Vengeance of the Dancing Gods

by Jack L. Chalker

  "Oh, you're right," the satyr growled. "He doesn't like males around very long, that's true. It's just that he needs me. You see, my actual name is Porange Chilver."

  She shrugged in midair. "So?"

  "Think of what insanity he would endure if he ever accidentally ended a sentence in 'orange' or 'silver,'" the satyr commented.

  The coach was waiting below, and the creature almost threw in the two he carried and immediately bade farewell. "Best I get away fast or that nymph will have to be knocked cold," he noted, and he was indeed away fast.

  It required all of them to hold Joe down, but the centauress team was off in a flash and they headed back to the dock.

  While still going along the broad avenue leading to and from the Oracle's mansion, Joe suddenly went wide-eyed, then swooned and fainted. They checked and saw signs of life, but all were clearly worried.

  "He's burning up, like a fever," Tiana commented. "His head feels as if it's on fire."

  Marge looked at the small figure and felt concern. "The inside is as bad as the outside. The fairy blood is telling. He's fighting it like hell, but I'm afraid we're losing him."

  They beat the storm into port, but the wind was way up and it began to rain heavily while they were still on their way to the hotel. It was an old, low, sprawling structure several miles downriver from the port, but it was certainly first class in every way. That was one thing about working for Throckmorton P. Ruddygore; he might get you killed or changed into a toad, but everything was always first class.

  The suites were actually duplexes around a small private courtyard and pool, which suited Tiana quite well. She had been out of the water too long; if she didn't get a good immersion, and not merely from a rainstorm, she could find herself with peeling skin and a painful skin condition. She was, of course, reluctant to leave Joe, who was still out, but Marge assured her that she'd keep watch.

  The attendants at the Windjammer had certainly seen everything before; they took Joe in on a baggage cart without so much as a comment, although they did offer to fetch a healer with some expertise in fairy ailments, which was accepted.

  The one who arrived in the hour before sunrise was a rather severe-looking middle-aged woman who told them that she was Auruga of the Western Wastes. She had much experience with the fairy folk and with nymphs, but she was now retired and working for the Witches Anti-Defamation League.

  She listened to a general account of what had happened, performed an examination and a series of rituals, then told Marge, "There's nothing really that can be done. Whoever inhabits this body is mandated to be a wood nymph and nothing else. The body's housecleaning now, as it were. When she awakens, she'll have no memory, no curiosity, and no will or capacity to learn anything beyond what it takes to be a better wood nymph. She'll know everything about what nymphs do, because that's part of her nature, and that will be that. Sorry."

  "Then—Joe's essentially dead?" Marge couldn't believe it.

  "More or less. Oh, when the Final Judgment comes, assuming the body lives that long, the information and personality might be restored, but not until then."

  "But, damn it, I became one of the faerie and it never happened to me!"

  "That's because you're a more complex organism doing a more complex job. Many of the fairy races are smarter than people in their given areas. It neither hurt nor interfered with your function to retain your old self. Nymphs are among the simplest forms of fairy folk. They serve a function, nothing else. Best thing for her would be to take her to a nice forest and leave her. She'll mate with a tree and be happy and never know the difference."

  They couldn't bring themselves to do that; but with the witch's visit, all hope was really gone, not only for Joe but for the mission.

  Joe had still not awakened by early the next evening when Ruddy gore arrived. He usually liked a flourish, but in this case he came secretly, in a plain brown robe and hood. Somehow he seemed to think that this effectively disguised his massive nearly four hundred pound frame and huge white beard. Without a transformation spell, Ruddygore could never be in any way inconspicuous, let alone incognito.

  His usual jovial mood was gone, though. Things had not been going well for him, either, and he seemed less concerned with Joe's plight than with the contents of the Oracle's verses.

  "Do you understand any more than we do?" Macore asked him.

  "No, not much, but it's pretty clear the direction we must take. Things have gotten pretty nasty here, but the Earth threat still takes first priority, because, if it goes, we go. The two are connected in more ways than one, I fear."

  "You mean our friend in black?"

  "Indeed. I am no longer head of the Council. Because of his trick with the bodies and souls, which is quite good I might add, he's effectively destabilized the religion we set up and, as such, turned the Council into acting on its own to preserve their domains and interests. He has made deals with a sufficient number of them to keep them pretty much out of the fray and he's already beginning to capitalize on it. He is coming out of the northwest of Hypeboreya with a legion of the living dead who are his slavish and unkillable troops. They're not invincible, but every casualty they inflict on the defenders becomes another of their own number. A few wizards are nervous about him, but he's working entirely within the Rules and playing very good politics with his equals. Nobody knows how strong he really is, so they are loathe to challenge him and quick to make deals. Of course, he doesn't know how strong he is, either, or he would have waited for me."

  Macore sighed. "So it's all falling apart again. Get rid of one Dark Baron and you get a Master of the Dead."

  "Well, it's pretty much the rules of the game, isn't it? Evil loses battles but never wars. I've been going crazy trying to organize and devise a defensive strategy against him. It's been difficult because he is as good a politician as sorcerer, and because he seems to have armies of the dead planted all over the place. We brought up massed dragons and stopped them at the River of Sighs, but another force of the same simply came marching out of the Misty Mountains to the south. No place is safe from him, but he stays in the background and relies on his anonymity to protect him from a direct challenge. It's frustrating."

  "But I can't see how he could connect with this Earth business," Marge put in. "I mean, if Earth goes, he goes, too, right? So why this?"

  "I doubt if he really understands the stakes on Earth. He made a deal, that's what. He would stop you from interfering in our enemy's affairs, and in exchange he was given access to ancient spells so foul and yet so powerful he could march on Husaquahr. If he were truly convinced that Armageddon was the result of the Baron's actions, I don't think he would have gone along, but they've conned him as he cons others here. I am fascinated by the fact that you found him familiar, though. Marge."

  "We've met—I know that. Years ago. Maybe when I first came here. That's all I can say for sure."

  "Hmmm... although I've never met him in this incarnation, I, too, have the feeling that I know him and he knows me, perhaps well," the wizard commented. "He certainly knows a good deal of how I think and he knows almost precisely the strengths and limits of my power. There is something familiar about the signature on his spells, but it is remote and hidden from me. It's been too long, and the level of sophistication is quite a bit higher. In some ways he reminds me of Dacaro in the old days, but we know where Dacaro is, and that's now been confirmed by the Oracle." The big man sighed. "Well, I suppose there's nothing we can do until we take out the greater threat. We've learned all we can up to now."

  "How can we?" Marge asked him, sounding pained. "I've been trying to tell you since you arrived that Joe's gone—hopeless. Mostly by luck, the switch is permanent! A brainless wood nymph's no help—you heard the prophecy!"

  Ruddygore allowed himself a smile and reached into his robe. "Nothing is permanent except the true death and Armageddon," he said softly, taking from some pocket within his robe the Lamp of Lakash.

  "The Lamp! Of course!" M
arge exclaimed excitedly. "If it can send Dacaro to Earth, it certainly can restore Joe!"

  "We have some limits and must take some care in its use, though," the wizard warned. "First of all, it will grant no fairy wish—only mortal ones—but it's still a trap for fairy folk as for humans. In other words. Marge, you're disqualified on several grounds—and so am I, on different grounds. Macore, it would grant your wish—but stuff you back in the Lamp, so we don't want that."

  "Who's in there now?" Marge asked him.

  "A fellow named Jinner, appropriately enough. He was in a spot of trouble a while back and begged me to bail him out. I did, but warned him that I would call in the price, and I did to free Macore. Don't worry—he's an aspiring magician and he's always desired to visit the land of the djinn—and he'll not be in too long. There are others I wouldn't mind filing away in there, and I'll pick one when I'm about to put it back in storage. Don't worry about that now. First, Captain, take the Lamp and wish yourself and Macore restored."

  Bly took it, and for a second there was a real gleam in his eye. Then it was gone, and he sighed. "Forgive me, but temptation with it is a rather inevitable thing. Frankly, sir, had you not been present I might be too weak to resist."

  "Don't worry—you can't succumb," Ruddygore told him. "I cast that spell before I handed the thing to you. Now—do it."

  Bly thought for a moment. "I wish—that my soul was once again in the body into which it was born, and that the occupant of that body occupy the one I do now."

  From somewhere a man's voice seemed to cry, "Done!"

  There was no evident action, but the ratlike creature asked, "Did I say it right?"

  "I'd say you did," the wizard responded, "considering you're back. Macore—the Lamp, please. All you can do is wind up back in it."

  The little thief looked sheepish, then handed back the Lamp.

  "Now I need to perform a slight ritual to check on a few things," Ruddygore told them, and shut his eyes as if concentrating. He did not move or even seem to breathe for what seemed like several minutes.

  "But the prophecy said the others wouldn't get their bodies back," Macore reminded Marge in a whisper.

  She nodded. "Let's see."

  Suddenly Ruddygore's eyes opened, and his expression was grim. "I'm afraid the prophecy is correct, too. I find no evidence that either body is still alive. Either the Master found them or something untoward happened to both. I fear the former, alas. The Master would be anxious to make certain that our demigod and demi-goddess could not reappear with full powers and so turn the Council back against him out of fear of me."

  "Can't you just wish them replacement bodies that look the same?" Macore asked.

  "Well, not really. I can turn them into lizards, yes, but I can't quite recreate them as they were—a fact that, I might tell you, they will not find tragic. Go awaken Tiana and get her in here. I'm going to give her the options, since she's the only one left right now with a clear right to a wish."

  "The first priority is to save Joe," Tiana told them firmly. "All else matters little."

  "Only the Lamp can convert, or reconvert, fairy to mortal," Ruddygore told her. "I can perhaps do something with you by using ordinary magic, but Joe will require a wish all his own. You will need to cascade, or string together, a series of related desires to form a complete wish we can use to accomplish our result. While we think on its wording, let's talk about you and what you wish that I might do for you."

  "You know enough to know that I wish to go with them," she replied. "And I know enough of the Rules to know that it is in my best interest to remain as I am, as inconvenient as that would be."

  They all looked at her, then at Ruddygore, puzzled by her statement.

  "Tiana is simply stating a fact of mermaid lore. If a mortal man makes love to a mermaid he will always be in love with that mermaid. He might still go off and marry and have great affection for others, but he'll still be in love with that mermaid."

  She nodded. "Yes, that is it."

  The old wizard thought for a moment. "You know, while I was on holiday in Chicago a few weeks ago I took in a cinema that concerned a mermaid. I am a sucker for books and pictures on the fantastic, as you might understand. It gives me an idea. It has to be physiological and hold together, so it won't be quite as simple as the cinema might have it, but I think I can work a spell that will help using that idea. Indeed, I had already guessed this and worked it out on my way here."

  They all stared at him expectantly.

  "Of course, we can't send you over to Earth as you are. It would be too conspicuous and too limiting. We can't not make you the mermaid because of our Rules and your desires. Admittedly, the Oracle made no mention of you, but it didn't mention Poquah, either. Now, what this spell will do is basically give you legs when you are totally and completely dry and upon solid land. It will take several hours to take effect completely, and if you get wet or are surrounded by water below, it will reverse itself—and very quickly. There will be drawbacks, because you will remain a mermaid. You must immerse yourself at least once a day, perhaps before going to sleep, or it will become very painful. Also, the inner bone and muscular structure will not be well-adapted to walking, so you will have to walk slowly and will also still feel some pain, which will grow greater the more you're on them. You'll still be best off in a wheelchair or on crutches, but you will look human. Is this acceptable?"

  "Of course. I'm no worse off than now and actually far better, no matter what the limits."

  "Very well. You'll still have the webbing, and you'll still have the constitution of a mermaid, her powers, and other limitations, so be careful to observe them strictly. I'm also going to change your complexion, as I understand that your present clan has you marked for death. I'm going to give you a chocolate brown complexion, not only because it will allow you to pass as a human better on Earth but also because it matches no known mermaid clan here and as such will confuse the hell out of them."

  "Sounds good. I don't mind."

  "Well, I have a question or two," Marge put in. "First of all, how come she was too strong a wizard to pass over before but she isn't now? And second, why the hell would anybody take a vacation in Chicago?"

  Ruddygore chuckled. "As to the first, mermaids are covered by a different volume of the Rules, and that supercedes, and limits, her powers. She still has power, but it's limited and redirected to specifics. That will allow her to escape the barrier. She's now under the limiting threshold of power. As to Chicago—did you know they actually produce all those wonderful pink flamingos in one large factory near Chicago?"

  "Oh" was all Marge could manage.

  "We will take care of me later," Tiana said impatiently.

  "Let us see to Joe."

  They went over to the door leading into the far bedroom, and Marge, who got there first, let out a gasp and then shouted, "He's gone! And the door's wide open!"

  She and Macore rushed out to the patio and looked around. There were the sights and sounds of a lot of activity, but no Joe and no way to tell where he'd gone.

  "He's wandering around here now as an air-headed nymph!" Marge exclaimed. "And going entirely on instinct!" She looked around. "At least there aren't any trees around here."

  "But there are lots of men around, and that's what a nymph does when she's not in her tree," Tiana puffed, hauling herself out onto the patio.

  Ruddygore thought a moment. "Well, I wouldn't be too upset. We know he's not far, so he's well within range of the Lamp if we act now, no matter if he's physically present or not. I'd say we'd better do this quickly, though, just in case he wanders away and gets out of range."

  Tiana accepted his assistance into a patio chair, and then he gave her the Lamp. "Consider well your wording," the sorcerer warned. "Whatever it is, you're stuck with it and so's he."

  She thought frantically, then said, "I cannot put it into the right words! I cannot be sure'"

  Marge decided to help out in the spirit of emergency. "How
about this, then? You say that we can't word it properly enough to make him look like he did, but maybe we can. What about wishing his original body back, the one he had before he became a barbarian? As I remember he wasn't that bad looking, just a little old."

  "Yes, yes! That's a sure thing!" Ruddygore cried. "I should have thought of it. Tiana, try something like this:

  I wish that Joe was no longer of the faerie, but mortal once more, and in the body he had when he was twenty, but with his full memories, mind, and personality restored as it was the day he became a fairy. Can you remember that and do it exactly? Be cautious. Don't clearly end the sentence until it's all there."

  Tiana looked at him with interest. "So, if it is all about one person, I can string together as much as all that?"

  "You can. Just be precise."

  "All right, then. Uh—does not the genie have to appear, or something like that?"

  "Oh, no. If you rub the Lamp, he's compelled to, but why bother him now? Plenty of time for introductions later on. Just hold it and look at it and wish. Do it now— before we might lose Joe!"

  She took a deep breath. "Uh—I wish that Joe should be no longer a nymph but a mortal man once more, and that he be in the body he had when he was twenty, and that he has the mind, personality, and memories he did before he became one of the fairy folk, and that he be in the peak of physical condition and the ideal lover for my mermaid body and will make love to me this night. There!"

  "Done!" came a voice from the Lamp.

  Marge looked at Tiana. "You added a little bit there."

  The mermaid shrugged. "There was no extra cost for the call," she noted, and handed the Lamp back to Ruddygore.

  Far off on the other side of the hotel could be heard the sounds of men yelling and screaming. It sounded like a real fight was going on.

  "I have a suspicion that it worked," Throckmorton P. Ruddygore said.

  Chapter 11

  Return To Earth