Demons of the Dancing Gods (29 page)

both sides of the falls, which meant on both sides of the border,

\ and each country had its own routing and lift system. The Pacah

touched port only on the Zhimbombean shore, since all of its

passengers and cargo were to be transshipped south.

South Tochik was an immediate contrast to the lands they

had known. Entry formalities were officious but correct, al-

156 DEMONS OF THE DANCING GODS

though they gave the impression that exiting would be far more

difficult. All of the officials, not only at the port of entry but

everywhere in the town, wore black military uniforms, and

there was a definite impression of being under martial law. The

immigration officer asked only routine questions of them, writing

in a small book for each; but when all three books were

handed to them, he was very stem.

"These are documents necessary for safe passage in the

Barony. Keep them with you at all times. It is an offense

punishable by imprisonment or death not to have them, and it

is an equal infraction not to present them to any uniformed

soldier of the Barony, regardless of rank, as well as to innkeepers,

transportation officials, or others who might require

them. As you are in transit to Marahbar, you will go only to

those areas and frequent only those places officials might approve

while you are passing through the Barony. Is that understood?"

They all nodded.

"Good. You will proceed now to your hotel. The corporal

there will escort you and see that you are properly checked in.

As transient passengers, you are restricted to the hotel, its

shops, and its restaurants, unless given permission otherwise.

Have a nice day."

The corporal was a dour, thin young man with the crispness

of a military cadet and the communicativeness of a rock. He

was definitely not a native of the region, whose people seemed

dark and swarthy, but of some place far away and far different.

They were not fifty feet from the customs station when they

saw long lines, not only of men but of various sorts of fairies

and creatures from unknown places, ail shifting cargo under

the watchful gaze of a number of tough-looking military types,

some of whom had whips and others with mean-looking crossbows,

loaded and held on the workers. It was clear that these

were hardly volunteer labor; and this close to the border, with

ships from the free north putting in and needing service, the

local authorities were taking no chances.

Likewise, it seemed as if there was a uniformed soldier on

each street comer, keeping an eye on everything and everybody.

The few ordinary citizens on the street looked cowed

and terrified and were being stopped every block for some sort

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of credentials check. The travelers were waved on, since they

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JACK L. CHALKER

had an escort. They finally reached their hotel, a small, threestorey

structure that badly needed repair and several coats of

paint.

In point of fact, the whole town looked as if it needed a

great deal of repair. Hitching rails seemed rotted or fallen

everywhere, wood sidewalks were dangerous to walk upon,

and the shops were dingy and grim-looking.

The hotel was as bad as the rest, inside and out. It stank

and looked so rundown that it reminded Joe of more than one

bad flophouse he'd seen in the older cities of America. The

bathrooms were on the first floor and barely better than holes

in the floor, not cleaned or sanitized in ages, and smelling so

bad that no one could waste any time in them. The flies, too,

were awful, not just in the bathrooms; and everywhere roaches

and other insects scampered about. The desk clerk and a few

of the people in the lobby looked just like the hotel—dirty,

worn out, and hopeless.

Marge shook her head in wonder. "We'd need the entire

race of Kauri to do anything here at all. And the soldiers are

worse. They all feel so—dead inside, beyond all hope."

"You be careful around here, no matter what your impulses,"

Joe cautioned. "You saw how all those 'dead' soldiers

were looking at you out of the comers of their eyes. I can just

imagine what would happen if you fell into their hands."

"Worry less about me and more about us," she cautioned.

"I wonder how long we'll be stuck in this great pigsty of a

town?"

The answer was quite some time, with no way of telling

exactly when they would leave. The soldier outside refused

permission for them to inquire of the shipping agency, but also

could not inquire for them without getting approval from her

superiors. No, they couldn't contact her superiors without the

proper forms and permissions. No, she couldn't supply the

proper forms and permissions. It was one of those bureaucratic

nightmares and it meant they were kept bottled up.

Tiana, in particular, didn't like it. She was in her home

territory now, but there was a pretty good fugitive warrant on

her that their simple cover names and stories would not hide

for long. How many beautiful and exotic women six feet six

inches tall would there be trying to get into the country? They

discussed their options, which included fighting their way out,

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waiting for capture, or just sitting around, and grew itchier and

itchier as they did so. Joe, in particular, was not enamored of

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the enormous prices they were being charged for the stale bread

and half-rotten meat they were being served by the hotel.

Finally, though, just as they had decided to force a move,

a soldier arrived and informed them that their ship was now in

and that it would leave in just one hour. They were to accompany

him immediately, or they would be stuck for two more

weeks.

The inn, which, it turned out, was owned by the local

government, quoted an outrageous room rate and they couldn't

afford to haggle. They either disputed the bill, they were told,

in which case the dispute would be heard by a local magistrate

in "six or seven weeks," or paid up now and got their boat.

Snarling, they paid up.

The boat, another shallow draft freighter, was also a patchwork

affair, and it was clear that this, more than anything else,

had thrown its schedule into disrepair. The oarsmen on this

one were chained in place and supervised by tough-looking

soldiers; the sail had been patched so many times it was impossible

to see anything that looked original on it. But the boat

clearly .had been built by the same company that had constructed

the Tolah and the Pacah, and the cabins, while not very comfortable,

were at least an improvement over the hotel. The

smell, however, was overpowering at times, since the entire

central flat carried, not standard freight or amphoras, but goats.

Hundreds and hundreds of goats.

Still, if a decent place to look could be found and the wind

was right for the passengers and wrong for the goats, the scenery

was spectacular.

The heights of Sogon Gorge reached almost a thousand feet

on both sides, making the travelers feel as if they were moving

through a small Grand Canyon. The gorge emptied into the

third and last of the lakes leading to the River of Dancing Gods,

Lake Ogome, a very deep natural reservoir that looked as if it

should be fished as well—but they saw no craft of any sort

on their passage southwest. Although there were no falls at its

outlet, there were violent and swirling rapids, and a great deal

of work had been done to dig an elaborate canal with locks to

get the boats around them. It took the better part of a day to

clear the locks and rejoin the river once more.

JACK L. CHALKER 159

Everywhere now, there was a strong contrast from the opposite

shores. To the north was still Marquewood, with small,

brightly colored villages and lush farmland; to the south was

Zhimbombe, rough, ugly, and overgrown, the few villages in

sight looking either deserted or unfit for animal, let alone human,

occupancy. Obviously the area along the border, perhaps

all the way, had been cleared of people by the Barony and

allowed to overgrow into wilderness, but there was no doubt

in the minds of the three passengers that the riverbank was

heavily patrolled, and it wasn't to keep Marquewooders out,

either.

For Joe and Marge, what took place on the boat itself was

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an education. Neither had ever really experienced slavery and

its cruelties firsthand, nor seen human beings chained and beaten

as expendable draft animals. It was repulsive—and, worse, it

was beyond their abilities to do anything to help the poor

wretches. Captain, crew, and military, which were of the mixed

races that seemed standard in the Barony, were crisp but not

friendly or approachable. They handled their three passengers

like carriers of some dread disease and spoke only when necessary.

The boat crossed the joining of the Tofud and the River of

Sorrows late in the evening and moved into the mainstream of

the now great and powerful river. The trio knew that they soon

would be reaching their departure point, which might be more

of a problem than it had sounded when Ruddygore sketched it

out.

They were to leave at the junction of the River of Sorrows

and the Corbi, the closest point to Witchwood and on the main

road to Morikay. It would have been along this road that the

troops of the Barony had marched for their ^crossing into Marquewood

for the fatal battle not many months past, a battle

those troops had almost won.

They passed the spot, still littered with the remnants of

temporary bridges and abandoned equipment, late in the day,

but decided to ride a bit farther downstream. Darkness would

'be a better ally here, and it wouldn't do just to jump ship near

the road that was probably the most heavily guarded in the

entire Barony.

It was still fairly easy to slip over the side, despite all the

military aboard. The goats, for once, came in handy, covering

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JACK L. CHALKER

161

any sounds they might make, and nobody really paid the three

passengers much heed, anyway. The idea of jumping ship at

this point was obviously ridiculous.

The water was surprisingly cold and the current rough. Joe

cleared the ship and then, half swimming, half drifting with

the current, made his way toward shore, with Marge slightly

overhead to be sure he made for the right one. She had already

scouted the immediate shoreline and found no signs of a patrol.

He reached the bank and pulled himself up onto muddy land

and into the brush, then just lay there, getting his breath, while

Marge went back to make certain Tiana would not get separated

from them. She was gone a fairly long time, and Joe began to

get worried, but finally Marge returned. "She's about a hundred

yards down from here," the fairy told him.

He nodded, got up, saw how muddy he was, then made his

way along the bank. "What was the hang-up?" he asked her.

"The sword belt, apparently. Getting it freed from herself

so she could swim, she ran into some brush drifting down and

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had to get herself untangled."

He nodded understandingly. "Yeah, I had some hairy moments

myself with Irving. Lost my new sandals, too, damn

it."

Marge chuckled. "Well, she lost more than that."

They soon joined Tiana, and Joe saw what Marge meant.

Tiana was sitting there, breathing hard and looking disgusted,

wearing only mud.

"What happened to you?" he asked, trying not to chuckle.

"I was not bom with three hands, that is what happened,"

the large woman responded disgustedly. "I tried carrying sword

and belt and whip and wound up losing my clothes to a floating

bramble. Scrambling for them, 1 lost the rest. Damn." She got

up and walked a little way forward.

"Where are you going?"

"Back in the river. I have to get 'some of this mud off."

This she did, taking several minutes, then sighed and came

back out again. "I don't really mind losing the clothes, but the

sword, belt, and whip are a real loss."

Joe thought a moment. "Well, maybe we can replace some

of it, anyway. Let's take advantage of this darkness while we

have it and see if we can find that road. Marge?"

"I'm off," the Kauri responded and flew into the night. It

was not long before she returned. "I'd say three miles, no more.

There's an old village right on the river that's abandoned,

except by troops. Nasty-looking bastards, I'll tell you. Big eyes

and beaks, of all things."

"Bentar," Tiana said. "They are birdlike humanoids, very

large, very fierce. Mercenaries all. Their eyes see like cats in