Vengeance of the Dancing Gods

by Jack L. Chalker

  Joe flushed. "Of course not! I'm happily married!"

  Realizing that the mermaid would never let Joe off her hook and that he was incapable of getting off it gracefully himself. Marge intervened. "I'm a changeling. We're from the same place and knew each other before I changed."

  Tura sighed, and Marge knew that she'd put it down as a case of fate stepping between two old lovers. Wrong, of course, but unrequited love was a more convenient explanation than the truth.

  They were now well past Castle Terindell and out into the River of Dancing Gods. The Rossignol and the Dancing Gods met rather gently, but did not immediately mix.

  It was fascinating to see the difference in coloration as the two rivers flowed side by side without any barrier between them except speed and density. When these finally equaled out, perhaps a few miles south of the junction, there was a gradual merging into one body.

  Marge yawned as the sun took its toll on her. Finally she said, "I'm going to go down and get some rest. Considering everything, I think it'll be a good idea if I keep my usual schedule for this trip. Somebody with good night vision should be awake while we're tied up."

  He nodded. "Go ahead." In point of fact, he thought, it was a very good idea all around. He wondered if the crew had been told anything about the possible dangers, and, if so, just how much of a fight they would put up. He decided not to press the question now, but to ease into it. Marge went below, and he and the mermaid just sat there and enjoyed the nice day for a while.

  "I hear a lot of birds," Tura said suddenly, frowning. "I can't see them, but my hearing and sonar are pretty good, even up here. It seems as if they're staying directly over the ship."

  He looked up and around, only now aware of it as well. The birds were pretty high up and both overhead and a bit behind, but they were only dark shapes at this distance and under these conditions. "Do you have a telescope or something?" he asked her. "I'd like to know what kind of birds those are." He was suddenly quite tense. If those were ravens...

  "Sound like eagles to me," Tura said. "Funny that they'd be around these parts."

  He relaxed a bit. "That's okay. I think that they and we have a mutual friend."

  In about an hour they came upon a herd of wild hippocampuses, whose horselike heads and forequarters blended into huge, mermaidlike tails. They were far larger than horses, and they looked meaner than hippopotamuses, despite colors ranging from pale blue to passionate pink. It didn't look as if it would take too many of them to sink the small ship, and that worried Joe.

  "Oh, don't worry so much," Tura chided him. "They're peaceful vegetarians living in the shallows and feeding off bottom plants much of the time. The only problem we ever have with them is a stampede, when they'll panic and instinctively head for deep water. It mostly happens during sudden thunderstorms, and the weather's clear and sunny."

  "Yeah, just the same I—"

  At that moment, a tremendous explosion seemed to go off right over the herd of more than thirty of the huge creatures. There was no flash or blast or any other sign of its cause, but the tremendous boom it created was so strong it could be felt as well as heard.

  The great animals panicked, launching themselves straight toward the boat in a strange mixture of gallop and smooth, almost snakelike motion. Except for the fact that they all seemed to be rushing straight for the Piebald Hippogryph, however, no two were moving exactly alike or in a predictable manner, and all were making low- pitched, grunting sounds that filled the air.

  Bly had been taken as much by surprise as had the hippocampuses by the explosion, but he acted almost instantaneously, bringing the ship around hard and pointing it, it seemed for a moment, directly at the oncoming stampede. Then the bow came around some more, and not only Ely's hands and feet but even his long tail seemed to be working one control or another. There was no time to unfurl sail and try and get past them; instead, what he appeared to do was somehow put on the brakes and stop dead in the water.

  It was a long swim to shore, and Joe braced himself for the crash.

  Ely had done all he could with the ship; holding the wheel and rudder fast, his tail snaked into a small locker and picked up some small objects with the skill of a tentacle. The huge creatures were now almost upon them, and it seemed inevitable that they would strike the Hippogryph and overwhelm it, crushing at least the bow.

  Bly had been smoking a long, thin cigar, and now coolly touched it to the objects he'd snaked from the locker. The tail then hurled whatever it was forward with great strength, then immediately returned to the locker for more.

  A series of small, staccato explosions went off between the ship and the hippocampuses. They weren't in the same league as the great noise that had stampeded the herd, but from the viewpoint of the animals they went off right in front of them. The tail tossed another smoking bundle, and again the rat-a-tat-tat of the explosions came. Joe had hit the deck and was clinging to a rail for dear life; he felt the ship suddenly shudder and heave and knew it was all over.

  There was great splashing about, water washing over the side and onto the decks, and more violent thumps. It seemed as if the Hippogryph was being flung in all directions at the same time, but suddenly things calmed down, and the noises and splashes receded.

  It was about half a minute before Joe realized that he was still on deck and that the ship was still afloat.

  "Bly's the best captain on the river, that's for sure," Tura said calmly.

  Slowly, the big man picked himself up off the deck and looked around. There seemed no sign of the terrible horde. All was calm and bright once more. "Wha—where'd they go?"

  "Into deep water, but they won't stay there long," Bly's strange, rasping voice responded from the rear. "That's why, as soon as I get us straightened out and back where I'm sure of my markings, we're gonna drop sail and run like mad. Having survived 'em on the way out, I sure don't want to be sunk by them on the way back in!"

  Joe was confused, and looked to the mermaid for help.

  "He brought us about and dropped the centerboard, among other things, bringing us to a temporary halt and aiming us in at the stampede. That made us a smaller target," Tura explained. "It wouldn't stop us for long, but it was enough to allow him to break out and toss some fireworks we keep on board right in front of them, and that turned them just enough. A couple of them grazed us, but I won't know the real damage until I get a chance to go down and take a look."

  Joe looked around. All was peaceful once more, although he could see some debris sticking up from the side of the ship near the bow. There was no question that they had indeed been hit, and his respect for Ely's abilities, no matter what his appearance and manner, went up enormously.

  He stared at the far horizon, where the shore was barely visible, and said, "You know, there was something very fishy about that stampede."

  "No, they're mammals, too."

  He gave her a sharp look of disgust. "It's not bad enough I have to put up with one Marge, now I got two," he mumbled. Louder he said, "No, I mean the explosion. We have to face facts here. There was no natural cause for that explosion, and it's timing was perfect. Somebody waited for us to come by and then blew it, hoping we'd be trampled—and it almost worked."

  They were soon well past the danger area, and Tura was able to go over the side and check things out. Audra had already merged with the wood and reported no damage to her areas, but she could sense only that part of the ship made up of wood from her own tree. Certainly they were not taking on water, which was a relief.

  "You know," Bly commented, coming back on deck, "that girl of yours can sleep through anything. If they'd split us open, she'd have gone down with the ship."

  "It wouldn't matter," Joe told him. "As long as she wasn't hurt, she's as comfortable in water as anywhere else, or so I'm told. Otherwise fairies that fragile would all be dead. Still, somebody's out to get us, that's for sure."

  Tura suddenly broke through the surface and leaped up to grab the rail, then hauled h
erself aboard. "Not too bad," she told them. "Some outer planking is pretty messed up, but the inner hull's sound. The only puncture is a few inches above the waterline and it's not very serious."

  "We'll make Harmatuu tonight," the captain responded. "If we're lucky, we can get her patched enough there to take us all the way." He paused for a moment. "It might take a couple of days, though. Sorry, sir."

  Joe thought it over. "I'm not too broke up over the delays, but I'm not sure—well, maybe I'm just suspicious. Captain, is there any other town where we could make repairs other than Harmatuu?"

  "Not safely. The next town south with a shipwright big enough to work on the Hippogryph is better than two days sail. Why?"

  "Well, a stampede's a good threat, but not really a killer. The odds are that whoever started it was aiming at damage rather than anything else. If it sunk or killed us all the better, but damage is all he could count on."

  Bly thought it over. "A trap, then? You think they wait for you in Harmatuu?"

  "I think I'd better think that."

  "Well, she's not handling very well, and I'd hate to try her for any length of time under full sail, but if we take it slow and mostly drift down with the current we could skip the town and continue south."

  Joe went over to the rail and looked out at the broad river, whose multicolored patterns showed deeps and shallows and which seemed now so serene. "No," he decided. "First of all, this isn't your fight. If we continue on down, crippled, it means we'll be easy to stop and maybe be sunk next time. If they strike, let it be soon, and on land, at a place where we're expecting it. Make for Harmatuu, Captain. I'd rather face a horde of sword- wielding demons than mysterious explosions from on high."

  It was well after dark when they reached the small town on the Marquewood side of the river, which meant, at least, that they were still theoretically in friendly territory. It wasn't much of a town—a small docking facility, a main street, and two parallel streets were about it. It was actually just a place for local farms to bring their produce down to ships and pick up supplies ordered from elsewhere; it wouldn't really exist even for that if Marquewood's road system reached this area of the country.

  However, because it was halfway along a deserted stretch of the river, there was enough minor barge repair business to maintain a small repair yard. It was, of course, closed when they got there, but it was hardly a problem finding someone with authority in a town this size, and Ely was soon able to make arrangements, with suitable extra payments, for a quick fix. The fact that his charter was Ruddygore's made a big difference in Marquewood, which both loved and feared their most illustrious resident. Bly was rather evasive about whether or not the sorcerer was actually aboard, and that helped matters more.

  There was a small inn with a bar-restaurant and four sleeping rooms upstairs, two of which were taken. Joe took one of the spares and Bly the other; Tura pulled out a wonderful wheelchairlike contraption and had no trouble getting around town, but decided to stay in the river itself; and Marge, after hearing about all that had happened and understanding the dangers, decided it would be better for her to stay outdoors. Kauri-style. Audra, of course, had to stay with the ship, which was fine as well, since it guaranteed a friendly person on board at all times, especially during the repair phase. It would be very difficult for anyone or anything to sneak on board, and just as difficult to leave any ugly surprises there.

  There was a small square in the middle of Main Street, with a huge marble statue before which was a flame-lighted altar. It was a statue of two enormous figures, one male, one female, perfect in physical form, much overendowed sexually, and quite naked.

  "It doesn't look much like either of you," Marge noted critically.

  Joe flushed. "Come on! I'm embarrassed enough about this sort of thing as it is. I mean, look at this! Offerings!"

  "Well, take heart. Your feet are almost black from the flame and the heads and shoulders of you both are covered with bird droppings. At least they aren't all that religious around here."

  "I don't know whether to be grateful or insulted by that," Joe grumped.

  There wasn't much else to do, so they joined Tura and Bly at the inn. Tura wore a black pullover sweater and had a blanket wrapped around her lower part; it was difficult, although not impossible, to tell that she was in fact a mermaid and not simply a pretty paraplegic.

  Marge drifted away from them and they soon lost sight other in the small but loud gathering in the bar. Bly proved that his eating habits were fairly disgusting as his form might suggest, but he was quickly through his meal. "I'm going to turn in," he told them. "I want to be there first thing tomorrow to make sure everything's done just so. I've asked around, though. The other two rooms upstairs are taken by folks who are regulars through here. One's a farm-implements salesman and the other's a mate on a barge on layover here. Strangers stick out in a town like this, so maybe we're home free. Still, watch it anyway."

  "I will," Joe assured him, and the strange ratlike creature left.

  Joe found Tura both charming and interesting, even if she did eat everything raw. He found that the three shipmates knew that they were on a potentially dangerous mission and what the ultimate destination was, but that they didn't know anything about Joe or Marge personally.

  Tura talked about the life and attitudes of her race and its ways, with some wistfulness. She was, it seemed, more at home in the ocean than in the rivers, and she was here and doing what she was doing basically because she had been exiled.

  "My people all belong to clans, which are more than that—they are distinct tribes, with their own coloration and markings. You can't change your clan—you are what you are. But if you don't go along with whatever the clan leaders demand, you risk banishment. Our territories are sacred and are tightly controlled. All who use them must do so with the approval of the clan, and, of course, clans often fight over territory with each other. I simply grew sick and tired of it. I just couldn't do what they ordered."

  "So you disobeyed and they threw you out?"

  "It was more than disobedience, really, I—I refused to kill someone they ordered me to kill."

  Joe was shocked. "They actually do that?"

  "All the time. Usually it's killing someone randomly from another tribe that killed one of us, either accidentally or on purpose; but sometimes it's land-people who won't pay tribute or show the leaders proper respect. It doesn't take many of us to sink a ship, you know."

  Joe just shook his head in wonder. Somehow, he had never thought of mermaids as being like the Mafia. He could see the racket, though. He'd been a truck driver, after all, and not everything and everyone that he'd worked with during his career had been legal and aboveboard. There were routes and cargoes where protection had to be paid, and territories that were reserved for certain companies and owners. Here everything of importance moved along the great river system and across the broad ocean, and the ones who controlled their territories would indeed have enormous power.

  He felt sorry for Tura. Because she'd been banished, she couldn't go home or she'd be killed, but the other clans had different colors and markings and wouldn't accept or trust her. She was an outcast from her own kind, in her own way as torn from her world as he'd been from his.

  She liked the land—a forest had the same mystery and romance for her that the bottom of the sea would for him—but she needed to be near water much of the time. She was good for extended periods, but eventually her skin would dry out and crack or break out painfully if not fully immersed for quite some time. The sun also caused discolorations after a while that carried the threat of skin cancer.

  "I've always wanted to go up to a mountaintop," she told him, "and feel the cool snow and look down on the world. It's silly, I know, but it's something of a dream."

  "It's not silly," he assured her. "Not at all." The place had thinned out, and it was clearly near closing time, which was still early in a place like this. "Come on," he said. "I'll walk you back to the ship." She s
miled and nodded, then suddenly shook her head. "Ugh! I think I overdid the drinking. I never drink, much, and I feel—dizzy."

  He was concerned. "Are you gonna be all right? I mean—tonight?"

  "I—maybe not. I don't know. I guess I have to, though."

  "No, no. You can stay here. It's a fairly large room." She looked over at the wooden stairway leading up. "I don't think I could manage that, at least not in my condition."

  Joe grinned, got up, went around to her, and picked her up. She was heavy, but she was no Tiana. By this time, only the proprietor was in the place, and he paid no notice at all.

  He got into the room, put her down on the bed, then went back down to get her wheelchair. As he was going back, the proprietor called to him.

  "Your finny lady's got a load on, huh?" Joe shrugged. "That's about the size of it." The man reached under the bar and took out two small corked bottles. "This one is for the lady. You sleep nice but you don't get sick and you don't have much of a headache in the morning. The other's a little good-night drink for you—on the house."

  Joe noted which was which, then nodded. "Thanks."

  "Any friend of Ruddygore is a special guest here."

  Joe went back up to the room and stowed the wheelchair to one side. She was lying there, looking through the pictures in a small book that was on the nightstand. Joe knew by the cover photo that it was the biography of J. Millard Harrilot, the founder of the largest chain of inns in Marquewood. Joe hadn't noticed that even this little one was part of the chain until he saw the ubiquitous paperback.

  At least all the beds were king-size in Harrilot inns, and never did Joe need that more than now.

  He sat down, took the bottles, and uncorked them. "The barkeep says this stuff will give you a good night's sleep with no hangover," he told her. He sniffed it. It smelled like cherry brandy. His smelled much more pungent and powerful, with a trace of anise.

  She smiled, and they touched bottles. "To the mountains!" he said, smiling.

  "To a good day," she responded, and they both drank.