Asarak assured him. "Every time this
convention comes to a town, horrible things happen. Be just
a trifle slow with the ale, and they turn you into who knows
what; and the adepts—they're the worst, practicing spells on
all the honest people with abandon. If you're going into the
city, you watch your step, young man. They pour love potions
in the punch, make people bark like dogs, and worse, just for
the fun of it. The authorities can't do a thing, either."
"I'm surprised anybody will have them, if what you say is
true," Joe noted between bites of the first really good, solid
food in a week.
"What choice do they have?" Jeklir responded. "I mean,
it's always sponsored by a master sorcerer, and if your local
sorcerer decides to host it, what can anybody, even the government,
do?"
Joe nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I can see that. But you
mean the whole town will be closed up?"
"Oh, no. First of all, the government can't close, so all
those people have to stay and they have to have their services.
The hotels can't close—they're booked. And the bars, restaurants,
and shows will be open, of course. Many of the owners
will keep a low profile and send their families out of town,
but they hire a lot of farmers and contract for a lot of serf labor
to be out front. There are always the ones who do so good they
get special favors, too, and some of it can be put right after,
JACK L. CHALKER
63
particularly the stuff done by the adepts. That doesn't help the
embarrassment and degradation while it's happening to you,
though."
Joe understood. Like all conventioneers, these magical ones
would let their inhibitions down and have a totally good time—
for them. In the process, they'd drive the town nuts, but there
was always a cleanup crew of powerful sorcerers around to fix
things. He wondered how long it took and whether everything
ever got fixed, but he suspected that, within the confines of
the host town or city, anyway, things were under more careful
watch than they seemed to be. In the end, it was mental anguish
applied to ordinary people that was the real price—but the
rewards, too, were great. Few groups had conventions this
large, and while some might get stuck a hundred times with
phony money or gems that vanished, others found overly generous
rewards. It really meant millions to the city, too.
Not, however, for a grain merchant. Joe couldn't blame the
Page 52
Chalker, Jack L - Demons of the Dancing Gods
family for getting out for a while.
He finished his meal and settled his accounts. But after
saying luck and farewell to the temporary refugee family, he
still hadn't caught sight of Marge and he began to grow a little
worried. He found the innkeeper and asked if he'd seen her.
"The sexy fairy lady? Yeah, I seen her. Don't worry. She'll
be back down in a little while, like she has been."
Joe stared at the man. "Like she has been?"
Quickly and a little bit nervously, the innkeeper described
Marge's activities of the past couple of hours. Joe was incredulous
and more than a little hurt. He stalked outside to the
stable area, got the horse and the mule, saddled them, and reset
the packs, brooding all the time.
Marge came out of the inn entrance and spotted him, then
walked over to him with a very light and sassy manner. She
stopped short, though, about ten feet from him, and the smile
faded as she sensed his emotional turmoil. She instantly understood
the problem, but couldn't really sympathize all that much.
"Well? What did you expect?" she asked him. "You just kept
lying there, snoring like mad."
"Yeah, but..." he tried lamely. "It's so... cheap."
"It's not that," she told him, stepping more into the light
and putting out her hand. He looked at it and saw two large
and obviously very valuable rings on her fingers. He saw, too,
64
DEMONS OF THE DANCING GODS
that she wore a very expensive-looking gold necklace. In her
left hand she held a small velvet case. "I
convention comes to a town, horrible things happen. Be just
a trifle slow with the ale, and they turn you into who knows
what; and the adepts—they're the worst, practicing spells on
all the honest people with abandon. If you're going into the
city, you watch your step, young man. They pour love potions
in the punch, make people bark like dogs, and worse, just for
the fun of it. The authorities can't do a thing, either."
"I'm surprised anybody will have them, if what you say is
true," Joe noted between bites of the first really good, solid
food in a week.
"What choice do they have?" Jeklir responded. "I mean,
it's always sponsored by a master sorcerer, and if your local
sorcerer decides to host it, what can anybody, even the government,
do?"
Joe nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I can see that. But you
mean the whole town will be closed up?"
"Oh, no. First of all, the government can't close, so all
those people have to stay and they have to have their services.
The hotels can't close—they're booked. And the bars, restaurants,
and shows will be open, of course. Many of the owners
will keep a low profile and send their families out of town,
but they hire a lot of farmers and contract for a lot of serf labor
to be out front. There are always the ones who do so good they
get special favors, too, and some of it can be put right after,
JACK L. CHALKER
63
particularly the stuff done by the adepts. That doesn't help the
embarrassment and degradation while it's happening to you,
though."
Joe understood. Like all conventioneers, these magical ones
would let their inhibitions down and have a totally good time—
for them. In the process, they'd drive the town nuts, but there
was always a cleanup crew of powerful sorcerers around to fix
things. He wondered how long it took and whether everything
ever got fixed, but he suspected that, within the confines of
the host town or city, anyway, things were under more careful
watch than they seemed to be. In the end, it was mental anguish
applied to ordinary people that was the real price—but the
rewards, too, were great. Few groups had conventions this
large, and while some might get stuck a hundred times with
phony money or gems that vanished, others found overly generous
rewards. It really meant millions to the city, too.
Not, however, for a grain merchant. Joe couldn't blame the
Page 52
Chalker, Jack L - Demons of the Dancing Gods
family for getting out for a while.
He finished his meal and settled his accounts. But after
saying luck and farewell to the temporary refugee family, he
still hadn't caught sight of Marge and he began to grow a little
worried. He found the innkeeper and asked if he'd seen her.
"The sexy fairy lady? Yeah, I seen her. Don't worry. She'll
be back down in a little while, like she has been."
Joe stared at the man. "Like she has been?"
Quickly and a little bit nervously, the innkeeper described
Marge's activities of the past couple of hours. Joe was incredulous
and more than a little hurt. He stalked outside to the
stable area, got the horse and the mule, saddled them, and reset
the packs, brooding all the time.
Marge came out of the inn entrance and spotted him, then
walked over to him with a very light and sassy manner. She
stopped short, though, about ten feet from him, and the smile
faded as she sensed his emotional turmoil. She instantly understood
the problem, but couldn't really sympathize all that much.
"Well? What did you expect?" she asked him. "You just kept
lying there, snoring like mad."
"Yeah, but..." he tried lamely. "It's so... cheap."
"It's not that," she told him, stepping more into the light
and putting out her hand. He looked at it and saw two large
and obviously very valuable rings on her fingers. He saw, too,
64
DEMONS OF THE DANCING GODS
that she wore a very expensive-looking gold necklace. In her
left hand she held a small velvet case. "I
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