Demons of the Dancing Gods

by Jack L. Chalker

  Joe!

  He grinned. Yeah. You were right, kid. When I changed back, I moved perfectly. I sent the signals with no trouble at all. If there's anything out there, they're hearing it now. Just to make sure, I gave as much information as I could into both transmitters, along with the proper invitations.

  And your eyes?

  I'm still blind, he told her. That's what took me so long. I damned near broke my fool neck coming down those stairs.

  You shouldn't have tried. You should be up top in case Macore or somebody else comes. You can't get me out of here, anyway. Even if you had sight and a key, there's too much iron here for it to be safe, and besides, I'm still paralyzed.

  I had to, he told her. I couldn't just leave you here not knowing. Don't worry, though. I can make it back up now. Even blind, I can do it a hell of a lot easier than as a rat.

  She laughed, and he quickly filled her in on the night's work.

  Well, I'll go up now, for all the good it will do. Just stay here and pray the message gets through before our mad Baron returns.

  It will, Joe! It has to! After all this, we can't have failed in the end!

  Well, we'll see.

  Be careful!

  I will. Just stay here until I come back.

  Ha, ha, she responded sarcastically.

  He stumbled a couple of times, but made it to the top without any real disasters. He felt lucky that the place was so small and therefore fairly easy to remember. That didn't keep him from stumbling and tripping over things he didn't quite remember, but it helped him get around.

  Flags fluttered in the mild breeze, and the army, more than two thousand strong, now resplendent in full uniforms, waited in the fields outside the tiny town of Terdiera. The town itself seemed unnaturally quiet in the early morning sun, but it was often so just before a battle. Although tense, the men-at-arms appeared boldly confident. All had gone well up to this point. The really dangerous part of sneaking in undetected and then assembling was over. Through the night, supply barges had shed their protective freighter's camouflage and offloaded all that was needed. Unit after unit had turned from ordinary civilians back into menacing military men.

  The Dark Baron himself had arrived an hour before dawn. None had seen him arrive nor knew whence he'd come, but now he was here, resplendent in his shining black and gold armor atop his great black horse. With him, too, was his mysterious and equally armored adjutant, known by reputation only as the General. Few had ever seen his massive figure on its white horse before, but now they watched as both rode forward to inspect the field of battle.

  The Baron looked out on the town. I do not like this. It's far too quiet. Not even a rooster crowed, nor has a dog barked.

  The General nodded. We've sealed off the bridge on the Marquewood side, so they've no place to run to. The trolls have been raising Cain all night, but they'll quiet down. Send a patrol into the town and let's see what we're up against.

  The Baron rode back and conferred with a leading officer. Six soldiers drew swords and proceeded slowly forward, followed by a dozen spread-out infantrymen armed with powerful crossbows. They met no resistance nor saw any sign of life, except an occasional bird and butterfly, as they advanced on the town. When they reached the first of the buildings, the cavalry stopped, and the infantry fanned out both to scout and to protect the mounted men. Only then did they proceed into the town.

  It took them almost forty minutes to do a thorough search, but after the first quarter hour, they were pretty sure that no one remained behind. It was, in many ways, an eerie sight. Although a few things were missing in one place or another, there were still half-eaten meals on dinner tables and halfconsumed tankards at the inn. All food and fires were cold, yet there was the distinct feeling among the men that the town's hasty abandonment could not have occurred earlier than the previous afternoon or early evening. In fact, dinner had clearly been at least in preparation when the alarm came. The captain ordered one of his men back to inform the Baron.

  I don't like this, the General noted. It has a bad feel to it.

  It was your plan, remember, the Baron responded, knowing that the truth of the statement would make very little difference now.

  The army marched into the town and quickly secured it, while the bulk of the infantry was told to establish safe perimeters to guard against an attack from the rear and to seal off any breakout.

  Detaching a hundred and fifty battle-hardened cavalry from the main unit, the Baron and the General rode on down the road toward the dark towers of Terindell.

  Could they have all retreated inside the castle? the Baron speculated.

  It's possible, the General responded, even probable, if it were just the people who were missing. But they took their livestock and pets as well when they went, and that I don't like. The wind is right from the castle now. Such a crowd of people and animals should make an awful racket, yet I hear nothing save the birds.

  They came around the bend to the castle gates and stopped. The gates were wide open. Inside, they could see no sign of a living thing.

  Another patrol was dispatched, moving forward with agonizing slowness. Finally it reached the gates and halted for a moment. The officer in the front turned back to his leaders and gave a massive shrug.

  I'm going forward, the General told the Baron. Stay here and wait for my signal. He rode confidently ahead, soon reaching the forward patrol. He stopped then, his huge, oddly cast helmet, which concealed every bit of his features, looking this way and that, as if giving some sort of impossible inspection of every stone. Finally he eased his horse across the bridge and entered the outer castle, the patrol nervously following. They passed through into the inner castle and then into the beautifully manicured inner courtyard and looked around. Nothing stirred.

  There is no life here except the usual parasitic animals, the General told the patrol. No ambush. Nothing. Signal the Baron to come in and have guards posted on outer and inner gates.

  The patrol quickly did as it was instructed, and the Baron moved forward and joined the General. They dismounted together and walked over to the simple, two-storey block building at the far end of the courtyard. On the door was a large scroll, held with two heavy nails. The Baron took it down, unrolled it, and read it with mounting anger and frustration.

  My dear Baron:

  Welcome to Castle Terindell. I hope that you and the boys won't make too much of a mess of it, since it's a very nice castle in a wonderful location. You can safely put up your troops here and be comfortable about it, as I will have no need for it in the immediate future. You should have no difficulty in defending it, as there is no enemy army anywhere nearby.

  I must thank you, though, for that brilliant infiltration plan. I admit that my military education is sadly lacking, and I would never have thought of it on my own. Of course, you must have realized that moving such large forces, even in small groups over a long period, would inevitably attract somebody's attention, and it did. When I saw just how ingenious the whole thing was, I embraced the plot wholeheartedly.

  It should be immediately obvious to one of your talents and intellect that it is far easier to move such forces downriver than up, and far faster. It therefore occurred to me that if you really wanted this place so much, it would be absurdly easy to swap. By the time you read this, Esmerada will be disposed of and Witchwood will be under my domain, but I suppose you expected that. However, at almost the same time, my forces will have seized control of the roads and river routes between Zhafqua and the Khafdis, giving us effective mastery of all Zhimbombe except for Morikay itself, which is totally besieged and cut off.

  In the meantime, my agents in and around your three armies have the ability and means to poison meats, fish, fowl, and water selectively, by nonmagical means. As long as your armies remain in and occupy the places they took today, all will be well; but should you take to the march, you will find the pickings slim. I'm afraid, too, that our effective blockade of the Dancing Gods at the River of
Sighs has already captured more than a third of your fleet. The rest can not come up, while those that you have are trapped, as we sank a number of old ships in the main channel of the Rossignol after your supply boats passed and I'm afraid there isn't enough draft left to allow travel. Feel free to start removing my obstacles, but we sank a tasty cargo with them, so you'll find the river monsters rather dense, shall we say? And, naturally, I'm saving some other surprises so as not to spoil your fun.

  The civilian populations you now hold have all been given an effective poison antidote, but they remain your hostages, of course. I might remind you, though, that your attack on Sachalin has brought an additional and formidable sorcerer into the fight against you, so if you leave, you'll give our brother free rein to trample your army with all sorts of delightful scourges.

  I believe I have given you only one way out, and I shall be delighted to meet you in some neutral place to settle this. Bring your friend, too. Otherwise, have a nice day. Love and kisses, Throckmorton P. Ruddygore.

  The Baron shivered in cold fury, then handed the scroll to the General, who read it without any visible reaction.

  Now what? the Baron asked him.

  Well, I would say that we certainly underestimated the man, the General responded. From a military standpoint, he's got us cold. He is quite right that it is far easier to enter a place than to leave it. We can't even depend on treaty to keep the waterways open, since nothing says he cannot blockade his own lands. We could certainly consolidate our forces into a formidable army, but we would then face a fighting retreat of over a thousand miles. There are harsh and difficult measures that could be taken, of course, including the wholesale elimination of the civilian population, one bit at a time, attempting to force terms, but we don't have enough force to hold this vast north country well enough to keep the majority from fleeing to the wilds and waging an endless guerrilla action. In any such war of attrition, the carnage would be horrible, and we would lose.

  We could always retreat inland through Marquewood under a pledge of safe passage, the Baron suggested hopefully. They would go for it, I think, just to eliminate the devastation we could cause.

  To what end, though? Ruddygore would be under no such constraints. It would be the Valley of Decision all over again, with all the elements in the enemy's favor.

  I suppose. Damn Ruddygore! He's thwarted us at every turn! Only my slow subversion by means of the books you imported from Earth through Hell has shown any measurable effect, and that will take decades, perhaps, to have any real impact!

  He cannot take Kaladon now. Morikay may be besieged, but its seat of power is safe. The Council will be shocked enough by Ruddygore's audacity in eliminating Esmerada. They will not be kindly disposed to helping him topple yet another member. Even his friends will be feeling their own necks by now.

  True, but Kaladon is loyal to me only because he sees me as the way to expand his power. If he is in fact besieged, he knows that we have lost another round. I hardly think he will welcome me with open arms, or, if he does, with empty ones. No, if we are to recover from this, it must be as Ruddygore himself suggests. If I can eliminate the fat man, I can turn things around immediately. Then he has an unsupported army in the south, while we control a strong series of bases here. Eliminate Ruddygore and we win. Anything less and we lose. It's as simple as that.

  I concur. However, do you think he can be defeated? You faced him once in the Valley of Decision and fought to a draw. It was my analysis at that time that you would both have died, had the engagement not been broken off.

  The Baron chuckled. You are worried about my health? Kaladon would probably be more to your liking.

  Kaladon is as surely mine in the end as you are; but, unlike you, he wishes no meeting with Hell until forced to do so. He is a good schemer, but he is vain and egomaniacal in the extreme, without the intellect to control what he would have. Politically, the surviving Council members would move to fill the weakness. As I said, our fortunes are linked, and I believe that you are right. Where will you fight him?

  No question there. I have the means to bring him to Wolf Island in a hurry, for I have two of his most favored agents there and a third certainly lurking nearby. I meet him there, on familiar ground to me, with hostages who just might distract him. He thought a moment. Have the Bentar dispatch messages by their birds to the other units to secure and hold their positions but not advance until further orders come from you or me. Our unit here will take Ruddygore's suggestion and enjoy the comforts of this castle and the town. We will return to Wolf Island to prepare for the arrival of our fat friend. 'Love and kisses' indeed!

  The General laughed. You must admit the man has real style and flair. Come! We will tend to the business that needs to be done, then fly to Wolf Island. With any luck, you can be home by midnight. Then we shall prepare to decide this thing.

  Chapter 15

  A FALLING-OUT

  BETWEEN OLD FRIENDS

  Never give a sorcerer an even break.

  —Rules, VI, 307(a)

  It was well past midnight when Esmilio Boquillas swooped down on the familiar shores of Wolf Island once more. He could see at once from the air that things had changed, and he didn't like it. In his flight back, he had diverted to check on the progress of Valisandra's southern expeditionary forces and he hadn't liked what he'd seen there at all. The border with Marquewood was now a very open one, with that nation's army pouring in behind the protection of the Valisandran advance parties, and the nearest really effective troops the Barony had were in Leander. The bulk of the regular and mercenary forces of Zhimbombe not involved in the north had apparently fought well, but had finally been forced to retreat to secure defensive positions within the city limits of Morikay. The majority of the forces south of the Khafdis could not be spared, or the region would rise in revolt behind them. In other words, the Barony was in deep trouble. And now, he saw, even Wolf Island was not secure. The castle he had left virtually shut down now blazed with light and warmth, with smoke coming from the two main chimneys. There was, in fact, a boat docked just down the island from the cliff side, a boat such as he'd never seen before, and decorated with strange writing and symbols. It looked large enough to have transported a small army, but the signs of such a force in and around the castle were absent. He was pretty sure whose boat it was and what was waiting for him. He was more or less ready, but he had wished for a night's sleep first. He was dead tired, and that was no way to go into a fight.

  He landed just outside the castle as he always did and quickly transformed himself from great bird to his normal self. He was dressed now in his own formal clothes and he hoped for the courtesy of a switch of robes, at least. Hesitating only for a moment, he walked up and entered through the familiar gate and then the front door.

  All the torches were fully refueled and lighted, but there was no sign of any large force. There was, however, the sound of habitation from the main hall area, and he headed for it.

  A lone, huge man sat at the dining table, which was littered with the remains of a meal that might have fed four lesser men. The big man looked up, smiled through his white beard, and raised a wineglass to the haggard-looking newcomer. Esmilio! Please, do come in and have a seat. You look dead on your feet!

  Hello, Throckmorton. I see that you've made yourself at home here.

  Ruddygore beamed and drained the wineglass. I really must compliment you on your wine cellar. It is surely the finest I have ever seen, and certainly not what I expected in this remote locale.

  Glad you enjoyed it. Did you leave a bottle for me?

  Ruddygore chuckled. But of course! I couldn't help noticing the Hobah '99. Really remarkable! I had thought I'd seen the last of that enchanting vintage. I took the liberty of bringing it up but wouldn't dream of touching it. Still, don't you agree that this is a fitting occasion for it?

  Boquillas was forced to smile. Yes, I believe it is. However, I hope you will allow me the luxury of changing into something more a
ppropriate and perhaps even a shower first?

  But of course, my old friend! Of course!

  Boquillas looked the big man over critically. You seem remarkably hale and hearty. I had thought that Esmerada would give a better account of herself than that.

  Ruddygore shrugged. It just must have been my day. Actually, I managed to get a little sleep through it all, so after that, plus a good meal and fine wine, I've never felt better in my life.

  I wish I could say the same. I assume your young friends are free?

  Oh, yes. The blindness was a bitch to straighten out, though. Nice piece of work.

  Boquillas sighed. I should have put them both in suspended animation and have done with it. The result would have been the same, but at least I'd get a decent night's sleep.

  I am a bit surprised that you arrived this evening, despite seeing my boat. You could have waited until morning, after all. If it makes you feel any better, though, even the suspension wouldn't have helped in the long run. Not only are they smart and determined, the best I have, but one of them is a were.

  Boquillas started to laugh at that, and then the laughter became louder and more prolonged. It was a minute or so before he got his self-control back. A were! And last night was the last of the full moon! That's very good, Ruddygore! No, it is more than good. It is genius.

  Yes, well, I wish I'd thought of it, but he managed to catch the curse all by himself. It did come in useful, though. Got him into the Dark Tower and out of your little jail. If you have to have a curse, I think that's the one to have. Ruddygore sighed. I must say, however, Esmilio, that even with every signpost pointing to you, I continued to refuse to believe until the last moment that you, of all people, could be responsible for such carnage, cruelty, and destruction. It wasn't just an act. I'm sure of that. What changed you, Esmilio?