The goddess seemed pleased. "Very well, then. What you did, you did for love of a woman. It is a very old story among humans, and the history of the human race is full of things, both wonderful and terrible, done for that reason, and for the opposite. For the love of that woman you defected to the enemy, knowing she was there. After suffering the most terrible of torments for a man, you then killed that woman, not out of anger or self-pity or revenge, but out of mercy for her own tragic state. The fact remains, though, that had you not run from the train under fire she might not have died. You will have to live with that."
She paused for a moment, and Dar stood motionless, frozen, staring at the eerie picture. Cass felt sorry for him, but was helpless.
"It seems to us," the goddess continued, "that through a very strange chance, the evil one has rendered an appropriate judgment on you. We therefore, by divine spell of a sort that has never been broken by any of the gods and goddesses of World, perfect and make irrevocable your present state, as constant reminder of your own deeds and as a warning if needed to you and to others. Beyond this, no other thing will be done to you for any deeds in the past, and we declare you free and independent. We further stipulate that each of you will receive our total hospitality while you are in Persellus, for so long as you both choose to be here. Dar, you may go now and wait outside, while we talk with Cass." It was not a request.
He bowed his head slightly. "Ma'am, it's only justice, I guess." He did not feel happy, but he had enough sense to remember and back out of the room. Cass was now alone with the goddess.
"You are troubled by our judgment?"
"It's pretty hard on him, I think," she admitted. "He's neither one thing nor the other, and he can't be happy either way."
"That was the idea. However, we decided to explain to you our reasoning, for he will need you at least for a while. Inside him bums tremendous guilt, and with it a self-hatred. We would willingly have restored him for all the reasons you gave, but to do so without also totally remaking his mind and memories would have increased that guilt and self-hatred quickly to the point where he would kill himself. The reasons for everything he did are juried deep in his mind and his experiences, much from long before he was cast out of Anchor Logh, so to remake his mind would have been to, essentially, kill him anyway. We do not do such work for people. By making of him a hermaphrodite, oddly enough, Montagne saved his life, for then he felt punished for his own failings. He, not we, consider this appropriate punishment, and so he remains, perhaps to be useful and productive in some way. He is not without courage, only self-confidence."
She considered it. "I don't know much about psychology, divine one, and it seems a little mixed up to me, but I'll take your word for it. You're saying that only because he's not whole can he be sane."
"That is about it," the goddess admitted— "Unless there is something else, you may go now."
She thought a moment. "Except that both of us need jobs, there's nothing, your worship."
"You will find what you need, for you have within you a Soul Rider who guards."
That startled her. "A what?"
"A Soul Rider. Do not fear it, for there is precious little power it cannot command if need be, and it fights the forces of darkness on World. You must only be warned that it uses you in its fight, and so you can expect more danger and adventure. Making a living will be no problem. This is enough for now. You may go."
She wanted to ask a lot more questions, particularly about this Soul Rider, but there was no way she was going to press somebody like this, particularly not now. She gave the bow and backed out the door, closing it behind her.
11
HALDAYNE
An officious-looking woman was waiting with Dar when Cass emerged from the room. Dar looked at her and said, "Well?"
She shrugged. "Tell you later, maybe. How are you doing?"
"I'm feeling a little off and my muscles ache, but I'm okay." He turned to the woman. "This lady says she'll see to our needs."
"I am Gratia," the woman introduced herself. "Please accompany me and I will show you to your hotel and give you a brief orientation."
They followed her out of Government House and down a central street filled with small shops and cafes, most with merchandise on racks outside or a few street-front tables. A small hotel was two blocks down on the comer, and it was clearly a hotel and nothing else. Cass delighted at some of the displayed merchandise but couldn't help comparing what she was seeing to Anchor Logh. There was, it seemed, no equivalent of Main Street, no bars or entertainment area of any kind. The people seemed normal enough, but there was not the gaiety or spontaneity that she expected of people in a city setting. A cautious remark on the lack of some expected services brought a response from their guide.
"Our lives are lived according to the Divine Plan," Gratia told them. "Such things as you describe are the products of evil and are not needed nor permitted here."
They were given vouchers of some sort, pieces of paper with numbers printed on them and another unnaturally lifelike head portrait of the goddess on them, and told that this was the money of Persellus. It was difficult to accept something as flimsy and destructible as paper as money, but this was not Anchor Logh.
They were left in a small hotel room with a map of the central city, the money stake, and recommendations for some of the better cafes and shops in the area. "You may as well relax and enjoy your stay here," Gratia said. "It is unlikely that the stringer tram will be able to be here in under three days, and we have scheduled the trial for four days from now. If you have any questions about anything here or have any needs in the meantime, do not hesitate to come by my office in Government House and discuss these with me." And, with that, she left.
Dar eyed one of the two single beds in the room and shook his head. "You know how long it's been since I've slept on a real bed? I wonder if I can do it?"
Cass laughed. "Well, if you want to be homesick for the stringer train, then you can always strip and lie on the floor."
A room both had originally taken for a closet turned out to be a bathroom, something both had never seen individually connected to a hotel room before. There was no power except wind, water, and muscle outside the capital of Anchor Logh, and when in that city both had stayed in communal quarters. It was some time before they even fully figured out how all the things worked, and marveled at hot water coming from taps without any pumping or pre-heating, and they spent some time flushing and re-flushing the toilet and trying to figure out just how it worked.
"As for me, that's the tiniest shower I've ever seen but I'm going to use it," Cass decided, stripping off her makeshift uniform. "How about you?"
Dar nodded— "I think it's strictly one at a time in there, though. I don't think I'd fit with anybody else. I still wish it was a tub, though. My legs are killing me and I'd like to soak them."
He undressed, and at least part of the reason for his distress was painfully evident. There was some blood on his legs, large and hairy as they were, and it disturbed him.
Cass still found it hard to get used to the sight of him like that—a true god, huge and muscle-bound, looking and sounding like a man who lifted weights casually and bent steel to relax, except in that one area. And that, of course, was his problem. The big, strong he-man was going to have to have periods explained to him. It was rather clear now what the goddess meant when she said she would "perfect" what Rory Montagne had done to him.
Later, a bit cleaner, they went shopping, both picking plain, practical clothes, such as tough denim pants and simple work shirts. They also picked up toiletries and various portable packing kits for their stuff. Neither overdid it, wanting to be able to travel light if they had to. Both also picked high boots that gave good protection and support, but only Cass picked fairly high heels which gave her a little extra height. She still did not come up to his broad shoulders, but it made her feel a little more even with the world. She also selected a dark brown flat-brimmed hat with a string tie
to secure it while riding, and a hand-tooled leather belt with a plain silvery oval buckle, just because she liked the look of it.
Afterward they ate at one of the recommended cafes and found the food quite good although rather plain and unvaried, except for a seeming national passion with fancy pastries. Obviously, the goddess loved fancy pastries.
After sundown, however, the whole city just plain died. There was no nightlife at all, and no real diversions. It was clear from their shopping expeditions that the people of Persellus lived for their jobs and families and did very little else recreationally. Not that they weren't an apparently happy lot, but they seemed content with everything as it was and doing what they were doing and had no real curiosity, ambition, or even much of a competitive spirit. When looking for her belt, a leather shop had directed her to another down the street, for example.
Reading matter seemed to consist mostly of book after book of the goddess's musings, aphorisms, ramblings, and the like, most of which was tough going and made very little sense. There appeared to be little education beyond basic skilled trades and reading and writing for business reasons. They didn't need doctors because when they got sick or injured they just prayed to the goddess and she healed them. They didn't need scientists or engineers, because everything worked through the goddess's magic, even the water and electricity. Smoking, drinking, dancing, gambling, even basic entertainment like plays was forbidden, and foul language was strongly discouraged, which made Dar realize what a gaffe he'd pulled in using the very mild "hell" in the "presence" of the goddess herself.
It was, in fact, so deadly dull a town filled with such incredibly dull people that it almost drove. both of them nuts. Even the humdrum farm life of Anchor Logh was a thrill a minute compared to this place. By the end of the second day they were both so bored that they decided on the third 'day to rent horses and see a little of the countryside.
But the countryside, too, had the same dull sameness as the town. The only problem they had was occasional small bouts of vertigo now and then, after which something would be slightly changed. Mountains seemed a bit taller one time than another, houses seemed to grow and shrink now and then, and when they got back to town there were minor, subtle differences in the look of the buildings and even the people.
"The best guess I can make," Cass said when they were back in their hotel room, where the furniture and fixture designs seemed very slightly different, "is that since this land is entirely the product of the goddess's imagination, she sometimes makes little changes now and then, like redecorating a room. Or maybe it's just that, like us, she remembers things a little differently than they really were, and, unlike us, how she remembers them is how they become."
"Still thinking of staying here and Finding a job?" Dar asked her. They had not really discussed the future.
She shook her head. "Nope. I think when Matson gets here I'll ask for some suggestions and, if I can afford it, travel along with him for a little while until I find a place I can really settle. You?"
"Oh, I'll come along, I guess. I sure can't see somebody like me fitting in around here, that's for sure. Oh, maybe if I joined the army or something like that, I might make do, but I could never call this home or fit into their family pattern. I don't think she had me staying around in mind." He sighed. "I wonder if there is a place where I'd fit in?"
She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I'd like to know what a Soul Rider is, though. Nobody around here seems to know anything about it."
"Maybe Matson will. He's been around and seen everything, and he'll be in tomorrow."
She nodded. "None too soon, either." She thought a moment. "You sure about coming with Matson, though? I mean, there'll be all those Lanis, and they sure aren't the kind of people Persellus would want."
"I've licked that, I think. Look, I'm part Lani and part me. If I can't take people who look like her, then I may as well pack it in, right?"
She couldn't argue with it, but she hoped it was true.
They saw Matson first when they were summoned for Rory Montagne's trial. He looked clean and relaxed, although irritated that his cigars could not legally be brought into the Fluxland proper. He looked and felt naked without one stuck in his mouth.
All of them were seated in a comfortably appointed "witness room" well stocked with cold drink and pastries while waiting to testify. They greeted Matson warmly, and he reciprocated in his usually reserved stringer fashion, but when he asked how they liked Persellus and both silently spelled out "D-U-L-L" he had to chuckle. Finally Cass got around to business. "How much for a ride with your train?"
Matson grinned. "A week ago you'd have paid your arms and legs not to be anywhere near my train, now you're offering money to get back in?"
"As passengers, not cargo," she was quick to point out. "There's a big difference."
He thought a moment. "Well, Persellus money's not much use to me, although I could credit it to an open account here in the name of Anchor Logh and get something more transportable in return. Tell you what—if you supply your own horses and packs, and buy what supplies you'll need for at least a week's travel, I'll take you along'as duggers— without pay, of course. You're both pretty good with animals and Jomo's got more than his hands full with the nearly double-sized train, even though we're going to pare it down a bit here. We'll try and give you a few shooting and close fighting lessons, too. How's that?" He paused a moment. "But no hysterics over the human cargo, no going nuts seeing people who look like other people, things like that."
"I'll be good," Dar responded, knowing who that was directed towards. "I've done some real thinking in the past few days, and I'm not the same person inside that I was."
That settled, Cass asked, "How come they're going through all this formal trial business for that scum? Why not just let the goddess deal with him and be done with it?"
"Well, now, that's kind of hard to explain," Matson replied. "First of all, he's a wizard. A real puny one, I admit, but a real one nevertheless. There's a sort of a fraternity that all real wizards belong to, mostly to protect them from each other. They've got their own rules, and their conduct has to be judged by other wizards of equal or greater rank before they can be disciplined. It sounds stupid, I know, but every one of them does things all the time that might be considered criminal to others, so they insist on being judged by their own standards. Next time one of the judges might be in the dock, so he or she wants to make sure that they followed the rules when they were judges— See?"
The door to the courtroom opened and a tall, distinguished-looking man entered. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties but in excellent condition for that age. In fact, age had been very kind to him, and he was lean and handsome, his silvery gray hair complementing his dark complexion.
"I am First Minister Haldayne," he told them. "I am, in effect, the prosecutor in this case." He picked up one of the gooier pastries and ate it. "In a few moments we'll be calling direct witnesses. Just tell everything exactly as it happened, adding or subtracting nothing, and don't volunteer anything. Just answer what questions are asked, and let me be your guardian against defense questions. Above all, don't get emotional if you can help it, making moral judgments on the defendant or calling him names. The standards here are a bit different than in a normal court of law." They all nodded, and he left, then returned a few moments later. "Mr. Matson, if you please."
Matson went in and the door closed, and both Cass and Dar regretted not being able to see or hear anything. They were used to open, public courtrooms.
Matson's testimony apparently didn't last long, and Cass was called next. Haldayne offered his left hand to her to help her up from her overstuffed chair, and as she stood she noticed on his right hand a small but distinctive gold ring. Suddenly she remembered that he'd eaten the pastry with his left hand as well.
She had little time to reflect on it, though, as she was ushered into what appeared to be a traditional courtroom, although with a board of three women and two me
n acting as judges, and no jury. Haldayne examined her on the facts, and she told her story, almost absently, trying not to be fixated on the man himself but unable to totally betray her preoccupation. The more he talked, the more he moved, the more she was sure.
Rory Montague looked relaxed in the dock, acting as if this somehow did not concern him at all. He had given a slight smile and wave when she'd entered, and listened to her testimony while absently gnawing on an apple. If she was right, she thought nervously, he had every reason to be unconcerned.
The defense put only a few clarifying questions to her, then she was dismissed, and Haldayne led her back to the jury room and called Dar. When the door closed again, she turned to Matson and whispered, "That man Haldayne—he's the goat-headed boss! I'm sure of it!"
Matson frowned. "Haldayne? But he's the big-wig around here, the most powerful wizard in the land, second only to the goddess herself."
None the less, she outlined her reasons and her instincts, and he did not dismiss them. "It both fits and it smells," he told her— "The trouble is, we'll need a lot more proof than you can give for it, and I'm not sure how to get it. Do you think he knows you suspect him?"
"He could hardly ignore it. I wasn't being very subtle, I'm afraid."
"Hmmm… Well, even if he is our man, he's unassailable as he is, but if he's as good and as careful as he has to be he won't want to leave any loose ends."
She looked at him nervously. "You mean he might try and come after me?"
Matson nodded. "I think you better buy what you need this afternoon and get down to my train. Just follow the road the way you came in. I'll try and clear my business this afternoon and get back there. If he's really one of the Seven in this kind of control this close to a Hell Gate somebody will have to be notified. Damn! I wasn't headed that way, but after GlobbusJ think we'll have to take a detour to Pericles. Well, maybe it won't be a total loss. Pericles always likes fresh young women."
Soul Rider #01: Spirits of Flux and Anchor Page 14
