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Secondly, we might catch Kaladon with the barriers down for a few days, even a
week, but certainly not a month. He's bound to notice, busy as he is, that he
has no protection. You're the key man, Joe, the only human we can afford to
use in this operation. Marge and Poquah will handle the rest, but they can't
get in without you."
"Okay, but I just get itchy sitting around here, that's all."
"Better itchy than lost forever," the Count warned.
Four weeks and three nightly transformations for Joe later, the conspirators
held another meeting, this one far more press-
ing.
"I've seen her," Marge told them. "Man! Is she something'.
I tell you, I knew what was going on and I was immune from the spell she
radiates and I still almost bought it. This empathic thing is a two-way sword.
She radiated such, well, godliness that it almost overwhelmed me."
"It probably would have overwhelmed any other Kauri,"
Boquillas told her. "Your mind and your past are your strength."
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DEMONS OF THE DANCING GODS JACK L. CHALKER
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She nodded. "Joe, she is ten feet tall and looks just like those statues all
over the place. Also, every little blemish and imperfection is gone, and so is
that great dark tan. She's almost blindingly smooth and white, and her hair's
now silver and
I mean silver, not white or gray and her eyes are a deep emerald green. She
still has her slight German accent, but her voice is real soft and musical and
super-sexy; yet it will carry in a square jammed with ten thousand people,
somehow. You ought to see Kaladon, though. Wearing snow-white robes with
silver trim, he looks just like an angel from an old religious movie."
"You have the spell, I hope?" Boquillas prompted.
She sighed. "Damned hard to do, I'll tell you. That white inner glow is almost
blinding, and I had to do it in daylight.
Bless old Ruddygore's dark goggles! I doubt if anybody without
'em could see through the glare enough to figure out the pat-
tern."
"A smart move on Kaladon's part," Boquillas noted. "Just in case some of the
other councillors get ideas."
Marge passed him her sketch of the spell in colored pencils.
"Took me five different appearances to get it all down," she told him, "and
each time it was harder not to join the cult."
Boquillas studied the incredibly complex pattern for several minutes, then
grabbed a pad and began sketching his own series of lines, shapes, forms, and
relationships. It looked like kin-
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ods%202%20-%20Demons%20of%20the%20Dancing.txt dergarten scribble to Joe, but
Poquah in particular was gazing over the former sorcerer's shoulder and
nodding.
"Can you do it?" Boquillas asked the Imir.
"Of course," the adept responded. "It is not difficult when you diagram it
that way, but I can think of no other mind save perhaps Ruddygore's that could
have solved the pattern from so basic a sketch."
"I was a theoretician far longer than I was an activist," the
Count told him. "In fact, Kaladon is cloddish enough or ego-
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maniacal enough to have used a slight variation of one of my own designs. I
suppose he no longer considers me a threat.
Still, a wise teacher never tells his student all he knows." He looked up,
smiled, and said to the Imir, "You have all the rest of the preparation. Joe,
you have the latest reports from Po-
quah's and Marge's fairy friends about what's going on in
Morikay. Let's see... Your next cycle is in eight more nights, right?"
Joe nodded. "Yeah, that's about it."
"And we have here from Marge evidence that our dear
Goddess will formally and personally dedicate Fajera's temple a week from
tomorrow." He sighed. "That's pretty dicey, and cutting things rather fine,
but I think we might manage. No, I
think we have to. If we let this go on another month, we won't be able to get
near the place without being converted ourselves.
Let's do it. Eight nights from tonight, Joe, you will be in
Morikay, and so will Marge and Poquah. If your phenomenal luck holds, nine
days from today we will free this world from
Kaladon, not to mention Tiana."
"I can hardly wait," Joe said truthfully.
It was easier to get into Castle Morikay, or the Palace of the Angels, as it
was referred to, than it was to stomach two days in the city itself. The
building boom was amazing, with all sorts of bright-eyed men and women, aided
by the
Halflings of equal fervor, working like insects in a hive for the glory of the
Goddess. How so many statues had been made in so short a time without a
production line was beyond Joe and the others, and they were probably magical
products, but it was both stunning and disturbing to see them, not only as
decorations but actual objects of worship.
The people drove themselves with total fanaticism, calling one another Brother
and Sister and praising the Goddess all the while they slaved. Even though he
lay low and kept away from much contact, Joe got blessed more times than a
Swiss guard at the Vatican. He had to admit, however, that, if it wasn't for
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