When cults convert more than ten percent of a population, they are to be considered a religion and are covered by Volume XXVI instead of Volume XCL
—Rules, XCL 494(b)
It’s like nothing anybody's ever seen, Marge told the small council of war two weeks later. I've never been so alternately fascinated and repulsed by anything in my entire life.
They sat there, Poquah, Joe, Boquillas, listening intently.
First of all, the siege is over. In fact, the war is over for all intents and purposes. The Barony has been replaced by the spreading new world of the Goddess.
They nodded, knowing some of this, but not firsthand.
Morikay has been rechristened the Throne of Paradise and is the center of this expanding movement. It's an amazing thing to see it spread so quickly in so short a time. The official line is that the Dark Baron, who brought Hell to Husaquahr, was defeated by Ruddygore at the cost of Ruddygore's life. They made him a saint.
Boquillas chuckled. It's a wonder he doesn't come back from the grave over that.
Anyway, with Hell vanquished, so the line goes, the Creator sent the Goddess of Husaquahr, a true angel, to watch over us and see that it never happens again. Three guesses who the Goddess is.
Joe looked at her and nodded glumly.
Anyway, she continued, the Goddess came to banish all war from the world and to carry out the Creator's plan for us. She appointed the wise and benevolent Kaladon as High Priest of the new One True Church and established her seat on earth at Mori—sorry, the Throne of Paradise. She raised the siege by merely walking through the lines and letting all the soldiers see her. They fell down and worshipped her, even the mercenaries and half-breeds like the Bentar. She has since appeared in dozens of major towns and cities, including Sachalin, Halakahia, and other places, and every time it's been the same. Instant conversion, followed by the immediate establishment of a temple under a leader hand-picked by Kaladon. There are already huge statues of her all over the place, all of which attract crowds of worshippers. By the way, Joe, all the statues are full nudes.
Naturally, Boquillas put in. If she's a true angel, then she is without sin of any sort, and clothing would be inappropriate.
If the statues are from life, that means she's changed a bit, Marge went on. >From what I understand, she's just about ten feet tall; and if you thought her proportions were large before—wow! Her hair also seems much thicker and about ankle-length, and she looks, well, smoother. Really angelic in the extreme. Of course, I never saw her personally.
What of the fairy folk? Poquah asked. How are they taking all this?
The ones I talked to are mostly divided. Kaladon has sent emissaries to all the key tribes, offering peace and harmony and assuring them that the temples will preach a line that they're the children of God and are to be treated with honor and respect. Most of 'em seem willing to suspend disbelief and go along. A few are even debating whether or not the Goddess might be the real thing. The ones who have seen her haven't fallen down in worship, but they report an enormously powerful glow of pure white within her, more than has ever been seen.
Pure white. Good touch. Perhaps I did underestimate Kaladon, Boquillas noted, mostly to himself. And what of the distinguished members of the Council?
Esmerada has been given her own seat at Halakahia, taking over from Ruddygore. She seems delighted to go along with it all and is working to make Terindell a holy shrine, of all things! Sargash is still fuming over the siege of Sachalin, but she's decided that the handwriting is on the wall. She's not helping, but she's not obstructing, either. Word is that Kaladon and Esmerada have offered to back her candidate for one of the two vacancies on the Council, and that's bought her off. Careska's head of the Church in Leander and she's been given a pretty free hand there, while Fajera is priming Todra for a visit by the Goddess real soon now. It's all happening so fast.
But it's been planned for years, perhaps decades, Boquillas responded. Kaladon is an incredible politician with an incredible mind set only on power. With the complicity of the rest, or at least noninterference, he'll soon have all of Husaquahr that's worth having under a single theocracy with himself at the helm. Oh, it will take quite some time to secure it all, but if the mere appearance of the Goddess can cause instant conversion and worship, then any time he gets a pocket of trouble, he just goes visiting. But tell me, what is this new doctrine like? Surely he has grandiose plans.
Marge nodded. So far, the grand plan is limited to the Throne of Paradise, and that's just getting organized, but the pattern seems clear. Each cooperating sorcerer is more or less being encouraged to write his or her own holy book for the locals, tailored to their own aims and conditions, so that keeps the people happy. Kaladon himself seems to have his own vision. Whole parts of the city are being torn down by eager volunteer converts. Parks are being developed, and a style of building that reminded me of ancient Greece—sorry, I know most of you won't understand that—is going up. Big marble temple-style buildings. People work five days on their regular jobs, then two for the Church for nothing. They also are expected to go to services each night and get more holy instructions and they do. Half of what they earn goes to the Church and gets poured into the building and developmental programs, while Church leaders are organizing syndicates for all major industries, including shipping and farming.
An integrated economy. Interesting. Continue.
Well, what he's getting is a world of willing, worshipful slaves who won't even sneeze without permission, but who will do anything they are told to do. They also seem bent on a plan they call 'efficiency of form,' where people are being willingly turned into other creatures to do their work better. The centaur population alone is growing by leaps and bounds, since that's an efficient farm form, and the mermaid and suchlike population's going to grow under a harvest-the-sea program. There's a whole winged legion for transportation and communication, too. It's scary. And remember, I'm an empath—I can feel these people's insides. They're sickeningly joyful.
That's to be expected, the former Dark Baron commented. After so much war, suffering, and killing, they were ready for a savior, and he's given them one. Of course, Tiana's magic is reinforcing all this, but that just makes it easier. You were not, however, able to see her in person?
Marge shook her head from side to side. I tried to. Just missed her once. But she takes a leaf from your book and turns herself into a great white dove, or something similar, and gets places faster than I can.
Hmmm... This complicates matters. Have you any idea how often she returns to the castle?
The Kauri shrugged. Hard to say. They're transforming the place into a really stunning super temple, by the way, at least on the outside. All marble and spires.
Boquillas thought for a moment. But you said Fajera was trying to arrange an appearance in Todra. Any idea when?
The Goddess is due to appear in the City-States—which arc, by the way, mostly very cynical but very curious—next month. Does that help?
Yes and no. I hate giving him so much more time to establish and consolidate his program, but this has to go exactly right or it's no go. You'll be down there when she shows and give us a firsthand account, plus that all-important spell information. I've told you what to look for—the one string that ties her to Kaladon.
Marge nodded.
I don't see why I have to wait, Joe put in. I mean, in just a couple of weeks I'll be ready again to sneak in there. Should be particularly easy with all the workmen.
Perhaps, but we can't take any chances we don't have to, Boquillas replied. First of all, I don't want you meeting the Goddess. The spell would grab you, and that would be that. Secondly, we might catch Kaladon with the barriers down for a few days, even a week, but certainly not a month. He's bound to notice, busy as he is, that he has no protection. You're the key man, Joe, the only human we can afford to use in this operation. Marge and Poquah will handle the rest, but they can't get in without you.
Okay, but I j
ust get itchy sitting around here, that's all.
Better itchy than lost forever, the Count warned.
Four weeks and three nightly transformations for Joe later, the conspirators held another meeting, this one far more pressing.
I've seen her, Marge told them. Man! Is she something'. I tell you, I knew what was going on and I was immune from the spell she radiates and I still almost bought it. This empathic thing is a two-way sword. She radiated such, well, godliness that it almost overwhelmed me.
It probably would have overwhelmed any other Kauri, Boquillas told her. Your mind and your past are your strength.
She nodded. Joe, she is ten feet tall and looks just like those statues all over the place. Also, every little blemish and imperfection is gone, and so is that great dark tan. She's almost blindingly smooth and white, and her hair's now silver—and I mean silver, not white or gray—and her eyes are a deep emerald green. She still has her slight German accent, but her voice is real soft and musical and super-sexy; yet it will carry in a square jammed with ten thousand people, somehow. You ought to see Kaladon, though. Wearing snow-white robes with silver trim, he looks just like an angel from an old religious movie.
You have the spell, I hope? Boquillas prompted.
She sighed. Damned hard to do, I'll tell you. That white inner glow is almost blinding, and I had to do it in daylight. Bless old Ruddygore's dark goggles! I doubt if anybody without 'em could see through the glare enough to figure out the pattern.
A smart move on Kaladon's part, Boquillas noted. Just in case some of the other councillors get ideas.
Marge passed him her sketch of the spell in colored pencils. Took me five different appearances to get it all down, she told him, and each time it was harder not to join the cult.
Boquillas studied the incredibly complex pattern for several minutes, then grabbed a pad and began sketching his own series of lines, shapes, forms, and relationships. It looked like kindergarten scribble to Joe, but Poquah in particular was gazing over the former sorcerer's shoulder and nodding.
Can you do it? Boquillas asked the Imir.
Of course, the adept responded. It is not difficult when you diagram it that way, but I can think of no other mind save perhaps Ruddygore's that could have solved the pattern from so basic a sketch.
I was a theoretician far longer than I was an activist, the Count told him. In fact, Kaladon is cloddish enough or egomaniacal enough to have used a slight variation of one of my own designs. I suppose he no longer considers me a threat. Still, a wise teacher never tells his student all he knows. He looked up, smiled, and said to the Imir, You have all the rest of the preparation. Joe, you have the latest reports from Poquah's and Marge's fairy friends about what's going on in Morikay. Let's see... Your next cycle is in eight more nights, right?
Joe nodded. Yeah, that's about it.
And we have here from Marge evidence that our dear Goddess will formally and personally dedicate Fajera's temple a week from tomorrow. He sighed. That's pretty dicey, and cutting things rather fine, but I think we might manage. No, I think we have to. If we let this go on another month, we won't be able to get near the place without being converted ourselves. Let's do it. Eight nights from tonight, Joe, you will be in Morikay, and so will Marge and Poquah. If your phenomenal luck holds, nine days from today we will free this world from Kaladon, not to mention Tiana.
I can hardly wait, Joe said truthfully.
It was easier to get into Castle Morikay, or the Palace of the Angels, as it was referred to, than it was to stomach two days in the city itself. The building boom was amazing, with all sorts of bright-eyed men and women, aided by the Halflings of equal fervor, working like insects in a hive for the glory of the Goddess. How so many statues had been made in so short a time without a production line was beyond Joe and the others, and they were probably magical products, but it was both stunning and disturbing to see them, not only as decorations but actual objects of worship.
The people drove themselves with total fanaticism, calling one another Brother and Sister and praising the Goddess all the while they slaved. Even though he lay low and kept away from much contact, Joe got blessed more times than a Swiss guard at the Vatican. He had to admit, however, that, if it wasn't for the sheer fanaticism of the people and the fact that they looked malnourished and horribly overworked, he approved of the face lift in progress. It was still hard to tell just what the final thing would look like, though.
The great castle on the flat hilltop in the center of town was getting a new marble facade, its towers extended, and, in front, a tremendous statue of Tiana was being installed.
Still and all, Joe had the same distaste for this cult that he had for the cults back home on Earth. About the only nice thing he could say for this one was that at least they didn't ask for money all the time. In fact, he couldn't pay for anything at all.
Not that there was an awful lot to be had. Restaurants and cafes seemed a thing of the past, and inns were closed and deserted. He had to depend on the charity of some of the bright-eyed converts for what food he could get, and they were sharing obviously meager rations. The economic and trading system had been given a lower priority than the building of Kaladon's dream city.
As for the castle, or temple, or whatever it was now, passing through into the inner courtyard proved quite easy in the evening, since work never seemed to stop. As a mule, though, Joe put in one hell of a tough night's work and almost had it all go for nothing when they moved to take the animals out come daylight. Fortunately, animals worked better when fed, and there was an area inside the courtyard where the horses and mules could munch on hay. Near sunup, he positioned himself in the middle of a large group of animals and managed to change back unseen, although he was almost chomped and trampled getting out of the mob.
He wasted no time issuing his invitation with the earring he still had, and he prayed that the batteries hadn't run down. They had worked fine in a test the night before, but one never knew.
His problem now was that he was naked and unarmed in the midst of the enemy camp and he had no real way out. Boquillas' memories of the inner castle, though, proved right on the mark. After a few hairy near misses with some of the people inside, who did not look or act completely entranced, he found the right section and also found, to his relief, that it was still used as an inner storage area. In fact, it had been stuffed with lots of junk left over from the siege, causing him no end of trouble to locate a comfortable place. He only hoped that Marge would find him, preferably with a roast turkey or a thick steak.
Fortunately, the night's work as a mule, powering-a complex pulley system for the main steeple, had tired him out so much that he just passed out for the day.
Marge got in, somehow, before nightfall, with a large cold cuts sandwich and a small gourd of water. It was better than nothing, and he ate the food quickly. As planned, they remained together until the full moon was again in the sky, making Joe once more a twin of Marge; but this time a different Marge was involved. The last time she'd been just a pixie woman, but now she was a full Kauri again—and could fly.
That gave him the double immunity of the were's curse and a fairy form, as well as flying ability.
Poquah? he asked her.
By midnight, she told him. He's using some of his magical talents and coming in as a pilgrim worker.
I just wish Tiana were back, he said. I want to get this over and done with.
She is back. Came here in midmorning, as a huge white bird with Kaladon perched on her back.
Something symbolic in that.
Marge smiled and nodded. They settled down to wait in the dark storeroom for Poquah.
You know, Joe remarked, it's a wonder they don't do this sort of infiltrating each other all the time. Esmerada, for example, would love to replace the Goddess with herself.
They would if they could, Marge pointed out. Remember, it's only these neat little transmitters that make all this possible. Kaladon's people are watchin
g for any strangers, and they'd prevent anybody new from talking to anybody outside. They check every working person coming up here thoroughly, too. No, Ruddygore's beaten the system with a were and some Japanese transistors. Nobody else has even one, let alone both.
Maybe I should rent myself out to bite specific people, if being a were is so important.
They waited nervously for hours, but it was almost dawn before the storeroom door creaked and a shadowy figure entered.
I had real problems, the Imir told them as soon as they saw that it was indeed he. The spells to detect other spells are very tight. This is a well-defended place, I'll have you know. I had to—radio, isn't that the term?—Boquillas for additional help.
Boquillas! He's here? Marge was both amazed and worried.
He is. Hiding out in the cellar of a deserted inn just down the hill, and a good thing, too. He said either we do it or he might as well join the cult. There was no purpose in his staying away. I can communicate with him through Macore's little devices. He pointed to a small object, like a golden hearing aid, in his pointed left ear.
Well, I just changed back, without even getting to fly once, Joe grumped. Damn! What do we do now?
Poquah paused, as if listening, then nodded. The Count suggests that we either act straightaway or wait until dark once again. The rest of the time, the halls will be filled with functionaries.
Take a chance and go now, Joe suggested. I don't think I can stand another night in this place.
Poquah, nodding agreement, pulled up his hood and silently slipped away.
They almost went crazy waiting, but finally he returned after what not only seemed like but might have been hours. The impassive Imir was not in a better mood. Problems, he told them.
You couldn't get near her?
Oh, I located her, all right. The trouble is, Kaladon seems to be in the same room with her at all times. The moment I try to break the spell, he's going to be aware of it. Incidentally, you might be interested to know that, although the physical changes remain, inside here she reverts to her old height, which was still considerable.
Demons of the Dancing Gods Page 28