Demons of the Dancing Gods (16 page)

and capable could have sunk so low. He said as much to

Ruddy gore. "I sure had everything thrown at me and I just kept

fighting."

"That's true, but you already had a profession, a skill, and

the tools to get by. You were also older, more experienced,

and had traveled all over the country. She'd never been out of

Texas."

"Yeah, maybe, but I never got to college, either. In fact,

the army was the only reason I got my high school equivalency."

The sorcerer sighed. "Joe, you're like a lot of smart but

uneducated people. You always had that little glimmer of inferiority

when you met somebody with all that education. I can

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tell you right now that most people with degrees, even doctorates,

are dumber and less qualified to make their way than

people like you. Consider the fact that I have been educated

up the rear end, and a lot of it was interesting but very little

was useful. One of my degrees is in music, for example, although

I'm only adequate at the piano. It gives me a better

appreciation of opera, for example, and opens up new entertainment

pleasures to me, but it's just that—pleasures. It's not

worth a damn in the real world, not even as entertainment,

since I lack the inborn talents that would require. My talents

lay in a different direction, and the way I learned how to use

those and master the intimate secrets of magic was not by any

university experience but by a lot of hard, degrading, and

backbreaking toil as an apprentice—read that as a virtual slave—

to somebody who'd learned it the same way."

Ruddygore could see that Joe wasn't quite accepting this,

and knew the man never really would, but it would have to

do.

"All right," the sorcerer continued, "let's just say she blew

it both because of her own wrong choices and because of things

beyond her control. The fact was, the forces that played on

her played on those parts of her that were the most primal, the

most basic. They reinforced those elements, while everything

else about her was weakened. As a result, despite my efforts

to keep her human, she entered here a changeling, and there

was nothing I could do about it."

That was interesting, not only because it implied that Ruddygore's

powers had real, clearly defined limits but also because

Marge and everybody else believed it was hardly natural.

"Everybody thinks you caused it. Even the witch she likes so

much."

Ruddygore chuckled. "She would. No, I had no idea at the

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time—since I neither knew nor expected Marge, and knew

nothing about her. Whe»i I realized it, after acclimating you to

this world, I tried to block it by sending her to Huspeth and

her witch order, which are, as you well know, celibate."

"Yeah, I know," Joe said glumly.

"Well, that only slowed the changes a bit, and'the time she

spent among the djinn broke the last restrictions. That's why

I decided to get her to Mohr Jerahl to complete the process as

quickly as possible. Otherwise she might have gone quite a

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long time, perhaps years, with a Kauri nature and a basically

human body bound by that celibacy oath. She would have either

gone nuts or had her newly established self-esteem crushed.

By completing the process, it's all right for her to be that way,

you see. It's the Kauri nature. And so her self-esteem is intact,

her confidence actually strengthened, and she's whole and

healthy. She belongs. Now do you understand what happened?"

"I guess so," Joe responded hesitantly. "I think I follow

you, anyway. You're saying that, if this hadn't happened, she'd

have gone nuts or killed herself, and I can follow that, but it's

really not my problem. She belongs, sure, but / don't. I dunno,

maybe it was mean and rotten of me. I guess it was. Son of

misery loves company, I guess. As long as she was, well,

somebody else who didn't fit... Oh, I like Macore, and Grogha,

and Hounna, and even Poquah—although I'd never tell him

that. But they've never seen a football game, don't know Pittsburgh

from Peoria, and think Clint Eastwood's a magic spell

for curing warts."

The sorcerer nodded. "Joe, you may find this hard to believe,

but I do understand. Yet I think you're missing the point

yourself here. Let me ask you something, and I want you to

be absolutely honest with me."

"Shoot."

"Are you in love with Marge? I mean, really in love with

her?"

Joe thought a moment, searching his feelings, and he had

to admit that he'd never really thought about it before. Was

he? The fact was, he hardly knew her. He'd picked her up, at

least partly with the idea of maybe making it with her, and

he'd wound up feeling sorry for her. That was—how long? A

couple of hours' drive between Ozona and Fort Stockton, and

she'd been asleep half of that. Then they'd gotten waylaid by

Ruddygore, slept most of the way across, gone through his

magic stuff, then separated. He'd spent many long weeks in

training; she'd spent them off with Huspeth learning to be

witchy or whatever. In fact, the only real time he'd had to get

to know her, and this was the new her, so to speak, was on

the expedition to Stormhold, and off and on after the battle.

They'd had maybe two or three serious talks during that whole

time. Once back, she'd taken off again for the Glen Dinig,

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returning only for what they'd just gone through.

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87

He didn't really know her at all, and she didn't really know

him, either. Yet he'd treated her as wife, girl friend, consort,

whatever, in his own mind at least. But—love?

"No, not love. At least I don't think so. I'm all mixed up

about that," he answered truthfully. "I guess it was more that

I needed her, particularly here, and she needed me."

Ruddygore nodded. "And now you still feel a need for her,

but she no longer needs you. That's what it's all about, Joe.

It gripes your independent trucker's soul that you need somebody

and it gripes you even more that they don't need you.

But it's not Marge you're really mad at, Joe—it's yourself."

Joe sighed. "I guess you're right as usual, Ruddygore."

"Not guess, Joe, and you know it. I am right, and you'd

better face that fact, if only for your own sake. Don't let your

ego, your self-esteem, get low, Joe, or you'll sink into that

same pit she did way back when. I need you, Joe. This world

needs you—and you have a real opportunity here to carve out

anything you want. Anything, Joe! Pirate or king, merchant or

adventurer—you have the potential for all of it. The only one

who can stop you is you."

There was a knock at the door, and the sorcerer called out

for whomever it was to come in. It proved to be Durin with a

pot of something on a silver tray and two mugs. Joe sniffed

it, and his face showed total amazement. "That's coffee'."

Ruddygore grinned. "Yep. Good stuff, too. A private blend.

I had to duck over to New York a couple of weeks ago; while

there, I picked it up just for you. I bought a twenty-pound sack

and I brought five pounds here."

It was the perfect gesture and it was well timed. Although

it was possible to grow coffee in this world—in fact, it was

supposedly grown on other continents—it was not native to

Husaquahr, and there was nothing Joe had missed more. He

savored the mug as if it were filled with some fine, expensive

wine, and his morale was lifted accordingly. Ruddygore was

able to resume the talk after a bit with the atmosphere much

relaxed.

"Joe, we're having this talk because I have some important

work for you to do," the big man told him.

Joe nodded. "I figured as much."

"Let's wrap up our discussion of the lay of the land, though,

first. You ever wonder why the fairy folk exist?"

"No. I haven't given it much thought. Kind of like why

everything else exists. Just the way things turned out, I suppose."

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"Nope. When things were set up, evolution was supposed

to be the perfecting mechanism, such as it was, but some hedges

were included. Intelligently directed redevelopment, it's called

in my trade. To ensure that vital pollination was carried out,

there were more than a hundred and sixty different races of

pixies, each ensuring that certain types of plants grew and

dominated in certain areas. The land was protected, particularly

in the key areas, by the kobolds, who control vital volcanic

areas and can make certain that soil is renewed, especially in

areas where there is heavy erosion. I could go through the

catalog of thousands of fairy types, but you get the idea. I

admit that sometimes it's tough to figure out the vital service

of a particular race; in a few cases, like the Imir, they are the

guardians and protectors of other races performing essential

services, but they all have their niches. That's their primary

function—one thing each that guarantees that things will develop

in certain ways."

"Seems to me, bees pollinate things pretty good," Joe commented.

"But that's the way things were supposed to work. In the

early days, though, they needed a nudge. That's v/hat the original

fairies were for on your own world. Of course, they weren't

that needed, and now those who are left are hunted, oppressed,

or hiding out and coping. That's part of my job—finding them

and bringing them over here, where we still need them. You

see, Joe, this world wasn't as thoroughly planned out or carefully

formed as yours, so compromises had to be made. Not

only are the fairies vital, but the wild card is magic, which

fills in the holes, so to speak. It's actually a more awkward

system, but it's worked out pretty well so far."

"This is all leading somewhere."

"Smart lad. First, I want you to remember and accept what

I've just said. Marge is still culturally and intellectually of your

world, so there's still somebody around to talk to. However,

she's also of faerie, an elemental, and that controls her actions

and attitudes from here on in."

"You talk as if she's some kind of smart bee or something."

"Well, that's close. Faerie nature and function is instinctive.

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It's in the genes, if you will. The intellect is imposed over that,

and is subservient to it. Not that fairies are any dumber than

humans—many are far smarter—but they have less control.

Instinctive behavior, of which we have almost none, comes

first. That's why you're going to have to be both patient and

understanding with her, Joe. I don't want you two at each

other's throat or mad or upset at one another. I can't afford

it."

"I'll try. But I notice you keep dancing around the subject

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without actually coming to it. Don't you think it's about time

you stopped discussing the troubles I have and start telling me

about the troubles you're going to give me?"

Ruddygore grinned, but the grin faded quickly. "I'm after

the end game, Joe. The coup de grace. The Baron's planning

something and we don't know what it is. Whole armies have

simply vanished, and we don't think they've been disbanded

or used internally—he has far too many troops and far too

much magic for that."

"And, somehow, you want me and Marge to find out what's

going on."

"If you could, it would be a bonus, but I have others working

on that. No, Joe, if all goes as planned here this week, I'm

going to play my own end game, my separate table. Even if

we find out what's up and stop it, it will only be another short

victory before something else is tried, then another thing and

another. But if I can take out the chief player in this game, 1

can set these demonic plans back for a generation or more,

until they find a new Dark Baron and properly corrupt, train,

and position him or her. It's the Baron I want, son—nothing

else matters as much."

Joe nodded. "So you're going to try and smoke him out

here, then send us against him. The demon can't interfere, so

Marge vamps him and Irving runs him through, huh?"

Tlie sorcerer chuckled. "I wish it were that simple. I really

do. But Marge would be powerless against somebody of the

Baron's strength. In fact, that's her biggest danger. Right now

she's feeling her powers and she's cocky and overconfident,

which is to be expected. But her powers are really quite limited

and easily muted—probably by half or more of the delegates

arriving here."

That worried Joe. "Uh—I've seen the results already of

what one of you boys can do when you get irritated."