Demons of the Dancing Gods

by Jack L. Chalker

  Lake Zahias was huge, and by midmorning there was no land in sight as they moved out to the deep center and proceeded south. The ship was close to three hundred feet long and had a slightly rounded hull that accentuated any rough water but allowed it to take full advantage of the wind, which was quite brisk. Twin masts each held a single, enormous square sail, bright orange in color and with the ship's identification symbol inside a round yellow circle in the center of each. Joe had to admire the way the crew seemed to anticipate every little shift in wind and water and do just what was necessary to keep the speed steady and the ship relatively stable. The sight of so much water reminded him of the ocean, although there was no smell of salt in the spray and the large number of sea birds trailing the vessel betrayed land off somewhere within flying distance.

  There were long, empty stretches, but other areas seemed filled with small fishing boats trawling for fish, shrimp, and whatever else these waters held; here and there, they passed a ship like theirs headed the other way and watched the semaphores on both send greetings and news of conditions to each other.

  One such passing was followed by a sudden flurry of activity from the crew, each sailor hurriedly falling to one or another task. Joe, who'd been getting very bored playing a local version of backgammon with Tiana, grew curious and soon learned that there was word of a major storm ahead. At the time, it was sunny and fairly warm with just a few fleecy clouds in the sky, and both he and Tiana found all this haste hard to justify.

  Within an hour, though, a huge front seemed to move in on them. Not long after, the wind picked up until it quickly became a roaring gale, complete with monster waves, thunder, lightning, and tremendously heavy rain. It soon became impossible to walk even below, the ship lurching and turning in what seemed all directions at once, and Joe found himself wishing for boredom once again.

  He and Tiana both became violently ill before too long and just strapped themselves to their too-small bunks, trying to hit the chamber pots when they had to.

  Marge came in, looking very comfortable and seemingly unaware that she was being tossed about with the ship. She spotted them both and regarded them with some pity. You should see it up there! she said excitedly. Waves just about swallow half the ship, then up it comes again. It's real exciting—and the crew is wonderful.

  They looked at her with misery and irritation in their eyes, You don't feel—anything? Joe managed.

  A little wet, maybe. I'm sorry for you both, but I guess I just don't get seasick. Hell, I've never been out on a body of water this big before and I think it's exciting.

  Well, go enjoy it, then, Tiana groaned. Return when the sun shines and the water is like a mirror.

  Marge took the hint, but the storm did not abate during the night or into the next morning. Through it all, except for trimming sail, the captain kept his ship fairly well on course and seemed reasonably pleased with the speed he was making. It will take more than a little blow like this to make me run for safe harbor! he told Marge proudly.

  By the next evening the storm had slackened off a bit, but not enough to allow either of the seasick sufferers below any sort of recovery. Joe was more miserable, he believed, than he'd ever been in his whole life and he would have gladly ended it all if it wouldn't take too much effort. Even his great sword Irving, strapped to a handhold, seemed to hum a mixed and discordant series of notes.

  Three days out, the storm passed, although the skies remained overcast and the air was a bit chilled. Joe, feeling weak and miserable, nonetheless had the need for fresh air; the small cabin stank of the remnants of two very large people's innards. He managed to pull himself dizzily up the stairs and onto the deck. The cool mist struck him, and it felt very, very good; he luxuriated in it for a few minutes before taking any sort of a look around. When he did, he was surprised to see land off to the left, even a few houses and animals. The ship was, in fact, close in to shore.

  Marge spotted him before he could look much further and came over. Feeling better? she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

  He shrugged. Well, I feel as if I want to live again, but I'm not sure I'm going to.

  How's Tiana?

  Worse, I think. What's this over here?

  We'll be in tonight. Zichis is only a few miles up ahead, and that's the end of the line.

  Suits me. Land again, he added, almost dreamily.

  Don't get too comfortable. Tomorrow we just go down and get on another boat, remember.

  He groaned. Don't remind me!

  Well, at least it's a riverboat.

  By the time they berthed, it was well after dark, but both Joe and Tiana showed renewed strength when the idea of setting foot once again on dry land was staring them in the face.

  Zichis was a lot smaller than Sachalin and far different, too, in architecture and ambience. This was a working town with no pretensions to anything political and no thoughts of tourism. It was here because, just below the town, at the start of the River of Sorrows, was Zichis Falls, and all commerce heading in either direction had to portage around it. The ships, of course, did no such thing, so all cargo had to be transferred to the next ship in line on the route south. In the meantime, the three were to stay over at one of a dozen or so guest houses, as they were called.

  These turned out to be large wooden structures with a hundred or more rooms apiece, all built of the same weathered wood as were the other buildings in the town. The rooms were not much larger than those aboard ship, nor any more comfortable, but they were in solid buildings on solid ground and they neither rocked nor swayed. Marge explored the town while both Joe and Tiana recovered enough to get and keep down a heavy cream seafood chowder at a small restaurant and then to sleep it off.

  The next day remained chill and overcast, but the seasickness that had totally immobilized the two humans passed as quickly as it had come upon them, and they both felt cheerful, if weak, and ate heavy breakfasts while Marge slept.

  The system for moving cargo down below the falls to a river port consisted of an ingenious series of water-filled locks that lowered the huge crates and racks on large wooden flats a hundred feet or so at a time. The falls were large and highly impressive, although no Niagara, plunging more than eight hundred feet into a whirling mass below.

  People, however, were expected to walk down an apparently endless series of wooden stairs. They soon learned that, to get information on their next watercraft, they would have to descend to what the natives called the Lower Port, despite the fact that there seemed to be no guest houses or any other services there.

  Joe looked down, sighed, and said, Well, I need the exercise.

  What of Marge? She is sleeping right now, remember, Tiana responded.

  Well, she knows the schedule, and the guest houses make it their business to see that people make their connections. I don't think we have to worry. It's several hours until sailing time.

  After a seemingly endless descent, they found themselves at the Lower Port and quickly located the shipping offices of the line Ruddygore had told them to use. When they got there, though, they discovered only bad news.

  The Pacah is delayed at least eighteen hours, the agent told them, perhaps more. There have been pirates on Lake Bragha, and shipping has been delayed while protection is arranged.

  Pirates? Up here? Tiana asked, looking puzzled. I have never heard of pirates on Bragha before.

  These are bad times, lady. The clerk sighed. The border runs right through the lake, remember, and even the ownership of the falls is in dispute down there. It's impossible to police anything any more.

  But surely both Marquewood and Zhimbombe patrol the area!

  He chuckled dryly. Patrol? How long has it been since you have been in Zhimbombe?

  Many years, she admitted. Why?

  They invaded us not too many months ago down south, remember. They're not nice or cooperative people—if all of 'em are people, which I doubt. You goin' there?

  Down the river, anyway, Joe put in sm
oothly. Actually, we're headed for the City-States.

  Yeah? Well, you're both big enough to fight it out, I guess. Me, I wouldn't get any nearer the border than this, let alone go through their territory.

  Joe gave him a sour smile. You're implying that they don't exactly mind the pirates?

  Hell, who could tell the difference? You watch it, though. When the Pacah gets here, it's one of ours and a good ship. You'll be treated well. But from Tochik, you'll be on one of their ships, and I wouldn't go to sleep on one of them things if I were you.

  Joe looked over at Tiana, but she just shrugged. We're staying at the Cochis Guest House. Will we be notified when the ship comes in?

  Oh, sure. No problem there.

  They left and walked back to the falls. Joe stared at the huge set of stairs rising up into the mist of the falls and sighed. Well, I said I needed the exercise.

  Tiana nodded glumly. I wish I had a spell for levitation right about now.

  They began the long walk up.

  It was, in fact, three days before a small group of ships arrived at the Lower Port, four merchantmen and two rough looking craft manned with archers, bowmen, and even fore and aft catapults.

  These were quite different craft from the Lake Zahias freighters—all shallow draft with large single sails and side slots for a dozen oarsmen on either side. In point of fact, the merchantmen were really large rafts with boxy wooden structures fore and aft like small houses and a pilothouse atop each. Clearly the helmsman at the rear could not see what was going on and depended on a crew with an elaborate series of signals forward for direction. In contrast, the two warships resembled sleek Viking craft. They reminded Joe of canoes—-the biggest canoes he'd ever seen—with a single sail in the middle.

  According to those getting off, the voyage had been a rough one, not only from the usual natural hazards but also from pirates, who had actually managed to separate a ship from the convoy near the mouth of the river, take it, and get it across the theoretical border in the middle of the lake. At that point, as usual, an armada of nasty Zhimbombean warships had come virtually out of nowhere to keep the convoy warships from giving chase.

  The captain of the Pacah was more than happy to see two large, tough-looking barbarians come aboard, although he wasn't so sure about Marge. He neither liked nor trusted fairies very much, it seemed, no matter how small and cute and sexy they were, but he tolerated them.

  There was almost a complete crew change at Zichis, but the officers remained aboard, where they lived below the forward pilothouse. The ship was a co-op, with each of the officers owning a share commensurate with his relative rank. The crewmen coming aboard were paid wages and looked large and tough, as they had to be in order to control oars and poles on the river portion. This, however, would be a far easier trip than the northbound had been—they were going with the current.

  Navigating such a craft down a winding and not very wide river was a skill that made the crossing of Lake Zahias seem like child's play. It was clear that the pilots depended not only on years of experience but on a certain necessary sixth sense to avoid the eddies, bars, and other hazards of the river, whose current was strong enough to change things just about every trip.

  The land, too, changed dramatically as they moved down the river. There were few trees and great expanses of savanna going off in both directions. The yellowish grasslands were broken here and there by isolated groups of trees, and only the area right along the riverbank was overgrown and green. Off on the grassy plains beyond, they could see legions of wild beasts grazing or running about.

  Still, the slow, cumbersome craft, built for tonnage rather than for speed or maneuverability, took two days to reach the lake.

  By this time Joe and Tiana had gotten to know each other quite a bit; if Ruddygore had been playing matchmaker, his scheme seemed to have taken. By the time they reached Lake Bragha, Joe had to admit to himself that it was already a problem to remember what it had been like before he met her. Marge had the good sense to realize that this was going on and intruded as little as possible. Although she couldn't really bring herself to make friends with the huge, strangely accented woman who had joined them, she managed at least a professional relationship, which seemed enough for now. Joe felt sufficiently secure now to return to a platonic but cordial relationship with Marge, and that made it a little easier, too.

  And, of course, ship's personnel had plenty of problems to keep Marge reasonably busy, particularly after she flew over to the nearest military guard ship.

  Lake Bragha was only a third the size of Zahias, but it was still a pretty big lake, although quite different from the almost oceanlike parent that fed it. The river here flowed so gently into the lake that there seemed no seam in the transition, and Bragha, shallow and gentle, was virtually mirror-smooth and highly reflective.

  It was only forty miles or so across from the river's entrance to its outlet, but that was the danger area. They could have avoided much of the threat by sticking to the coastline of Marquewood, but that added more than a day to the sailing time, and time was money. Still, the first mate admitted, if losses continued to mount, it might be the only alternative. Either we go bankrupt taking the slow and safe way, or we get captured and killed, he remarked gloomily.

  Although they reached the lake in the early morning darkness, they decided to lay over until sunup before crossing. The three hours or so might put them even further behind, but sailing would be a little easier in daylight. Not that the pirates don't attack in daylight—they do, the mate told Joe. But at least we and our protection can see what we're fighting.

  The day dawned sunny; while there was still a slight chill in the air, it was clear that the sun, unseen for so long, would warm things considerably by midday. They proceeded as soon as they had good, clear visibility, since at the speed of the flatboats it would take almost nine hours to cross, even with a decent wind. There was no current. A good wind at our back and a lake mist would have been best, the mate told them. As it is, I feel like a very big target.

  The tension mounted as they started across, and both Joe and Tiana could feel the strained nerves of these peaceful merchantmen. Still, they'd be no pushovers—anybody who could row a craft that size could break a neck in two with a flip of the wrist.

  At almost the halfway point, a lookout from one of the other merchant vessels called out, and suddenly the tension became so thick that it was almost a tangible, visible thing. Tiana looked over at Joe, who said, I'm going to get Marge. She just nodded and continued staring where everybody else was looking.

  Marge, even with her goggles, was grumpy and irritable when awakened, but all that fell quickly away when he told her that an attack was possible. Both of them rushed back on deck.

  The mate, a big, bearded man, was strapping on a weathered old cutlass. He yelled out that this was in fact an attack, and Joe felt a rising sense of excitement within him. Although he knew that many good people might die in the fight to come, he couldn't suppress an almost boyish anticipation of battle. Damn it, it was what he was trained to do in this crazy world.

  He climbed up to where Tiana stood atop the crew's quarters and looked at the oncoming enemy, then frowned. There were clearly five ships coming in, but all five were extremely small and shaped much like the two far larger escorts the convoy had. On those escorts he could hear the barking of orders and the sound of battle drums.

  Tiana looked over at him. What is the matter? You look disappointed.

  Yeah, well, I dunno, but when you say pirates, I kind of expect a big galleon or something flying the skull and crossbones, not five big rowboats with sails.

  The mate overheard. While he didn't really understand the reference to galleons, he got the idea. Don't let them fool you, lad. A single big ship would be easy pickings for the navy boys here. But those little things can really move—easily three times our speed, if they're handled right in a fair wind like we're now getting, and perhaps twice the escorts'. They're hard targets
to hit, but they have a single catapult apiece that can sure as hell hit us. They can rum in a few hundred feet, and three of 'em will engage the escorts while the other two try for one of us.

  Joe nodded. Will they try to board?

  As soon as they can. Counting you two, there's twenty-two of us, probably about the same in the two that will try for us. Don't hesitate on any of 'em, remember. They're professionals at this sort of thing.

  Joe turned and looked out at the approaching small fleet and smiled. So am I, he said softly. So am I.

  The pattern was pretty much as the mate had predicted, with two of the small boats separating from the group and bearing down on the lead escort vessel. When they were barely in range, both suddenly seemed to catch fire. Tiana gasped at that, but it was quickly clear that what was being lighted were flaming masses attached to the catapults, both of which were launched with a military precision at the lead naval boat, after which both attackers turned hard in opposite directions. Both shots missed, and the larger military boat proceeded full ahead, aimed straight between the two smaller vessels, which now turned back in.

  Two more broke off, going unexpectedly right at the warship, creating four closing attackers on the one larger craft. The bigger ship adjusted slightly, then let loose her forward catapult, which was apparently filled with half a ton of small rocks. It was the machine-gun approach, Joe thought. Nobody could hit the broad side of a barn with a machine gun, but it pumped so many bullets in the right general direction that it was impossible to dodge them all.

  By choosing one attacker and firing the tremendous onslaught of stone, the navy couldn't miss, and it was clear that the strategy was successful as the target attacker turned desperately to avoid the mass and could not do so.

  But at the moment the rocks were striking the craft, the other three all let loose with fireballs. One fell short, one struck the side of the naval craft, rocking it but otherwise sliding back off and into the water with a great hiss, but the third struck against the rail, splintering into a series of small fires. While the bulk fell into the sea, several small fires and some black smoke were visible in the bow of the convoy's protector.