Songs of the Dancing Gods

“All right, then. This is a conditional entry into the country for you and your property. Carry it with you at all times and don’t lose it. You’ll be asked to produce it for almost anything, from purchases to rooms to even using the roads. Failure to produce it can result in immediate arrest. It’s good for seven days and must be renewed at a constabulary every seven days to remain valid. Travel only on main roads and only in daylight. Use or entry to any posted road or building is prohibited. Camping is prohibited without permission. That’s for your protection, believe me. You understand?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah. What, you don’t want me to give blood every day, too?”

“Don’t be a wise ass. That’s the way to get in real trouble here.”

“Take it easy! I’m just looking to see if there’s any work for my talents up here.”

“Yeah, well, could be. That’s up to you. Go along, now.”

They went through the border and entered Valisandra. Almost instantly the landscape seemed a little meaner, a little more threatening, and the atmosphere seemed thick and menacing.

There was no real physical difference, nothing you could put your finger on or put into words, but it was tangible none the less. There was the smell of evil about, and it was unmistakable and unpleasant. Even the horses sensed it and grew a bit more nervous.

“Jeez! I’m as pissed off as you are about the hair,” he told her.

“I am only sorry you no longer find me pleasing to look at, Master,” she replied. “I was warned of this back in Terdiera, when I suggested to the Imir that the alchemist might wish to dye my hair in disguise as well.”

“You knew? Why didn’t you say something, then?”

“There was no purpose to it. We had to come, so it was inevitable.”

“Well, for the record, I don’t think you look bad at all. Incredibly different, but I guess I’d look different with all my hair off, too. But it makes you look sexy and exotic. On some people it would be a disaster.”

“You are kind to say so, Master.”

“I can see that it bothers you, though. When we get back, we’ll have the good Doctor Mujahn put it back as good as before. If he can grow hair on an old Injun like me, he can sure do it for you.”

“Thank you, Master. I do not know how it looks, but it makes me feel, oddly, naked in a way I have not ever felt before.”

“Well, we’re going into colder climates pretty quickly now. The only direction other than north is up. What the hell is the hafiid they talked about? Sheesh! Seems to me like you’d want more hair in a place like we’re going, not less!”

“I believe the idea is to insure a slave is always under control,” she responded. “The hafiid is a garment, much like a robe, usually of wool, and a headdress of sorts. One wears it with boots or barefoot while outside. There is also a mask and gloves for when it is very cold. When a slave enters a warm place, she surrenders it to her master, or to the person in charge of the place, and gets it back when she leaves. You are unlikely to go outside or into places you should not when you are like this and it is cold out.”

“Huh! What do they do with the guys?”

“I, too, was curious about that. Much the same, although they are allowed a codpiece. Their garment is a hooded black woolen robe, tied at the waist.”

“Huh! They get shaved, too?”

She nodded. “All over. The same. They are often, but not always, neutered as well. I believe when Valisandrans speak of geldings they are not speaking of horses.”

He felt a twinge in the vital areas there. “This has been a custom in Valisandra?”

“No, Master. It is a custom in most of the tribes of Hypboreya, the only land left in all Husaquahr where the child of a slave is a slave as well. Some of the same tribes lived across the river here and practiced Hypboreyan customs. Clearly those customs are now becoming the law here, until both countries are the same. What you see here is what would be extended to Marquewood as well, if they win, and High Pothique, and then all Husaquahr.”

“Well, it certainly puts-new juice to do the job and do it right here.” He shook his head. “And they call me a barbarian!”

In most of Husaquahr slaves were always regarded as people; they were just legally domestic animals. Here, or at least in the customs that had dribbled over and were now law, slaves were. regarded as animals, not human at all. Somehow that sounded like a nice distinction, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. Maybe it was mostly in the fact that in southern society slavery at least wasn’t inherited.

Of course, back home once, millions of men fought a bitter war to end slavery and they won, so now the descendants of slaves had the right to sharecrop a farm or get hooked on drugs or live in squalid ghettos as welfare wards, right? And high-sounding academic types could go on talk shows and blabber about liberation and equality while thousands more kids got hooked on drugs or put in a pimp’s “stable” and forced to work the streets, and those high-sounders could forget that most of the rest of the world lived not much different than Husaquahr. Maybe it was only different by degree after all. He broke off that reverie since it got him nowhere and did nobody any good. But, man, it was tough not to get real cynical when the good guys weren’t really good, they just weren’t as all-out bad as the bad guys.

At least they’d passed the first hurdle, the first real test, and if the truth about Mia hadn’t come out, both of them would have flunked, and he knew it. Tiana, no matter what, would have killed herself rather than allow them to do to her what was just done to Mia, and he’d have turned around and said the hell with it rather than sit back and watch it done.

“How’d you find out so much about this?” he asked her.

“I, too, had my briefing, Master,” she replied.

“Oh, yeah? Anything else you know that you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing of importance.”

He looked around. “I wonder where Marge is? It’s pretty late for her to be up, but I hope she didn’t go to sleep in that forest waiting for us. There’s something just, well, dangerous about this place.”

Marge, however, finally did appear, sleepy but aware. “Oh, boy!” she said, looking at Mia. “They really do a job, don’t they? Hey, it doesn’t look so bad! Just wear the big earrings to set it all off.”

“What took you so long?” Joe asked. “I was beginning to get worried.”

“When I saw you hung up at the station, I took the time to do a little scouting of the land. It’s real oppressive. Can’t you feel it?”

He nodded. “You can cut it with a knife.”

“Even the forest’s ugly. The trees are starting to grow weird and twist around, and there are lots more ugly weeds.”

He stared emptily into the trees for a moment, then said, “It’s because the wood nymphs are sick. They can’t do their job properly. If this keeps up, they’ll eventually die, and the satyrs who husband the animals will turn wild and vicious.”

Now, how did he know that? Not by learning, but instinctively. And he felt it, the nausea from the trees.

Marge frowned, knowing how he knew what he did. “So maybe there really is such a thing as an evil wood. If this is the way it is just inside the country, and a country that’s only controlled by the bad guys, I’m not anxious at all to see their land.”

He nodded. “You watch it. There’s a lot of evil fairies ascendant in this land. Maybe as bad or worse than evil humans. And some of them can fly, too.”

“Uh-huh,” she responded, settling in for her sleep.

Mia looked around. “It is as if there is a great shadow on this land, darkening all that live within it,” she said. “Is that not what we are to try and lift?”

“Yeah, that’s the idea, but we’ve got a long way to go.”

Just a few miles farther on, though, came the second test. Someone had built an ersatz gate of logs across the road, and that someone was six of the meanest-looking guys he’d seen in a long time.

He came up to just in front of the gate and stopped. “What is this about?” he demanded to know.