Demons of the Dancing Gods (11 page)

as she seemed to, and certainly this was the most peaceful and

uneventful part of any of their journeys in Husaquahr.

They reached a farm road which, they were assured, led to

the main highway, and it was in the early morning, with Marge

barely dozing on the mule's back, that they met their first odd

or unusua! experience.

Joe stopped both animals, reached over, flipped down the

dark glasses, and shook her awake.

"Hmph? Uh? Something the matter?" she muttered drowsily,

still mostly asleep.

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"I'm not really sure," he responded a bit cautiously, "but

unless I've gone nuts, the road ahead is being blocked by a

pig-"

"So? Shoo it away."

"Uh—this pig is standing up like a human on its hind legs

and is holding a cutlass, and I really don't like the mean glint

in its eye."

CHAPTER 6

THE TROUBLE WITH MAGICIANS

Once a thief has committed himself or herself to that vocation by

deed rather than by inclination, the thief is bound by that nature,

regardless of consequences, or.d the Rules apply for life.

—Rules, VIII, 41(b)

MARGE SUDDENLY SAT BOLT UPRIGHT AND STARED AHEAD OF

them. Sure enough, there in the middle of the farm road was

the biggest pig she'd ever seen, impossibly standing on its hind

legs. The creature was easily Joe's height that way and must

have weighed in at half a ton or more. Around its middle was

a belt of some sort, its only clothing, and again impossibly, in

its right foreleg it gripped a menacing-Iooking cutlass, apparently

held mittenlike between the two parts of the unnaturally

pliable split hooves.

"Halt! Stand and deliver!" the pig grunted menacingly.

Joe sat back and shook his head in wonder. Of all the sights

in Husaquahr, this was certainly the most ridiculous he'd ever

encountered. "So, pork chops, what do you need with money?"

he called back.

"You think I like being like this?" the giant pig retorted. "It

takes money to hire somebody good enough to break a spell

like this."

Joe reached down and took hold of the hilt of his great

sword, which hummed in anticipation of action. "Well, porker,

it will take more than a pig with a pig-sticker to get anything

from us. Stand aside and pick an easier victim."

"Your choice," the pig grunted back. "We take what you

have from you now and you escape with your lives, or we pick

over your bodies."

"We?"

- There was a rustling from the underbrush on either side of

the road ahead of them, and there appeared the most incredible

trio of creatures they could imagine. One had the head and

torso of a chimpanzee that blended into the body of a large

snake. The second had a giant duck's head on a cow, udder

and all, while the third looked like nothing so much as a humansized

catfish whose fishy body merged into that of a crab,

complete with pincers. The monkey-thing had a broadsword,

while the cow-thing held a bow. The fish-crab needed no other

weapons than those pincers.

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It was hard to take such monstrosities seriously. "What in

hell happened to you?" Joe asked them, as Marge just gaped,

open-mouthed.

"We were lying in wait for the Sachalin night coach, which

was late as usual," the cow-duck quacked, "when we saw this

guy coming, all alone, decked out as if he was king of the gem

mines. It just got the better of us, I guess. The sight of all that

wealth made us forget about the sorcerer's convention."

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59

Joe nodded. "I see. And when you jumped him, he turned

out to be somebody powerful and he zapped you. I must say

he had a real sense of humor."

"Hilarious," the pig snorted. "Now that we've had our introductions,

can we get back to business?"

Joe sighed and sat back a bit in the saddle, positioning

himself. "Your bad luck continues, my odd thieves. As you

can see, neither my fairy companion nor I have much to hide,

and we are going to that same convention. I think, again, you'd

better wait for safer game."

"Says you," the monkey-snake retorted. "You don't look

like a sorcerer to me, and it's clear her magic powers, whatever

they are, aren't for fighting." It chuckled. "Care to kiss me,

honey?"

"It's true, we're not magicians, although we serve Ruddygore

ofTerindell, whose power will find you no matter where

you are—and you look to be pretty easy to find in any case.

But I do have one bit of magic, and it is of the most fatal

kind." Joe paused and whispered so low he could only hope

Marge could hear. "Be ready to charge when I do."

"Yeah? And what kind of magic's that?" the pig sneered.

Joe drew his sword, which began to hum even louder. Its

blade seemed like something alive, pulsing a glowing bronze.

"This," he told them, "is my very good friend Irving."

"Irving!" They all started laughing and sniggering. "What

sort of name is that for a sword?"

The great sword's hum rose in pitch, as if it were angry

and insulted by the remarks. The sword was, in fact, a semiliving

thing of sorcery and iron, as only the dwarfs could make

it.

"Irving doesn't like to be laughed at," Joe said quietly, then

suddenly kicked his horse and sprang forward with a yell. The

attack took the thieves by surprise, and he was on the pig before

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any of them could react, bringing Irving down on the cutlass

and slicing through the thief's weapon as if it were butter. With

his foot, he kicked out and sent the great pig sprawling on all

fours.

The monkey-snake screamed in anger and launched itself

at Joe, but he whirled around and this time was not so gentle,

slicing off not only the sword but the arm that held it.

Needing no more of a cue. Marge charged on her mule right

through the melee, the mule jumping over the pig.

Joe reined in his horse, reared back, and looked at the other

two creatures. The duck-cow had seen enough, dropped its

bow and stepped back. The fish-crab, however, looked uncertain.

"Well, fish-face? Do we see what Irving does to those claws?"

"Uh—I think Irving is 'a real nice name for a sword," the

fish-crab blurbled and backed off.

By this time, though, the pig had gotten back up behind

Joe and now reached to unhorse the big man. Joe saw the move

from the comer of his eye and pulled back on the reins, causing

his horse to rear up on its hind legs. The pig, startled, fell

backward and Joe came down and had his sword at the creature's

throat before it could recover. "Be thankful I spare your

lives," he told them. "If I meet the man who did this to you

all, though, I'm going to buy him one hell of a good drink."

With that, he whirled and rode off, following Marge, who'd

stopped to watch about a hundred feet farther on. He passed

her, slowed, and called out, "Well? What are you waiting for?

Run for it before they get their wits back!" Then he was off.

She shrugged and kicked the mule, proceeding forward at

a lesser pace.

They kept it up for almost a mile before Joe slowed to a

walk and relaxed, allowing her to catch up. "Close one," he

commented. "If they'd had any guts at all, they'd have had us,

Irving or not."

She burst out laughing. "Somehow I don't think they'll ever

have the guts. A pretty poor lot of robbers they are, even as

monsters."

"Don't laugh too long, though. Remember, we're riding

into a whole city just crammed with magicians, and most of

'em with the power won't think any more of us than they would

of bugs."

"That's more your worry than mine, I think. I'm not really

sure of my powers, but they seem made for a situation like

that."

He cleared his throat. "Urn, yeah. I've been meaning to ask

you about that. I kind of assumed that your powers were in

the, ah, lovemaking area."

She laughed. "Well, so I'm told. But that's only the lesser

part. Supposedly, I can cancel out magic, even redirect it. I'm

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JACK L. CHALKER.

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not sure how that works, and they weren't very good at explanations.

It's just supposed to come when I need it, more or

less."

He thought about that. "It makes sense, sort of. No great

powers, like a lot of the fairy folk are supposed to have, but

you'll have the power of whatever is used against you. Seems

to me, they'll think twice about using you for a subject with

that in mind."

She nodded. "If they know it. Kauri are better known for

the other thing we do best, and I don't think it would work

well against somebody like Ruddygore or the Dark Baron or

even Huspeth. Still, most magicians aren't on that level, so I

feel fairly safe. Truth is, I might not have much offense, but

I'm a catalog of defenses, which is what I think Ruddygore

had in mind. You're the offense and I'm the defense." She

saw him frown at that. "What's wrong?"

"The old bastard hasn't done anything for us or to us, unless

it's for some reason of his own. That magic Lamp business

was big, but I don't think it's what he really brought us here

for and made us what we are today, whatever that is. He's got

something big planned for us, and I don't like the smell of it."

"You were the one who was bored," she reminded him. "I

would think you'd like a real challenge."

"Challenge, yeah, but if that Lamp business was just practice,

what's he really got in mind, and can we survive it?"

"You're unusually gloomy today! Huspeth said Ruddygore

could see the direction of the future and planned accordingly,

and those silly Rules said we were destined for at least three

great adventures. Me, I'm not going to worry until the third

one. Instead, I'm going back to sleep."

And she did.

The main road was wide and well traveled, as they expected

one of the primary routes between the capital of Marquewood

and the rest of the nation to be. Not only were there the usual

wagon trains of goods going to and from Sachalin, but there

was much traffic by individuals and small groups. Joe noticed

that most of the people going away from the city looked rather

ordinary—merchants, deliverymen, carpenters, all the people

a capital would be expected to have. The traffic in the city's

direction, though, beyond the commercial trade, seemed a different

sort. Old women in black cloaks and hoods, small groups

dressed in varicolored robes, and mysterious, mystical, even

sinister folk were the rule.

Joe stopped at a roadside inn that was doing a large business

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and went inside. He was getting really tired and he figured that

they would most likely have a room available at midday. Few

landlords could resist the possibility of renting a room twice

in one day, and he could use a bed after so long on the road.

The innkeeper, a big, burly man named Isinsson, didn't

disappoint him, although a large eyebrow was raised at the

sight of a groggy Marge wearing only dark glasses.

The price was reasonable, and Joe agreed readily to leave

by eight in the evening. The room was small but adequate, and

the double bed had a genuine feather mattress. They looked at

it groggily, and Joe said, "Too bad. If we weren't both so dead,

we could make real use of it, as the landlord thinks we will."

"Maybe we'll wake up early," she muttered and lay face

down on the bed. Joe looked at the velvety wings sticking out

from her back and, with a silent wish that she didn't toss and

turn in her sleep, he secured the door and joined her in slumber.

When he awoke, to his great disappointment, it was after

seven. Marge, he saw, had already arisen and gone from the

room. For a second, he was worried about that, remembering

the last time she'd disappeared from a hotel, but she hadn't

been fairy then. He was pretty sure she could take care of

herself. At least, he hoped so. The next dragon they met might

not have a neurotic fear of fair maidens.

He packed up and went down to the main floor, which was

fairly crowded with traffic. He didn't see Marge anyplace, but

he decided not to get really worried until it was time to leave.

There were no empty tables; but with such a crowd, any

empty chair belonged to the first person to sit in it, and he

picked one with a small group of ordinary-looking people and

ordered a heavy meal.

The people at the table were a little taken aback by the giant

barbarian in their company, but they soon relaxed and wanned

to him as the place filled with those more mysterious sorts and

various kinds of not very pleasant-appearing fairies.