Demons of the Dancing Gods

by Jack L. Chalker

  Joe nodded. That's a relief. But if Kaladon never leaves her side, we've got problems. How long will it take you to break the spell?

  Only a minute or so. But that is a very long time if he knows immediately and can react. The lines of magic from me to her will be instantly recognizable to him and traceable back to me.

  Joe thought a moment. Well, we're in no position to have him called away. That means we have to distract or confuse him... Hmmm... Yeah. Why not? I've been Marge twice, so why not?

  Why not what? Marge asked him.

  Poquah, how hard is it going to be to sneak me into a place of concealment near where they're likely to be at sunset?

  They handle business in a magnificently appointed throne room, the Imir replied. Their bedchambers are right behind. A large study and apartment, actually. They take their meals there as well. Why?

  Joe told him his plan, and both Marge and Poquah were aghast at it.

  Still and all, it's an interesting try, the Imir said at last, and our technical advisor recommends trying it if it is at all possible. I have a few spells of concealment and nonrecognition I've used before and just used now. I can get you in, and myself as well. But the Creator have mercy if you so much as sneeze.

  I'll take the chance, Joe replied. Just be ready.

  Above all, do not look at her if you can avoid it, Poquah told him. It is possible, even probable, that the conversation spell does not operate in here, when she is human and normal size, but we can't take any chances.

  Poquah set up a watch and waited until the receiving room was clear of business and both Kaladon and Tiana had retired to the rear apartment for lunch. With the aid of Poquah's magic, Joe found himself able to reach the room with no trouble and he was impressed with the way it looked—like some reception area from the age of kings, with grand tapestries behind the velvet-lined throne of solid gold. He got behind the tapestries all right, then settled down as best he could for the long wait. Poquah would have to remain outside until after dark, lest Joe's curse go the wrong way. Even now there was a fifty-fifty chance of real problems.

  Throughout the afternoon, it was maddening to hear the voices of both Kaladon and Tiana, the latter on the throne just in front of Joe, but he held onto what patience he could. As the afternoon wore on, though, he certainly wished he could go to the bathroom.

  Tiana sounded wonderful but imperious. There was a lot of work to be done and lots of people to be seen. Joe was certain that the only reason he had escaped detection was because it would simply never occur to Kaladon that such a thing was even possible.

  Several times, sometimes for long periods, Tiana would leave the throne, and many times both of them would leave the room and then return, causing Joe a great deal of worry. He had no clock, no window, no way at all to know what the situation was, and he could only wait and listen and hope.

  Still and all, it worked. Tiana was, in fact, sitting on the throne at sunset, while Kaladon was tending to some paperwork across the room. Joe knew immediately that the change had occurred, smiled, leaned down, and picked up the small gold charm he'd taken in with him but not worn. Go, he whispered into it, hoping that only the one on the other end would hear. He then got up, brushed back the impossibly long silver hair, and stuck the little gadget in his ear.

  Outside, a door opened, and a man's voice said humbly, Begging your worshipful Highness' pardon, but there is an Imir outside.

  Kaladon was quick to get suspicious. What? How did he get in?

  I—I don't know, sir. I assumed—

  You assumed9. I should—no, wait. Send him in and leave us. I'm going to get to the bottom of this.

  As you wish, your Worship, the adept responded, then bowed to the woman on the throne and left.

  Poquah entered without disguise, looking as impassive as ever. Nothing had ever seemed to disturb him, and he didn't appear to understand the meaning of fear. He bowed to the throne and to Kaladon. I am Poquah, your Worships, formerly in the service of the late, sainted Ruddygore.

  Here we go, Joe thought, knowing every possible meaning of fear.

  So you are Poquah, Kaladon responded. I have heard a lot about you. How did you enter this castle without permission?

  But, your Worship; I had permission, the Imir replied.

  Whose?

  The Imir pointed to the throne where Tiana sat, impassive as the fairy. Hers, he said.

  Kaladon turned to look, and as he did, Tiana rose and started toward him...

  Then two Tianas were there, side by side, walking toward him.

  Wha—what trick is this? Kaladon screamed, and Poquah

  watched the thin yellow band connecting him to the real Tiana. Watched as it wavered, moved, and seemed unable to choose between the two absolutely identical Goddesses.

  The Imir struck. It was something that even Joe could see, because he had the same relative abilities as Tiana at this point; although, since his soul was different, he did not have her great magical powers.

  Tiana herself seemed to frown and rock to and fro. Kaladon became suddenly concerned with reestablishing his umbilical link, completely forgetting Poquah, who was rapidly rewriting the magical script.

  Once the link had been broken, even for a few seconds, Poquah's opening had begun changing the rest of the pattern that bound Tiana so tightly, so that Kaladon's link with the big woman would not rehook to her. Instead it wavered, then attached itself to the one pattern it could grab hold of—Joe.

  Realizing his problem, Kaladon screamed and rushed headlong into the Imir, bowling him over onto the floor.

  Tiana shook her head as if to clear it and blinked several times, as if awakening from a strange and terrible dream. She looked around in complete confusion, then saw the two fighting on the floor.

  The yellow umbilical was attached to Joe, but it had no pattern with which to mate and so it only tickled a little. Tiana gazed very confusedly at him, gave a gasp at seeing herself, but did not know what to do, so she just stood there. Joe quickly moved around to the other side of her, in the process knocking the yellow magic band away as if it were a cobweb.

  The protective spells taught him by Boquillas worked well, but the Imir was no match for Kaladon and was quickly brought to heel. He lay there unconscious on the floor, and Kaladon picked himself up, then looked with a snarl of satisfaction at the twin Goddesses before him. He stretched out his hand, and from it flowed a pattern of yellows, greens, and reds, completely covering one of them and freezing her into immobility, while the other stared wide-eyed, then seemed to realize exactly what was going on.

  First the impostor, then the Imir, Kaladon snarled. Here is the pattern. Do it! I command you!

  She would if she could, usurper, but she is only a double of me! the unbound Tiana on the left said. But thank you for the pattern!

  It shot out from her in blinding lights. Joe could only watch, unable to move or do anything at all, but no help from him was needed. Kaladon was trapped in the complex mass of colors and textures. They held him, froze him, and bound him all at once, and then they started slowly to constrict, ever slowly but steadily, until the veins began to pop from his skin. Vessels burst under the pressure, bathing the frozen man in his own blood and continuing to contract until the pattern met, then dissolved, leaving a gruesome mess on the rug.

  As Kaladon died, the spells binding Joe seemed to snap and then dissolve away. He could think and move once more and he let out a loud sigh.

  Poquah groaned, rolled over, and made his way to his feet. Both Tianas just looked at him. Finally he got hold of himself, glanced over at the pulpy mass and, for one of the very few times in his life, he gave a slight grin. It quickly vanished when he realized it, and he turned to the two large women standing there.

  What is this all about? Tiana wanted to know. I do not remember anything since I was forced into Kaladon's presence ... She suddenly paused. Oh, God! It was not a dream, was it? This strange religion, all those people...

  The Imir
nodded. Not a dream. In fact, a more humane version of the system might be just what Husaquahr needs. I'm not at all sure that it can be properly dismantled with so many on the Council in on it.

  Quite right, my friend, came a voice from the door, and in walked Esmilio Boquillas. The spells hold, for they are Tiana's, not the late, unlamented Kaladon's, and she doesn't even know how to undo them.

  Tiana was confused. What? Who?

  The other Tiana grinned a very uncharacteristic Tiana grin. I'm Joe, Tiana. This is a night with a full moon. Remember?

  She gasped. Then that explains it! And you, sir?

  Boquillas smiled and bowed. Esmilio Boquillas, Count of Marahbar, at your service.

  How'd you get here so quickly? Joe asked him. The whole outer castle is guarded.

  Boquillas chuckled. Poquah did it. You see, while I can no longer cast spells, I can be the easy recipient of them. It was a trifle. I had him cast several good spells on me for practice weeks ago.

  Marge entered from the back of the room, looking confused, and stopped at the sights she saw.

  Joe eased away from Tiana and over to a side where two rapiers were mounted decoratively on the wall. Boquillas glanced over at him and grinned. Oh, you have guessed it. Yes, indeed, my friends, we shall yet build perfection in this world. One of those spells you used in freeing Tiana, my dear Imir, also subjected her to my direction. Come! Come! Do not feel dejected! The Dark Baron's plans come to fruition at last, that's all. There is nothing you can do about it.

  Joe took both rapiers from the wall and checked out the heft and balance. I think there is. Baron, he said in Tiana's sweetest voice. I think you should have been in this room rather than assuming your scenario.

  Boquillas' face clouded. What do you mean?

  I mean that you'd better take this rapier, you bastard! Poquah did no more than break the link before he was otherwise engaged. He cast no spells on Tiana—she used Kaladon's own! He tossed the rapier to the man, who caught it deftly.

  Joe! Tiana cried. No! It is not necessary! With Poquah's aid, there is no problem!

  I can handle him without you, the Imir responded, and Boquillas looked nervously at the two of them.

  No! This is necessary! Joe told them. Just get out of the way, all of you! It's time for this murdering bastard to meet his fate in the real world!

  Boquillas glanced over at the real Tiana. If I order you to fling the same spell on her—er, him—that you used on Kaladon, I don't suppose you'd obey, would you?

  Not a chance, old man, she responded.

  He shrugged, raised the rapier in a salute, then leaped at Joe.

  Joe was fortunate that Tiana was about the same height as he normally was and that her body was also trained as a swordswoman, with the proper muscles and reflexes. Although he had to remember to protect his chest a bit better, he had height and reach on the older man, as well as youth. He also, unfortunately, had six feet of flowing hair that threatened to trip him up.

  Boquillas was no slouch as a swordsman, either. In fact, he was nearly brilliant, and they dueled back and forth across the chamber with little effect to either combatant.

  Ultimately, though, the Dark Baron's strategy held true, as he forced Joe into a series of gymnastic moves that could not be done without tripping on that damned hair. Joe fell, cursing, and lost his rapier.

  Boquillas made no allowance for honor. The rapier plunged deep into Joe's chest twice, spurting blood, and the stricken were cried out in pain.

  I think that is quite enough, another voice said, and Boquillas whirled, froze, and literally gaped at the heretofore vacant throne. The rapier dropped to the floor, and still he stood there, looking like a man facing his own death.

  Tiana, Marge, Poquah, and Joe all stared as well, and only the Imir remained in the least bit unaffected by the sight.

  Throckmorton P. Ruddygore, looking about forty pounds thinner and with a neatly trimmed beard, got up from the throne, an amused twinkle in his eyes. He was wearing his formal clothes, complete with opera cape, distinctive cane, and top hat.

  Joe, don't just lie there feeling killed. The rapiers weren't made of silver, and he had no power to make them so. Wipe that damned blood away and get up!

  Chapter 18

  COMPLEX EVER-AFTERINGS

  Never consider a sorcerer dead for good until you have seen him die a minimum of three times.

  —Rules, VI, 303(b)

  Don’t look so startled, all of you, Ruddygore told them. Come back into the apartment with me and let's find something to eat in this mausoleum. Yes, you, too, Esmilio.

  But—I killed you! Or, rather, Hiccarph killed you! We all saw it! the Count protested.

  Ruddygore chuckled. Oh, I admit I got a real mauling, but only on the psychic level, like your kraken and dragon and my replay of Earth warfare. I will also admit that, had I been that poor, starving boy, you would have had me; but he was just a construct, like the rest.

  He couldn't have been! Boquillas protested. It was you there! You as a starving scavenger! I know the Rules better than you! No construct may have a direct relationship to its creator!

  Could be you're right, Ruddygore admitted, but, trouble is. Count, you're just too damned gullible. That life story of mine that I told you over good wine and better cigars was a total and complete lie. You're such a sucker for a bleeding heart I can't help but feel sorry for you, old boy. Come! Everyone! We must eat and relax and decide what to tell all those officials around here who are scared to death to enter the presence of the Goddess without permission, despite the commotion!

  But where were you when you escaped the demon? Where have you been all this time? Marge wanted to know.

  Where I could rest and bind my wounds and regain strength? the fat sorcerer responded. Where else? And with that, he launched into a chorus of I Left My Heart in San Francisco.

  It was daybreak, but Joe and Marge had talked through the night, telling Tiana of their adventures and briefing Ruddygore on what he had missed. Meanwhile, Tiana gave orders forbidding interruptions in her best imperious manner, while fanatical followers still worked on rebuilding the castle and the city.

  Boquillas remained the most silent of the batch, rarely offering a question or comment. He looked, and was, a totally defeated man and he knew it.

  Finally it was dawn, and Joe changed back to his old self. He was delighted, as was Tiana, who hugged and kissed him. He finally broke away, laughing, and noted that three of them in the room were stark naked.

  That brings up an interesting series of questions, Ruddygore said at last. We have to discuss all our futures here.

  Everyone was suddenly very serious.

  Boquillas, I certainly owe you for helping dispose of Kaladon, although, as I promised, I was ready all in good time. I find, however, that I can not allow you freedom, considering your activities of this night. I think, perhaps, that you will come with me for a while, and we will take a little trip together.

  The Count's eyebrows went up. A trip? Where?

  I'll give you back your health and your youth, so that you will have a chance to see how things really are. I'll prepare you with languages and I will even bankroll you. You are going to work for me, on Earth.

  Earth? Doing what?

  Research and correlation. It would be a shame to let one of your intellect and experience go to waste. You like technology so much, I will introduce you to my computer section. Without them, all this could never have been possible.

  I knew it, Marge put in.

  Alas, you are also ready to experience a far different world from what you've ever known, as well as the Bangkok flu, stomach ulcers, and all the other pressures of day-to-day living.

  Still, it is better than you deserve. The sorcerer pointed at Boquillas, and he winked out and vanished. Stuck him in storage until I have to go over again, Ruddygore told the others.

  And what of us? Marge asked him. What now?

  He sighed. Boquillas was right, you know. Esme
rada, Fajera, Sargash, and the rest will not be easily talked out of this cult thing. Nor, in fact, could you, Tiana, ever lead a normal life now. You have what you wished all along to have, much to my surprise. You are absolute ruler here. We can modify the harsh pans of this new religion, but the others won't let us kill it, I'm afraid. He chuckled. Besides, I like being a saint.

  Tiana shook her head in wonder. You know, all that time in exile, I dreamed of this sort of thing, although tens of thousands of statues of me fully nude are a bit more than I thought about. She laughed. Well, then, so be it. The climate is tropical, and I certainly can no longer claim modesty after so many have seen not only statues but me in the altogether. She paused a moment. But the responsibility it now gives me is staggering. I had not thought in those terms. My dreams were always of taking back what was stolen, not of what happened after.

  Of course, there will have to be some modifications, Ruddygore told her. Let them continue to think you an angel, for they will, anyway, but we must restore their free will and sense of perspective. We must get the economy going again. Adjust the new status to the old so that it all works, but without war or mass slaughter, at least for a very long time.

  She nodded. Of course. You need only show me how to do it.

  Ruddygore turned to Joe. And what about you? What do you want now, Joe? I mean, really want. Long-term.

  Joe thought a minute, then leaned over and hugged Tiana. I want a goddess.

  She seemed delighted and excited, and grabbed and hugged and kissed him all over again.

  Ruddygore smiled. A slight modification is in order, then. There will have to be one, anyway, to explain Kaladon's demise. You sent him to his Heavenly reward, that's all.

  She sure did, Joe noted.

  Goddesses do not have consorts, of course, and I think Joe ill fits the role of high priest. Therefore, we'll reaffirm some old-fashioned values and virtues. The Goddess shall have her God. You certainly look the pan, Joe.

  Hey! Wait a minute! You mean there's gonna be a million marble statues of me in the nude?