He still felt badly doing it, but he’d known that someday this was coming. It was too bad, really, but it couldn’t be helped. He couldn’t avoid wondering if he shouldn’t have just gone the whole way with her. Well, he’d have to sleep on that.
By the time she reached the room, she wouldn’t even remember that they’d ever spoken in here. What he’d done was simply to use his speed-learned knowledge of the Rules on slaves to analyze those that bound her, then did a process known as back-weaving to the magical trade. She would still be much the same, but now her perspective would be different; the slave reaction would feel the normal and natural one to her, the Tiana perspective more abstract.
Having such power—and much more than this mere trifle— always bothered him, and he wanted to make certain that it always bothered him. He had become an adept and worked as hard and as long as he could to become the best in his trade because he had seen such power used for evil or, worse, for its own sake. Only by becoming the best could he protect himself. Those who had not the blood and the talent for it he felt a special responsibility toward, viewing the world as filled with potential victims. No one, not Sugasto, not Boquillas, was ever going to best him at this game. Never. Sugasto was powerful, but impatient, unwilling to take the time to learn the nuances, the little tricks of the trade that made one sorcerer that hairs-breadth better than the others. Boquillas had a mind he could not hope to match, but the Baron was like the mathematician who memorized every possible combination of cards in a poker hand and played by strictly mathematical rules. Put him in a game with amateurs and decent players and he won every time. But put him in a game with a master of psychology and bluff who didn’t even care what cards he was dealt, and Boquillas could always be taken to the cleaners.
There was a knock, the door opened once again, and now Joe was admitted.
“Have a seat, Joe,” he invited. “Cigar? Chocolate bonbons?” The sorcerer grinned. “My secret ultimate vice.”
“That’s okay. I’m still digesting dinner. Now what’s this about losing the Baron?”
“Well, you remember that we returned to the City-States, since I had business to take care of there and you wanted to get away. At the time, the Baron was in the body of Mahalo Mc-Mahon and thought it the perfect disguise. I had her—or him— or whatever under my spell, and I wanted to give Boquillas enough leash to lead me to Sugasto without slipping away. It didn’t happen. The Baron was kidnapped off the streets in broad daylight by men none of my people had ever seen before, and almost immediately my psychic link was broken. That meant somebody with a good deal of power made the snatch, and that meant they knew who was in that body.”
“Sugasto?”
“Possibly. Possibly not. It’s uncertain whether the Baron would work under Sugasto. With, yes. And by my own doing Boquillas had enough protections to be able to wriggle out of most binding spells of others, anyway. It’s even possible he had those spells to ward off even me cast upon him before we ever got to Earth. He was always quite cautious.”
“Who, then?”
“Hard to say. Boquillas took his instructions from the demons of Hell themselves, and they cannot be underestimated, no matter what their alleged limitations in the here and now. Hell borders upon all points in space-time simultaneously, so they almost certainly knew what went on back on Earth. It wouldn’t take more than a demonic message to a competent coven to pull this off. In fact, I could almost swear that he pulled this off himself.”
“I thought you said it was impossible for him to get his powers back!”
“It is. Everything I’ve ever been taught says so. But I just can’t shake the feeling that, somehow, he found some sort of opening to regain at least some power. I’ve been spending as much time as I can spare poring over the Rules, trying to find some way for it to be possible. It’s not really my intellect speaking, I admit, but gut instinct, combined with the knowledge that, if there is a loophole, however minute it may be, somewhere in this vast assemblage of verbiage, Boquillas would find it.”
“That’s all we need. And what about Sugasto? He was going great guns when we left, then he’s suddenly well back of where he was before.”
“Sugasto was part of an overall plan directed from Hell to take over both Earth and Husaquahr simultaneously, forcing Armageddon. When we thwarted the Baron, somebody, probably some dumb demon, let it slip. That is hardly what Sugasto wishes. He wants to rule all Husaquahr and, instead, he finds he’s being used to end the world. He put on the brakes, severed his direct ties with the Underworld, pulled back, retrenched, and he’s been trying since to figure out what to do next. I believe he was unnerved. Of course, Hell didn’t really want Armageddon yet, either. It was the plot of some ambitious lower demons, remember, to impress the boss. One wonders where rebels against Hell are sent? Oh, well.”
“So it’s a loss of nerve?”
“More likely a change of tactics. Now he’s been trying to do it with alliances and promises, Boquillas style. He’s got some interested parties, but not enough. The others who might join with him wish first to see a demonstration that he or he and others can deal with me. Until then, he’s stalled, but that’s not good enough. He has more than twenty million people under his control. That cannot, must not, be a permanent condition.”
“That I go along with.”
“And, of course, I have my own nightmares. What if Boquillas does somehow strike a bargain with Sugasto? That might be the catalyst to drive those malcontented forces to him. With Sugasto’s powers and Boquillas’ knowledge, it might even be enough to finish me. The last time I faced down the Baron it was a near thing. With the two of them combined in power and with their armies and lands, the Council would not hesitate to go over to them again as well just to protect their own turf, for all the good it would do them with Esmilio or Sugasto calling the shots.”
“So what can I do about it?”
“I need intelligence. I need to know what it’s like comfortably behind Sugasto’s boundaries. What he’s doing. What the rumors are. What foreign faces might be about.”
“Surely Marquewood, High Pothique, and Leander, not to mention the others, have people in there.”
“Indeed they do. And if you were still running the empire, I might even trust what some of them are giving me.”
“Surely Marquewood is dependable!”
“Indeed? My native land is also our greatest danger and might well fall soon without a single act of war unless something can be done. Think of that!”
“Come again?”
“When you and Tiana ruled, you were deities. They made you demigods and built statues to you all over, even in other lands. You were literally worshiped.”
“Yeah, I know. It was embarrassing as hell.”
“Well, did you think that stopped when you left? You went back to Heaven, right? But what would be the effect if you both reappeared?”
“Hey! Hold it! You said both our bodies were dead!”
“In Sugasto’s hands, the term is meaningless. We feared at the time that he might have gotten them. He removed the souls of the mermaid and the nymph, probably bottling them up somewhere, and he used his spell to keep the bodies alive. I have reason to believe that those bodies are about to be reanimated with the souls of henchmen fanatically loyal to Sugasto. Think of what would happen if both of you—the old pair—suddenly descended into the main square of the capital. They would again be the divine rulers of the land and even gain the loyalty of those outside the old empire who joined the cult. And Sugasto would rule them. The rest of High Pothique, then Leander, would be child’s play to knock over. The City-States would have to knuckle under or face economic ruin and siege. In one grand gesture, he would control the River of Dancing Gods from the source to its mouth, and all its primary tributaries. The one who did that, which no one has ever done, would be considered truly divine, a living god, by the entire continent. You know that.”