DG5 - Horrors of the Dancing Gods

by Chalker, Jack L

  Irving frowned. "Well, if Hell's close over one way and Earth's close by on the other, then where's Heaven?' "On the other side of Earth, of course. I thought that was obvious," the Imir responded. "We are a bit closer to Hell here. Always have been. Not that Earth folk are any more or less likely to go there than our people are, but here you can walk."

  Marge tiptoed to the door of the bedroom and looked in. Larae was professionally bandaged on her left arm and shoulder and seemed to be asleep from the release of tension, Trowbridge's drugs and shock, or both. She quietly pulled the door shut again, turned, and for the first time saw the strange little man in the white suit "Who's Peter Lorre?' she asked.

  He smiled. "Joel Thebes, madame. At your service. We were speaking—the three of us—when you and your companion made your dramatic entrance. I am sorry we did not have a calm and proper introduction."

  She nodded. "Then you're the native guide we were to meet?"

  "At your service. Not, however, a native. Not of this place, oh, no! I, too, was born and raised on Earth, in a small town none would have heard of in the Carpathian Mountains near the Romanian-Hungarian border."

  She immediately understood. "You're really from Transylvania'?"

  He brightened. "Oh, my, yes! A descendant of the Wallachians who ultimately subdued and dealt with Vlad Dracut. And no, I am not a vampire or a werewolf or anything like that, although over time some changes have taken place within me. They have nothing to do with my birth or ancestry, though, and do not imperil you. They are the price I have paid to still be chasing the bird after so many, many long years."

  "And a fat man and a pretty girl are around someplace, no doubt."

  He looked quizzical. "Um, there was a very large man, a companion, yes, but he is now dead, I believe. At least, I left him in the last stages of a terrible lung disease in Istanbul long ago, and if I know him, he would have made it here by now were he not long dead and assigned to wherever he was to go. As to women, I have encountered many beautiful women over the years but none in a very long time. Why did you make the comment, may I ask?"

  "Never mind. You just reminded me of a different plot I once knew." She should have guessed, Marge told herself, or at least reminded herself that much of the fantasy and fancy of Earth were carried over the Sea of Dreams and there crept into the minds of the most creative and receptive. Earth's fiction was this world's fact, including, it appeared, this little fellow. Well, if he was anything close to his fictional counterpart, he was a very dangerous killer, but he was also more of a threat to Irving than to Larae.

  Irving yawned. "Seems to me that we'd all be better off in the daylight around here, except maybe Marge. Maybe we should get some sleep while there's still enough night."

  Poquah nodded. "I agree. Mister Thebes, can you meet us for a late breakfast, say, eight-thirty or nine? I assume the hotel has some sort of service."

  "It does," Thebes responded. "Mostly European-stylesweet rolls, coffee, tea, that sort of thing—but ample. Shall we say nine, then?"

  "By all means. We have much to arrange, and our clock is ticking on this," the Imir reminded him.

  With that, Thebes left, and they felt free to relax a bit. "You trust him?' Marge asked the Imir.

  "Not much and certainly not in proximity to the McGuffin, but until then his interest lies in sticking with and even helping us. I also believe that his fanatic obsession for obtaining the Grand McGuffin is such that he will be less vulnerable to many of the truly evil influences we may encounter along the way. Perhaps even more insulated than any of the rest of us."

  "You really think that is a danger?" Irving asked him.

  "Perhaps. It is best to remain on guard. That is why the Master sent me along on this trip, I believe. Duty is all-important to the Imir. It outweighs and overrides all other considerations, and I have my duty to perform on this mission. So far, in fact, it has been remarkably easy; now, I fear, it is going to turn much uglier. It isn't just the institutional dangers, it's the random ones such as the man with the dog tonight. Marge, tell me true, do you believe that he knew who either of you were?"

  "No. I don't think so. He didn't even seem to be waiting for us. It was almost, well, he was going along and spotted us and decided to sic the dog on us just for the hell of it."

  "Indeed, that is just what I mean. Around here much, perhaps a lot, is just for the Hell of it. That is why we must always stick closely together if possible and always be on guard. Trust no one outside our circle unless we have to and all the rest of us can keep watch. The natives here may seem quite ordinary, be friendly, all the rest, but deep down they have no conscience and no sense of responsibility. Assume that everyone you meet is like that fellow with the dog and you will be a lot safer."

  "'Thanks a lot," Marge said glumly. Still, they were here and going inland. "I think the sooner we're on our way and the less time we spend in towns and cities, the better, though."

  "I agree. Irving and I will sleep tonight; you can keep watch. Tomorrow one of us will do the same for you."

  "Fair enough," she responded, "but I may have to go out for just a little bit. That trick I pulled tonight to get us out of that jam used up a tot of energy. I will need to feed."

  "Be careful. It won't take much to overdose in a place like this!" the Imir warned her. "Still, go."

  "Um—Marge?" Irving asked hesitantly.

  "Yeah, Irv?"

  "What did you do that got the dog off her?"

  "I can't demonstrate. Takes too much out of me. Let's just say that I can do illusions and that most of my illusions are nice and very easy to look at but that there are a few I can do that are scarier than all hell. When that dog lit into her, I just reacted instinctively, and suddenly the woman next to her turned into an apparent horrible fiend and snapped at the dog. Last I saw, it was running down the alley yelping, dragging its tail. When I looked around for the owner, I found him knocked out against the far wall! How that happened I'm not sure. I got the strong impression somebody else was close by in spite of my aerial surveillance, but with Larae hurt, I couldn't take the time to look. I'd swear, though, that there was no way the guy with the dog could have been startled and knocked himself out that way, but, well, who knows?'

  "Remind me to stick close to you."

  "Don't get too confident," she warned him. "Remember, it's only illusion. Fake. The only reality is what you see right now." She sighed. "Okay, I'll just go out the window over here. Close it after me—there are some pretty mean things flying around these parts. I'll get back in. And don't worry so much! We're gonna do this thing! Believe it!"

  "I try," Irving assured her. But he wished there had been enough time for Joel Thebes to tell them why their destiny was so wrapped up in this. Well, he was going along, so there would be plenty of time for that. There was still so much that seemed to have been deliberately withheld from him. Like that and like what Larae's curse was.

  Damn it, it wasn't fair for perfect strangers to know more about him and his cohorts than they did themselves!

  He would find out some of it, he promised himself. He'd find out as much as he could in the morning.

  BE MINE ON YUGGOTH

  There can never be but one partner in a seduction.

  —Rules, Vol. XXXIII, p. 261(c)

  LARAE WAS SORE BUT OTHERWISE IN FAIRLY GOOD SPIRITS the next morning. "Go on down," she urged them. "I'll be all right here, and if I feel up to it, I'll try and dress and join you. Please. I'm not very well going to allow you to help me in here, anyway."

  Irving shrugged. "All right, if that's what you really want" He looked over at the absolutely comatose Marge, who seemed to be sleeping the sleep of the dead. "She's not going to wake up for a hurricane, you know."

  "That's all right. I didn't expect her to. You would be surprised at how self-sufficient I have had to learn to be. Go on, get your business started."

  Leaving the girl, he joined Poquah, who had switched his usual gray robes for a mottled green and bro
wn tunic and pants and strong boots. They went down to breakfast

  "Is this your normal Imir garb back in your own homeland?" Irving asked him, curious.

  "One of them. The style's rather stock, I'm afraid—the Rules, you know—but the coloration and cut are often quite distinctive. Um, I assume you noted how completely unconscious the Kauri was?"

  "Uh, yeah, but she's always out of it in bright daylight"

  "Not that out of it. She's functional in daylight; she just could feel the same as you or I would if we hadn't been to sleep for, say, twenty-four hours. Groggy but workable. If she slept that hard normally, she'd be totally vulnerable during the day, when virtually all of her defenses are from the conscious will rather than being automatic. No, I fear we will have to keep a careful eye on her because she will be the last to notice."

  "Notice what?"

  "She feeds on other people's misdeeds, regrets, whatever. There's not a lot of conscience in these people, so the kind of psychic energy she's designed to digest must be dug for more deeply and at its root, which is not in the sense of wrongness but rather in the nature of the deed itself and its stain upon the soul. It is quite easy for her, I think, to mistake the stain for what is her natural food."

  "I don't follow you at all," the boy admitted, shaking his head.

  Poquah sighed and chose his words patiently. "She thinks she is doing the normal, instinctual, and natural thing by cleansing the soul, but instead she is consuming a part of it."

  "Huh? What?"

  "She is eating part of their evil-stained souls, which, to someone of a faerie nature, is tantamount to cannibalism. You remember the old saying that you are what you eat?"

  "Yeah, but ..."

  "If she is not careful, she will turn from being a Kauri to becoming a Succubus, a predator. In a sense, it would be like a mortal becoming a vampire. It would not matter if she liked the state or not; she would not be able to help herself. She would become a killer to live, but under a whole different part of the Rules. That is the danger I feared most from the start and the one which Master Ruddygore was also most concerned about. I still hope that her own ruler, who keeps some connection with all those of the tribe, has a way to control this or she wouldn't have allowed Marge to come, but it is by no means sure. In the end we must drive home to her the need to stop before she turns completely. It is more a matter of will than of compulsion, but one must recognize the problem to deal with it."

  "Sounds like drugs and booze," Irving commented.

  The dining area was nicely laid out, although by that hour of the morning it had been well picked over. Still, there was much to choose from: the pastries reminiscent of the finest of central Europe, along with juices, countless kinds of tea, and several varieties of coffee.

  Joel Thebes was there, idly sipping some coffee and looking more deathly and white in the light of day than he had at night. There was a question as to whether he ever changed the white suit or if it was a part of him. It didn't seem dirty, anyway, which implied that he mostly had a lot of identical ill-fitting, rumpled outfits.

  After the two Husaquahrians had gotten their own breakfasts and brought them over to the table, Thebes got down to business.

  'The black bird has an incredible history both on Earth and here," he noted, sounding enthusiastic to tell it.

  Neither of his listeners was like-minded enough to want to hear most of it. "Forget the legends. How'd it get here?" Irving asked him.

  Thebes looked disappointed but sighed and said, "The Knights of Malta made dozens of exact replicas to fool everyone but decided that it was far too dangerous to leave in anyone's hands on Earth. Thus, in the year 1476 the head of the order took the original and wished it and himself to go to the place whence its original wood had been carved, and that, although he was not aware of it, was in this universe and on Yuggoth, in a small valley to the east of Mount Doom. It is of the stock of the original trees of Eden, you see, which is why it is indestructible and how it gains much of its power. Well, of course, it didn't take very long for the Archbishop to realize where he was and sense all the snakes and such about, but he knew what to do. Using the bird, he created for it a haven there in which none but mortals consecrated of Earth and baptized in his faith would be able to approach and touch, move, or otherwise command the power of the bird. He made a place for it in the valley, and then he walked out of there and faced down the demon hordes attracted to his very presence. It is quite likely he went to his God shortly thereafter."

  "So even Hell can't touch it?" Poquah said more than asked. "Interesting. And not just a mortal but an Earth mortal anointed by the rituals of his particular church is the only one who can touch or use it? Fascinating."

  "Baptism," Irving told him. "A priest puts water on your head and blesses you. Some of 'em put your whole body under. This Archbishop dude—he was Roman Catholic, I bet. Almost everybody was back then in Europe.

  "Yes, certainly, as was I once," Thebes admitted. "It was Dracul who saved Romania and Wallachia from the Ottoman Turks, after all, until he went too insane and decided everybody was a Turk. That saved the region for the Catholic Church, and so it remains to this day, as far as I know. Unfortunately, nobody knew of this step back on Earth, and so countless people spent centuries and fortunes and lives chasing the replicas all over the world, only to always be thwarted. Of course, not even Hell is absolutely certain that this story, too, is genuine and that the one they cannot touch is not a fake as well. I do not believe it is, though. I have now accounted for most of the fakes through history, and how was such a medieval man as the Archbishop able to get here and enforce these restrictions if it were not? The only question is whether he brought one or two fakes here with him as well. Still, I am convinced it is there."

  Poquah considered the legend. "Then this is why Hell needs the likes of us. They can't enter or even see the blasted thing! Not even any of the sorcerers here could, since they were all Husaquahrian-born or are of this world and so lack the requisite baptism. So the question comes, Who is the one who can truly use this treasure if we can reach it?"

  "Marge was raised Catholic. I know because she told me," Irving noted. "And so was my dad, after all."

  Thebes looked at him with those bulletlike black eyes and frowned slightly. "But I do not think your Marge can be considered mortal at this point, nor, as I understand it, your father, either. And you were a mere small child."

  Irving smiled. "But I was old enough, and I was baptized even if we weren't real good churchgoers. Mom was a Baptist, but I know I had a Catholic baptism. That used to be the joke. At one point she dated this minister who was M.E., and he had me baptized there, and at another point I got nearly drowned by the Baptist relatives. They always said if anybody went to Heaven in the family it'd be me, since I got baptized Catholic, A.M.E., and Baptist. Guess all I missed was her takin' up with a Muslim."

  "That's it, then," Thebes commented. "You alone on this entire world can retrieve it, or so it would seem. Your father and your winged companion are outside chances but unlikely to qualify. It seems that all our efforts must be to get you to the bird."

  "What about you?" Irving asked him. "I mean, you said you qualified, I think."

  Thebes sighed. "Alas, I do not. You see, I had to sell my soul to get over here. It wasn't worth much, but it was all I had, and it broke any link to God I might have had, however slender. I am not truly mortal anymore myself, either. No, you are certainly it. And that means that you will be a very tempting target to those who would not want you to get anywhere near the thing."

  Irving felt suddenly very uncomfortable. "Thanks a lot." He wondered how much truth was in Thebes' story. Certainly the little man was dependent on them to get there, which indicated he couldn't make it on his own, and some of it hung together, but was it all the story? What would happen once he or somebody else who could see and remove it took it out of that valley or shrine? Anybody's game again? That was the way a lot of those kinds of wishes worked.

>   This was going to be pretty damned hairy. If he didn't get it, the bad guys won, and he was going to be targeted by the invaders to stop him. Okay. That much he could take. But if he had the thing in his hands, he'd better wish himself out of there and safe—real, real quick—or everybody in creation was gonna be pouncing all over him.

  "I am not certain that Joe or Marge couldn't do it under those restrictions," Poquah noted. "If they are absolute and as you stated them, then what is the point of Joe's earlier odyssey with his strange companion? She surely is born of Husaquahr and a proper halfling, so what made her stepfather believe that she could see and use the McGuffin? A fascinating puzzle, one of many in this affair without an answer. But tell me, since you seem to know everything else around here, have you heard of the nymph and the halfling? Do you know if they still live?"

  Thebes looked around cautiously and then lowered his voice. "They got here, yes. The word is that they remained on their ship and got off at Innsmouth instead. Not a wonderful place to do it, but it is a very small fishing town surrounded by a fair amount of old-growth forest. Lots of fogs and mists, too. You don't want to meet the folks who live in the town, and certainly you won't stay for long around them, but if they made it the much shorter distance from the dock to the forest, well, a wood nymph would have some power there. There's some pretty mean fairies in these forests, but a nymph would be in her element. Word is that they made it at least that far and vanished into the interior. They were sighted here and there for a thousand kilometers, but there have been no sightings in the entire Mount Doom region and none anywhere else for quite a while. Odds are something's got 'em. Dead? Alive? Impossible to say."