Vengeance of the Dancing Gods

by Jack L. Chalker

  Almost immediately there was a roar like the sound of a rogue elephant, and from the well suddenly sprouted great squidlike tentacles, waving around and lashing out both at the air and at the ground around. The troopers tensed as a sudden violent rainstorm struck, but the sisters and the troops held their ground.

  The creature in the well pushed upward, clearly striving now to get out, and the copper mesh lifted as the start of the body emerged, revealing two gigantic and evil looking but unnaturally human eyes.

  Suddenly there was an enormous flash and a bolt came from the terrible storm and struck the rod atop the ancient ruin. The charge was enormous, and was instantly carried along the line to the mesh.

  The creature was suddenly thrashing about in agony, engulfed in a swirl of crawling electrical energy. It flashed and flailed against the mesh, but this only got it more snarled in the thing.

  A second great bolt struck the rod and led to the creature, and this time there was a horrible smell of burning flesh mixed with the strong scent of ozone. Now yet another bolt struck, and another, and the great squidlike creature leaped up from the well until its massive body was clear and rolled on the ground. They retreated before it, but while the tentacles continued to lash out, and it continued to hop around, one look at the eyes and the senseless motions told them it was in its death convulsions.

  Now the troopers poured spears and arrows into the creature; as soon as the rain stopped, brave teams with buckets of foul-smelling liquid ran out, trying not to get trapped in the death-throes, and threw the contents of those buckets onto the creature wherever they could.

  At least a dozen buckets were unloaded before the thrashing of a tentacle killed one man and wounded another, and Captain Kolos signaled for a halt and nodded to bowmen, who lit flame-tipped arrows and shot them into the mass.

  The creature burst into flame, and for more than a half an hour they watched as it continued to burn and seemed almost to melt down, until, finally, it was nothing more than a bubbling mass.

  The two sisters looked very tired, but also smug and satisfied.

  "It's clean now, in the spell and creature sense of the word," Agie told them. "You may go down now."

  "Yes, go down now," Magie echoed.

  It took another hour to explore the three hundred yards or so of the tunnel, and to find the cache hidden in a small chamber off to one side, almost in the center of the tunnel. The opening had a simple door, obviously rather recently installed, and a lock that didn't take much force to break. It was made primarily to keep the pet watch-squid from fooling around with the merchandise.

  Inside the chamber, lighted by torches and lanterns, they gasped at the contents. There were cartons upon cartons of bottles, each marked with a symbol code with some sort of crayon.

  "It will take forever to figure out who these all are," Marge said, feeling hope fade. "How will we ever break the code?"

  There was a box that hadn't been sealed or labeled yet, and Kolos looked at it, reached in, and removed a bottle. "Well, maybe it won't be impossible. These bottles seem to have labels with names on them, although a few have been screwed up. Looks like some water got into here today. See?" He took them out one at a time. "This one says Lucas something or something Lucas. This one says Jones. These two have been water-smeared. Kaz something on this one, and something 'berg' on this other. With any luck we might get many of them matched. It's a good bet that most are dead, anyway, so we're just freeing them, but I hope we can find the ones for those six living assistants out there. They may know just who this fellow is."

  There was a small group of bottles off by themselves on the floor near the door. Marge went over and saw that the water, or humidity, or whatever had caused the labels to drop off, but the corks, at least, looked new. She nervously reached down, picked up the labels, and handed them to the captain. "What names are these?" she asked him.

  He looked at them. "Joe O," he read, "T of M, Cap, MM, MCR, and WDNYM," he read. "Not very helpful."

  "Well, it is and it isn't," she responded, her heart sinking. "I think I can take a guess at them. Joe is the big barbarian and my old partner. T of M is probably Tiana of Morikay, Cap is Captain Bly, MM is perhaps 'mermaid,' MCR is Macore, and the last probably stands for 'wood nymph.' Captain, I'm afraid that those bottles contain the souls of my company."

  He looked at them, then at the labels. "Which is which?"

  "I haven't the slightest idea. The labels had fallen off, and apparently our opening the door caused enough of a breeze to mix them all up. We know which bottles, but not who's in what!"

  Chapter 9

  Mixed Doubles

  Anything that can go wrong will. It's more fun that way.

  —Sayings Of Murphitus

  Ancient Husaquahrian Philosopher

  THEY ASSEMBLED THE FIVE BODIES AND ONE STATUE IN the cabin of the Piebald Hippogryph, and the six bottles were set on the table in front of them. Agie and Magie, although very tired and looking very frail, had consented to advise on the restoration, but they really could help only with the technical procedures.

  "One soul is identical to another in the pure state," Agie told them. "Only when it is mated with the body does it become distinctively individual, although, of course, it contains the coded information on memory and such, which will reorganize the brain when it enters. The trouble is, we can't tell one from another unless they're in bodies and can tell us for themselves."

  "Unless they can tell us," Magie agreed.

  Marge and Kolos both frowned. "So," the Kauri said, "it's strictly luck in this case, and the odds of getting them all right are impossible." She had a sudden thought. "What if they are wrong? Can't you unmix them when we know who's who?"

  "Oh, my, no," Agie said worriedly. "Once the soul and the body mate, we know of no way to undo them except through the same sort of process that caused this in the first place, and that requires a demon and a very serious bargain."

  "Very serious," Magie repeated ominously.

  "What about transmutations, then?" Marge suggested, trying to figure a way out of this. "I mean, I've seen people changed into animals and vice versa."

  "People into animals, yes," Agie replied. "That's no problem. But people into other people—that is different. One can take on the appearance of another, but it is all illusion. Sorry—it's the Rules, you know."

  "It's the Rules," Magie echoed.

  Marge knew about the Rules all too well, but she wasn't ready to give up yet. "When Joe and I first came here from Earth, Ruddygore did something to change our appearance. That didn't mean much to me in the end, because I was a changeling, but Joe didn't look much like the man you see here."

  "Oh, yes, but, you see, that was in the process of binding you to the Rules. Even then—was not a demon directly involved?"

  She nodded. "I'm afraid so," she responded. "I'd forgotten."

  "Then your only hope is for Ruddygore to call in some of his debts and get a demon to help them again, if Hell will do so. If the demons are directly involved in this plot, they will not be likely to help in any case."

  "Not at all likely," Magie agreed.

  Marge turned to Kolos. "You've reached Ruddygore?"

  He nodded. "The problem was relayed to him. He said, in effect, that he was reasonably satisfied with the outcome and not to bother him unless either this Master struck again or you'd seen the Oracle. He seemed to regard this problem as a minor matter, I'm afraid."

  Marge whistled. "It won't be minor to them. Still, that sounds like a go-ahead to me. We certainly can't keep them like this.

  "Can we do it one at a time? At least we'll have a chance that way to get some right," she suggested, knowing she was clutching at straws.

  "Oh, they'll be out cold for a day or so," Agie told her. "It takes more time to write information in than to remove it and erase it, particularly if it's going into a different body. Don't worry, though. The longer they're in a new body, the more they'll adjust to it. Hormones and such, you kn
ow, and the animal parts of the brain and all that."

  "Hormones and animals," Magie repeated, sounding a little eager.

  "You mean—if they're in new bodies long enough, they will become so wedded to them they won't want their old selves back?" Even Kolos was shocked at the idea.

  "How—long before this happens?" Marge asked hesitantly.

  "Oh, it varies tremendously. A few days with some, a few weeks with others, even longer with some—depends on the personality."

  "It depends," Magie added for emphasis.

  Marge looked at the bottles, then at the reclining bodies. "Well, it has to be done. They can't do anything as they are. At least, Audra's won't be a worry. That's a fairy soul."

  "Makes no difference," Agie told her. "A soul's a soul to this sort of thing."

  "A soul's a soul," Magie agreed.

  Marge took a deep breath. "Well, let's get this over with."

  The process turned out to be something of an anti-climax. A spell was placed on the cabin interior blocking exit by literally anything, so that the souls could not escape and perhaps find refuge in that zombie army still frozen out there. The four inside the room who already had souls were safe; given a choice, they were assured, freed souls always went for vacant bodies, if such were handy. Only when there was no alternative present was there a chance of possession.

  Agie stepped forward, took the first bottle, asked for a corkscrew, found one at the rather nicely stocked small bar, and opened the first bottle as if opening a bottle of wine.

  Literally nothing could be seen, even on the fairy bands, but Marge felt a sudden added presence in the room, a presence very much alive and with an overwhelming feeling of confusion. It seemed to fly about the room, then settle on the forms and then sink into one, almost as if the body had absorbed it. Marge sensed that it had entered Joe's body.

  One by one the process was repeated, with nearly identical results. It was interesting to note that none of the first five had gone to the pretty statue of the nymph Audra; all had gone into the still living bodies. That left Audra's form for number six, whoever or whatever it was. Marge hoped that it was in fact the nymph, and that at least a small percentage were correct from the start. Unfortunately, here, as on Earth, she knew that Murphy's Law seemed supreme even over the Rules.

  Audra's statue shimmered, then changed color, and the rock seemed to fade into a pleasant green complexion. For the first time in almost a day, her leg was down and her body in a totally relaxed position, with a peaceful expression of sleep replacing the slightly surprised look she'd had frozen onto her.

  "Well, that went well," Agie said, satisfied. "I don't believe we will be needed anymore. Captain. Oh—this process has effectively divorced the nymph from her boat, by the way. She should be independent, at least until and unless she mates with another tree."

  "Can the bullshit and let's blow this joint," Magie said suddenly. "I need a belt."

  And, with that, the two ambled out.

  Marge took the opportunity to sleep the rest of the day, knowing that the sleepers wouldn't awaken any time soon, perhaps not until late in the next day, and knowing, too, that Kolos's crew was busy both at pumping out the water to refloat the yacht and going over everything with a fine-tooth comb for any clues to the one who'd bought or chartered her.

  By the time Marge awoke, somewhat after sundown, the ship had been refloated and was actually underway back up the river to the small town from whence they'd come.

  Marge allowed Captain Kolos to take advantage of her, and in so doing she fed and renewed her strength. She had a strong feeling she'd need it when those folks finally woke up.

  Through the next day, the troops came to several conclusions: first, that there was nothing clearly identifiable with any specific individual aboard the Master's ship itself; and, second, he had both good and expensive taste. They would trace the registry, of course, but it would have been through so many blinds that the actual identity of the Master might not be known by even the one who eventually turned it over to him. It would take many long days just to catalog the boxes taken from the swamp redoubt, and weeks before anything concrete could be gotten from them.

  They had been told that the longer it took for the restorees to awaken, the more likely it was that they had been badly mixed up. When night fell for the second time and none had yet awakened. Marge and the others feared the worst.

  About two hours after nightfall, Joe stirred, rolled slightly, then opened his eyes, and looked very confused. Suddenly he got up to a sitting position, looked around, and saw Marge sitting there. Just from the expression and the carriage. Marge had a sinking feeling.

  "Hi," Joe said, in a soft, effeminate voice.

  "Oh, boy", she thought, her heart sinking. "Which one are you?"

  "Why, I'm Audra, of course. Who did you think I was?"

  Marge pointed, directing Audra's eyes to the end of the sleeping figures. Eyes followed, and the former nymph gasped. "If that's me, then who am I?" She looked down at her body, then stood up and kept staring. "Oh, oh, oh!"

  "I'll explain it all when the others wake up," Marge told her. "That'll save time and maybe my sanity. You won't be the only one."

  After a while, Audra seemed to be able to think about other things and came over and sat in a chair at the table. It was really strange to see that huge, muscular figure swiveling its hips and walking almost daintily.

  Finally, though, Marge got the story. She had been gone barely half an hour when the Master's forces came. There must have been many of them, but Audra saw only the Master of the Dead, who'd apparently been nearby much of the evening. Marge suspected that he moved when he did because he saw her take off; he was worried about her destination, and also concerned that he was going to lose his prey one by one. It had been simple, and quick. Bly had been taken while asleep topside; Macore when he went on deck for some air. Then the Master himself had burst into the cabin below, where Audra and Tiana had been talking, and had held up his hand before the big woman had been able to do anything at all to counter him and all had gone blank—until the awakening here, on the ship.

  Tura suddenly stirred, opened her eyes, and sat up, wide-eyed. "It is a wizard!" she screamed. "It is the enemy! Take—"

  Suddenly she seemed to realize that this was somewhere else, and she saw the pair at the table. "Joe! Marge! Thank heaven! What... what has happened? Why do you stare?"

  The accent was unmistakable, slightly Germanic. "Tiana, I presume," Marge said disgustedly. "Take hold and prepare yourself for a big shock."

  Tiana took it quite well, certainly. She took her own metamorphosis into mermaid, in fact, far more matter-of-factly than she accepted the very swishy and effeminate Joe.

  One by one they awakened, and a pattern emerged. Macore and Bly had changed bodies; Tiana and Tura had changed bodies, and Audra and Joe had changed bodies. The sight of the beautiful but delicate nymph walking and talking like a—well, a male truckdriver—was almost as incongruous as the reverse.

  Tiana stared at the nymph. "Joe? You mean I am now married to a nymph?"

  "Yeah, I got the same problem being one," Joe grumped.

  "Oh, I don't think it's so bad," Audra commented. "It's the first time I've ever been able to see myself, and I wasn't bad at all, if I do say so."

  Macore's tail knocked over an empty chair. "You think you got problems!"

  "What's wrong with that body?" Bly demanded angrily. "It's a hell of a lot more versatile and tough than this."

  They all started talking and yelling and complaining at the same moment and it took some time with Marge yelling at the top of her lungs to settle them down. Even so, they kept getting each other confused, and that took continual correction and adjustment.

  Finally, Marge was able to send for food for them, since they were all starving and also tremendously thirsty—the wine was going fast—and then to explain to them the events that had brought them to this point and the news about their present conditions.r />
  "I'm convinced that Ruddygore can unmix you all," Marge told them, "but he seems tied up at the moment. One thing is clear—he won't talk with us again until and unless we see the Oracle, and the longer you all stay that way, the worse it will be. That means we should proceed downriver with all speed and get to the Oracle as fast as possible."

  "I agree," Bly added. "However, this will take some getting used to for all of us. I still have hands and feet and I can still sail anything that floats. For organizational purposes, I suggest that certain duties are essential. We need a pilot, and Tura is no longer able to do the job as fully as it can be done. That means you. Madam—" He gestured to Tiana "—must do the water work while under Tura's direction. Tura knows how to handle the boat; she'll be able to spell me, allowing us to travel both day and night, if we have adequate river conditions and reports. We will stop only for supplies, and just long enough to take them aboard, providing we need no more repairs. Marge, you will have to fly ahead to make these preparations and do some night time lookout work as well."

  It sounded reasonable. "What about me?" Macore asked.

  "I will find a lot of work for you to practice in that body. I know that body and its capabilities well. Everyone will do his or her part, because we all have a strong stake in getting this done and over with. Audra, you're going to have a hard time getting used to that body and that freedom, but we'll find uses for you. No one knows every inch of the ship better than you."

  "That leaves me," Joe noted. "What can I do in this body?"

  "Somebody," replied the captain, who was still the captain no matter what body he wore, "has to do the cleaning and cooking."

  Joe looked horrified.

  "When do you intend to get underway. Captain?" Marge asked him.

  "As soon as we can reprovision the entire ship. I trust neither water nor wine nor anything else. Not a moment longer, though. If things start going our way, which I tend to doubt, we could easily make three hundred miles a day. That will put us in Marahbar in four days, perhaps five, depending on weather and currents. From there it is a day's sail over open ocean to the island we must reach. Hopefully, Ruddygore will reach us upon our return to Marahbar. If not, sailing upriver is far slower than sailing down. Four days down is easily thirteen days back, with optimum conditions."