Songs of the Dancing Gods dg-4

by Jack L. Chalker

  “I—very well. But what should I do?”

  “You can serve your master best today by convincing everybody that he’s still here, and, perhaps, is a bit under the weather. You’ve got a sick master up here, but not too sick. Just a bug, no big deal. That’ll keep people out and questions down to a minimum. Fetch meals as if for him—the kind of stuff he’d order, remember. You get the idea?”

  She nodded. “I understand and will do as you say. For one day and night, anyway.”

  “Good girl. Do it right. I just hope nobody notices.”

  “Notices what?”

  “We forgot in all the worry to slip on your bracelets and anklets, and you sure aren’t gonna get them on now. Just hope nobody up here believes in were anythings any more than most folks do. Don’t worry—I doubt if they will. Me, I’m gonna get some real sleep.”

  Mia felt momentary panic. The bracelets and anklets! Still there on the floor. The small earrings were still there, too, but she had those with a clasp to allow for full moon times. She moved to put them back in, then thought better of it. No, nothing but the collar and the nose ring. She looked at herself in the mirror. God! So very plain, sexless. But she would leave them off. If anybody asked, it would be that they were cut off by her master’s orders, which she could not question.

  Somehow, she knew, they would have to find a way to get a collar with a clasp, against the rules or not. Otherwise, what happened if she changed into something sometime with either too large a neck or, perhaps, an animal like a horse? She wouldn’t strangle, but the collar would then fall through the reforming flesh and it wouldn’t fit back on, either.

  As ready as she could be, she took a deep breath, tried to stay calm, then opened the door and went down to see about keeping up the lie, wishing all the time that it was true.

  It was a harrowing day for Mia, who was almost a nervous wreck by the time Marge awakened. She had tried getting some sleep, but what little came was fitful, and every noise woke her back up.

  There was no problem taking some of the money they had and getting fake meals. Money was money, although most of the meals were dumped in the chamber pot and the mess, mixed with the usual contents of the chamber pot that she could hardly avoid adding, already attracting flies.

  That worried her a bit. It would be just like the way things were going suddenly for a fly to land on her just at moonrise. Everything worried her, all of a sudden.

  Only the cafe lady had noticed her lack of jewelry, and she’d lied and said it looked just fine. Coming back with the dinner had, in fact, caused her only problem; some of the troops were in town, and apparently word of her dance and extraperformance activities had gotten around fast. She was filled with requests, and feared she would be delayed too long and moonrise would occur right then and there, with her in the middle of the street surrounded by soldiers. She also knew that they’d come after her and maybe up to the room if she said she’d ask permission, but then she-got the bright idea to note that her master was sick. Real sick. Some kind of flu. She didn’t know if it was catching… Kerchoo! She had a clear field.

  Marge sat there, nervously waiting for her. “About time!” “I had to get through a horde of lustful soldiers, my lady,” she apologized. “I was not sure I would be here in time.”

  “Yeah, well, I kinda figured something like that. You still got a few minutes yet, and I’m still only mildly worried about Joe. After all, he’d be naked and on foot, with those patrols about, and it’s a long way. I—”

  There was a sudden figure at the window, that of a Kauri. Joe climbed in, and Mia and Marge both frowned, then Mia looked down at her unchanged self and Marge at Mia’s normality.

  “I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with this crazy curse!” he grumbled. “This never happened before. Never.”

  Quickly he filled them in on what had happened—up to a point.

  Marge, of course, caught it immediately. “Uh, Joe… You look awfully good and awfully fit and strong by Kauri standards for somebody who got drained by a spell that strong.”

  His eyes rolled heavenward, then to Mia, then back to her. “The curse must have restored it as I slept,” he responded at last. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t change back.”

  Until that moment, Marge had never thought a Kauri could look embarrassed. She knew that there was only one way he could have gotten that kind of energy recharge, but she resisted the urgings of her Texas fairy soul to bring it up and rub it in. If he was as drained as he said, and then still made it that far, when he woke up it wouldn’t have been an option but a compulsion.

  “So what do we do now?” Marge asked instead. “The only way I know to go when you have a bent curse is to visit a witch doctor, but somehow I don’t think we want a Kauri walking into any witch doctor in these parts and saying she’s really a were and couldn’t switch back because of a sorcerous jolt!”

  “Perhaps it will repair itself now, Master,” Mia said hopefully. “The moon will be up any moment.”

  “Jeez! That’s a point!” Marge commented. “Maybe we should get into some kind of position…”

  But it was too late. He saw Mia’s form blur and twist, actually saw her very brief change into Kauri form. He, too, felt it, but he suddenly realized that he was out of position.

  “Well, we’ve got two of us, anyway,” Marge noted, looking at her twin where Mia had stood moments before. Joe, however, had been slightly closer not to Marge, but to Mia.

  “I never realized that before,” the Kauri went on, staring at the new Joe. “It even duplicated the nose ring! Holy smoke, Joe! You own yourself!”

  Joe let out a long, exasperated sigh.

  CHAPTER 9

  FIFTY WAYS TO LEAVE YOUR LOVER

  Black shall be the color of the forces of evil; gold or silver trim is optional. Good shall have use of any other appropriate color combinations. One of the few tangible benefits of good is that they shall be able to use the better clothing designers.

  —The Books of Rules, II, 447(b)

  Joe stood there, feeling pretty stupid. He’d been so convinced, considering the day, that there would be no change at moonrise, that he’d been very sloppy.

  “I have seen the objects transferred before, my lady,” he responded, the title coming unbidden. Just as he’d inherited an entire duplicate set of Kauri powers and instincts, and, yes, compulsions, so, too, had the damned curse duplicated not only Mia, but the full deck of Rules governing her as well. “As weres are supposed to exactly duplicate what they are nearest, it can happen.”

  “This is madness!” Mia protested. “How can he own himself?”

  “Because the ring’s a fake, really part of him,” Marge answered. “He’s not really a slave, he’s just duplicating, imitating one exactly.” She sighed. “So now what do we do?”

  “He surely cannot go out like that,” Mia pointed out.

  “And I can’t stay in,” Marge said. “After last night I need a recharge and a hotshot in spades, and, Mia, since you duplicated me exactly, so do you.”

  “I can do nothing but spend the night here, my ladies,” Joe responded. “There is clearly nothing else I can do.”

  “Yeah, and hope that this at least means the curse is no longer out of whack,” Marge responded. “Otherwise, tomorrow daytime, there’ll be two slaves and no master.”

  Mia thought for a moment. “Uh, I would not leave this room all night in any case,” she told him. “The town is filled with soldiers and they all have been pressing me to dance, and, you know.”

  “Besides,” Marge noted, “you don’t have the collar.”

  “I shall behave, my lady,” he responded. How odd to be doing that to Mia! “I shall sit here and worry about the two of you.”

  Marge laughed. “Don’t worry about us! We’re.not about to do any snooping tonight. Too hot out there for that! Come on, Mia! Let’s blow this joint!”

  Joe watched them go, then went over to the nightstand where there was some barely nibbled-on fr
uits and vegetables. What a time! he thought grumpily, finishing them off. While doing so, he was suddenly seized with the thought of how unkempt and messy it all was. By the time he was finished, he’d practically scrubbed the place down with the washbasin water and was checking for things to mend. The only thing he could do nothing about was the dishes and the festering food in the chamber pot.

  The trouble was, he couldn’t just throw it out the window as he had the dirty water.

  It was quite late by this time; all the raucous noises of earlier in the evening had died down, and the town was basically closed. Maybe he could just sneak down…

  No, that was madness. Suppose he ran into a bunch of drunken soldiers who wouldn’t take no for an answer? He’d already been the victim of one compulsion he hadn’t wanted to do; he sure as hell didn’t want that.

  Why couldn’t I be standing next to Sugasto when a full moon comes up sometime? he wondered, frustrated and upset. Of course, he then would have Sugasto’s potential, but it would be moot, since he wouldn’t have all those years and years of training, practice, and self-discipline to make any real use of it. Still, it certainly would be better than this.

  That mess in the chamber pot kept bothering him, though. The accumulated buzzing of the flies alone was enough to drive him nuts. He went over to the window and stuck his head out and listened. Almost dead quiet. The hell with it. I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life. Maybe this is one of them, he thought, but he picked up the trash can, gingerly, then, quietly, opened the door. The hall was dark, the only illumination coming from the reception area downstairs, which was just fine with him.

  Quietly, he tiptoed down the hall to the stairs, then started down. The whole downstairs was dimly lit and looked empty. He continued down, feeling it was going to be fine, when suddenly a deep, rich male voice said, “You there! Come here!”

  He jumped, turned, and saw, sitting at a table almost under the stairway… Holy cats! It’s Sugasto himself!

  At least he didn’t have to stimulate a look of abject terror on his Mia-slave face.

  “Come here! Now!” the sorcerer ordered, and he scampered over and knelt, head bowed.

  “Yes, my lord?”

  The Master of the Dead reached out a hand under the slave girl’s chin and slowly raised the head, studying it. “Where are you going? Why are you up and about at this hour?” he demanded.

  “M-my master has been ill,” he managed, never feeling closer to doom than right this second. “I—I am throwing out what his stomach could not take.”

  Sugasto looked over at the chamber pot, but not too closely. “Ick! Yuck!” he exclaimed, disgusted. He reached out a hand and the chamber pot flew from Joe’s hand. A bolt of blue-white light came from the sorcerer’s fingers, enveloped the chamber pot, and the entire thing vanished in a puff of smoke.

  Joe turned back to Sugasto, suitably impressed, and waited. The man had certainly aged since the last time he and Joe had seen one another. The face was pitted and puffy, the eyes surrounded with lines, the hair mostly gray, and he’d put on a fair amount of weight. Still, there was no mistaking the bastard. The worst part was, Joe realized, if he’d been there, as Joe, with his sword at his side, two inches from Sugasto’s neck, he would have been just as helpless as he was now.

  “Where’s your collar, child?” the sorcerer asked, almost kindly.

  “My lord, we came only a few days ago out of Marquewood. The collar which my master purchased did not seal and fell away and we have not yet had chance to get another.”

  When the only defense you had was your wits, you used what you had.

  “Hmmm… Make a note of that, Quod,” the sorcerer commented, and for the first time Joe saw that the sorcerer was not alone. With him was a Ben tar officer, looking meaner and oilier than most of them already did.

  “Of what, sir?” the officer asked.

  “I think I made a mistake on the regulations. I like this plain, unadorned look. If restraints are needed, they can use shackles. No collars from now on. Get the word out. No jewelry or such of any kind.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell me, child,” the sorcerer said, turning back to Joe, who had remained on one knee, “how do you like the new fashion in slaves?”

  “My lord, it is not for such as I to like or dislike.”

  “Well said. Don’t worry about returning thus to Marquewood. By this time next year, this will be the fashion there as well.” He reached out suddenly and put his hand on the slave’s bald pate. “Do you know that just by doing thus I could remove that which is you and put it in that little bottle there?”

  “N-no, my lord.”

  “No?” The sorcerer seemed genuinely surprised. “Do you not know who I am?”

  “No, my lord. I have no doubt you are the greatest of all sorcerers, but I concern myself only with serving my master.”

  He let go of the head and Joe had to suppress his feeling of intense relief. But the hand continued down the body, not missing what on any but a slave would be considered private parts.

  Sugasto stopped that suddenly, then reached up and touched the nose ring. “Hmmm… Odd pattern. This is no common magician’s product. The way it’s done, it almost seems like… Who put this ring in your nose? And where?”

  “My lord, I do not know the names. A big town in Marquewood. The ring was purchased there.”

  “The one who put the ring in—was he a big, old man with a flowing white beard?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “I thought so!” He took Joe’s face by the chin and held it up, as if looking at a bust, and studied it. “I could almost… No, it would be inconceivable. Still—how ill is your master, girl?”

  “He is recovering well, my lord. It appears to have been a touch of bad food. There is not much here. He was sleeping well when I left him.”

  Sugasto nodded. “Very well. If he’s well enough to ride tomorrow, you tell him to come to the military camp outside of town. You tell him the Master of the Dead commands his presence. Can you remember that?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “At midday tomorrow. They will be expecting him. You come, too.”

  “Yes, my lord. I will tell him. “Oh, great!

  “You get him there. Tell him that if he does not appear, ones will come for him, and he might well not have to worry about bad food again. Understand?”

  “Y-yes, my lord.”

  “I like you, girl,” the sorcerer commented, continuing in the gentle if patronizing tone of voice he’d used aff along. “It would be child’s play to alter that spell in the ring…”

  Joe again fought momentary panic. What if Sugasto just took him, now, like this, and he changed back tomorrow morning? Worse, what if he didn’t change back?

  “Go on back up to your master, girl,” the sorcerer said at last. “But don’t forget to tell him when he wakens!”

  “I swear I will tell him, my lord!”

  “I know you will.” He patted Joe on the rump. “Okay, now, off! I have work to do here!”

  Joe didn’t need any more urging. He was off and up the stairs as fast as possible and back into the room. His heart was pounding like mad, and he stood there, back against the door as if barring it with his body against intrusion, for quite some time.

  “Sugasto? Here?” Marge could hardly believe it, and really didn’t want to. “You don’t suppose he’s still in the place, do you?”

  “I would doubt it, my lady,” Joe responded. “I heard a large number of horses leave some time ago, although it was quite late. He would be riding with ah honor guard, even if he needs no protection himself.”

  “Well, that’s something,” the Kauri commented. “You’re sure he didn’t suspect? Not that you were Joe, but that you might be Mia?”

  “He saw some resemblance, my lady, that was clear, but he has never seen this body before and would be going on descriptions alone. Possibly, had I had hair and Marquewood slave dress he would have made the connectio
n.”

  She chuckled. “Just like his kind to have their petty little perversions get in their own way. Still, you’re lucky. With a wave of his hand, he could have put you in a trance and made you spill everything. It was a close call.”

  Joe nodded. “Still, my lady, he is not free of all suspicions, or else why would he command our presence later on? He saw Ruddygore’s signature in the slave spell in the nose ring. I do not think he believes me to be anything other than I seemed, but he will be far more critical of the barbarian. Even worse, what if the curse does not lift at sunrise? Then his people will come later on and find two slave girls here. It is certain then that this would quickly become my permanent condition.”

  “Surely you aren’t gonna keep that date anyway! Why, you’d be riding of your own free will right into the enemy camp! One slight misstep and he’ll have the both of you!” She looked at the great sword Irving, hanging in its scabbard on the bedpost. “You’ve got a disguise, but what about that thing?”

  “My lady, unless I had to call it by name to summon it to my hand, I could call it ‘George’ or ‘Trenton,’ for that matter. And if I needed to summon it, there would be little point in pretending any way.”

  “What if the Baron is there?” Mia asked worriedly. “He, or she, or whatever he is these days, has seen us. The disguises might not be good enough to fool him.”

  “Well, my lady, he, or she, wasn’t with Sugasto last night. I have thought of the possibility that this meeting is to do just that—let Boquillas have a look at us. It cannot be dismissed as a possibility. But doing anything but obeying is unthinkable. It is a day’s ride over a single road to the border, if that would stop them. Otherwise, he has an army of men and fairies around here. We are as trapped as if we were in his Hypboreyan lair.”

  “That’s a point. Ah, sunrise!”

  For a moment, Joe felt real fear when nothing happened, but Mia hadn’t changed, either. Marge had seen the first light of dawn, but it was another two or three minutes before any part of the sun made it over the horizon.