Demons of the Dancing Gods (46 page)

be done without tripping on that damned hair. Joe fell, cursing,

and lost his rapier.

Boquillas made no allowance for honor. The rapier plunged

deep into Joe's chest twice, spurting blood, and the stricken

were cried out in pain.

"I think that is quite enough," another voice said, and Boquillas

whirled, froze, and literally gaped at the heretofore

vacant throne. The rapier dropped to the floor, and still he

stood there, looking like a man facing his own death.

Tiana, Marge, Poquah, and Joe all stared as well, and only

the Imir remained in the least bit unaffected by the sight.

Throckmorton P. Ruddy gore, looking about forty pounds

thinner and with a neatly trimmed beard, got up from the throne,

an amused twinkle in his eyes. He was wearing his formal

clothes, complete with opera cape, distinctive cane, and top

hat.

"Joe, don't just lie there feeling killed. The rapiers weren't

made of silver, and he had no power to make them so. Wipe

that damned blood away and get up!"

CHAPTER 18

COMPLEX EVER-AFTERINGS

Never consider a sorcerer dead for good until you have seen him

die a minimum of three times.

—Rules, VI, 303(b)

"DON'T LOOK SO STARTLED, ALL OF YOU," RUDDYGORE TOLD

them. "Come back into the apartment with me and let's find

something to eat in this mausoleum. Yes, you, too, Esmilio."

"But—I killed you! Or, rather, Hiccarph killed you! We all

saw it!" the Count protested.

Ruddygore chuckled. "Oh, I admit I got a real mauling, but

only on the psychic level, like your kraken and dragon and my

replay of Earth warfare. I will also admit that, had I been that

poor, starving boy, you would have had me; but he was just

a construct, like the rest."

"He couldn't have been!" Boquillas protested. "It was you

there! You as a starving scavenger! I know the Rules better

than you! No construct may have a direct relationship to its

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creator!"

"Could be you're right," Ruddygore admitted, "but, trouble

is. Count, you're just too damned gullible. That life story of

mine that I told you over good wine and better cigars was a

total and complete lie. You're such a sucker for a bleeding

heart I can't help but feel sorry for you, old boy. Come! Everyone!

We must eat and relax and decide what to tell all those

officials around here who are scared to death to enter the presence

of the Goddess without permission, despite the commotion!"

"But where were you when you escaped the demon? Where

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have you been all this time?" Marge wanted to know.

"Where I could rest and bind my wounds and regain strength?"

the fat sorcerer responded. "Where else?" And with that, he

launched into a chorus of "I Left My Heart in San Francisco."

It was daybreak, but Joe and Marge had talked through the

night, telling Tiana of their adventures and briefing Ruddy gore

on what he had missed. Meanwhile, Tiana gave orders forbidding

interruptions in her best imperious manner, while fanatical

followers still worked on rebuilding the castle and the city.

Boquillas remained the most silent of the batch, rarely offering

a question or comment. He looked, and was, a totally

defeated man and he knew it.

Finally it was dawn, and Joe changed back to his old self.

He was delighted, as was Tiana, who hugged and kissed him.

He finally broke away, laughing, and noted that three of them

in the room were stark naked.

"That brings up an interesting series of questions," Ruddygore

said at last. "We have to discuss all our futures here."

Everyone was suddenly very serious.

"Boquillas, I certainly owe you for helping dispose of Kaladon,

although, as I promised, I was ready all in good time.

I find, however, that I can not allow you freedom, considering

your activities of this night. I think, perhaps, that you will

come with me for a while, and we will take a little trip together."

The Count's eyebrows went up. "A trip? Where?"

"I'll give you back your health and your youth, so that you

will have a chance to see how things really are. I'll prepare

you with languages and I will even bankroll you. You are going

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to work for me, on Earth."

"Earth? Doing what?"

"Research and correlation. It would be a shame to let one

of your intellect and experience go to waste. You like technology

so much, I will introduce you to my computer section.

Without them, all this could never have been possible."

"I knew it," Marge put in.

"Alas, you are also ready to experience a far different world

from what you've ever known, as well as the Bangkok flu,

stomach ulcers, and all the other pressures of day-to-day living.

Still, it is better than you deserve." The sorcerer pointed at

Boquillas, and he winked out and vanished. "Stuck him in

storage until I have to go over again," Ruddygore told the

others.

"And what of us?" Marge asked him. "What now?"

He sighed. "Boquillas was right, you know. Esmerada, Fajera,

Sargash, and the rest will not be easily talked out of this

cult thing. Nor, in fact, could you, Tiana, ever lead a normal

life now. You have what you wished all along to have, much

to my surprise. You are absolute ruler here. We can modify

the harsh pans of this new religion, but the others won't let us

kill it, I'm afraid." He chuckled. "Besides, I like being a saint."

Tiana shook her head in wonder. "You know, all that time

in exile, I dreamed of this sort of thing, although tens of thousands

of statues of me fully nude are a bit more than I thought

about." She laughed. "Well, then, so be it. The climate is

tropical, and I certainly can no longer claim modesty after so

many have seen not only statues but me in the altogether." She

paused a moment. "But the responsibility it now gives me is

staggering. I had not thought in those terms. My dreams were

always of taking back what was stolen, not of what happened

after."

"Of course, there will have to be some modifications," Ruddygore

told her. "Let them continue to think you an angel, for

they will, anyway, but we must restore their free will and sense

of perspective. We must get the economy going again. Adjust

the new status to the old so that it all works, but without war

or mass slaughter, at least for a very long time."

She nodded. "Of course. You need only show me how to

do it."

Ruddygore turned to Joe. "And what about you? What do

you want now, Joe? I mean, really want. Long-term."

Joe thought a minute, then leaned over and hugged Tiana.

"I want a goddess."

She seemed delighted and excited, and grabbed and hugged

and kissed him all over again.

Ruddygore smiled. "A slight modification is in order, then.

There will have to be one, anyway, to explain Kaladon's demise.

You sent him to his Heavenly reward, that's all."

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"She sure did," Joe noted.

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"Goddesses do not have consorts, of course, and I think Joe

ill fits the role of high priest. Therefore, we'll reaffirm some

old-fashioned values and virtues. The Goddess shall have her

God. You certainly look the pan, Joe."

"Hey! Wait a minute! You mean there's gonna be a million

marble statues of me in the nude?"

Ruddygore laughed. "And why not? When they see the

attributes of both of you, you will be the sex idols of Husaquahr."

"But I have no godlike power, and Tiana can't use hers,"

he pointed out. "And you're expecting us to rule a country

directly and a church that goes out who knows how far?"

"There will be little trouble there. First of all, your new

high priest will handle the mundane magical chores and advice,

accompanied by his faithful band of adepts and hangers-on.

And, because the potential for this is so fascinating, there will

be a backup. A simple microcomputer, I think, with a number

of hard disks, should hold the basics. With some nice color

graphics, of course, so you can see the spells and how they're

formed when you punch them up. I'll bring one back when I

drop off Esmilio."

"But how will you plug it in?" Joe asked him. "And isn't

that violating your own ideas on technology?"

Ruddygore winked. "The power source will be a new type

of battery tapping a magical source. As you know, sometimes

cheating on one's principles is necessary. Without doing so,

we would now all be dead, at the mercy of the Baron's armies."

Ruddygore turned to Marge, whose expression was solemn.

"Don't look so glum, my dear!"

"Nothing in that bag of yours for me, is there, Mr. Wizard?"

she responded sadly.

"Soon the inns will open, the shows will restart, and all

will begin anew," he told her. "You are Kauri, Marge, and

that is a great responsibility, but also an important one. Fly,"

Marge, into the night skies! Play! Sing! Dance! The whole new

world is at your feet, and you are truly-free to enjoy it!"

She smiled and got up and walked over to them. "I'll miss

you all terribly, though."

"But you can return any time, and there is always time for

you," Joe told her. "Always."

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They hugged and kissed, and then Marge left. Going down

a hall and seeing an open door, she walked in and climbed up

on the window. The sun was bright, and she lowered her goggles

to keep the sleep away, then leaped out into the cool sky.

Back in the apartment, Joe sighed. "Will we ever see her

again for real, I wonder?" He leaned over to Tiana and kissed

her. "I know and I'm sorry, but we were pretty close."

She kissed him back. "I understand."

Ruddygore grinned broadly and got up. "Well, Poquah, it's

about time we saw what they've done to our old home. But

we'll be back, children, rather quickly. Until then, don't worry

about any problems coming about. Everybody here will obey

every order the Goddess gives." He sighed, yawned, stretched,

and made for the door, then turned back to the couple.

"Don't worry about not seeing Marge again," he told them.

"The Rules still hold."

Tiana looked puzzled, but Joe smiled softly, and that smile

turned into a big grin.

"Yeah, that's right, isn't it? We've got at least one more

great adventure left, haven't we?"

"Oh, yes, yes. At least," agreed Throckmorton P. Ruddygore.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JACK L. CHALKER was born in Norfolk, Virginia, on December

17, 1944, but was raised and has spent most of his

life in Baltimore, Maryland. He learned to read almost from

the moment of entering school, and by working odd jobs

amassed a large book collection by the time he was in junior

high school, a collection now too large for containment in

his quarters. Science fiction, history, and geography all

fascinated him early on, interests that continue.

Chalker joined the Washington Science Fiction Association

in 1958 and began publishing an amateur SF journal,

Mirage, in 1960. After high school he decided to be a trial

lawyer, but money problems and the lack of a firm caused

him to switch to teaching. He holds bachelor degrees in

history and English, and an M.L.A. from Johns Hopkins

University. He taught history and geography in the Baltimore

public schools between 1966 and 1978, and now makes

his living as a freelance writer. Additionally, out of the

amateur journals he founded a publishing house. The Mirage

Press, Ltd., devoted to nonfiction and bibliographic works

on science fiction and fantasy. This company has produced

more than twenty books in the last nine years. His hobbies

include esoteric audio, travel, working on science-fiction

convention committees, and guest lecturing on SF to institutions

such as the Smithsonian. He is an active conservationist

and National Parks supporter, and he has an intense

love of ferryboats, with the avowed goal of riding every

ferry in the world. In fact, in 1978 he was married to Eva

Whitley on an ancient ferryboat in mid-river. They live in

the Catoctin Mountain region of western Maryland with their

son David.

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