Vengeance of the Dancing Gods

by Jack L. Chalker

  "Yeah? Like where?"

  Joe heard a noise behind him, turned, and saw that Tiana was removing her dress. When she finished, she said, "Joe—pick me up so she can see me."

  He was hesitant. "You're sure?"

  "Just do it."

  He went down to her, not feeling good about this, as McMahon, still nude except for flowers and lei, watched in a mixture of suspicion and fascination.

  Joe lifted Tiana up, and there was no mistaking what sort of creature she was. The eyes of the woman on the altar went wide, and her mouth dropped a bit.

  "From a place where races like mine live," said Tiana. "From a place that took in the fairies when they were run off this world. From a place where good and evil men do battle with sorcery and with swords. Can you accept that?" Joe put her back down into the chair.

  For a few moments Mahalo McMahon said nothing. Then, finally, she whispered, "Wow! Like in Dungeons and Dragons." She thought for a moment, then said, a little more confidently, "Okay, I believe you, at least for tonight. Tomorrow I'll decide if you got a real bad disease or if this was the best hash I ever smoked, but for now I'll believe you. All right, Conan, what do you want to know?"

  Once she got into the spirit of the thing, Mahalo McMahon was a wealth of information, not only on the house and grounds but also on the True Path itself, although this information was often punctuated with digressions on just about anything.

  That night she was alone in her little church, testing out what she called the atmosphere, but usually there were between half a dozen and a dozen regulars, most, like her, "forcibly removed from agriculture," and a couple who were very young and had a nostalgia thing for the days of communes. All were women, some with small children, and the church seemed to be something of a feminist commune. They'd picked it because the Hawaiian religions were generally close to nature, and also because she had read that no woman was ever sacrificed to a volcano—only men. Of course, women in the old Hawaiian culture were strictly subordinate; that was why it was the "Neo-Primitive" church. As a church with a physical building, they generally avoided taxes and had a certain freedom in what they did.

  As for the Baron, she thought of him as a "creepy kind of preacher; you know, like Jim Jones used to be," but handsome and charming on TV or in the few early times before he'd sealed himself off from all but the media, which he carefully controlled. His cultist group, which perhaps numbered several thousand, was totally dedicated and quite dangerous and ruthless, but beyond his small domain, she thought he was overestimated.

  "In two or three years he might be powerful enough to influence some votes in the legislature or go national, but right now, even as these things go in the West, he's strictly small potatoes," she assured them. "Now, that don't mean that he's not strong—that new preacher he's got is supposed to be dynamite—but just that his strength don't even extend to outside the county, like here. Folks around here don't like or trust him, and there's enough people and towns in this county that he won't find it as easy to take over."

  Finally, there was some time for her to satisfy her own curiosity. "This place you come from—this somewhere else? It's like in the books, huh? Dragons and unicorns and all that?"

  "Yes, all that," Tiana assured her. "But no machines, no electricity, none of the modern conveniences. It sounds romantic, but actually can be quite dull, or quite dangerous, or back-breaking work, depending on who and where you are."

  "Yeah, well, ain't that just like anyplace else?" She paused a moment. "If you get by the Baron and go back, can you take passengers?"

  "Not really," Joe told her. "It's not up to us or anything we control. But if anybody would like it over there, I think you might. I'll put in a good word for you, but don't get your hopes up."

  That seemed to satisfy her, and they left the little church and walked into a cold, damp, misty rain. They got into the van and started off.

  "Joe—I like her. She seems more of Husaquahr than of Earth."

  He chuckled. "Maybe, but I'd like to see her when she's straight first. If she's ever straight."

  "Uh—it is still early and it is not far to the ocean, is it?"

  "About ten miles. Why?"

  "If we are about to go full into the Baron's lair, I would like one chance to swim in the ocean. I do not know if I will get another chance."

  "You're thinking of the 'pickled fish' line." He tried to sound casual, but he'd been thinking of it as well and he couldn't see a good outcome. "It's pretty messy out— the ocean will be choppy and the shoreline around here is pretty rough with sharp rocks and the like."

  "Joe—it is this body's natural element. I will be all right."

  He hesitated, weighing anxiety now versus never hearing the end of this later, and finally gave in. When they came out on US-101, he went down a bit and then took a road toward the sea.

  The weather was bad enough, and his concern over Tiana real enough, that he never gave a thought that the two small headlights far in back of him might be following him.

  * * *

  The compound was smaller than even the smallest of landed estates in Husaquahr, but it was fairly large nevertheless. With Gimlet riding in her pouch, peering out at the terrain below. Marge did as complete a survey of the place as she could.

  Poquah had certainly overestimated the number of permanent followers, at least those on the land. Although it was impossible really to tell, with the wetness driving most indoors, she doubted if more than seven or eight hundred actually lived in the tents that dotted the clearings, and certainly no more than a thousand. That was certainly bad enough, but it was no legion. In a sense, it was comforting, since it was a large enough group that most were likely strangers to one another, while it was small enough to keep track of.

  There were not only guards and patrols, but spells as well on this land. She had no trouble in diverting them around her, but they clearly were effective against ordinary Earth people, causing tremendous disorientation. You could break into the place with little trouble, but you'd wander around and never find your way out again. It was clever and effective—the Elders and their dogs would certainly find you after awhile.

  The great mansion looked less impressive in person than in pictures. Clearly the place needed painting, and there were still rough patches on the roof and even some broken windows just boarded up on the upper floors. This was indeed the very early stages of the Baron's plans, and what money and resources he had were obviously going into other efforts.

  There were two large trailers with noisy electrical generators, one powering lights around the grounds and some remote security outposts, the other leading to the house itself. Some plumbing and other work had been done; an old outside well was now capped and had a complex of pipes leading from it into the house. Marge guessed that there were two wells, one there and one probably under the old kitchen itself, but there was no way to be sure without going in there.

  It was certain that the house was a place of magic— dark, powerful magic. Both Marge and Gimlet felt it as well as saw it, and for the Kauri it was the strongest sense of pure evil since she'd come face to face with the Demon Prince Hiccarph himself. It was not a feeling the pixie was accustomed to at all, and certainly not one she enjoyed.

  "You expect me to go in dere?"

  "I think you'll be safe, if you're careful," Marge assured her. "I'd do it myself, but I suspect that there are defenses in there for Kauris. He knows I'll be one of those coming, and he knows me pretty well. These spells will be designed against those of Husaquahr; you're of Earth, and he won't be expecting that. If you feel anything demonic, get out of there fast though. Those demons won't have trouble with the Earth-born, and that's both of us."

  Marge found a window high up on the third floor that had been weakly repaired and set down on a sill in front of it.

  "Looks like it could be a trap for flying folks," the pixie said worriedly. "Dat opening's just big enough for somebody like me."

  "That's why I think it'
s safe. He'll be expecting somebody more my size, and it might be rigged so if the opening were enlarged it would trigger a trap, but not otherwise. You've got power and speed and guts. Go on."

  "I beg to dispute," the pixie responded worriedly, but she went to the opening and peered in.

  It looked deserted, and, surprisingly, appeared to have no spells. There were bat droppings around the place, but nobody was home right at this hour. Taking a deep breath, Gimlet crawled through and inspected the room.

  At first she thought it was a dead end; there seemed no way out and it was certainly unused, perhaps since the original owners, but then she found an old dumbwaiter. It effectively blocked the shaft, as, perhaps, it was intended to do, but pixies, as Marge said, had some power to compensate for their size. She flew in, then excreted a small bit of a shiny, powdery substance, and the dumbwaiter rose slowly, just enough to allow for a gap beneath.

  The shaft proved to go all the way to the basement, although Gimlet was in no mood to experiment more than she had to. The doors to the dumbwaiter were all shut, of course, but since at least one had to have been opened in order to raise the little car to its blocking position on the third floor, she managed to find one, right at ground level, that slid back a bit with what little weight she could put on it. She decided to risk leaving it open for a quick getaway. The gap was small enough that it probably wouldn't be noticed anyway, and the place was drafty as it was.

  Methodically, she began to explore the house.

  Joe had spent some time going over the information and drawings McMahon had provided; but as the time wore on, he just settled back, listening to a country station on the radio, and began to snooze.

  Suddenly he awoke with a start as both doors to the van were jerked open with force. He started to make a move, but the two men, one at each door, had pretty large guns.

  "Just step out of the van and make no funny moves," the one closest to him warned. Both were dressed in dark business suits soaked through from the rain, but both also had on yellow shirts and yellow ties.

  He did as instructed. "All right, boys. What's this all about? I have about twenty bucks you're welcome to but, other than that and the van, there's not much here."

  The other man slid into the van and picked up the drawings and diagrams, looked them over, then stuck them in his suit coat.

  "Don't be funny," the first man said. "We're not robbers, and I think you know it. Now, where's your lady friend?"

  Joe gestured in the direction of the pounding surf. "Out there. She had a sudden urge for a swim."

  The man struck him—hard. "Don't be funny, I said! What do you take us for, anyway?"

  "I take you for the Baron's men. I take you for what he calls his Elders. A little out of your jurisdiction, aren't you?"

  "Aw, skip it," said the other. "She's a cripple and won't be hard to find. Even if we don't, what's she gonna do on her own out here?"

  Being covered by the other one, the first was cocky, and stuck his pistol almost up Joe's nose. "Listen, smart guy. We ask, you answer. If we like your answer, you might live through this. If we don't, you're gonna be pretty sore."

  "I've been pretty sore before, but asking questions is free."

  They didn't like his attitude, but they were here on business first. Joe longed for his old, perfect body now, which could have disarmed and made mincemeat out of both of them in a series of moves, but he decided not to risk anything until he also found out a little.

  "Okay, big guy—why were you pressing that bubble-brain back there?"

  "We wanted good directions to the beach and some pineapple."

  The man hit him again. The other said, "You have a lot of plans about the castle here. What were you trying to do?"

  "Find out all I could about your happy little heaven."

  That was better. "Why?" the first one asked. "Who are you working for?"

  Joe thought fast. "The Sierra Club," he told them.

  That brought both of them up short. "The Sierra Club?"

  "Your boss made a deal to get the land and keep it out of the hands of the government. Now he's moving in hordes of people, generators, lots of equipment—we think he violated his agreement. We think he's preparing to make so many changes he'll damage the land beyond repair. Since you've refused to let us in, we're getting information where we can. And that's the truth."

  The first man stared past Joe to the second. "What do you think?"

  "I think we ought to take him in and let the Master talk to him."

  "Yeah, I—"

  Joe moved with sudden swiftness against the first man. He was not in the condition that he once was, but he knew all the moves and he wasn't in bad shape. He was not about to desert Tiana and be hauled before Dacaro or Boquillas right now.

  Both he and the man outside the van went down, and the gun flew into the darkness. Ignoring the man down, he turned and kicked the van door hard before the first man could react, catching his arm between the door and the post. He then flung the door open and pulled the man from the van violently, adrenaline and mental training replacing what he'd lost.

  The gunman recovered, though, and was no pushover, suddenly coming to life and pushing Joe off, then launching himself on the big man. They struggled and fought for what seemed several minutes, but finally Joe seemed to prevail.

  There were three sharp explosions, and Joe felt terrible, tearing pain in his back. The first man had found his pistol and had panicked. Joe cried out in agony and released his own opponent, then rolled onto the ground.

  The first man helped the second man up, and they looked at Joe. "What'll we do now?"

  "Get back to the castle and report. We can ditch the van on the way so his lady friend can't find it, even if she can drive."

  "What about him?"

  "Forget about him. Can't you see with your own eyes? He's dead."

  Chapter 14

  Into The Dragon's Lair

  ... For I well believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know...

  —William Shakespeare

  King Henry IV, Part I

  IT WAS A BRIGHT AND SUNNY MORNING, ATYPICALLY warm and clear for this part of the country in this season of the year. Poquah wished to take full advantage of it, but he first had to arrange for a car to be sent over by some of the detectives on retainer.

  It had been well after six when one of the special trouble numbers had rung and the call had been relayed to the Imir. He knew something had happened when Joe and Marge had failed to return or call in the previous evening and he already had people out at McMahon's place checking on things. What they had discovered had not been encouraging. McMahon had apparently not returned from the church and there was no sign of her anywhere. The tape recorder was still on and the small fog machines were still hissing and overheating, although long out of the chemicals that made them go, but of the high priestess of the Neo-Primitives there was no sign.

  The Imir was relieved, then, when he heard Joe's voice on the line.

  "Yeah, three shots right in the back at point-blank range. Really screwed up my shirt. I'll tell you, that were stuff really paid off for me last night. Good thing they weren't using silver bullets, anyway. I figured the best thing to do was to play dead, though—the shock knocked me out for a couple of minutes, and when I came to I had the choice of lying there or killing them. I figured I was better dead. No sense in the Baron learning that somebody got up after taking those kinds of slugs. He'd know in a minute it was me."

  "I agree. But why did you take so long to call?"

  "Hell, Poquah! It was the middle of nowhere, and I still had to wait for Tiana, although she was nearby and saw most of it. I cleaned off as best I could, but a guy walking or hitchhiking up the road with a blood-stained back would be about as obvious as a mermaid jumping up on a pier and making a phone call. It took some time, and I still feel really conspicuous here."

  "I will be down to pick you up as soon as possible." It was about a fifty minute drive along l
ess than perfect roads, but Poquah had no trouble finding the spot and picking Joe up by the side of the road. The Imir had brought along clean clothes, which Joe needed badly, and the big man changed while they went back to pick up Tiana. She was glad to see them, although almost reluctant to leave the sea. She alone had not suffered at all during the period.

  "They didn't make us, so they must have had the church staked out," Joe told him. "What I can't figure out is why they let her loose in the first place if she was a threat to them."

  "She probably wasn't," Poquah replied. "At least, they did not believe she had any information that couldn't be gleaned elsewhere. They allowed her to be bait unknowingly, I suspect, since she's an obvious source for anyone looking into the Baron's affairs. That is why her abduction now worries me. If it was just after you left, then we might weep for her but not worry very much, since they might simply have decided that she was of no further use. However, if they went back for her after their encounter with you, then they wanted to pump her for information on you, and, as I gather from your preliminary account, she knows quite a bit."

  "It was the only way to get her to open up," Tiana explained. "It did not seem much of a risk."

  "Yeah, considering she was higher than a kite at the time," Joe added.

  "Most would dismiss her story, but Dacaro and the Baron will not. We must assume that they will put the Elders' account together with hers and come up with the correct assumptions. They will assume that it was you, Joe, and that means they will not assume that you are dead, and they will also now assume that Marge is here as well. We must accelerate our timetable, even though the evidence shows that the Baron is not yet as strong as we believed. There is not only increasing danger to us, but also the danger that he will accelerate whatever plans he has in operation. I want you both to get a good night's sleep because you'll have to be ready to go while it's still light. Tonight is the first night of the full moon; if we lose it, we lose one opportunity."