Jack Chalker - Songs of the Dancing Gods

“But being one of the fairy folk isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Tiana pointed out, glad mat the boy was at least interested in something. “ Our souls are eternal; they do not die with our body. In the fairies, the soul is made flesh and is the body. They never really grow old, although experience gives them that look after a long time, but as they are flesh, they are mortal. Iron, for example, is deadly to most of them, except gnomes and a few other special races, and they are also subject to some forms of accidents and even murder. If they die, they’re dead. To kill a fairy is to kill its soul as well. They don’t even have the option of dying. Their only chance is to remain alive and well until Judgment.”

“Un-huh,” Joe put in. “And they’re sort of one-dimensional. Stuck. Remember, son, the fairies were shaped to do particular kinds of things and nothing else. They can’t change, can’t learn or do other things, outside what they were basically designed to do. They can’t quit and try something else. It’s got to become either boring or frustrating after a while, maybe after a few hundred years, no matter what you’re doing, particularly if you’re smart and curious and ambitious. They can no more change than a horse can decide one day it would rather be a cat.”

Tiana nodded in agreement with him. “Yes, sometimes I feel rather sorry for Marge. Even more, now that I have a similar if more mortal situation. Her changeling race was dictated by her own soul at the time and was what she needed to be at that time, but, now… I’m not so sure. She’s intelligent, educated, adventurous, and could have been someone really important.”

Joe looked over at Tiana. “Do you feel frustrated?”

“No, not really. I admit that some days I’m still not used to being this small and light, but when have you ever heard of a woman complaining of that!” Tiana’s original body had been as large as he was, and as massive. Thanks to the body and soul snatching techniques of the Master of the Dead, her soul had wound up first in the body of a mermaid, then this dancer’s.

“Yeah, but what about bein’ somebody real important?” Irv asked her.

She shrugged. “I was somebody important. A queen, in fact. And, by sorcery, your dad at the time looked like some northern barbarian instead of his old self.”

“And your body got stole?”

“Well, in the end, I could have had it back,” she admitted. “But, then, you see, I’d have to have come back to being Queen. And if your dad had gone back to the way he was most of the time here, he’d have been King.”

“Hey! What’s wrong with that? All the best, no work, and— wait a minute! That’d make me a prince!”

“It’s luxury, all right,” Joe agreed, “but it’s also a trap, a prison, and, believe me, if you think this is boring, you haven’t been a monarch. Your job is to cut ribbons and preside over boring meetings and stay apart from the common folks. That was the worst. Not even being able to walk down the street in my own city, go into a good pub and have a beer, talk to who I wanted, do what I felt like.”

“Yeah, maybe I’d hate it, but I didn’t even get the chance to try it. I mean—like, I thought kings and queens could do pretty much what they felt like.”

“Less than the stableboy,” Tiana told him. “You can’t change the system and you are what you are and you have to play the part. We couldn’t even sneak out for a night. The society detided we were demigods, half human, half divine. They erected thousands and thousands of huge statues of us in the nude in practically every public place. Everybody knew us—in the most intimate detail you can imagine. You’ve seen some in the towns we passed.”

The boy was thunderstruck. “ Those two was you two?” He laughed.

“Uh-huh. And that’s why we decided to stick to the way we are now,” Tiana told him. “It wasn’t a radical change for your dad. He’s still big and handsome, just in a different way.”

“I’m in much better condition than Ruddygore found me,” Joe noted. “But, yeah, I’m still classed as your typical barbarian hero. That’s why he picked me off that road seconds before I would have died in a crash. Tiana, though, was born here to a royal family. I think she’s even prettier and sexier now than she was before, but it’s a very different life for her. From royalty to commoner, and inheriting the baggage the Rules placed on the new body before she had it.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” she told him sincerely. “In fact, because I was Ruddygore’s ward and educated on Earth, I had some feeling for what it was like among the common people. I haven’t missed it nearly as much as I thought I might. The only frustration I really have sometimes is that I used to be strong as an ox. Now I couldn’t lift my own shadow. I’m not used to having to depend on others to protect me, even in so simple a thing as walking down a street. Strange places, dark places, strange crowds all seem somehow threatening now. I guess most women grow up with that, but I didn’t, and I’m still learning how to cope with it. I’m still learning to be tough again, in a different way. That’s also been part of this trip. Not just for you to learn, but me as well.”

At the City-States, where they’d docked after crossing the Sea of Dreams, Joe had decided Irving needed experience. So he’d taken a long vacation while he, Tiana, and the boy rode up through Leander and High Pothique on horseback. During that time, Irving had turned thirteen. And now they were nearing the end of the journey.

The boy seemed puzzled. “I don’t get it. You say the fairy folk got problems ’cause they’re locked in to doin’ one thing while we’re not, then you say you’re just as locked in by them Rules as they is —are.”

“He’s got you there,” Joe said, somewhat approvingly of his boy’s debating logic.

The argument disturbed her… “No, we have more potential before we’re locked in. We don’t have to turn out the way we do. We set out upon a path and only when that path is certain do the Rules specifically kick in for us.”

“Yeah, like Dad had a choice of whether or not to be a fighter, maybe? Or did you set out all along to be a dancer?”

She sighed. “No, but I had a choice of dancer or queen, at least. And your father’s personality, his mind and body, likes and dislikes, modes and inclinations, made him a mercenary when he came here. With an education, with skills, you can become all sorts of things.”

“Uh-huh. Like the law says ’cause I was born in America I could be president, but the real life said I was born poor and black with a choice of choosin’ up gangs or bein’ carved up by both of ’em. Uh-huh.”

Joe took pity on Tiana and decided to rescue her. “You just said it, Irv. Not too many people get choices no matter where they are. But some do—they’re smart enough or maybe they just luck out. It’s hard to say for sure. It’s lots of things we can’t control, from race to brains to breaks. But even folks who have all the right things sometimes wind up in the mud, and sometimes folks who have nothing really do wind up with it all. Not many, but some. Right now you’re coming up on that point. You can be a fighter if you have the guts—I know you got the makings in you, since you’re half Apache—or you can chicken out and become a laborer. That’s more choice than you were heading to back home. But when you’re locked in here, you’re locked in. The system depends on that, on nobody rocking too much of the boat, so they made sure nobody could rock it but so much.”