, stretched, then looked around, saw where she was and saw the others, and grinned, then immediately began shedding her own fur clothing and boots. "Hey! You two! Victory is sweetness and Boday has become legend!" she shouted exuberantly. She looked around. "Have you seen someone who looks a lot like my darling Susama?"

  Etanalon came over to her. "Uh, Boday, I'm afraid you won't be seeing Susama any more. You see…"

  "Ah! Boday knows that! She understands! The fates never intended that her Susama should be limited to being the wife and love-slave of Boday' No, I said somebody who looks like her."

  "No, wait a minute!"

  The fancy clothing was unmistakable now, and before either Dorion or Etanalon could reach the unconscious form, Boday was there, turning her over, brushing the woman's hair back and the sand from her face. She twitched, then sighed, then opened her eyes and looked at Boday.

  "I love you," sighed the girl who looked like Sam, eyeing Boday as if the alchemical artist were a true goddess. Boday smiled. "Boday knows you do, her little Princess! Ah, never again will Boday have to worry about who will cook her meals, mend her clothes, clean the place, or assist and provide whatever Boday needs. That's all you want to do now, isn't it, my Princess? Now and forevermore!"

  "Yes, my darling," the girl who looked like Sam responded. Both Etanalon and Dorion stood there, staring. Finally it was Dorion who said, "That's not… is it?"

  Boday looked up at them and grinned broadly. "Once, yes, she was called the Storm Princess and filled with hate and madness, but no more. Never more. Now she is filled only with love and devotion for Boday!"

  "But how?" Etanalon wanted to know.

  Boday shrugged. "A little taste of the whip, a bit of a choke hold, and an entire phial of Boday's own special ultra-powerful, quick-acting love potion, which she fixed up in your own lab over the evening we spent there. It was not intended for this, but there they were, face to face, my Susama and the Princess, and then the fates placed Boday, at just the right angle, with all the means at hand! So Boday saved Susama and the Princess, which allowed Susama to save Boolean, which allowed them both to save the world and make of Klittichom some kind of ice sculpture or whatever. Boday has claimed her own rewards; no thanks are necessary, even if, in the end, it is Boday who saved the world!"

  The alchemical artist paused, looked back at the princess, then at them, and shrugged. "After all, what else is she good for? Her powers are gone, and she's not well equipped to go to work for a living. This way at least she is useful, and happy."

  Dorion was about to say something, thought better of it, then averted his eyes and caught sight of something, or someone else, still further along. "Who can that be?"

  There was an enormous cloak of familiar brown cloth, but the figure filling it was almost lost within the vastness of its folds. The cloak was familiar to them—clearly it was Yobi's— but the woman inside was not. Although middle-aged she was still something of a beauty, stately and statuesque, not at all grandmotherly or matronly like Etanalon.

  "Who is that?" Dorion asked. "And where's Yobi?'

  "That is Yobi, dear," Etanalon replied. "That is the Yobi who attained the Second Rank, before she paid the price of her researches and her battles and went places and did things that so terribly changed her. It is Yobi before she paid her terrible price, now given a second chance at it. I believe she will need a smaller, grander cloak of rank now."

  Dorion shook his head in wonder, then got up, leaving Yobi's recovery to Etanalon, turned, and looked back up the beach. "I had wondered what would happen when they saw each other in the light of day." he said, smiling. "Look."

  Etanalon turned and saw, back up the beach, the figure of a tall, handsome man in a long embrace with a young, naked woman, each holding the other as if they were afraid to let go.

  "That's sweet," the sorceress commented. "I was so afraid that after all this time they'd be sick of each other."

  "I'll go tell Charley and the others," Dorion shouted. starting to turn for the house halfway around the lagoon. "Boy, we're gonna have one hell of a party!"

  Yobi groaned, opened her eyes, saw Etanalon, and went through the whole routine. The old sorceress allowed herself to be helped up, and only then did she look at herself and realize the change that had been wrought. "Oh, my!" she muttered. "Oh my!"

  "Yes, dear, but I'd think very seriously about playing those demon games any more," Etanalon cautioned. "I seriously doubt if anybody will give you a third crack at it."

  "We still, we have our powers back?"

  "About like before, it seems to me. Neither magic nor the rest were abolished, only limited in their range and scope, which is reasonable. Akahlar depends too much upon people like us to wipe us out now, and I get the distinct impression that there are far fewer of us in the Second Rank than there were yesterday. Don't you?"

  "Indeed. But not everything works. The boy, Dorion—he still had the ring in his nose but it was just a ring. No power. No enslavement."

  "That's not permitted in Masalur, I think. We'll have to divine the rules once again, but that's a fascinating chore. You know, I doubted right up to the end whether or not we weren't stupid suicidal idiots for going against all that, but it seems to have worked out nicely that we did. Except for that brief horrid transformation on the ice, we—you and I—came out of this pretty well. In fact, I'd say that we are probably right now the de facto heads of the Guild, whatever's left of it."

  "Just as well," Yobi noted. "Otherwise we'd be stuck forever in this island paradise."

  They joined Boday and her new escort, which amused Yobi no end, and continued on up the beach towards the house. They passed Crim and Kira, who didn't seem to be aware that anyone else was there, and decided not to disturb them.

  Etanalon looked over at Boday and her fawning lovesick princess and said, "You know, something's been bothering me since I heard your version of events, Boday. Why did you go down in my lab and spend so much time mixing your love concoction at that point? Not for this end, surely. You can't see the future. Might it have been in the back of your head to secure the love of Susama once and for all?"

  "Oh. no! Boday understood the special position of her Susama. Why do you think she never slipped Susama the potion during all that time in Tubikosa? Boday did not come on this journey, give up everything, for her. It was to renew herself, to fill her emptied soul, and that it has done. No, she spent months in the company of that pair up at the house, and hours in talking sense to that silly girl there who had no sense of what was truly important. It was the idea that, if the opportunity presented itself, a few drops, perhaps, in a farewell toast, to cement a deserving relationship, as it were. It
was concentrate, by the way. My princess here probably swallowed enough of it to make love-slaves out of the whole of center city Tubikosa, but that's all right. She had a lot of hate to smother."

  Etanalon looked at the house. "And did you manage it?" "No, there was no opportunity, which is why it was still in my belt." She reached down and pulled a small phial out of her leather belt, held it up and looked at it. "There are still a few drops in there. Probably more than enough. Perhaps it can be done yet."

  "No, hold off," Yobi interrupted. "Ever since she got there the people have been making most of her decisions for her.

  "First that the few she could make couldn't help but be a bit wrong. It will be sad if she keeps to that pattern, but it is her choice to make. At least she's earned that right."

  Charley shared the shock, surprises, and joy at having them back, and did not let them alone until each of their stories was drawn out and compared. Boday was already sketching, and dreaming one day of an entire panorama in oils, perhaps a diorama depicting the epic fight against the forces of evil that had saved Akahlar.

  During one of Charley's frequent trips to the outhouse—it seemed like she had to pee every ten minutes these days— Etanalon followed her in conversation, and during the course of it let slip that Dorion's slave spell was nullified, gone. Apparently, although he had to know, he had neither told her nor acted any differently.

  She shook her head in wonder. "Why? Why would he do that? Pretend to still be my slave?"

  "He loves you, dear. You know that. He gave up what little he had for you. Surely that must be obvious."

  "Yeah. I guess so, but…. well… he could do a lot better than me if he was just a little more assertive. He is kind of cute, you know. I mean, I'm fat, and any moment now I'm gonna be a mother to a kid by a father long dead now. Either one would be bad enough, but both together is a hell of a burden to stick a guy with. I mean, he's not really in love with me; he's in love with some little slip of a courtesan who could charm the balls off a pawnbroker's sign. That girl's gone. The closest to her is the one Boday's got, and she's kind'a out of circulation. You yourself examined me and told me the spells were still there, so I'm not gonna change. Who the hell would want a five-foot-two-inch 50-42-50 butterball, never mind one with a kid?"