Horrors of the Dancing Gods

A SENSE OF THE FAMILIAR

MARGE LISTENED TO THE WHOLE ACCOUNT WITH A mixture of fascination and skepticism. Unlike Irving, who'd stuck pretty well to days and had one view of this strange craft, Marge had slept by day and seen the majority of passengers and crew by night, when they were most powerful and in their full glory. She had the strong feeling that if the other two had seen a fraction of what she had seen by night, they wouldn't sleep much then, either.

She had, however, seen the girl in question briefly, here and there, either just after dark or in the predawn, and knew that she at least was neither a fantasy nor some creature of faerie. That girl in fact had the most incredibly complex set of spells on her that Marge, who'd seen a lot, could ever imagine seeing, let alone figuring out. It made Irving's set of enchantments seem feeble and childlike in comparison; the girl's twisted mass of varicolored spaghetti strands of curse and spell was definitely in Ruddygore territory.

She walked over to where Irving said he'd gotten his cramp and read the bulletin board. The board was still there — although Marge hadn't really recalled noticing it before, either — but Irving frowned and searched frantically in the gloom for the small card. There wasn't even a space where it might have been removed.

"It was here! Right there! Somebody's messed these all up!" he maintained.

"Don't worry about it," Marge told him. "I believe you. I didn't expect to find it; I've already looked at cabin thirty-three. Need I say that it has no tables and not even the slightest scent of liniment? It's a storeroom and packed pretty solid at that."

"I was there! I did have this talk!" he insisted.

She nodded. "I believe you. The basic layout was right — one big and two small rooms — and I don't see any way you could have known about the connecting door without having been there. Never forget that we're dealing not with flesh and blood here but rather with principalities and powers of the air, sorcerers and creatures of very powerful magic. With the pain and this roundabout way of talking to you, they got their point across."

"Were they telling the truth, though? About her, I mean."

Marge shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. Probably. At least, they told you all the truth they wanted you to know and no more. That's the way these people work. Never do things directly when you can be sneaky, never tell a lie that isn't wrapped in truth, and never tell everything — or anything—that you don't think is necessary to serve your ends. Now, the question is their motive in all this."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Well, if they just want us to lay off the girl, there are a lot of ways to handle that. Even by their own account, she's theirs and under their complete control. Just lock her in an unassigned cabin for that matter. Put a sleep spell on her until we dock and the three of us are safely away. You see what I mean?"

"Yeah, but I don't see where it goes."

Marge smiled. "Well, then, either they are actually trying to lure you to take the girl, or, just as possible, if we had her along, there's a way we could help her that they couldn't control."

"Yeah, but why would they want me to help her? That doesn't make sense."

"It does with all those curses and magical chains she bears. Who knows what they do? Who knows what's buried there? If they control her, even without her knowledge or will, she might well be Hell's own agent sent along with us to represent their interests. We'd never take a demon along, but an innocent girl? You see?"

Irving was skeptical. "Maybe, but would they take a chance on somebody like that? I think maybe it's the McGuffin. If we can get hold of it, we can break her curses and maybe even free her parents, right?"

"Who knows? We're only supposed to get the thing, remember; we aren't supposed to use it. I seem to remember Ruddygore being very firm that this thing's more dangerous to the wisher than the Lamp, and that was risky enough, believe me."

"Well, I still think we ought to help her, damn it!" the boy cried. "We can't just leave her when we might help."

Marge sighed. "I seem to remember that this is what got Joe going in this same direction. If I didn't know better, I'd say somebody on high has a one-track mind and not much imagination. Okay, I'll see what I can do. There's not a lot of time left, you know. We've already passed the other ship on this line heading back to Husaquahr, which means we're more than halfway there. That'll get us in at worst the day after tomorrow — or, more accurately, the night after tomorrow night, probably an hour after sunset. That doesn't leave us a lot of leeway, and we have to contact her and see if she wants to be helped before we can do anything else."

He was shocked. "Of course she wants to be helped! Why wouldn't she?"

"If she's guilt-ridden for what happened to her parents, or maybe just flipped out by it all and resigned, or maybe not as pure and clean as we thought — there's lots of reasons. She might even just not believe that there is any hope at all and refuse in order to spare us part of her curse."

"And what about Poquah? If we get involved with her, he's gonna throw a fit."

"Let him. He's a warrior and a sorcerer, and his lot is sneaky by instinct. Maybe it's time he put a little of those old skills to work as well as the new. But why bother him until we can speak with her? And if we can't, it's kind of out of our hands."

"We got to get to her, then! One of us! We just got to!"

Marge sighed. "I'm a sucker for this kind of thing myself, and it always causes problems. Oh, well… I just wish they told us what kind of a curse that fellow Lothar came up with that could even screw up a demon."

As it turned out, it was Marge who had the next chance at contact with the strange girl, and she was glad it was she and not Irving who did. It was pretty easy to see how the kid could be pretty intimidating, but a faerie, a female, and one of unknown but beautiful appearance did engender more curiosity than threat.

Truth to tell, though, Marge was pretty damned happy to see Irving acting like a normal teenage human being. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

It was just before dawn again, as before, but because he'd stayed up so late with Marge the night before and had been so excited, Irving hadn't arisen when he'd intended, and Marge was on her own.

She suspected that the girl came up every morning before dawn, and she could understand why. This ship with all its dangers was probably least dangerous at this very time, when all the possible mischief from the dark had been done and denizens were going to their rest lest the sun strike them but before the kraken and the ghouls and demons of the day began their less threatening but still intimidating shifts. It had to lift the spirits of somebody as stuck as the girl was just to watch the magnificence of the sun break over the horizon, filling the world with warmth, light, and glory.

Marge flew up and settled down comfortably on a bulkhead just behind and above the girl, who was staring out at the sea, watching the first small streaks appear signaling first false, then true dawn.

"It's the best part of the day, isn't it?" she said casually, conversationally, as if speaking to a friend.

The girl jumped, whirled around, then spotted the Kauri with her butterfly wings perched sexily above. "Oh! I did not see you!"

"I'm sorry I startled you. I kinda like this myself, to tell the truth. I'm stuck as basically a night creature, and this ship's pretty damned depressing most of the time. I think if I hear that Tiliki Li Revue one more time, I'll blow this thing up."

"You — you're not one of them?"

"Not hardly. Or at least not exactly. Faerie is faerie, and mostly we're neutral. We sit around and do our own things and watch you folks do your own things and shake our heads. Some take sides, mostly on the dark side. More immediate power even if you face oblivion when the Final Judgment comes, if and when it ever does. The Kauri take no sides in the affairs of mortals or in the Heaven versus Hell battle, but occasionally individuals like me do. I like to think I'm on the good side, but mostly I'm doin' favors for old friends, like now."

"I–I'm one of them. Not that I wish to be or that I had any choice, but sometimes fate does that to people. At the moment my soul is still my own; it is only my body that they own. How long I can keep that is the question I ask myself."

"I got to admit, you have more spells and curses on you than I ever saw before on anybody. Still, you're heading in the right direction, if you can believe it, if you want any crack at getting rid of that shit."

"What?" The girl acted as if she didn't understand the words.

"Yuggoth. I know the reputation, and I think we'll both find it lives up to that, but in all that crud there's something that can make wishes come true, and its power is pretty awesome. My friends and I are after it. That's why we're here."

There had been a glimmer of hope in the girl's face, but at this news, instead of being elated and encouraged, she seemed to deflate into despair once more. "So you're on a treasure hunt," she said simply.

"In a way, yes. But we have some advantages most others don't. For one thing, we aren't after it for ourselves. My companions and I are reasonably satisfied. We're doing it because a good and powerful friend asked us to and because the father of one of us, the boy you might have seen around here, vanished down there trying to help somebody else on the same quest."

"So that's— Uh, so now you're all going down there and you'll vanish, too?"

"I hope not. I've been in this spot before and succeeded. You can't believe the things I've seen and done with some of the same companions and in the service of the same sorcerer."

"Which sorcerer is that?"

"He calls himself Ruddygore of Terindell here. He is on the Council and is overall a good man who's kept a lot of evil from taking over this world. Ever heard of him?"

"I have heard the name mentioned once or twice. I know he is powerful and of the north but little else. I have little use for sorcerers. They are too clever for their own good."

"I understand that one saved you from being sacrificed," Marge noted, trying to verify as much of the story as possible.

"That is true, although I do not know where you heard this. It was not a favor. Had he not intervened, then my parents would still be themselves and I would be dead but my soul would be pure and free. In trying to help me, all of them did themselves harm and me most of all, since I am condemned to a life under these sorts of demons and villains."

Marge was actually impressed with the girl's attitude. Maybe there was somebody here worth saving, just as Irving suspected. "You aren't just looking at sunrises, then? You have thought of throwing yourself into the sea?"

The girl returned a sour chuckle. "It is all I think about, but it is impossible. For one thing, one cannot fall from this boat. It is — prevented. But even if this were not so, I could not. I am under a geas. It prevents me from even doing myself deliberate harm until it is fulfilled."

Marge understood the dilemma more than most. "But if you do fulfill it, you will probably lose your soul."

The girl nodded. "You see that they did me no favor in saving my life. For what? Now they suffer, and I am truly lost."

Marge gave her a thoughtful half smile as the sun broke over the water and said, "Not necessarily. Alone, I can agree with you, but as part of a group you can find some chance of success. It's called joining a Company, and it's very plain in the Rules. If we get what we're after, Ruddygore can use it to reverse even the dictates of Hell. I've seen it done before. Even Hell plays by the Rules here — sort of."

"What makes you think you can succeed where the boy's father failed?"

Marge shrugged. "First, I don't know if he did or if he's just out of sight and stalking it. He's lost from our point of view but probably not from his own. Second, because I've been up against dragons and monsters and evil demonic princes and zombies and the rest, and no matter how hopeless it seemed, we won. Third, because it's in Hell's interest for us to win, too. What we're after solves a problem for them as well. I think they'll help more than hinder us in getting it. It's only after that that we'll need to watch our backs."

"What can the likes of you and your companions do that all the legions of Hell cannot?" the girl asked skeptically.

"A very good question," Marge admitted. "I'm the first to tell you that I don't know the answer to it and that it'll be one of the big surprises at the end of this journey to perhaps find that out. One thing at a time. I'm offering you a chance to come with us. No strings attached, no conditions, and only the obligation of being one of the group, and that is helping where and when you can."

"And this Company is you, the elf, and the boy I have seen?" She didn't exactly sound overwhelmed.

Marge had a certain level of sympathy and understanding for somebody in the girl's predicament — she'd gone through an awful lot at that age — but there was a limit to this. "I just made the offer, and that's all. You can either throw in with us and maybe, just maybe, get out of this if you're a good team player and you work with us, or you can leave, follow your compulsive spells into Yuggoth, and go to your inevitable doom. Never say life isn't full of choices but don't start talking down to gift horses, either. You're just a complication on my job; we'd probably have a little easier time without you and particularly without somebody who feels the way you do toward us. My elfin companion — an Imir, by the way, and quite a dangerous breed — wants us to forget you. The boy wants you included. Since I like the boy and I've been in a few tight spots like yours myself, I'm on his side at the moment, but that's subject to change."

She started to move off her perch and actually turned a bit away from the girl. It was no mock move; she was out of patience and felt absolutely no guilt over her attitude. Given a choice between a chance at life, however slim and improbable, and certain doom, it would take a fool to turn it down. You could get killed traveling with fools through dangerous territory.

"Wait! Please — do not go. Not yet."

It was said so softly and so plaintively that Marge froze, turned, and looked back down at the girl. The Kauri was beginning to feel the lethargy of daylight and knew that it wouldn't be long before she'd have to force herself to stay awake and alert, but this was worth the discomfort.

"I am of the night," she told the girl. "I have no more time today, and I do not audition for the role of helper. The boy thinks like a boy: he sees somebody in trouble, and his innate sense of justice says to help. I see somebody in trouble, and my instinct is to offer some help, too. But neither of us, neither one of us, will audition to please anyone. His father was a king once, and I never called him anything but his first name. Consider yourself on probation here, not us. If you are interested, see the boy today or contact me here either just after dusk or just before dawn. I'll discuss this no more this morning. I need only remind you that we put in to Yuggoth tomorrow night, and the powers that draw you one way and us another will rise even greater."

"No, wait! I—" But it was too late; the Kauri had taken off and flown to the other side of the ship and was gone from sight.

From a point at which all had been predetermined except the details, Larae suddenly had no idea just what to do. The logic that Marge had seen as so simple wasn't quite so simple from her side, even though it was clearly in front of her. If only the boy wasn't involved…!

She didn't like being out after the sun had set, when things might roam this ship and search for sport, nor did she feel comfortable having a conversation with so many chances of it reaching the wrong ears. But tomorrow morning, here, in the period between false and true dawn, when those same creatures did not want to chance being caught out on deck but when both she and the Kauri could speak, then she would lay it all out and the final decision on this be taken. There was no other way.

Marge was as good as her word and wasn't all that surprised to see the girl show up that final morning at sea.

It wasn't the same nice weather as before, though. Clouds covered the sea to the horizon on all sides save due north, and there were dark and fuzzy patches all over, often glowing as if they had inner fires burning, showing that this was going to be a rough last day, particularly when the gaunts settled in for the morning and the kraken took over. Already the waves were breaking over the bow and the sea looked fierce; where they were headed, it seemed as if it could only get worse. A fitting approach to a legendary land of dread, though, if Marge did say so herself.

Much more disturbing than the weather, though, was the same scene in faerie sight. On that level, the sky was even more animated, the clouds all purple and black and alive, moving about at frantic speeds and seeming to converge on a distant point just to the southwest. Such a sight Marge couldn't remember seeing since the great war that had climaxed her first great adventure here, and even that had had less power than this scene represented.

"It looks like storms," the girl remarked, much subdued from their previous meeting.

"In more ways than one. If you had faerie sight, you might be really chilled. I just wonder if this is normal for these parts or if it, too, is part of this new element. Poquah will know." I'll have to talk to him anyway, since I haven't really mentioned you, yet, she thought a bit nervously.

"I–I wish to join you," Larae told the Kauri. "As you pointed out, there is little choice considering the alternative. I still do not see how this will be done, but I am willing to try, although only under conditions I hope you will not find unusual."

"Conditions?" Hadn't she learned yet that she wasn't in much of a position to make terms?

"Yes. Simple ones. I will be one of you, no more. I will do my part or whatever is asked of me in the course of a journey, but that is all. I do not want the boy to expect more or think in terms of some romantic fable."

Marge nodded. "I see. Actually, I doubt if you have to worry much about that. I know he has an unnatural attraction, but he's also got a spell that keeps him honest, even chaste. There's no guarantee that such a spell will hold up where we're going, but he's no threat on that score, I don't think. If he gets out of control in that department, it'll be from ignorance, not malice, and I'm pretty sure you can defend yourself against the likes of that. Black magic, sorcery — that's something else, but we'll have to cross that bridge if and when we come to it. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," she agreed. "But what did you mean by him having an unnatural attraction?'

"You didn't feel it when you saw him? Hell, even I felt it, and I'm not supposed to. That's my kind of power, and consciously done, not something somebody has over me. Took help of a magical sort to insulate me. You really don't feel it?"

"Not a thing."

Marge frowned. "That curse of yours — it doesn't have you lusting after women, does it?"

Larae looked shocked, even appalled. "Of course not!"

"Hmmm… Well, it was a thought. Um, out of curiosity, you want to tell me what this big-shot sorcerer did that screwed even a demon? If there's anything sitting out there that might cause me trouble later, I want to know it now."

"I — it would not affect any of you in any way. It is strictly upon me and is much too embarrassing for me to really talk about, much less reveal. I swear to you that it will in no way affect you or the others unless the boy really does lack self-control. That is the one danger and is why I hesitated before."

"Hmmm… So I should warn him, I guess. In fact, that might be enough to dampen whatever might be waking up inside him. Curses are really nasty, and he's seen the results of some of them. You've got me curious, but it's your right and I'll take your word that it's nothing that need concern us insofar as our goal is concerned. Okay. That leaves us with what we do immediately after we get off this tub and what happens then. Just what are you supposed to do?'

"I do not know. I was compelled to come this far, but I feel nothing in terms of a specific action at the moment except that I must somehow get to a strange place that exists only in a mind picture of a great mountain out of which has been carved a massive gatelike structure that can open to let people enter its darkness. I know what it looks like but not where it is, save that it is in Yuggoth somewhere."

"Well, it's called the Dantean Gate, if that's any help. Dante was the first name of a man from long ago who wrote three books claiming to be accounts of his trip as a living person through Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven. It was fiction but, like much fiction of this type, appears to have had its dream roots in a real place here. I think you're seeing in your mind where a lot of the poor souls chained below are headed — the gates to Hell."

'The Dantean Gate… Yes, it sounds right. I must go there and present myself, but I do not wish to go there. Is it by any chance close to where you are headed?"

"I doubt it. If I remember the directions, we're heading straight toward the middle of the continent, then off to the south to a creepy volcanic range. The Dantean Gate is in the jagged mountain range to the far west. Still, you have nothing save the image? Nobody is with you or supposed to meet you?"

"No one is with me. I have not been told of any others, but it would not surprise me if someone did meet me at the other end, at least to get me going. It has happened before in getting me this far. Their agents know what to do with me, or at least they can read and aid my geas."

"Hmmm… And there are folks aboard who know we're interested in you. Know enough to try and warn us off." She sighed. "Well, we're gonna be playing in their ballpark, but we're also obviously somebody they need for some reason. I don't think they're omnipotent, just clever. How much luggage do you have?"

"Only what I can fit into a moderate backpack. There was little that I had in the first place, all things considering."

"Uh huh. Okay, look — there's not much that can be done until we're off the ship tonight. Act normal, do whatever you would do if we weren't talking, and disembark as per normal. I'll be shadowing you. You might not see me, but I'll be there. Believe it. The guys will try and make contact with our prearranged guide and hopefully get settled for the night. We're not about to go off into the interior of a place like Yuggoth without supplies and information as well as whatever else we can get. We'll try and keep you in close proximity to us until we are ready to leave. Then we'll join up. In the meantime I should be able to keep some kind of contact with you, unless we get into full-scale in-person demons or heavy-duty sorcery here, in which case there isn't much chance in the first place. Understand? Just trust that I can get to you. You'll see."

"You are not exactly invisible," Lame noted. "You stand out in any setting with your beautiful wings."

"Don't worry. I have a few little secrets myself. I don't want to make this structured, because the more we improvise, the harder it is for anyone who wants to stop us to figure out what we're doing and counter it. You will have to trust me on this. We do know what we are doing."

She hoped that she was telling the truth on this one. Hell, she still had to tell Poquah about this…

Poquah, however, was anything but surprised. "We should not have involved ourselves with her," he maintained. "What do we know about her? Enough to know that Hell does not want us interfering, in which case we make enemies in their own land, or, conversely, they want to unload her on us by this subterfuge, in which case she's their spy. I fail to see the gain in either situation."

"The gain is that we do what is right in a land where that is rare, and we don't lose our timing or concentration regretting what we didn't do or worrying about who we might have helped but didn't," Marge responded.

"Yes, but what earthly good is she? Does she handle weapons well? Does she have great magical powers? Has she any influence to help us in strange lands or any foreknowledge we lack? I can tell you right now that she does not."

"Yeah? How do you know?"

"Would you like an item-by-item inventory of her bag? Don't look surprised — the moment Irving laid eyes on her, I knew she'd be trouble. I tell you that she has a brush, a comb, some minor makeup and perfume, miscellaneous toiletries, and three essentially identical white cotton outfits of no use whatever in the bush. She also has a pair of exceptionally well made sandals but appears comfortable barefoot and a few pieces of jewelry of reasonable but not exceptional quality. No weapons, not even a penknife. One needs only look at her hands to see that she's done little manual labor, if any at all, and I seriously doubt if she can boil water. She carries neither anything negotiable nor any identification or official papers, and since her dresses have no pockets and she carries no purse, I assume she has nothing with her. I don't see a single way in which she is or can be made into an asset."

"You're done?"

"I could continue."

"Well, don't bother. The point is, it doesn't make any difference. Irving is going to help her regardless, which means she's a real liability for us unless we go along with him, and she's so damned helpless-appearing, I can't help but feel she's got something up her sleeve we can't figure out. I'm also damned curious about her curse. If she proves a serious problem, we can always ditch her later, but for now she's coming."

Poquah sighed. "Very well. I admit the magical skills evident in her burden of spells is intriguing. It is a totally different concept, a totally different philosophy than I've ever seen expressed in spells before. Almost as if the impossible were here — a different mathematics. Between Master Lothar's skills and what this minor demon laid upon her, it is most fascinating."

"Really? Do you think you could break any of them?'

"Don't be absurd! She is mortal; I am faerie. Perhaps I am the greatest general sorcerer in the history of my people, but there are real limits. It would take a Ruddygore to have a chance at untangling a Lothar, and as for those set upon one by a true demon — next to impossible. It would take mercy from a creature of Heaven to do that, after examining the will and the worthiness of a supplicant. I don't think she quite qualifies. No, it is an academic exercise, purely academic. Just to figure it out would be a triumph."

Deep down Marge had always known that Poquah was something of a softy.

It hadn't been a great day at sea. Thunderstorms had raged all around, the decks had been awash, waves had pounded the craft as even the kraken had trouble pulling it in this kind of surf, and some of the biggest waves had risen almost up to the wheelhouse and seemed to loom like monsters, only to crash and submerge the bow of the vessel, which then wriggled in all planes at once to get free and slowly rise up out of the water to do it all over again. It made walking almost impossible, and anything that wasn't fastened down inside was instantly transformed into something of a missile.

Irving was excited to know that the girl was in with them, although the idea that she'd be just "one of the boys" hadn't really sunk in as such. Still, he was much more concerned with getting out of the rotten weather, at least for now. Although he wasn't as seasick as some of the others he'd passed in the corridors seemed to be, he certainly felt dizzy and a bit queasy. It was impossible to be anything close to human and not have this condition. He worried that the girl might well be sick in her cabin.

There really wasn't much he could do about it, though, or about anything else right now. He certainly wasn't going to, er, eat, and besides, it might be a long night. He stayed in bed as much of the day as he could, even though that put him next to the totally zonked Marge, which was something of an unusual experience.

Poquah might or might not have been affected by the storms, but he chose to demonstrate his mental command of himself by ignoring the situation when that was at all possible. He spent some time checking and rechecking his weapons as well as the copy of the map of Yuggoth they had secured from Macore.

The map was certainly authentic in that it had been made by someone with skill who seemed to know the region well. In fact, the level of detail was so impressive, it seemed almost as if it had been taken not from pieced-together ground explorations and by flying creatures going over it sector by sector, as with most maps of this world, but from some great but detailed height. Poquah had seen Earth satellite photos of continental masses and maps made from high-resolution orbital surveys of Earth's regions that were no better than this one, and who could go that high or get that kind of detail here?

It was absurdly easy, though, to use it to plot a route, and the annotations in a fine handwriting showed a very definite approach to and location of the lair of the McGuffin. It would not be a good idea, the Imir decided, to follow this map so closely that they would head straight toward their goal along that route. If the minions of Hell knew of this, they might well decide that their little party was dispensable. Safer to waste probably close to a week to veer over to the seat of the king of this place and go through the motions anyway. Do the expected and save the unexpected for when it was most needed and when your enemies thought they had you cold.

He carefully refolded and stored the map and then went out, his unnatural faerie balance keeping him on the deck as if all were smooth as glass even though the ship was moving in ways even he never knew a ship could move. Just so long as it does not move straight down, he thought, not a little nervous in spite of his appearance and demeanor. The Imir were masters of many things, but they had to breathe just as most other life did, and they could not breathe water.

The crew didn't seem to be any happier about the ride than was the Imir, for what that was worth.

"Usually smooth as silk," the watch officer assured him. "It's this new element trying to move in. You've seen it in the skies, I think, too. Drawing all the powers inward, trying to disrupt everything so much, they can blow a hole right through space-time and open a gateway to this world."

"They are concentrating on a specific spot, then?"

"Oh, sure. Somewhere in the southeast, close to Mount Doom. The attraction's pretty severe, too. They're getting a lot of our people under their influence and some of the normal types, too. Some free advice: you stay out of that area. I hear tell that nobody or nothin' can withstand goin' over to them if they get too close. We sent an entire cohort of demons, medium-powered types, good fighters, veterans of the spiritual wars. Not a one came back, but they're still very much around as the guardians of that damned place."

"Really? That is interesting, and disturbing," Poquah responded. Now, for the first time, he understood why even Satan and the minions of Hell weren't directly battling these other dimensionly types who were moving into their turf. "Hell" was almost the very definition of evil in this world, as on Earth; there was little of virtue left in its followers, and even apathy fed their cause — fed it perhaps best of all — so what did Hell do when confronted with a new and alien concept of evil?

In a sense, Hell was as biblical as Heaven; they recognized the same rules, the same morality, the same concepts of good and evil. It was essential that they do so, so that when they acted in the other's reality, they did the opposite of what would be expected of one loyal to that side. Torture, murder, pain, debauchery — these were only the "thou shalt nots" of the heavenly side. The system remained, which was why the Rules themselves worked.

The ones attempting to come through near Mount Doom, though — those were outside the system, outside the Rules, outside any rules applicable to this world or even to Earth. Good and evil had a different meaning in their case, although in one way and one way only it was the same: what served them and their interests defined "good," and what opposed, inhibited, or impeded them was "evil" in their view. In such a situation those loyal to Hell didn't have a prayer, as it were. The fact their very natures were grounded in the concept of this world's evil made them gravitate to the power that seemed the strongest yet would have them.

Only those not already of Hell might have any chance at all of withstanding such power long enough to do any good.

Not for the first time, Poquah found himself silently but internally wondering about Ruddygore's judgment. It had always worked out before, but there had always been an underlying sense of the mathematics of magic and the comfort of the Rules guiding him no matter how odd his routes to goals. But now, in this quest…

A boy who had never even faced ordinary evil of the kind that terrified most men and sent the rest gibbering in the moonlight in helpless insanity; a Kauri with the strength of a small child, whose gifts were all for defense; a silent elfin warrior from a race of warrior-assassins who nonetheless had severe limits on his own powers and was more susceptible to the other side than he wanted to admit; and now added to this a girl no older than the boy, without skills, spoiled and defenseless, and on top of that cursed.

This agent they were supposed to meet in Red Bluffs had better be the equivalent of a dozen legions of high-ranking demons, Poquah thought. Otherwise, how could they stand? How could they hope to do anything at all?

The ship shuddered, then seemed to smooth out a bit, and slowly but surely the severity of the motion simply faded away and there was a steady and comfortable feel to it once more.

"What happened?' Poquah asked the ghoul on duty. The creature shrugged. "It is sundown. The gaunts have risen and kept us steady above the ocean, and we should be coming in toward the harbor in a little while and protection from the elements. We are running late and will certainly not be getting in before four or five more hours, but it should be all right from this point."

Poquah bolted past him, went out onto the deck, and looked out and forward. In the gloom he could clearly see a dark landmass in the distance, and the rain seemed to have slackened off to a steady but routine little disturbance. Away to the south could easily be seen clusters of lights, as if small towns or settlements along the coast were coming into view, and here and there he could see the unmistakable signal of a lighthouse.

When he shifted to faerie sight, the land came in much more clearly, but in an eerie crimson outline and inky black on gray. This was a place of strong and powerful magic, of deepest sorceries and treacherous spells of a kind that made Husaquahr seem almost benign to look at. Here all the strings of magic were deep yellows and crimsons and dark purples and blacks.

The ancient land of Yuggoth, from which it was said all magic had sprung, and from where the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil had come and to where it had returned after being the instrument for betraying Earth's humanity, and from which all the nightmares sprang was there, now, in plain sight, and they were coming in at a fair clip to its dark shores.

A few hours late, perhaps, but they were at last in Yuggoth.