Demons of the Dancing Gods (33 page)

they'had feared, since the girls were busy and there were few

of them.

"What happens when we get to the top?" Joe whispered to

Marge as they climbed and climbed.

"We don't get that far—I hope. I think maybe we ought to

178 DEMONS OF THE DANCING GODS

find a hiding place and just camp out. The top level's the home

of those packs of birds, I'm pretty sure."

"The storerooms would be handy," he suggested. "Shall we

go back down?"

"One more level. I'm really curious about this place."

He shrugged and followed. They emerged into a brightly

lighted room with a polished and stained oak floor and walls

that squared off the chamber, made of some sort of paneling.

There were no furnishings, but at the far end of the room,

flanked by two floor-to-ceiling red satin curtains, was a huge

and hideous multi-armed idol, seated in the lotus position. Its

face was a travesty of a human woman's face, and it had eight

human arms coming from its somewhat distorted human torso.

Each of the hands held a different deadly weapon—dagger,

sword, crossbow, garrote, and the like. While it seemed made

of some black stone, its eyes were blazing red rubies of nearly

impossible size and perfection.

"Looks like something out of Gunga Din," Joe noted. He

wasn't much on books, but he loved old movies.

"The goddess of death, all right—or what passes for Kali

here," she agreed. Together they approached the altar and its

statue and examined it. "Look at those stones! Wouldn't Macore

love it?"

"I, for one, wouldn't touch it. It's probably cursed a thousand

ways from Sunday."

"Actually, I'm not," the idol responded. "If you looked like

this, would you need much in the way of curses?"

They both jumped. Joe started to pull his sword—and found

that it would not come out of its scabbard. He pulled and

strained at it, but it just wouldn't come. There was a chuckling

behind him, and he and Marge whirled to see a tall, attractive

woman standing there. She was dressed in a black satin robe

and, except for snow-white hair, looked very young and pretty.

Both, in fact, had seen that face only weeks before.

"Esmerada," Marge said, feeling trapped.

Joe stopped tugging at Irving and just stared at the witch

queen. Swords wouldn't do for somebody like her. It would

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be like going against an elephant with a peashooter.

"This is all quite amusing and interesting," Esmerada said

conversationally. "How in the world did you two get in? Well,

never mind that for now. I assume the plot was to get inside

JACK L. CHALKER

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somehow, then issue an invitation to Tubby Ruddy for a showdown.

How droll. Well, you're here, but old Tubby's nowhere

in sight; and since the invitation must pass from inside to

outside, I hardly think you'll get the chance." She turned and

shouted down the stairs, "All right, boys—bring her up!"

There was a commotion below, and Tiana was brought up,

flanked by half a dozen Bentar. She had her hands tied behind

her back and her arms lashed with heavy rope around her chest.

She looked at her friends, shrugged, and said, "Sorry."

"Since you two were taking the tour, come on up one more

flight," Esmerada invited Joe and Marge, still being casual.

They followed her, with the Bentar and Tiana bringing up

the rear. The next level proved to be a comfortably appointed

apartment, obviously the witch queen's private quarters.

"Untie the woman," Esmerada commanded the Bentar. They

hesitated, and she added, "She's no threat—now."

The rope and hand ties were swiftly cut, and Tiana massaged

her wrists for a few moments.

"You can go," the witch told the Bentar. "I'll handle things

from here on in." They looked uncertain, but left.

"Please, take seats, all of you," the witch urged. "We might

as well be as comfortable as possible for a little while."

Figuring that they had no other choice, all three of them

took seats. There really wasn't much else to do. Esmerada

seated herself in a large, high-backed plush chair opposite them

and crossed her legs. "So, now. What shall we talk about?"

"That idol—is it really alive?" Joe asked, genuinely curious.

She chuckled. "Oh, yes. A former adept of mine who got

too big for her robes. I changed her into the statue because it

was amusing. She's totally frozen except for her mouth. She's

a useful object lesson, though, to the newer girls, don't you

think?"

"Charming," Tiana muttered.

Esmerada smiled. "So glad you approve. I'll try and make

things equally entertaining in this case. You, Kauri, are simple.

Just neutralize your therapeutic qualities, remove your ability

to think, and give you to the soldier boys. You and they will

have a continual ball. Nothing but animalistic sex until the end

of time."

Marge shivered but said nothing.

"As for you, big boy—you're more of a challenge.

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DEMONS OF THE DANCING GODS

Hmmm... Let's see... We really shouldn't lose the properties

of that magic sword, I think. Maybe a gargoyle. Yes, definitely

—a big, lurking, hulking gargoyle with bat's wings to

guard the gate and attack any who enter that I wish eliminated.

No, too ordinary. Well, I'll think of something." She sighed.

"I wish I had the complete set. Too bad I can't play with both

you and the amazon here."

Joe looked up at her. "What's that mean?"

"She's due on the ten o'clock broom to Morikay. There's

a friend of mine there just dying to meet her."

Tiana bristled. "You would not do this!"

"Why not? Then he owes me one." The witch chuckled.

"Seeing your reaction, I think it's the absolutely perfect thing

to do."

Tiana started to rise, but Esmerada gave an idle flick of her

hand, and it was as if a giant's hand pushed the big woman

back into the chair. The witch smiled sweetly, then made a

few gestures in the air. Marge switched to the magic band and

was startled to see just what a riot of color and complex patterns

filled the room. Still, she could see the witch's hand actually

trace out a basic pattern of new material. It shot out from her

rapidly moving fingers like spider's silk, reaching and covering

the big woman. "Just stay there for a few minutes, won't you

dear? I have to stick these two in storage for a bit."

Tiana struggled, but she was bound tightly and securely to

the chair with a pattern so complex that neither she nor Marge

could have understood or duplicated it in hours—and the witch

had done it almost as an afterthought!

Esmerada got up and gestured to Joe and Marge. "Come

with me." She paused. "Oh, take the sword off first and just

leave it over there on the floor."

He hesitated, and she gave another seemingly random series

of finger motions. Abruptly the sword belt tore on the side

opposite the scabbard, and both it and Joe's breechclout were

flung against the far wall by a force invisible to him, but all

too visible to Marge.

The witch smiled her sweet smile once more. "Now, follow

me and don't dawdle, or I'll have to get a little unpleasant,"

she warned them. It was enough, and they followed her.

To their surprise, they went not down but up. "I put the

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dungeons up here when I redecorated," Esmerada told them.

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"In the basement, escape was unlikely but possible. Up here,

you not only have to break out but must get down through all

the lower levels. Or fly, of course."

The dungeon level, as she called it, was second from the

top and contained about two dozen small cells. They walked

along and saw some pitiful remnants of humanity and fairy

people in them, most certainly no longer sane. All were naked,

but one wore on his head a helmet that totally enclosed it. As

they passed, he rushed forward, crying, "You must listen! I

am King Louis! I aw!"

Marge frowned and hesitated, then shook her head and went

on.

They finally reached the end of the cell block, and Esmerada

opened a cell door. "In here, big man."

Joe hesitated, there was the hand motion, and he felt himself

violently shoved inside the cell. The door clanged shut behind

him. Marge made no resistance to entering the next cell. The

doors, while of metal, bore no clear locks. They were made

fast by Esmerada's spell, and that was better than any lock.

The witch looked back at the Kauri and thought a moment,

then made a few more motions with her hand. Marge saw long

threads of gold and silver emerge and bind her in a pattern

even more complex than the one that held Tiana downstairs.

"What is that all about?" she asked.

"You're grounded, dearie," Esmerada replied. "In technical

terms, I just increased your density and altered your specific

gravity. You won't notice it, because I've compensated you

for it, but if you try and take off, you'll get nowhere. You now

weigh two hundred pounds, you see. I also removed your wings

so you wouldn't smash them, although I fear that also removes

any power you might have."

Marge gasped and raised her arms; they were totally free

once more. She now must look pretty much like a wingless,

naked, burnt orange version of Disney's Tinker Bell.

"Well, goodbye for now, darlings!" the witch queen called

as she walked away. "I have much to do today, including

getting our big beauty off to the city, but I won't forget about

you, never fear. Ta-ta!" With that, she was gone down the

stairs.

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The cells were made of solid stone blocks, bound with some

very hard mortarlike substance, and it was clear that escape

was all but impossible from them.

Joe looked around his cell. There was a large pile of straw

that served as a bed, he supposed, and what looked like a

bronze chamber pot. That was about it. The old girl took no

chances with her prisoners, that was for sure.

He walked to the only opening, the barred door. It was far

too tight for him to do more than get a hand through between

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the bars, and there was no lock even to try to pick or reach.

It was hopeless. "Marge?" he called.

"Yeah, Joe," came her voice, sounding a little far away.

"I'm sorry I have to stay back a bit, but those bars are iron."

"I understand." He sighed. "Well, I guess we just pray for

rescue before she remembers us again, huh?"

"I guess so," Marge responded dejectedly. "I hope it's a

rush job. It wouldn't take more than a few flips of the wrist

for her to do to me what she said she would."

"Yeah, I know.",He sighed again. "Wonder why she even

waited?"

"It's no fun to her unless she lets you stew for a while,"

came a man's cultured voice from the other side.

Joe was startled. "What? Who's that?"

"A fellow prisoner, I fear," the voice replied sadly. "I've

been here quite some time. Months, actually, although it seems

like years."

"Huh? How come she hasn't turned you into a toad or

something?"

The voice sighed. "She doesn't dare let me out of this box.

I am held, my friend, by the strongest, most diabolical set of

locks you can imagine, and I'm actually inside an inner box

as well. She is very evil and very clever. My inner box is but

a scant foot from the outer one, which is only a fraction short

of what I can reach. She is diabolical."

"Why two boxes and locks?" Joe asked.

"One finger," the voice said mournfully. "If I could just get

one finger a fraction outside the cell, all would be changed.

She knows that, and she's tortured me with this arrangement."

"Who's that, Joe?" Marge called. "I can hardly hear him."

"Yeah," Joe pressed, "who are you, anyway?"

"I am Count Esmilio Boquillas," the voice replied.

CHAPTER 13

OF FRYING PANS AND FIRES

No thief shall ever travel without all the necessary tools of his or

her trade.

—Rules, VIII, 117(b)

"IT WAS THE BARON WHO DID IT," BOQUILLAS TOLD THEM AS

the morning passed. "I believe in the necessity of social revolution,

but the battle should be for the minds and hearts of

the people, not their lives. Yet what could I do? As a theoretician,

both of social principles and of the magical arts, I was

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no threat. I have no vast armies nor great cults. By common

agreement, the City-States remain neutral territory, lest all Husaquahr

strangle for lack of trade. I gave my word to them. I

would be free to speak out against this terrible war, but I would

not actively intervene on either side. As neutral, then, as morality

would permit me. For a while it was enough."