Read Demons of the Dancing Gods Online
Authors: Jack L. Chalker
Tags: #Science Fiction, #General, #Fiction
the earth that seemed to hiss and glow from long fissures in
their sides—mountains that were at once solid and yet continually
on fire.
She did wonder that they never ventured forth by day, but
she was told that the brightness of the sun hurt their eyes and
could actually blind them for a while. Paradoxically, the Kauri
were attracted to light, or, at least, to open flames, and great
fires could have a near-hypnotic effect on them. While it could
not harm them, it induced an odd sort of catatonia of mind and
body, and this, in turn, left them defenseless. It was a hard
thing to explain, being more related to brightness than to the
size or shape of the light; but, they assured her, she would
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JACK L. CHALKER
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know the first time she left the protection of Mohr Jerahl. That
comment for the first time brought her thoughts back to Joe,
who would be waiting for her only this one more night. Tomorrow
he would enter Mohr Jerahl in search of her, committing
the ultimate sacrilege of bringing iron into the enchanted
land.
"I must go to him while the dark still holds," she told them
with much sadness and regret. "He must not be allowed to
enter here."
"But you'll get rid of him and return soon enough," Coasu,
one of her new friends, responded.
She thought about it. "No, not right away. I think I must
leave for a time, my sisters. Something pulls me that I can not
explain, something that is still important. I am Kauri for a
reason, and that reason pulls me away, but only for a time."
They could read her sincerity, but they could not understand
it. "Then we will go with you, too," Coasu said. "Aislee, me,
and perhaps others. If this matter is so important, then if one
Kauri can help, perhaps many can help more. You are sad to
leave, and one must never leave Mohr Jerahl in sadness."
Her deep affection for them and their offer reached out to
them, so that no words were needed, but she shook her head.
"No, I am sad to leave only because I love this place and you
all so much. But once I looked in the face of Hell, and I know
that somehow I must help defeat it here and now. They ail
knew this—the Earth Mother, Ruddygore, Huspeth."
"This is getting heavy," Aislee noted, grumbling. "We have
nothing to do with that kind of thing."
The thought came, unbidden and from elsewhere, into
Marge's mind. "The Earth Mother knows. We have no dealings
with the affairs of politics, but this is beyond that. All of faerie
is involved in this. Ask the Earth Mother."
They knew instantly that it was not Marge who had spoken,
and they became quiet and almost reverential. Marge smiled
and kissed them all in turn. "I'll be back," she promised them.
"I am a Kauri now, and a Kauri forever, until the end of time.
Besides," she added, part seriously, "it could be a lot of fun
being a Kauri out there." She laughed. "And I'll bring back a
new present and let you drool all over it."
That broke the mood. "Yes! Something really good!" one
cried in anticipation. "Make them pay well for your services!
It is a Kauri tradition."
Visions of tacky plaster sculptures came into her mind and
gave her a mild case of the giggles, but, she promised herself,
there would be none of that here.
It was an emotional farewell, a party of sorts that got enough
out of hand in the Kauri's usual anarchistic way so that she
finally just slipped out on it and flew to the Bird's Breath.
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Crossing the little creek and leaving Mohr Jerahl gave her
a cold, eerie feeling—a feeling of being somehow cut off from
a warm and friendly glow.
She flew down the river a bit, until she saw Joe's camp.
Its fire was just a few glowing embers, and both the big man
and the horses were fast asleep. It was easy to find him, though—
the iron in the sword, deadly to her even in the early stages of
her transformation here, was now a tangible and terrible, cold
darkness that she would simply have to adjust to. She knew
that it gave these sensations to all fairies, save only the dwarfs,
whose special power it was to handle iron and its deadly magic,
and in that alone was there some comfort. Although all iron
threatened her, this was as close as she could come to "friendly
iron," and she knew Joe had been well trained and was accustomed
to shielding the fairies on his side from its power.
She flittered down near the fire, just across from him, with
the unnatural silence that only a fairy could have, and stood
there a moment, looking at the sleeping man.
The sword began to hum softly but irritatingly. She took a
single step forward and the noise became a terrible, grating
sound. In that same instant Joe rolled, grabbed the sword, and
was on his feet, at the ready. As with all dwarf things, Irving
was far more than a mere sword of iron alloy. Now, unsheathed,
it seemed almost to bum her with a cold, deadly radiation all
its own, a flow that ebbed and pulsed with the humming sound.
"Who are you?" the big man challenged menacingly.
"Put the sword away, Joe," she almost pleaded with him.
"It's hurting me."
He made no move to do so. "How do you know my name?"
"It's Marge, Joe. This is the way I look now. All the Kauri
look like this."
He frowned a moment. The creature was incredibly, vo-
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luptuously beautiful, but it was not reminiscent of Marge in
any definitive physical feature. "Can you prove it? I've had
some bad experience with good-looking nymphs and sprites
that didn't mean me any good." He thought a moment. "What's
the capital of Pennsylvania?"
"Oh, good grief." She sighed. "I don't know. Philadelphia?"
"I was thinking Philadelphia, but it's really Hamsburg," he
snapped back. "You're just reading my mind!"
She could feel his anger and suspicion flowing out of him
and into her, and it was an ugly feeling indeed. She could
counter it, of course, even bring him down, but the empathic
projection might not have much power over that damned sword,
which had a mind of its own and could protect against some
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spells as well. Instead she countered, "Joe—what's the capital
city of Missouri?"
He was startled. "Huh? St. Louis?" She shook her head.
"Columbia? Kansas City?"
"Jefferson City," she told him. "See all that proves? But
I'll describe every inch of every truck stop in Ozona, Texas,
for you and even describe all the damned tacky sculptures I
can remember being in Ruddygore's basement."
He relaxed, and so did the sword, as his face reflected an
unthreatened but incredulous feeling. "Marge? Is it really you?"
She nodded. "Now put that damned pig-sticker away. Feed
it a bone and tell it to be a good dog or something."
He sheathed the weapon, which lapsed back into silence,
reading his conviction, but he still could hardly believe it. He
walked over to her and examined her closely, dwelling, she
noted, on some rather interesting parts. "Damn!" he swore.
"This is like coming out of Ruddygore's lab, way back when,
all over again. You're—smaller."
That was true enough. Not only was she the four-foot-ten
that was the height of all adult Kauri, but her exaggerated
shapes and curves gave her an even more elfin appearance.
"But I've grown my wings," she pointed out.
He cleared his throat. "Yeah—and other things, too."
"You called me a nymph, and that's right. In fact, we're
the prototype for all nymphs. They say this is my true nature
coming through." She chuckled. "No wonder I kind of fell into
prostitution back in Texas for a while. But back there I had so
JACK L. CHALKER
43
many problems and hang-ups, they drove me crazy. Over here,
like this, I'm free of all that."
He grinned at the implications of that. They had a long way
to go, after all. That did, however, bring him back to the future.
"We should be going in the morning. Ruddygore's convention
is still a rough ride from here, and it's all paths rather than
roads."
That brought her up short a bit. "That could be a problem,"
she told him. "I'm nocturnal. The sun kind of saps my strength,
puts me to sleep."
He laughed and walked over to the packs, then rooted through
them for a moment before coming up with an object. "That
explains this, then. I didn't have much to do, so I decided to
look at what Ruddygore had put in here. Among the things
was this." He brought the object over and handed it to her.
It was a pair of sunglasses, a wraparound sort that hugged
the face, with cupped lenses that blocked all light not coming
through them, almost like goggles. She put them on and was
not surprised to find that they were a perfect fit, even adjusted
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properly for her pointed, elfin ears and the new shape of her
face. She took them off again and looked at them, then giggled.
"See the printing down here on the frame?"
He shook his head. "It's too dark for me."
"It says,'Made in Taiwan'!" .
CHAPTER 5
A FEW MINOR OBSTACLES
/( is best to avoid volcanoes whenever possible.
—Rules, XXII, 196(c)
THE GLASSES PROVED SUFFICIENT FOR MARGE TO ENDURE DAYlight,
but did nothing to restore needed sleep. She fitted on the
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horse fine, though, despite the membranous wings and her
smaller size, and found no trouble keeping an almost effortless
balance. Finally she just told Joe that she had to nod out, and
he told her to do so. Although the fearsome Firehills loomed
in front of them, they would not reach them until late in the
day, and the land was pretty much a flat semidesert, requiring
no real riding skills. Her horse was well trained, although Joe
wished often for Posti, the gray mare who was really a transformed
dirt farmer. Posti had returned safely to Terindell, but
was not allowed to make this trip to Sachalin. Ruddygore had
been more than worried about a transformed horse in the midst
of a bunch of drunken sorcerers.
Things went smoothly for several hours. Joe was a little
bored, but he'd made his living in the old days driving a truck,
and this was a lot easier to handle than a fully loaded semi.
He did wish now, as he had often wished, that saddles came
with tape decks, but he compensated by singing his favorite
old Ferlin Husky and Way Ion Jennings tunes. He had a lousy
voice, but it was always impossible to convince him of that
fact in this world or the one from which he'd come; as he belted
out tune after tune, he hardly took notice of the hordes of
insects, small animals, and birds fleeing in all directions before
him as if from a forest fire. As for Marge, when she was out,
she was out, it seemed, which suited him just fine right now.
He needed some time to think.
She definitely took some getting used to, he reflected. She'd
been okay before; Ruddygore had given her a pretty good
figure. But, particularly after that witch in the wood got hold
other, she'd been less of a looker and more like a female jock.
This new Marge—or new, new Marge—was something else
again. Small, petite, cute, sexy as all hell, and naked to boot.
The batlike wings were so beautifully colored that they seemed
more like some precious butterfly's than anything negative.
She was definitely no longer human—no real person had ever
been put together so absolutely perfectly, except maybe in some
artist's dreams—but the old Marge personality and an
incongruous trace of a Texas accent still came through.
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Those wings, they were funny things, he decided. He'd
seen her fly and knew that she just lifted off effortlessly, like
Peter Pan or something, often hovering as if gravity didn't exist
for her, and quite often without spreading those wings at all.
JACK L. CHALKER
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They weren't necessary for her to fly, that was for sure, and
he wondered if they were just decorative or whether they had
some different kind of function. They definitely made wearing
clothes impossible, so her unnatural endowments were out there
for the world to see. That, too, would take some getting used
to. He wanted her, and he knew that any other man who was
the least bit turned on by women would want her, too. He
wasn't sure how he'd take that. He'd gone crazy during her
whole celibacy period, but at least it had been the same for
every other man she knew. Now, though—well, creatures
weren't put together that way just for the hell of it. Every fairy
he'd run into since being in Husaquahr had a particular role to