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ods%201%20-%20The%20River%20of%20the%20Danc.txt the Baron wonder if it was
real or only nerves, the sorcerer decided.
He was quickly back at Terindell. After a brief glance around to make certain
he was not followed by anything, he floated over the castle walls. The center
quad looked like a barnyard, he noted curiously. He would have to see what was
going on.
Still, one horse there an aura of pale greenish blue in a pattern that was
vaguely familiar to him. A horse with an aura?
He decided not to investigate until back in human form once more. Some animals
could see astral bodies, and he didn't trust that horse with the aura at all.
His own body lay on his bed in his inner chamber, protected by the strongest
of spells, apparently asleep. Quickly he ap-
proached and merged with it. The body yawned and stretched;
the eyes opened. He was starving, he realized. Astral projec-
tions always did that to him. He looked around, found a couple of pounds of
chocolate-topped butter cookies, and tore into them. They would be just about
right as a snack while he undid enough of the door spell to get out.
It was a little more than half an hour before Ruddygore emerged from his
building inside the compound and approached the animals there. The
ever-attentive Poquah followed slightly behind, and had obviously briefed the
sorcerer of Terindell.
For his part, Ruddygore seemed somewhat amused.
He looked them over critically. "Hmm... Not a bad spell for the old bat.
Still, she probably had to use some of that stinkwood. She's going to be very
unhappy and vulnerable without it." He turned to Joe. "So you claim you have
won?"
Joe looked up at him and tried to see him clearly with his
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THE RIVER OF DANCING GODS
poor vision. "Sure I did. Nothing about shape or form was in the rules one way
or the other."
The sorcerer nodded. "That's true. But nothing said we had to change you back,
either. Still, you're right. I didn't go through all this to have you go out
making cows happy, and your very survival and return here show that you have
the three qualities I counted on you to have. The first is luck blind, dumb
luck that gets you out of jams. Don't sneer at it. It's essential, to be
anybody around here. The second is self-con-
fidence, which you have aplenty, it seems, or you wouldn't have returned here
no matter what. Finally, you use your head
when it would have been easy to accept your new lot in life meekly, you wasted
no time in planning and organizing the opposition and carrying your escape
off. I approve. I think, too, you've learned a valuable lesson here that you
can trust nothing and no one, and that almost everyone is out to get you in
one way or another." He sighed and looked thoughtful. "I'm tempted to leave
you a reminder of all that. The tail, perhaps,
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too serious a business."
Ruddy gore's hand came up, and he made a series of ap-
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parently random signs in the air. Joe suddenly felt himself restored. He was
there in the pasture, on his hands and knees, a clump of grass still in his
mouth. He spat it out, sputtered, and got to his feet, looking down at himself
and feeling all over just to make sure. "Hey! I'm really back!" he couldn't
help exclaiming.
Ruddygore nodded and smiled. "We'll get you some food and clothes and a good
night's sleep. After that, we'll talk."
Joe made no move to go, but instead just stood there, looking at the sorcerer
and the remaining animals. "Uh what about them? They helped me. I couldn't
have done it without 'em."
He cleared his throat a little embarrassedly. "I, uh, kind of promised..."
The sorcerer nodded. "You promised what you couldn't deliver and suckered them
into helping you, and now you want me to bail you out. That's about it, isn't
it?"
"That's about it," Joe agreed a little sheepishly.
"I knew it," Houma sighed. "He's going to leave us stuck."
"Not necessarily, my homy friend. Who might you be?"
Ruddygore asked.
"Houma. Formerly a farmer on the lands of Cohom."
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JACK L. CHALKER
"Uh-huh. And how did a farmer from Cohom happen to wander onto that farm and
get turned into a goat? That's a hundred miles or more from Cohom."
"Urn. Well, sir, we broke a plow, and Cohom village had no spares, since it
was very old, and they sent me to get a new bracing custom-made for it."
"Hmmm... A good liar, too. Come, now what was it, really? Women? Drink?
Dishonesty? Or just plain oath-break-
ing?"
The goat sighed. "Not as bad as all that. We was out workin'
in the fields, and a friend of mine, Druka, got caught up in a runaway plow
team. Got pretty tore up. Well, this highborn son of a bitch rides over, jumps
off his fancy horse, and starts screaming that we've screwed up the production
schedule and loused up a good master plow. Loused up a good master plow!
With Druka there all cut and bleeding to death! So I slugged the bastard. Felt
good. He looked real surprised and went down like a sack of meal. Then I
dragged Druka out. Finally I saw he was dead. Chain had broken and snapped
back, probably broke his neck. Well, sir, I knew what would happen if that
fellow came to, him more concerned about plows than men and all. I figured I
either had to kill him or cut and run. He wasn't worth killin' like that, and
I'd hardly get a fair fight, so I cut and ran. Bummed around for a while, took
odd jobs,
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at the old bat's place."
Ruddygore nodded. "I see. And now you want what? To be restored and returned
to Cohom?"
"Oh, no, sir! There's no time limit on hittin' a highborn.
Uh-uh. I'll be happy to join tip, work for you or whatever, but if you're
gonna send me back or turn me in, you might as well leave me a goat."
The sorcerer laughed. "Well said, sir!" He turned to Joe.
"He meets with your approval?"
Joe nodded. "He has real guts, I'll say that. I don't know what you two have
been saying, but this fellow sneaked in, got that wand. and didn't panic. I
think I'd trust him at my back."
"Then that is where he should be," Ruddygore replied. Again he made a series
of signs in the air; suddenly a spindly, knock-
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kneed fellow with a light beard appeared, on hands and knees.
He looked uncertain, almost wondrous, as he made his way
122 THE RIVER OF DANCING GODS
unaccustomedly to his two feet. He looks like a young Uncle
Sam, Joe thought.
Next the sorcerer looked at Macore the rooster. "And you, sir?"
"A tradesman. I sharpened and serviced household gadgets door-to-door and
farm-to-farm. I picked the wrong customer, that's all."
Ruddy gore turned again to Joe questioningly.
"Macore was the first to agree to the plan and talked the others into it," Joe
explained. "He also had almost all the information we needed."
"Hmmm... Macore, huh? Seems to me I heard of a Macore a few years back from
someplace in Leander. Funny. He was in the same business you were. Only he had
a reputation for leaving with more things from the various farms than he
should have. You wouldn't be any relation to him, would you?"
"No comment until I've seen a lawyer," the rooster re-
sponded.
Ruddy gore laughed and turned back to Joe. "What the fellow was, actually, was
a common thief. Not even a fancy one.
Pretty good, though. He would have valuable skills for us
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