Demons of the Dancing Gods (36 page)

the magical arts, which create the elitism and maintain the

feudalism, there is room for expansion. Look at those Books

of Rules on the walls around me. Absurd, aren't they?"

"From what we've seen, I'll grant you that," Marge admitted.

"With guts, a benevolent Council could eliminate those

Rules—wipe 'em out instead of continually adding, deleting,

modifying, and changing. That alone would totally liberate

society from its stratifications. You could change. Barbarians

wouldn't continue to be barbarians unless they wanted to, nor

would dwarfs have to toil in the mines, or Bentar be mercenaries.

Each might also leam what of the art they could, so that

all would have a measure of power, and their collective power

would be enormous. The Rules are nothing more than those

of the privileged elite keeping things forever static. The steam

engine was invented at least eighteen hundred years ago, yet,

thanks to one of those Rules, it is nearly instant and horrible

death to build one. You see what I mean?"

They thought about it. Finally Joe said, "I don't know. I've

seen the other side and it's not so great."

"Oh, you've been to Earth, then? Ruddygore must indeed

favor you."

Joe shot a glance at Marge, and she got the look. "Yes,

we've both been there. Every time they have a revolution with

noble goals, it seems to wind up just the same—dictatorship,

the workers working just as hard for just as little, while somebody

new gives the orders and lives the good life. The only

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difference is, those new leaders kid themselves that it's okay,

that one day it will all be different. But it never is."

"You sound like Ruddygore, which, I suppose, is to be

expected. And, in fact, I agree that things usually work out for

the worst in such movements. That's why the Council is so

important. If, right at the beginning, it writes the new, simpler,

more free and democratic rules, progress can work here. I've

devoted a good deal of my adult life to determining those ideal

rules, and they are very simple and very basic indeed."

"It's an interesting idea, but I'd hate to see all this spoiled

if you made one mistake. I guess you've never gotten the rest

of the Council to go along?"

Boquillas chuckled. "They're all stick-in-the-muds by the

time they reach their positions. It takes decades of work, dedication,

endless practice, and stress to get to the top in my

profession. By the time most of them reach that position, either

they're too old and set in their ways or they feel they are getting

their just payment for all the agony they went through getting

there. It does tend to give you quite an ego."

"Sounds like doctors," Marge muttered, but he didn't hear

her.

"Yeah, but what if it's the Baron who gets to rewrite the

rules instead of you?" Joe asked him. "I'm not sure I'd like

those rules, considering the company he keeps."

The sorcerer shrugged. "In many long conversations with

the Baron, I have never been absolutely clear on what he wants.

So far, it's just getting control that matters. It was my hope

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that I could influence him, should he win."

"Could be," Joe said, yawning. "But I doubt it. Sorry about

the yawn, but I'm dead tired."

The Count was suddenly all courtliness. "Oh, I beg your

pardon! Please—both of you. Go on up and get some rest.

Sleep off the whole of your ordeal. Tomorrow we will get

down to what happens next."

As much as Marge wanted to keep talking, she, too, was

really feeling the exhaustion of the past few days. With a few

more words, they excused themselves and went upstairs.

Joe looked around the room. "Well, what do you think of

him?"

"I don't really know," she admitted. "On the one hand, I

like him. He's got tremendous charm and a real sincerity about

him. On the other hand, I don't think I'd trust him too much.

I had the feeling he was keeping a lot from us, and I don't like

his taking away the transmitters, even ifMacore and Ruddy gore

know where we are."

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"We can't worry about it," he told her. "Hmmm... Only

one bed. I hope we'll both fit on it."

"Oh, we'll fit," she assured him, and they both undressed

and got in, after brushing a bit of dust off the sheets. Joe just

lay there a moment, thinking, and she knew what the problem

was.

"You can't forget Tiana, can you?"

"No. I keep thinking of her in the hands of that bastard and

I want to go charging off to the rescue."

Marge sighed. "I wish I still had all my powers. I can feel

the hurt inside you, Joe, and I wish I could help."

He turned and pulled her close, then kissed her. "Maybe

you still can. Want to try?"

She smiled. "You know I do." They embraced and kissed.

"Damn!"

She pulled away and stared in confusion at the other in bed

with her. Where Joe had been only a moment before, there

was now an exact duplicate of herself.

The duplicate rolled onto her back. "Damn!" she echoed.

"It must be sundown."

Marge sighed, remembering the curse. "Well, we might try

it anyway." ,

The transformed Joe shook her head. "No, it's no use. When

I was a horse last night, I was every inch a horse. It's an exact

physical duplication. Exact."

"Huh? You mean...?"

"Uh-huh. I want it as much as you. I want it from Joe,

though, and, hell, I'm Joe."

Marge sighed, knowing exactly how Joe felt, and pulled up

the sheet. "Well, at least we both fit on the bed."

They awoke at almost the same moment. It was quite dark

and all seemed still. Both just lay there, not really aware that

the other was awake, lost in thought.

For Joe, it was an interesting experience. Not merely the

physical change, but the change from human to fairy. It felt—

well, not better or worse, but different. Without even realizing

it, he shifted his Kauri eyes from the regular band, which saw

only darkness, to the magic band, and suddenly all was alight

with intricate and colorful patterns. It was all over the place,

in, around, and through them and all the objects in the room,

as well. For the first time he saw as Marge, Ruddygore, and

Boquillas could see, and he understood just what this world

was really all about.

He got up from the bed and went to the window, something

he couldn't have done under normal circumstances without

breaking his neck in the dark, and found it unusual to have to

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strain on tiptoe to the utmost to see out of it. It had seemed

relatively low to him the day before.

There was a storm off in the distance. He could see the

night sky occasionally light up, and every once in a while a

distant, jagged pencil stab of lightning. A breeze whipped up

by the storm made the lake surface rough and caused breakers

to smash themselves against the cliffs far below with repeated

dull roars.

Marge got up and came over next to him, also looking out.

"It's very pretty, a night like this."

He nodded. "This magic band is kinda wild, though. Jeez!

It's all over the place! Even the lake has it!"

"Well, it's a little more crowded around here than it is with

the usual spells, but, yes, there's magic in everything and

everyone here. Both the Laws and the Rules are magic, and

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199

they determine just about anything."

"You know, it sort of reminds me of that night in west

Texas, except for the water. Same kind of far-off storm, same

pitch darkness. We sure have been a long way since that night."

She took his hand and squeezed it hard. "Yeah, we sure

have." They both lowered themselves and hugged and kissed

each other. "You know, it seems that we should have been a

pair rather than just a team. Things never worked out the way

we figured."

Joe chuckled. "Yeah. Even tonight. Seems as if something's

always working against us, doesn't it?"

There was a tremendous rumbling sound echoing outside,

and they turned back to the window and again looked out. As

the lightning lighted up the southern skies, Joe said, "Funny."

"What's funny?"

"Those big clouds out there. When the lightning goes off,

they almost look like demons' faces."

"Huh? Let's see." She stared out, waiting for the next flash.

It seemed as if it would never come, but then it did, and she

saw that he was right. "Yeah, I see it. Looks almost like that

hideous thing we met in the tent just before the battle." She

looked again, making adjustments. "Joe—I don't think this is

imagination. Shift back to the magic band."

He did, and looked again. It took a while waiting for the

next flash, but then he saw just what she meant. When the face

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in the cloud was illuminated in the magic band, it seemed

framed in shades of crimson and lavender, but there was no

pattern. All the other magical things had patterns. "What's it

mean?"

"Solid magic, Joe. Pure magic. A pure magical force, not

the kind of things we see here. Joe—that isn't a dream. It's

real. That is the demon we met. The Baron's demon, coming

toward us under cover of that storm."

Joe frowned. Although frustrated in one respect. Marge

found it fascinating to see herself as everyone else saw her,

and she liked what she saw. "What are you thinking of?" she

asked.

"Didn't he say the bathroom connected? Want to try a peep

and see if he's there?"

"He may have a spell on the door, but let's try. You stay

here. I'm more used to this than you are and I'll know what

to look for. If I can get a peek into his room, it's going to be

tremendously crowded with magic."

He nodded and watched as she entered the bathroom and

crept to the door on the other side. After listening for a moment,

she tried the door and found to her surprise that it was open.

She peered in, then quickly shut the door again and returned.

"He's not there."

"It doesn't mean anything. He could be downstairs, anywhere."

"I think maybe we ought to find those little transmitters and

turn them on," she said. "Just in case."

Joe thought a moment. "He had 'em in his hand when we

came in, but not when we went upstairs. I don't think he

dematerialized them or anything, so they're probably downstairs

in the den. That's the one place he could have stopped

for a moment before coming up."

"Right. Let's go."

Joe sighed. "I don't know how we're going to explain my

looking like this if he catches us."

"If he catches us, that will probably be the least of our

problems."

"Good point," he conceded and followed her out into the

dark hall. The magic gave enough of a glow to the place to

guide them to the stairs. The torches were still burning dully

below, enabling them to proceed on normal visuals.

They crept down the stairs and peered into the den. Several

books were open and scattered around the table, but there was

no sign of Boquillas. They walked in and started looking carefully

for any place that the Count might have put the jewels,

but not discovering any likely one. Joe was also finding it hard

to adjust to being far shorter than he'd ever been. Things that

had been within easy reach of him before now seemed unattainable.

He began to understand why Kauri had the ability to

fly.

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They looked over the area for the better part of an hour

without finding anything. Then the storm hit outside, and Marge

turned to him. "We'd better give it up and get back upstairs.

If the storm is here, he's probably finished."

Joe nodded, and they scampered quickly upstairs. The rain

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was blowing through the windows in great sheets, and only by

dragging over a stool could Joe get enough height to close the

shutters.

Marge took one of the long sulfur matches from a holder

and lighted the lamp, illuminating the room with a ghostly

glow.

Joe got down off the stool and sat on it, oblivious of the

wetness. He was wet enough anyway. "So what do we do

now?"

She shrugged. "Wait it out. I just can't believe he's the

Baron. If he's the Baron, then what was he doing in Esmerada's

prison?"

Joe suddenly felt a burning sensation once again, and knew

now just what that meant. "How about that? Sunrise, I guess.

I'm me again."

"Welcome back, Geronimo. Speaking for myself, I like you

this way a lot better. But I still can't figure it all out."

"I agree with you. If he's the Baron, then everything that