Vengeance of the Dancing Gods

by Jack L. Chalker

  "Oh, he makes it just hard enough to get to him that you really must want to," Bly replied. "Being removed like this means you have to have some money and/or influence to make it, and that keeps the common folk away. He also charges two arms and four legs for the service—in advance—which also tends to keep traffic down."

  "I thought the best oracles were ascetics," the thief in the ratlike body noted. "All the ones I've seen are."

  "Were they reliable?"

  "Um—no, not really."

  "See? I've never been out this way before, but I'm told that he started out like the others, but slowly discovered that it just wasn't required. Now he lives like a prince on his own little island kingdom and has done so since he discovered somewhat by accident that asceticism wasn't necessary."

  The sail billowed in the breeze; while the ship rolled and rocked in somewhat choppy seas, it made good progress. Bly was determined to make the island before nightfall.

  "What's so dangerous about night on this route?" Macore asked him.

  "Well, there are occasional krakens and other giant creatures out here, and we have to pass close to the home of a race of nocturnal sirens."

  "Sirens? They sing and lure ships to the rock?"

  "Oh, no, that's another kind. These are fire sirens. Wail like banshees and the sound sets your ship aflame."

  Macore let the subject drop.

  Marge was asleep below, and Tiana went down to see Joe. She had been warned by Bly that this area was hostile to mermaids of her markings, and she decided to forgo any chance at ocean swimming for now. She wanted to see Joe anyway. She made no real use of the rails that Tura had put in to get about better; she felt no loss of dignity crawling across the floor, pulling herself with her two arms. The hands, although human-looking, were webbed; spread out, they provided traction and even some suction.

  "Hello, Joe," she said as cheerily as she could, hauling herself up and settling comfortably in a chair. "They finally got me, Ti," he sighed.

  "Me, too," she reminded him.

  "No, not really. If anything, you're better off. You're still damned good looking and strong, you've got the mermaid's powers, and you're free now to wander. Maybe slowed a little on land, but you're self-sufficient and most of Husaquahr is on the rivers anyway. A mermaid who's also a were should do great."

  "Marge has done pretty well in a body as pretty as yours," Tiana noted. "Even if the worst happened, it is not the end of the world."

  "It's death, Ti! Death for me, anyway. Kauris are complicated. They have to be in lots of different cultures' company, they can fly, and they have great defenses. Nymphs are the least common denominator. They're built for sex and seduction and nothing else. I can take any man, no matter how celibate or faithful. Every once in a while, it all clicks, and then I deposit the issue in a tree and wait until a new nymph forms. With no real need to eat or have any of the other needs, and limited to maybe half a mile from the host tree, the only thing a nymph does when no man's around is make out with other nymphs and take the seed from trees to plant more trees and extend the forests. That's really what they're for—to keep the forests pruned, planted, and nurtured, and it's something that's needed in this world—but it's all they do! And they do it all by instinct. They need just enough brains to talk to humans and maybe communicate warnings to them as well, but their kind of life, alone and stuck in the wilds with no real needs, means that the more stupid, dull, and ignorant they are, the better off they are. They're fairies too, remember. They don't die unless their tree suffers some terrible tragedy so quick they can't disengage, like sawing or burning down Audra's. It's forever, Ti!"

  She thought about it, trying to think of what to say in response. "You are certain this is true? How?"

  "I just know. It's built into the genes or whatever fairies have in place of them. I know the whole bit—now that I've broken the ice, so to speak, and let it take control."

  "You speak of 'it.' What is 'it'?"

  "This body, of course! It's—well, sort of like a machine. No, it is a machine. That's really what fairy folk are— living machines designed to keep order in the world. That's why they couldn't continue to live on Earth, once the machines took over. Some did what they were supposed to do, and others undid what they were compelled to do faster than they could do it."

  She thought about it. "Perhaps that is why Ruddygore is so intent on keeping the machine out of here, while not adverse to using it himself, yes? He has nothing against machines, but knows that, if they come here, the fairy folk have no place else to go."

  Joe nodded. "I think so. It explains a lot, anyway."

  "But you can exist without being stuck to a tree in a forest."

  "Well, Joe de Oro, in this body, can, and the body knows it. That means that Joe's in the way, you see. Joe would also go nuts doing a wood nymph's job. That means Joe's got to go. Ti, the brain's part of the body! Every hour I lose a little something. First it wasn't much, and that was only when I was asleep, but now it's going on awake or asleep, and I think it will just get faster and faster when I do rest. That's what's really driving me nuts. I know things are going and I don't even know what! I can't!" Suddenly Joe burst into tears and cried for a long time. Finally he sobbed, "See? I can't even control myself this much anymore!"

  "I think it has a long way to go, considering this conversation," the mermaid noted. Still, Joe was certainly telling the truth. His speech was softer, gentler, and very feminine in tone now, where before the change it had been hard. Joe got up and walked over to where there were some tissues to dry his eyes, and she saw that he now had a natural gait better than any she'd ever had. Finally, she had only one thing to fall back on.

  "Joe?" she asked hesitantly. "Do you still love me? Even as I am?"

  That stopped him for a moment. "Yes. Of course I do." It was said with some surprise in his tone, as if he hadn't really thought about it.

  "Then hold on to that! Fight it! We are near the end of this road! Fight it not for your sake, but for mine!"

  "Ti—I—" he began, but was suddenly sobbing once again.

  The island was a small and probably extinct volcano, covered at the bottom with lush vegetation. It wasn't hard to find the Oracle's place on it; the island wasn't that big, and a marble palace, which Marge later would compare to pictures of the Taj Mahal set into the mountainside, was hard to miss. It was also just inland from the only decent anchorage.

  A whole crowd of dark brown nymphs greeted them with joy and giggles and surrounded the party when they came ashore in the ship's dinghy. Two female centaurs had hitched themselves to a large coach, which could accommodate them all, and off they went. It was a little unnerving to be riding inside with no driver, but the centaurs knew their business.

  "I wonder if he allows any other males on the island except as guests?" Bly mused aloud.

  "Would you?" Macore came back.

  "I just thought of a hitch in this," Marge noted hesitantly. "This only works with mortals, as I remember, and Joe's no longer one of them."

  "But both Tiana and I are," Macore reminded her. "And I, at least am going along if this misbegotten expedition ever gets started."

  Tiana looked over at Joe, who seemed uncomfortable. "What's the matter now, my poor Joe?"

  "Those field nymphs. I felt—right at home. All I could think about when they were around was looking and acting prettier and sexier than they were."

  "Almost over now, Joe," Marge consoled, as they pulled up to the great palace and stopped. They got out, and marble steps stretched up as far as they could see.

  "Just go on up," one of the centauresses said to them. "He's always in, and he's expecting you."

  Tiana looked at the steps and gulped. "I had enough trouble getting in this coach. There's no way I will make it up those stairs."

  The other centauress laughed. "Oh, don't worry. See over there, by the waterfall? The water turns a wheel that eventually turns a belt that will take you up. You can all use it if you want.
I wish we could."

  The belt was slow but it had small wooden clamps that served to support them. It did take you up, but at a very slow rate. Tiana, not being very mobile on land, and the others, now being rather small, were carried by the belt; only Marge chose not to take it. The sun had not yet set, but Marge had her goggles on and could easily fly the distance.

  Once up, they walked and Tiana crawled to the front door, which was open, and then went inside.

  There were golden fountains, rich tapestries, and plush carpeting all over the place. It was, in fact, fancier than Castle Morikay, and they were impressed.

  "Well," Marge said, "anybody who makes enough money to afford all this surely must have something on the ball!"

  A far door opened and a pudgy man of medium height emerged wearing a brown satin robe. He looked like a stereotypical monk, in fact, complete with rosy cheeks and a prominent bald spot. He smiled at them and said, "Oh, hello! I'm glad you're all here. Just relax a moment and I'll send for beer."

  "Nothing for me, thanks," Marge replied. "Anybody else?" They all shook their heads in the negative.

  "Oh, I know you needed nothing this time. It's just the Rules I must speak in rhyme. I'm the Oracle of Mylox, you see, And a poet is something I'll never be."

  "You're the Oracle?" Tiana said disbelievingly. "Uh— sorry. You're just not what I expected, that's all."

  "You are not what I expected either.

  Fahadur, nymph, mermaid, and thief are neither

  A big barbarian strong and manly

  Unless a reasonable facsimile thereof is handy?"

  Joe seemed ready to burst into tears at that; while Tiana calmed him. Marge and Bly explained to the Oracle what had happened. He nodded with kind understanding, although Macore muttered, "If he's so omniscient, why do we have to tell him this?" The Oracle heard him, and tried to explain.

  "The future is closed to an oracle, too.

  I can no more see next year than you.

  But when questions I'm asked by those who come,

  I have the power to answer some.

  This power's much higher than me, you see,

  I'm only the medium through which you'll be

  Hearing from a power even wizards can't know

  A power, I'm sure, which comes not from below."

  Macore considered it. "In other words, if someone asks you a question, he gets an answer from Heaven itself?"

  "Not an answer, no, I'm sorry.

  Heaven talks not to me, don't worry.

  I have a gift with which I'm able

  To tap into the great cosmic babble

  Where past and future all are one

  And find the clues before I'm done.

  Alas, such heavenly cosmic tines

  Are far too great for human minds.

  You'll get the truth now, don't fret!

  Making sense of it you do not get."

  "Hmmm... that explains a lot," Macore said aloud, although he added of nothing to himself. "Well, okay, so through you we can tap the cosmic mind and get relationships that apply to us. What about direct questions, though? Any ideas on how we start with this? Do you need a trance or something?"

  "I can give you no suggestions,

  But some have gotten answers to questions.

  The power's an automatic thing with me.

  We can start right now if the rest agree."

  Marge stepped forward. "I think we ought to, and just get it over with. I know the questions Ruddygore wanted posed, and I'm sure we'll add some. I guess, for safety's sake, we'll have to get Captain Bly to pose them, though. By a crazy twist of fate he's the only human being among us."

  "Fairies get no good answers, it's true,

  But any mortal among you will do.

  Fahadur, mermaid, human all three

  Can get some decent results from me.

  Please step outside before we begin.

  It's something I need to start my discipline."

  They went out onto the porch and saw that the tremendous number of nymphs who'd greeted them at the dock, joined by countless others, were all gathered there at the bottom of the great stair. The Oracle smiled and then gestured, and the nymphs began to chant.

  "Oracle! Oracle! You're the greatest!

  With your verse you satiate us!

  You're so wonderful, just divine.

  Your wondrous talents always shine!

  Go, Oracle! Go, Oracle, Rah! Rah! Rah!

  Go, baby! Go, baby! Cha! Cha! Cha!"

  He turned sheepishly to his visitors.

  "I know it's false, not worth a cent,

  But all great artists need encouragement."

  With that, they went back inside and the oracle took the usual lotus position on the floor in front of the big fountain.

  "All right, then," Macore said, feeling even more skeptical, "let's get this over and done with. I want to know if there is in fact a dangerous evil now facing Earth from Boquillas and Dacaro."

  The Oracle closed his eyes, seemed to concentrate for a moment, then said,

  "The Armageddon bell rings clear

  Should the evil ones appear

  To the millions and with one breath

  Give to the west the kiss of death."

  Suddenly he snapped out of it, looked around, and smiled.

  "Hopefully you got some news.

  I remember not my own muse."

  "We got it, all right," Marge told him, "and it isn't good."

  "Yeah, but what's it mean?" Macore asked. Marge shrugged. "I don't know if we can figure out the specifics yet, but it's clear that Ruddygore was right. It's Armageddon if they aren't stopped."

  "If they can be stopped," Macore responded worriedly. "The prophecy said if, not when," she reminded him.

  "That means there are two probabilities and we're the other one. You seem to know the questions, Macore. Keep going. You're doing fine!"

  "Okay, Oracle, then I ask this. Who will be needed to stop them?"

  Again the monkish man closed his eyes for a moment, then got the message and delivered it.

  "The two who came must go once more

  To the place from which they tore

  Their lives but not their inner souls.

  To this the thief must burrow through holes

  To set the treasure before those who wish

  While the demons are stopped by a pickled fish.

  For when evil wishes upon a star

  It makes no difference where you are.

  With Peter Pan's glow and swords below

  It must grant the wish or Earth will blow."

  "Whew!" Marge sighed. "That's a lot. Well, at least part of it is clear."

  "Clear as mud," Macore responded.

  "The two are obviously Joe and me. You, obviously, are the thief," Marge pointed out.

  "Yeah, okay, I'll buy that. But where do we get the pickled fish? And it seems like I'm supposed to steal something but give some treasure away. What treasure? And who or what is a Peter Pan? It may all be true, but it makes no sense."

  "I know who Peter Pan is, but it doesn't help, believe me. Maybe it will make sense to Ruddygore," Marge said.

  "Yeah, well, maybe. It might also make sense to us when we see Earth blow—firsthand. I'd say that meant fire, or disaster, or war."

  "Yes. The last war. And something they're going to do will cause it." Marge sighed. "We need more information, but we're not getting it here. I think, though, we ought to ask a couple of personal questions about our own situation. Considering those lines, I'd say they're critical."

  Macore nodded and turned back to the Oracle. "Okay, time for a personal question. Is there any way, other than trafficking with demons, to get back into our old bodies, and will we?"

  The Oracle again closed his eyes. Marge wondered what his mind must be like if it touched, even grazed, Heaven for only an instant.

  "Physical bodies matter not;

  Souls are real and what you got.

  All
can find the way back home,

  But only those that did not roam."

  Marge gasped. "Poor Joe!" she sighed. "And we obviously need him."

  "Well, good news for us, anyway. Cap," Macore commented. "Marge? Anything else you want to ask?"

  "Two more questions will I call.

  Your deposit's run out and that's all,"

  said the Oracle.

  "Well, that's it, then." Marge sighed. "I guess we should be heading back. You know the itinerary. Captain. What happens now?"

  The captain finished writing down the prophecies in a small notebook, then put away his pencil. "We go back. There's a good chance we can still beat that storm and be in before two in the morning if we leave now. We're to return to Marahbar and check into the Hotel Windjammer just up on the riverfront and wait. Ruddygore will either meet us or send for us there. That's all I know. Then I get paid, and maybe I get my old body back—if we both still want it that way. I'm getting somewhat used to this."

  "Same here, but I think we're not well suited for our respective businesses. Cap. Let's be off."

  They thanked the Oracle, who responded with some bad and innocuous verse and then clapped his hands. A huge, muscular satyr, the first male of any sort they'd seen other than the Oracle himself, appeared, bowed to the monkish prognosticator, then came over to them. "I will assist you in getting back to your ship," he rumbled. "I understand one of you has problems with stairs."

  They went back and found Tiana and Joe, who seemed to have recovered a bit. Both looked almost awestruck at the sight of the satyr, and Joe had to be physically restrained.

  "No problem," the satyr commented, and picked up Joe and Tiana, one under each arm, and began the walk down the stairs.

  Marge flew along, seeing Joe's agony but knowing it was all for the best. "You're the first male anything we've seen other than the big man himself," she noted. "Did we just miss the males or am I right?"