Literally lots of things, Irving thought. "No, I think I'll stick close to the hotel. It seems pretty safe. It might be good, though, to visit some shops and pick up a few spare things for the trip. We packed awfully light."
"Two blocks over to the right as you exit," Thebes told "Quite a lot of shops and specialty stores."
"I can exchange an ingot for some local currency," Poquah told him. "Perhaps, later, if she is up to it, you might wish to take your young lady with you. I do not think that the several white cotton dresses and those sandals will be sufficient."
Things were agreed on, then, and with handshakes all around—Joel Thebes had a shake like a limp, dead fish—they agreed to consult and meet regularly for dinner at the hotel and to prepare to go inland with the expedition in two days' time.
As Poquah and Irving walked up to the desk, the boy whispered, "You got ingots?"
"Yes, of course. You never know when they are useful. I carry them in a sorcerer's pouch. Do not worry. We will not lack for resources."
That was certainly clear when, at the cashier, Poquah produced a heretofore invisible leather purse of not very impressive size and reached into it. Although it wasn't much larger than his hand to the wrist, he pulled out a complete bar of unmistakable processed gold and put it on the counter, then made the purse vanish. Good trick, Irving thought approvingly.
The money for it was considerable, and Poquah peeled off several large bills and handed them to Irving. "Do not lose them or have them stolen from you," the Imir warned. "I am not going to budget for incompetence."
"I'll be careful," Irving assured him. He looked at the notes, which were all sorts of oddball denominations. Each one had a demon on its face and a scene from one of the circles of Hell on the back. "So what does the big prince get?" he asked Poquah. "A thousand?"
"Of course not. He's on one of the most common bills here—the three."
Irving fished one out and looked at it. "Looks like pictures of the angels in churches, only bigger and better," he remarked.
"Well, that's how he started out, anyway, and how he probably still sees himself. You never know. He may not be a god, but with that kind of power and those legions, he's about the closest thing you'll ever see to one."
Larae had not joined them for breakfast but was up and changed, sort of, when they got back. She was wearing a shorter dress, which hung on the hips and went to just be low the knees, but nothing else. She had a very nice figure, Irving noted, just as he had known she would.
"Does this bother you?" she asked them. "I couldn't manage the full dress, and this is quite traditional and casual in my homeland, although I know that not all cultures are comfortable with it. When this sort of temperature is normal all year, we feel there is no reason to hide ourselves in false modesty."
"N—no, it's fine with me," Irving responded. "After all, I just got this loincloth and stuff on. By all means be comfortable. I—I think they are shutting down the breakfast by now, but we might be able to get something if you want it."
"That is all right. I can wait. I have not had much of an appetite of late."
"I thought I'd go shopping, since we'll need to pick up some things, and if you want to come along, it's fine with me."
She smiled. "I'd like that a lot, so long as it remains daylight and we stay out of that dreadful dockside district." Irving buckled on his short sword and belt. "Well, I'll take along something for the unexpected, but I think this area right around here should be fine."
And indeed it was—for Yuggoth, anyway.
It was something of a shock to be hit with that blanket of heat and humidity as they exited the hotel. While it had been humid all along, the hotel's ventilation system had kept the temperature pretty comfortable. Now, out in the beating tropical sun shining down from a cloudless sky, the full impact hit them.
"Feels very much like my home," she told him. "Very different land, but that sun and temperature are familiar. Do not be surprised if around midday there is a sudden gathering of clouds and a torrent of rain for at least a brief period. It is common in my land."
He felt far less comfortable than she, but, worse, he was soon sweating like a stuck pig and she seemed dry and hardly affected. It was embarrassing.
The row of shops and stores was also easy to spot, and as they walked along, they saw that in the midst of the expected there was always the Yuggoth touch, with potion stores and shops with all sorts of voodoolike paraphernalia intermixed with clothing and shoe and food and sundry shops, some of which seemed downright conventional but all of which had at least one item that was questionable, from the type of skin on a leather handbag to the small shrunken-head necklaces.
Overall, though, it was kind of a fun day. He really liked being with Larae, and he'd never quite felt this way or this comfortable with any girl before. He was feeling things in his head and in other parts of his anatomy that the spell had long blocked and that were totally new to him for that reason. Clearly, though, the warning about his spells had been right, and the farther he was from their source and the closer to the spirits of Yuggoth and its atmosphere, the less effect the spell would have, possibly even dissolving.
There were some skimpy leather bands that passed for an outfit he wouldn't have minded seeing her in, but she seemed partial to slit skirts, although now of darker and more complex colors and patterns. She bought only a couple of tops, mostly matching the more numerous skirts, for formal occasions, dinner, and perhaps the potentially cool evening they hadn't yet experienced.
For Irving it was easier. He needed some support for and protection of his genitals, of course, but beyond that he felt most comfortable outdoors in heat like this when wearing the least. He did, however, invest in a pair of solid low-top boots. Walking on the hot stone pavement was frying his feet something awful, and it was either that or admit to Larae that he couldn't take it. She liked sandals and also found a comfortable pair of boots for when they would be necessary, but for now she preferred being barefoot and seemed almost oblivious to the fact that the same surface that she was walking on would, Irving was absolutely certain, fry bacon and eggs without any added help.
The most unusual thing overall about the city, though, was that it wasn't all that unusual. This was a city not all that different from the ones on the great northern continent, nor did the people or the dangers seem to be nearly as horrible as their billing. Okay, there was that strip of nasty joints, but you could find neighborhoods perhaps only slightly milder in the City-States, ignoring, of course, the self-cleaning sidewalks. And the back-alley dangers and random violence didn't seem all that different from the cities of Husaquahr or, in fact, from those of Irving's native land, either. What was bent here was not much more bent than the "good" places, even if it was more consistently bent in the same direction.
In the main, people went to work here, did their jobs, went home, raised their kids, and tried to mind their own business.
It was not, of course, a democracy, but neither was any place in Husaquahr he could think of.
Yuggoth was positively routine so far, and in a sense that disturbed him. Did it mean that it wasn't so evil, after all, or that evil places weren't really all that different from home, whether home was the lands around Terindell or the more distant land of Philadelphia?
Joel Thebes certainly thought there were more woes here. "Forms, forms, and more forms," he wailed. "All this just to go anywhere at all here, as if anyone out there really cared."
"You mean they won't collect these papers?" Marge asked him.
"Oh, these forms will be examined over and over again, and if there is one teensy little error, the inspectors will reject them. It is just that everything in them is totally meaningless. The only reason we must have them is that we must have them. This is not an efficiency system; it is a full-employment system!"
"That is usually the case with bureaucracies," Poquah sympathized. "The direct approach is always more efficient."
Irving was puzzl
ed. "Is there a real problem here? I thought everybody here was being nice to us because they wanted us to get in there."
"Oh, it is not a particular problem for you," Thebes assured them. "It is including the girl, you see. And I get the idea that some various powers that be are none too happy she has hooked up with you."
"Well, it is not as if we planned this," Poquah noted, giving a menacing side glance to Irving and Marge. "However, we can hardly abandon her now. She has become part of the Company. The Rules would not allow such a thing."
"I know, I know," Thebes wailed. "But that is why they make so much trouble. Here in the real world they cannot get around the Rules very much, either. Still, I would be very careful with her. You know that things can happen to people in a Company. Bad things."
"The question is, Will we make our transportation arrangements or won't we?" Marge asked him.
"Oh, yes, yes. I think so. They will cause all sorts of horrible things to happen, but in the end it is as the boy said: you are here because they want you here. In the end they will have to let us all go. You should be ready by nine tomorrow morning if you wish breakfast. We will have a short way to travel, and then we will join and board the river launch."
Marge yawned. "Then I'm going to bed. The rest of you will have to do whatever needs to be done."
Larae didn't want to go out, at least not right then. It was almost as if she were afraid that something would happen at the last minute that would separate her from her only companions in the world. Poquah decided to go along with Thebes and hope to help things along and possibly even contact Ruddygore. That left Irving suddenly all alone with no place to go.
He decided to go out, anyway.
The shop was called, quite simply, Spirits, Potions, and Spells, betraying both a simplicity of mind and something of a lack of real imagination. Nonetheless, it looked interesting as a cross between a magic antiques store and an old-fashioned apothecary shop.
The proprietor was a strange little man with big sharp teeth, a round face, and pointed ears, and he was having a bad hair day. He flashed Irving back many years.
He looks like the Count on Sesame Street
, he thought, wondering where the image had come from. He hadn't thought of any of that in a very long time.
The little man came straight up to him and held out a small jar filled with some kind of black powder. "This is it," he said quite casually. "This one is, of course, temporary. The permanent one costs considerably more than you have on you."
"Huh? I beg your pardon. You must have mistaken me for somebody else, 'cause I just walked in."
"Yes, you were wondering about love potions, and this ground powder, which dissolves with virtually no telltale taste or odor, is the finest temporary one I know."
"I—I was just idly thinking. You don't read minds or something, do you?"
"Not unless I use various spells, I don't, no. Would you like that?"
"Um, no. I just was trying to figure out how you knew what I was thinking about."
"Oh, that is simple. A very minor spell on the whole establishment. It tells me as you come in why you were interested enough to enter. What kind of a sorcery supply store would I be if it were otherwise?"
Irving was impressed and fascinated. "What about removing any last vestiges of a spell put on yourself?" he asked the little man. "I can't touch it, and it might well interfere."
The proprietor examined him carefully. "You have both a spell and a curse. The curse, in fact, might well make this powder irrelevant if the spell was totally removed, you know."
"A curse? Who would do that to me?'
"I have no idea, but it is a strange one to be placed involuntarily on another. Hmmm ... Let me see. Yes, there, and there, and over here, and urn, uh huh. All right."
"Well, what does it curse me with?'
"Oh, that part's easy. It states that you will exert an enormous attractive influence over women."
"Oh, that. I've known about that since I discovered girls. Sometimes it's more of a pain than anything else, and it hasn't done me any good at all, even if I knew how to use it."
"Interesting. Well, the spell was obviously overlaid to neutralize the curse. Remove the spell and you will, I believe, discover a number of ways to use it. Interesting. Suppose you could turn it off or on at will. Would that be of interest to you? Assuming we remove the rather weak and simple restraining spell."
"Huh? Um, you can do that?"
"Removing the spell is simple enough. I'm surprised you haven't had a go at it with someone else before this. Almost anyone could handle it."
"I have pretty straight guardians."
"Um, yes, I see. Well, as I say, ridding you of it is no problem. Do you still have this guardian problem?"
He thought of Poquah. "Yeah, I'm with somebody who can read these like a book—and fix them."
The little man sighed. "All right, then, what about this? I'll remove the effect of the spell while leaving it on. Like wearing a light jacket or wrap; it will still be there, but it will have no effect on you."
"Yeah, that sounds great. But how much?"
"Oh, I wouldn't think of charging for something so simple. But the other one—that is a different story. Making that one voluntary will require work and a higher power than myself. There are, of course, some interesting additional powers implied by that as well. I know what you have on you. It will take all of it, but I can handle it."
Irving was startled. "What? Now?"
"Unless you wish a more convenient time."
Irving thought about it. There was no other convenient time, of course. They were leaving tomorrow. All the remaining cash on him, though, was a fair amount even after his purchases. Explaining what had happened to it to Poquah wouldn't be easy, but it might well be handled. But the idea of lifting the curse to find out what these odd feelings were like unimpeded and to be able to act on them like any other normal young man his age—that was tempting. As for the curse—which he did know how he'd gotten, fooling around with sorcerous attempts of his own to break the first one a couple of years ago—that wasn't so pressing, but it did seem like a great idea. To be able to turn it on or off ...
He thought of Larae, who, unless she had tremendous self-control, was somehow not affected by it. "You guarantee that all women would be affected by it?"
"Absolutely. Would you like to do it now?"
Oh, hell! "Yeah, I think so."
"You understand that a curse requires a demon to modify it. Come on back and I'll treat the spell, and then we'll summon someone appropriate. Um, leave your shoes and cloth outside. Nothing but you inside, please; we wouldn't want anything to contaminate the work."
The proprietor took him in the back, where there was a small, dark room lit with candles and with a small altar in the center. "No pentagram?" Irving asked him.
"In Yuggoth? Whatever for? I mean, demons can just as easily walk in off the street and do. It's only when you're dealing with the really powerful ones, the ones of a kind even their fellow demons can't control, that you need any sort of protection along those lines, and usually in that case a mere pentagram is inadequate." He fumbled under the small altar, and then there was a hissing sound under it. The little man struck something, and a fire caught under the bowl sitting atop the altar, which he adjusted with some sort of curved rod control. It seemed for all the world that he had a gas flame there, and maybe he did.
The proprietor handed Irving a small ceremonial awl.
"I'll need at least two drops of blood," he said, as if that were totally routine.
"I'm not sure I like giving anything of myself to one like you." the boy responded. "No offense, but there's a lot of control in this."
"Oh, relax! I'm bonded! Besides, it will all be consumed. And anyway, the authorities have everybody's hair and nails and skin and whatever. It's routine for coming here."
Irving didn't like that idea one bit. Still, he said, "Okay, okay. Let me jab ..." He made a small punctur
e, and the man grabbed his finger and shook it over the bowl. A drop or two splashed down and sizzled. He then added a few small potion-type ingredients and stirred with a whisk, as if he were making an omelet. Soon there was a very small burned ball there, round and surprisingly shiny, which the proprietor picked up with tongs.
"Looks like it's good," the magician told him. "You are welcome to take this with water or wine if you like. I have some over here of either."
Irving looked at it. "You mean swallow it like a pill?"
"Exactly so. It will decouple the spell. It is quite cool now, but I would prefer if only you touched it. I want no contamination."
Irving took it, examined it, shook his head, then took the offered water and swallowed it as best he could. It was a little tough getting it down, but with enough water he made it.
He handed the cup back to the proprietor and waited. "I don't feel any different," he said.
"Of course not. And you won't, not right away. It will dissolve and circulate through your body. You'll start feeling it soon enough. In fact, if you've never had these feelings unrestricted before, I would take it easy tonight. Now, for the other. Stand over on that symbol on the floor and relax."
Irving looked down and saw an area where some kind of hex symbol had been drawn on the floor, looking like a stylized bird's head of the sort you'd see in Egyptian hieroglyphics or something. He went over and stood on it and almost jumped off. The spot was uncannily cold on his feet.
"That's natural," the dealer told him. "Now, just stand there and do not move. I will have to go out before this can happen. It's just between the two of you, but he'll know exactly what the problem is and how to fix it."
"He?"
"Mysteroth, a demon of the tribe of Prince Leviathan. I told you not to worry. This is a demon who could just as easily do whatever he willed to you if he met you on a sunny street. This is strictly business. He couldn't care less about you or what you want this for; he's simply doing me a service and will take it out in trade."
Horrors of the Dancing Gods Page 22