Demons of the Dancing Gods (37 page)

happened yesterday was a sham. It meant they knew we were

coming, what we were there for, and that he planted himself

in that cell next to us so we'd fall into his hands."

"Yeah, but even if we buy that, how could he possibly know

that Macore would be there and the right man to break us out?"

Joe had an uneasy thought. "Maybe it wasn't Macore. Ever

think of that? We saw somebody turned into a crazy statue,

and I've sure been turned into stuff lately. Even you were turned

with a few finger motions, and the Count became a big bird

with no trouble. So what's to keep him from turning somebody

into an exact copy of Macore, or even Esmerada herself doing

it?"

"It just could be. But—why? I'm sure neither she nor Boquillas

knew about the transmitters. If that's so, then Ruddygore's

still going to get in and find her. Certainly the Count

didn't have a chance to tell her."

Joe shook his head sadly. "I don't know. Maybe he just

didn't need her any more. Maybe she was even in the way."

"Not quite right, my friend," a familiar voice behind them

said. "She was of great use to me." They whirled and saw

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Boquillas standing in the door to the bathroom.

"Don't look so shocked," he told them. "You think your

wanderings of the evening would go undetected here? I left a

lot of magical strands to see just where you went. For your

information, the transmitters are in a small chest on the top

shelf of the den, masked by a few books. If you had had more

time, you probably would have discovered them. It was an

oversight on my part, but not one that was fatal."

"I have a feeling that the reason you're telling us this is

because we won't have a chance to get back- there, right?"

Marge said uneasily.

Boquillas grinned. "Alas, no. However, as long as those

devices remain there, they will give out an all's-well signal to

Ruddy gore's eagles. Your thief friend, who should arrive nearby

in a day or two just on suspicion, will be lulled. I may even

trot you out under a spell to tell him how wonderful it is here,

if it's still necessary by that time."

"What do you mean, still necessary?" Joe asked. "What the

hell is going on here, anyway?"

"A very complicated plot, or series of plots, I fear. My

original plan was already under way, but I still lacked a key

element. I had to get Ruddygore out of the north. I had to bring

him south, the farther south the better. There were any number

of ruses, of course, but when he launched his own little plot

against the Barony, it all fell neatly into place. Although I still

don't know how you got into the tower, I had no doubt you

would. Because I had to know the mechanics of Ruddygore's

little plot, I contrived that imprisonment scenario. Thanks to

it, you not only came willingly here with me but also told me

about those interesting little devices. That was what I needed

to know."

"Was that really Macore?" Marge wanted to know.

"Oh, yes. It would hardly have the ring of truth, not to

mention giving me a nice alibi, if it wasn't. He has quite a—

record, I suppose you might say—and is rather well known

up and down the rivers of Husaquahr. I had no doubt that he'd

come running when he saw Tiana flown off as a prisoner, or

that he could pick those locks. If he hadn't, though, I had other

rescues arranged. So now, today, Ruddygore enters Witchwood

and faces down Esmerada, who is convinced that I will come

to her aid. Poor Esmerada. She has style, but she always was

a second-rate politician."

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"You intend for Ruddygore to kill her, then?" Marge responded,

somewhat appalled.

Boquillas shrugged. "I have far more vital things to attend

to today and tonight as the Baron. Ruddygore is very powerful,

as well I know, and I would prefer to face him on my own

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terms at a later date. That, however, might be rather soon. You

see, Ruddygore will attain the seat in Witchwood, but at the

expense of Terindell."

"What!"

The Dark Baron grinned at them. "For the past few months,

in small groups and under civilian cover and disguise, a rather

large force has been moving north on riverboats. Even now

they are beginning to assemble for their individual marches,

closing in on Terindell. Another army is north of Lake Zahias,

set to strike at Sachalin. Yet a third will besiege Halakahia at

the same time. The Sachalin attack will tie down my only

sorcerous threat in the region, while I take the key cities and

transportation hubs. I personally will take Terindell, then attend

to my brother wizard to the east."

"Big talk," Joe told him. "If Ruddygore can't set foot in

here, what makes you think you can set foot in Terindell?"

The Baron laughed. "Alone I can not, but I have a rather

powerful ally. You saw him earlier this morning, I would

guess."

Marge just shook her head. "So all that talk about the horrors

of war and a great moral crusade was just so much wind for

another brutal dictatorship."

"Oh, no! All that I told you last night I fully believe, I

assure you. I am bringing revolution to this world and I will -I

change it for the better, make it free and great. But I grew |

weary of trying. I was a voice crying for sanity against a world [

oppressed by powers who would fight all change. It was obvious

that no change was possible except by using the one thing

they respect—brute force in all its ways. But come. We must

attend to you for a while." He made a few hand gestures, and

both Joe and Marge felt their bodies below their necks go

completely numb. With no control at all over themselves, they

found themselves getting up and walking out into the hall, then

down the stairs, the Baron following.

Their heads were still their own, though, and they continued

'o press the conversation.

"All your allies are evil sorcerers and a demon from Hell,"

Marge pointed out. "I don't think they have the same visions

as you do. You've fooled yourself."

The Dark Baron chuckled. "Well, Esmerada's going to be

a vacancy soon, and I will appoint the next candidate, one who

thinks as I do, because I will control what's left after all this.

There will be other vacancies around as well. In fact, I have

a number of friends already on the Council who are simply

dubious about my chances. It's been figured out pretty well,

my friends."

"You mean Kaladon has your idealism? I doubt it," Joe

spat.

"No, Kaladon is playing out a very long game of his own,

a game that seems to involve your girl friend in an integral

way. He will support me as long as it serves his purposes, then

try to dispose of me when I win."

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"I thought he was the weakest on the Council," Marge said

as they walked down to the cold, damp cellar of the castle.

"He is, but he knows it. Magic is a curious blend of art and

science, you know. Sort of like mineralogy and a symphonic

composition at the same time. Kaladon is very strong on the

science, perhaps the most knowledgeable man in the business,

but weak in the artistry. As I understand it, years ago he worked

out a very strange plot, partly by duping the girl's father. She

was in Kaladon's keeping when she was quite young, and he

performed some mental games with her, stuff that her father

would never notice unless he really suspected something. When

her mother died in childbirth, her considerable powers were

transmitted to her daughter, and the old boy continued the

process, weakening himself in the bargain to where Kaladon,

with a little help from Esmerada, could knock him off. So

Tiana has more of the artistic side of magic than any other

alive, I'd say. She is potentially the most powerful sorceress

in the history of the world, from what I've been able to understand

—but, thanks to Kaladon, she suffers from a very

minor bit of selective brain damage."

"What!" Joe roared.

"Yes. All that potential is wasted without the ability to form

spacial abstracts and complex mathematical formulae. Poor

Tiana couldn't count past her fingers and toes, I fear, nor draw

even a cube in perspective. You can see Kaladon's problem,

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can't you? For twenty years and more, he put together his

scheme whereby he'd be the only one able to use and in complete

control of the most powerful sorceress the world has ever

known. And then she went and escaped from him!" Boquillas

chuckled. "The man's been paranoid for years, afraid he would

be deposed before he found her again. He grasped at my offer

for protection in exchange for absolute service like a drowning

man clutching at a branch."

"Aren't you afraid that, now that he's got her, he'll turn on

you?" Joe asked. "Not that it would be much of an improvement."

The Dark Baron shook his head. "No, Kaladon simply has

no idea that there's a demon prince involved in all this, capable

of negating the power of three or four Kaladons, even augmented.

I intend doing things the same way Ruddygore hit

on—one sorcerer at a time, although I must work faster than

he. Ah! Here we are!"

In a few moments, deep in the dungeons under the castle,

the two captives found themselves actually cooperating in getting

into manacles stuck in the wall. Boquillas closed the locks

on each of them, then also closed locking waist bars and leg

manacles. Both now hung helplessly on a stone wall, about

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five feet apart. The sorcerer stepped back and looked at them

with satisfaction. He then used a small wooden stool to get up

next to Marge first, then Joe, and attach something to a small

rod which he brought out. In front of each, about two inches

from their mouths, hung a loaf of bread and a hunk of smelly

cheese.

"I'm sorry. I had hoped this would wait until after breakfast,

but at least you won't starve. You can manage the bread and

cheese with a little effort and practice. There's a small trough

just above you both that's rather sensitive to loud sounds. If

you just shout, it will tip over and produce a stream of water

for half a minute or so. After the rain last night, it's quite

unlikely to run out." Boquillas stepped back, took the stool,

and walked to the front of the cell. "I'm doing this only because

I can't be here for a long period. However, I'm not like the

fool in the stories who takes it for granted that he has his

enemies trapped and then ignores them." He walked out and

clanged the cell door shut, then locked it with a large key which

he put in his pocket. He concentrated for a moment and made

a few more gestures with his hands.

"There," he said, satisfied. "I have transmuted the cell floor

so that it is now an iron alloy. So is the ceiling, and so are

these bars. There are no windows—you are deep within the

rock itself. So, if by some chance you break the control spell

on your bodies, you, at least, my lady, will still have to hang

around. I suspect that this alone will keep our big friend put,

but since iron is no problem for him, I'll cast one little insurance

spell." Again he flicked his wrist, and Joe yelled.

"Hey! You're not going to leave us in the dark!"

"It is no matter," Boquillas responded. "You see, you are

totally blind until I return. Do hang around and have fun. I

have many questions to ask you under less pressing circumstances,

and I know that Hiccarph, too, wants to question you

on why you don't seem to exist for him. Until happier times,

then—bye!"

With that, Esmilio Boquillas walked off, and they could

hear him ascending the stone stairs to the cheerier part of the

building.

When all sound of him had faded. Marge called, "Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it true? Can't you see at all?"

"Not a thing. It's pitch dark to me." He turned his head

toward her. "Can you see my eyes?"

She strained to see. There was only one torch, and no certainty

of how long it would last. She gasped.

"Bad, huh?"

"Joe—all I see are whites. You don't seem to have any

pupils at all."

He sighed. "Yeah. He sure wasn't taking any chances, was

he?"

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"There's still tonight, if he's gone long enough."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"The last night of the full moon. Remember last night?"

"How could I forget it?" he responded grumpily.

"You'll change again. The spells will be off."

"What good's that gonna do? You're the closest living thing

to me, so all I'll be is you again, right? Hanging here without