SOUL RIDER I: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR

 This is a work of fiction. Alt the characters and events

 portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance

 to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

 Copyright © 1984 by Jack L. Chalker

 All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this

 book, or portions thereof in any form.

 A TOR Book

 Published by:

 Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.

 8-10 West 36th Street

 New York, New York 10018

 First TOR printing, March 1984

 ISBN: 27298-03

 Can. Ed.: 812-53-276-7

 Cover art by Dawn Wilson

 Printed in the United States of America

 For Mike Resnick

 -from. one madman to another.

 ANCHOR

 There was no need to tell anyone in Anchor Logh

 that the man in black was dangerous. Any stringer

 who rode the Flux was more than dangerous—he

 was someone to be feared for more reasons than

 one.

 Cassie watched the man ride in on his huge

 white horse and felt a sudden chill at the very

 sight of him. She had a particular reason for that

 chill, being of The Age and with the Census Cele-

 bration barely three days away, although she didn't

 really believe she was in any danger. The quota

 this year was the lowest in her lifetime, thanks to

 an unusually abundant harvest and a high number

 of deaths among the Honored Elders, and her odds,

 like all those -with her birth year, were barely one

 in a hundred. In fact, only four stringers had been

 invited to the Celebration this year and, it was said,

 only two had accepted, the rest preferring fatter

 pickings in other Anchors with more potential

 victims—and profits. That fact alone made the ap-

 pearance of this one even more of a standout than

 it normally would have been.

 He was a tall, lean, muscular man with coal-

 black hair and a handlebar moustache, and in

 normal circumstances and with a normal back-

 ground he would have been considered a hand-

 8              Jack L. Chalker

 some man, even a desirable man, by those Cassie's

 age and older. But he was not a normal man with

 a normal background, and it was clear to any who

 looked upon him that this was so. There was just

 something about him, something you couldn't put

 your finger on, that radiated a fearsome chill to all

 he passed. His face was worn and aged well beyond

 his years, his skin seemed tough as leather, and his

 eyes, a weirdly washed-out blue, radiated contempt

 for World and its offerings- He was dressed in

 black denim, including black boots, gloves, and a

 wide-brimmed black hat that had one side of its

 wide brim tied up in stringer fashion, and a black

 leather jacket lined with weathered sheepskin that

 must have once been white.

 Weathered.... That was a good word for him.

 His boots, his clothes, even his sawed-off shotgun

 with the fancy carved handle that hung from his

 silver-decorated belt in a special holster—they all

 were weathered almost beyond belief.

 He rode slowly, imperiously, right past Cassie,

 but those cold, distant eyes took no notice whatso-

 ever of the thin, slightly built girl nor of much of

 anyone or anything else, either. She shivered a bit,

 then turned and began walking back towards the

 communal farm where she had been bom and

 raised.

 The farm lay at the end of a winding, rutted dirt

 road, about a kilometer back from the main high-

 way, and on either side of the girl stretched broad

 fields of grass dotted with grazing cows. She knew

 every rut in that road by heart, and every cow as

 well, but somehow, today, they seemed more dis-

 tant and remote than anything ever had.

 It was a bright, cloudless day, and the Holy

 Mother was in all Her divine glory in the sky,

 filling Anchor Logh with her brightness and slightly

 coloring the landscape with subtle and different

 shadmgs. It was a glorious sight, yet She was al-

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 9

 ways there when the clouds parted, and Her visage

 was so omnipresent, so taken for granted, not just

 by Cassie but by all those on World, that the Holy

 Mother was rarely paid attention to except when

 one was praying—or sinning.

 Today, though, the Holy Mother seemed particu-

 larly close and needed, and Cassie stopped and

 looked up at Her reverently, seeking some comfort

 and inspiration. The sparkling bands of gold,

 orange, deep red and emerald green that gave the

 slight color shifts to the land showed the beauty

 and glory of Heaven and reminded ail humankind

 of the Paradise it had lost and could regain, in the

 same way as night showed the emptiness of Hell,

 the distant, tiny stars representing the lost souls

 that might be consumed by darkness if not re-

 deemed.

 After a time she moved on, a lonely little figure

 walking back to the only home she'd ever known.

 Although the day was pretty, there was a chill in

 the air, and she wore a heavy checked flannel shirt

 and wool workpants.

 Cassie had the kind of face that could be either

 male or female, and this, along with her tendency

 to keep her black, slightly curly hair clipped ex-

 tremely short—as well as her slight build—often

 got her mistaken for a boy, an error her low, husky

 soprano did nothing to correct. She'd been the last

 of four children, all girls, and her parents had

 really wanted a boy. Particularly her father, a smith

 who wanted very much to pass on the family trade

 as his father had to him, and his father's father

 before that. She had not been spared that knowl-

 edge, and was often reminded of that fact.

 Perhaps because of this, or at least in trying to

 please them, she'd always been a tomboy, getting

 into fights and walking, talking, and now working

 with the boys, herding, milking, and even break-

 ing horses. Tel Anser, the hard old supervisor in

 10 Jack L. Chalker

 the corral, often held her up as an example to the

 boys he worked with, teasing them that she was

 far more of a man than any of them. That didn't

 win her any popularity contests, of course, but she

 didn't really mind. She was proud of the comment.

 Still, she was a lonely girl. Partly because of the

 way she was, she never got asked to dances, never,

 in fact, had even been asked for, let alone been out

 on, a single date. Those few boys who did accept

 her did so as an equal and a friend—and that

 meant as just one of the boys. It was hard, some-

 times, sitting around and listening to them com-

 pare notes on girls they were attracted to, driving

 home by their very indifference to her sex the fact

 that she would never be the object of such conver-

 sations, either by them or by others.

 Still, the flip side of that never appealed to her

 much, either. Perhaps if she'd been pretty, or sexy,

 or at least cute, or had big breasts and a big ass

 she might have thought differently, but she didn't

 have those attributes and never would.

 That meant, at least, never having to dress in

 those silly, fancy outfits and do all that highpitched

 giggling and gushing about that absolutely dreamy

 boy in the third row in school, or flirting, putting

 on phony perfumes and painting eyes, cheeks, lips—

 well, it just seemed so damned silly and stupid to

 her, if not downright dishonest. She never saw

 why girls had to go through all that stuff anyway,

 when boys scored extra points just by taking a

 bath.

 She'd never gotten along with, nor much liked,

 her sisters, either. Of course, part of that was in

 being the youngest, and, therefore, the target for

 older siblings, but, later on, it was because she

 neither liked nor identified with them or their

 concerns and they knew it. Well, now she was

 riding and herding and milking while her oldest

 sister was pregnant with her second kid, the next

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 11

 was trying hard to have her first while working in

 the commune laundry, and the third was an ap-

 prentice bull cook who seemed content. Some won-

 derful ambition that was.

 Ambition was very much on Cassie's mind right

 now, for she was The Age, graduated from general

 school, and on her way to either higher education

 or an assigned trade depending on how she did on

 the massive battery of tests she'd take after Census.

 She'd always had an affinity with animals, par-

 ticularly horses, who were prettier, stronger, and

 far more loyal and dependable than most people

 she'd met, and this had not gone unnoticed by

 those who were always referred to as "the powers

 that be." She was aiming for one of the two slots

 open for veterinarian's training. Then she'd show

 them! Then she'd show then all! Status, a true

 profession, rank that commanded respect, top pay,

 and a skill that was vitally needed.

 Her father was working iron when she entered

 the smithy, and she stood and watched until the

 red-hot metal had been skillfully shaped and formed

 and dunked into the water. He spotted her then,

 standing there, and frowned. "Well, Cass? Parcel

 man have anything for us today?"

 She looked suddenly disgusted with herself and

 shook her head. "I'm sorry, Pa. I—I guess I forgot

 to check."

 "What! Didn't you go out to the highway like I

 told you to?"

 "Yeah, I went, only ..."

 "Only what?"

 "Well, soon as I got there a stringer rode by and

 I just sort of forgot anything else. I'm sorry, Pa."

 Her father sighed- He was a huge, superbly mus-

 cled man with thick black hair and a full beard,

 looking every bit the smith he was, and he had a

 hell of a mean streak in him and the short temper

 to bring it out. He didn't usually let it get the

 Jack L. Chalker

 12

 better of him, though, unless he'd been drinking,

 and while she braced for at least a hard and foul

 tongue-lashing, it never came. Like everyone else

 in Anchor Logh, her father had once been The Age

 himself, facing his own Census. As rough as he was

 now, and he'd been even rougher back then, he

 knew what the sight of a stringer this close to Cen-

 sus would have done to him back then, and he was

 never the sort of man to hold anyone to a higher

 standard than that to which he held himself.

 Instead he said, "Welt, don't fret about it. The

 Holy Mother knows you got enough on your mind

 right now."

 Feeling very relieved, she decided she should

 make amends anyway and so she responded, "Want

 me to go back out there now? I don't mind. I got

 nothing much to do."

 "Naw, that's all right. I hav'ta go out there my-

 self in an hour or two anyway, and if there's any-

 thing I guess it'll wait 'til then. You just get along

 now and enjoy yourself."

 She thought for a moment, the crisis already far

 in the past in her mind, and decided to take advan-

 tage of her father's unusual good nature. "Maybe I

 could tak« Leanspot into the city, then? I got to

 return some books to the Temple library and pick

 up some others."

 He thought it over. Under ordinary circumstances

 he'd have given a flat no, but she was The Age, and

 if she couldn't take care of herself and gain self-

 confidence now, she sure as hell better know it.

 "Yeah, sure," he said at last. "Take all the time

 you want. But if you stay past nightfall, you'd best

 stay at the Temple overnight. With this crowd

 coming in and Census coming up you don't want

 to take no chances, you hear?"

 She nodded soberly. "I promise."

 In point of fact, people were very safe in the city

 unless they aided and abetted their own downfalls.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 13

 Citizens had full rights and protections and those

 were jealously guarded and enforced by the gov-

 ernment and police. Minors—those under The Age—

 were even more zealously protected. Naturally, if

 someone went over to one of the Main Street dives

 and flashed a lot of money around, or solicited

 immoral favors and lived to regret it, there wasn't

 much to be done, but, on the whole, anyone could

 walk in any part of the city in safety even late at

 night.

 Citizenship, however, came with being counted

 in the Census, which was always on a predeter-

 mined date. That left those like Cassie, who'd

 reached The Age well before Census, in the posi-

 tion of being neither minors nor citizens, and dur-

 ing that period they were vulnerable to those who

 saw profit in this loophole. There were tales of

 young men and women being abducted and held

 through Census and the registry. If not caught in

 the Paring Rite, which was a fate worse than

 death, and if they then did not register as citizens,

 the law regarded them not as people at all, and,

 therefore, recognized no rights in their case.

 They became, in fact, property, animals like horses

 or cows or pigs in so far as the government was

 concerned—the property of the abductor or whom-

 ever the abductor transferred them to. They were

 even registered, as animals, with the Veterinary

 Office. The law, even the church, would actually

 support the owner over the victim, and this condi-

 tion would last for life.

 It was explained by the church that such things

 were the Holy Mother's will, since She dictated

 the laws governing World, and meant that this life

 was forfeit to some terrible deed or lifestyle in the

 life immediately past that required a lifetime's

 punishment to expunge. There was no way to get

 out of it, then, since anyone who tried to escape or

 thwart this working out of punishment would be

 Jack L. Chalker

 14

 doomed to the same fate in every subsequent life

 until the evil done was cleansed. Cass had never,

 to her knowledge, seen such people, but she knew

 they existed, usually traded from Anchor to An-

 chor through the stringers so that there would be

 no family revenge-

 She kissed her father and went back to the block

 where she lived. It was one of several dozen

 buildings, all four stories high, composed literally

 of large prefabricated cubes that locked together.

 Because of the design, though, the buildings were

 asymmetrical, each row of cubes set slightly in or

 out of the row and with four large ones at its base,

 five slightly smaller on top, the end two protruding,

 six still smaller atop that, then five of the same

 size on top. The size cubicle you got depended on

 your family size and ranking within the commune.

 Once they'd lived in the relatively palatial ground

 level, but now she climbed the stairs to the second

 story. A family of six needed more space than a

 family of four, and with two daughters married off

 it was only the high regard for her father that had

 moved the farm council to allow them to live even

 where they were now.

 At this time of day there was no one home. Mom

 was on the other side of the farm, in the Adminis-

 tration Building, working her usual job in account-

 ing, and Tarn was in the bakery today, so it seemed

 unnaturally quiet and still. It was just a basic

 three-room apartment, the living room and two

 decent-sized bedrooms, but it was home. She found

 a long match and lit one living room lamp, then

 went back to the bedroom she and Tarn shared

 and lit the lamp there. Throwing some of Tarn's

 clothes out of the way, she rooted in the closet and

 came up with a basic change of clothing and a

 small toiletries bag which she packed quickly. While

 picking and choosing the toiletries she looked up

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 15

 at herself in the small mirror and stared into her

 own face for a moment.

 Dark brown eyes stared back at her out of a

 young boy's face. For not the first time she re-

 flected that she'd make a better boy than girl all

 around- Except, of course, she didn't care for girls

 much and she did like boys. She chuckled a bit to

 herself, remembering the several times at fairs else-

 where in the Riding she'd drawn the adolescent

 attentions of more than one girl who'd made that

 mistake. They'd often said she'd outgrow it, but

 that was obviously not going to happen now. She

 was stuck with the physique of permanent boyish

 adolescence, although she'd never grow more than

 her current 163 centimeter height nor reach 50

 kilos no matter how much she exercised and how

 much she ate. Or worry about packing a bra, either.

 She sighed and turned away and zipped up the

 travel bag, picked it up, and left the cube, putting

 out the lights on the way,

 Only then did she remember the books she was

 supposed to be taking back to the library, and she

 returned for them. It was, she decided, just going

 to be one of those days.

 RIDER

 We are the spirits of Flux and Anchor and some call

 us demons. It is possible that we are such, for cer-

 tainly we know not our natures or origins. Every-

 thing is born, yet we were not bom. At least, I can

 remember no such experience, nor can any of my

 kind. It may be true, as some of us argue, that since

 no human clearly remembers his or her birth it might

 Just be the same with us, yet that makes no sense to

 me. Humans are bom, and humans die, yet we who

 are the Soul Riders do not die, and our number is

 constant and fixed to the number of Anchors on

 World.

 Certainly it seems as if I have been thus forever,

 yet there must have been an origin at some time in

 the far past, or at least a coming to World, since it is

 clear that World has a no more infinite past than

 infinite future. It, too, was born, whether by creation

 of the Holy Mother as the church says or by more

 natural and predictable processes, and the time of its

 homing is written in the rocks of Anchor and the

 decay rate of Flux. It has been here, although not in

 this form always, no more than four or five billion

 years at best, and humans have been here a far

 shorter time than that—a few thousand years at best.

 And yet I can remember no time without humans.

 If humans and World were both bom, and will

 16

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 17

 both surely die, as will all things known to us in the

 universe, then why and how do we exist as we do?

 The Holy Church says that we are demons left

 from the Great Rebellion, when angels in their pride

 rose up and slew angels and threatened to usurp the

 Holy Mother's domination of the universe in foolish

 and futile insurrection. It was then, or so it is written,

 that the Holy Mother acted, changing the angelic

 seditionists to foul and horrible monstrosities whose

 outer forms and very existence mirrored their most

 terrible inner selves and exiled them to Hell, sealing

 the seven gates to Hell against their coming again

 into this universe save by proxy.

 The misguided, misused, and misshapen ones who

 followed the Seditionists in their terrible mutiny, and

 those who took no side in the fray, were changed to

 human form by the Holy Mother after Her inevitable

 victory, in that way to suffer pain and torture and

 purify themselves in life after life until they again be

 cleansed and worthy to reenter the kingdom of Heaven

 shown so tantalizingly close in the day sky. It is also

 written in the holy books that the gates of Hell will

 be reopened one day by the evil ones known as the

 Seven Who Wait, who roam World supervising the

 misery of human existence and take joy in inflicting

 it. When and if those gates are again reopened. Hell

 will pour once more into World, and humanity will

 be caught once again in the midst of battle between

 Heaven and Hell and will again be forced to make a

 terrible choice. Then will humanity have a second

 chance at Paradise, and depending on their souls'

 progress through the lives they lived, they will choose

 rightly or wrongly. Those who choose correctly this

 time around will be allowed back into Heaven, while

 the rest shall be permanently recast into foul Hell.

 But if that's true, where does -it leave us? Just as

 we are neither bom nor die, what is our purpose and

 role in this scheme if it be true? We have been around

 a long time and have long memories, and know that

 18 Jack L. Chalker

 holy books are often adjusted, and religions go through

 social evolution the same as governments. And yet

 there is some consistency and truth in all of it which

 gives us pause.

 The Seven Who Wait exist. The gates of Hell exist,

 and there is certainly something foul and evil beyond

 them. That something is so seductive to some humans,

 but not to any of us. It is that sense of overwhelming

 evil emanating from those terrible sealed gateways

 that drives us ever onward on our missions. We fight

 the Seven and their agents wherever and whenever

 we can, and we seek them out for this battle. We

 alone are feared by them, for we are the immortal

 last line of defense.

 And, still, while we do the work of the church it

 continues to brand us demons, agents of the Seven,

 Hell-spawns and half-creatures. They will not listen

 to more rational pleas, nor change their view, for

 they do not understand us and so fear us as much as

 the Seven do. Nor is this fear without some justi-

 fication, for this is a place of certainty in its beliefs,

 a place where everything has an explanation and

 where Heaven and Hell can be glimpsed. We are the

 wild cards, the unexplainable in the midst of the

 totally explained, and if we do not understand our

 own selves then how can they be expected to do so?

 It is certain that somebody, somewhere knows

 the answer. Someone who knows why World has the

 holy name that must not be spoken aloud, the cryptic

 and unintelligible Forfirbasforten. The church says it

 is an angelic name bestowed on World by the Holy

 Mother and is not for humans to know or understand,

 but someone does. Someone, or somehing, directs

 our actions in unknown and unseen ways, so that

 we go to a new host at just the right moment, and

 live their lives with them unknown and unseen to

 them until they have need of us against the Seven.

 Perhaps it is the Nine Who Guard, but I have en-

 countered some of them many times and they seem

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 19

 as mystified by our presence and natures as are we

 ourselves, although, at least, they understand that we

 are not enemies but allies in their unending battle

 and do not fear us.

 Some say that humanity did not originate on World

 at all, but came here from some other, better place.

 That is, of course, consistent with both the evidence

 and scripture, but did we come with them? Or were

 we, perhaps, here before, the original inhabitants of

 this place caught in the middle of a great war we

 were powerless to do anything about? Some believe

 this, and see us as the ghosts and racial memories of

 such a race, yet this is not at all consistent with

 cosmology, for it would put us outside the Holy

 Mother's creation until wrenched into it, and that

 opens up a series of philosophical knots that can

 never be untied.

 I think, perhaps, that we were once humans

 ourselves, and walked the facets f World directly. It is

 possible that, for some reason, our souls were not

 placed into new bodies but remained suspended in

 the spirit world, bound to World but not of it. Why

 this should be so I do not know, but it was clearly

 not a random choice, as our numbers, as I said, are

 quite fixed.

 I prefer to think of us as once-great warriors, the

 best of our human race, who were so valued that we

 were appointed the last line of defense against the

 forces of evil, supporting first the church and then

 the Nine Who Guard.

 If what they say of birth and death are true, intel-

 lect survives memory, but memory dies as it gets in

 the way of true intellectual, or spiritual, growth. Thus

 we have no memories of our human lives, no sense

 of all those trillions of stimuli that flood in and

 confuse the mind even as it grows. Perhaps, I cer-

 tainly hope, we were the ones who reached purifica-

 tion far ahead of the masses and were thus given our

 Jack L. Chalker

 20

 guardian duties with no need to be born and reborn

 again and again.

 And yet I feel that I was once a soldier. Certainly I

 feel most comfortable when mated with one, and it

 certainly fits my own theory of origin, as well as our

 long and complex work.

 I digress as I float, my random thoughts going out

 to any of my kind who may be in the area and less

 inclined to introspection. Very well, I will stop, for

 matters press, and f feel myself drawn from the Flux,

 where I have been these past seven lifetimes, back

 again at last to Anchor. Whoever or whatever guides

 our destinies has a new job for me, and I am anx-

 ious to begin.

 I emerge from the energy flow and there bursts

 upon me the clean, crisp certainty of Anchor. Which

 Anchor it is I do not know, but it seems somehow

 familiar, and welcomes me as some long-lost relation.

 This is an odd sensation, worthy of further study on

 its own.

 I drift above the hills and treetops, and below me

 bum the souls of Anchorfolk, the sheer density and

 clarity of their life matrices telling me that this is a

 large Anchor indeed. The specific features are beyond

 my present perceptive abilities, yet all around me

 screams not merely life but, most importantly, un-

 ambiguous life, its mathematical symmetry and dis-

 tinct solidity oddly reassuring. I have been too long

 in the Flux.

 I sense the capital ahead of me now, with a den-

 sity of souls that I can scarcely handle, and in Its

 center, a shining beacon, its Focal Point. It is truly

 odd, this particular Focal Point, for it seems to

 broadcast directly to me. It seems right somehow, in

 a way I cannot explain. It is almost as if it sends to

 me a half-completed equation, for which I am myself

 the other half, and which, if joined, will give the

 answer to it all. The answers are here. The threat is

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 21

 large and the time is short. That much I am certain

 of.

 Ah, but no, I am to be stopped short of the Focal

 Point, the answer so close and yet so disturbingly out

 of reach. I am directed not at the Focal Point, but at

 a human soul who lives below, and even now I

 descend for the mating. Down, down, to ground level,

 and forward to the soul whose matrix will mate with

 my own. The one is moving, yet I come upon it,

 envelop it, mate with it and draw within those re-'

 cesses of its mind it does not even know exist. I

 bind myself, and see, hear, and feel once more as

 humans do. I ride a new soul.

 Cassie walked from the cubicle towards the

 stables, her bag hanging from her shoulder, deep

 in thought. Suddenly she stopped as a cold chill

 came over her, and for a brief moment she felt

 both dizziness and nausea. It passed quickly,

 though, leaving her standing there a moment,

 puzzled, and wondering if she should go at all

 now. She must be coming down with something—

 she was still a good ten days from her period.'But,

 no, she felt fine now.

 Just nerves, she told herself, and continued walk-

 ing towards the stables.

 STRINGER

 Matson wasn't his real name. No stringer ever

 allowed his or her real name to be known—that

 way led to potential blackmail, for anyone could

 then determine the stringer's relationship to oth-

 ers and have a hold on them. Stringers feared only

 that someone would have something on them,

 something that would eat into their absolute inde-

 pendence and freedom. They did not fear challenge,

 and particularly did not fear death, since it was

 better to die free than live with any strings at all,

 including compromises of their lifestyle. To have

 it any other way would be to be harnessed just as

 surely as they harnessed their characteristic mule

 trains, the long strings, or ropes, giving them their

 name and title.

 Matson was a stringer in his mid-thirties, which

 meant he was a very good stringer indeed in an

 occupation that often saw you dead in the Flux

 while still in your teens or twenties. He'd been

 around a lot in his time, and he still enjoyed the

 constant challenges of the job.

 He'd left his duggers and mules at the clear spot

 at the western gate. At the moment he was dead-

 heading, and he hated like hell to do that—all

 expenses and no profits. This particular Anchor's

 census, though, should make up for it. He'd heard

 22

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 23

 that only one other stringer was close enough to

 take advantage of the bargain, and that meant a

 good deal of business. Usually there were so many

 stringers you had trouble even filling your local

 Fluxland orders and paying back your I.O-U-s for

 the quarter, but here, even with a small census,

 he'd wind up with half the crop.

 It did not trouble him to deal in human beings,

 just as he also dealt in gold, silver, various manu-

 factured goods, and anything else that was in de-

 mand in one place and surplus in another. While

 he lived by a strict personal moral code, this was

 the way of World, a system he'd been brought up

 to accept and believe in and, since "right" and

 "wrong" are always defined by the culture of a

 place, this sort of traffic—for which there was good

 socioeconomic justification—was simply taken for

 granted.

 It was a good two days' ride from the Anchor

 wall to the capital, and a pretty boring one at that.

 Farming Anchors were perhaps the least interest-

 ing of all, all the more so because these people

 considered themselves free and autonomous. Theirs

 was a happy little worldlet, and most would never

 leave nor want to.

 They were as domesticated and spiritually dead

 as their cows, he thought sourly.

 He amused himself by playing mental word

 games and by double and triple checking his mne-

 monic tricks that allowed him to keep all his orders,

 requests, I.O.U-s, and accounts in his head. Perma-

 nent records were dangerous to a stringer's freedom,

 too, even if you could keep decent account books

 in the Flux.

 Still, it would be good spending a couple of days

 in a real city, one that was what it looked like and

 wouldn't change or dissolve on you because of a

 paranoid wizard's bad dreams, and to sleep in a

 24 Jack L. Chalker

 nice, comfortable bed, drink some decent booze,

 and maybe fool around a little.

 He reached the city before nightfall, and went

 immediately to Government House to register him-

 self and then paid the usual brief courtesy call on

 the local temple, writing out his specific require-

 ments for their perusal, while also dropping off a

 box of the local Sister General's cigars. It always

 paid to do a little homework before coming in to a

 new town.

 Next he went over to Main Street—dull name

 for the entertainment district, the kind of name

 you'd expect a bunch of cow herders to come up

 with—and checked into a decent hotel. Capital

 districts were always nice if only because they

 alone had electricity, which included hot and cold

 running water and in-room baths. Since the hotel

 was taking care of his horse, he quickly stripped

 and ran the bath water, then slipped into the hot

 tub. It felt really good. He never realized just how

 many minor muscle aches and pains he lived with

 until they were taken away. About the only trou-

 ble was, they always made the damned bath tubs

 about a finger's length too short.

 Still, he leaned back, lit a cigar, then reached

 over and picked up the small pile of papers he'd

 been given at his two prior stops. One set was a

 bunch of orders for various goods the Anchor

 needed, and these he would either try and fill or, if

 a better trip came along, he'd pass along to some

 other stringer going this way for the usual finder's

 fee. Also included was a smaller list of what was

 usually called "desired personnel," and those were

 more high-ticket items. He might find and arrange

 transport for the two needed gunnery instructors,

 although why they needed them for this place was

 beyond him, but he suspected that they were going

 to have to pay and pay big and actually hire by

 enticement the electrician with experience and the

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 25

 civil engineer, and they'd be damned lucky if they

 got either one at any price. Anchorfotk didn't like

 to travel in the Flux at all, and for good reason.

 Making it worth the while of this level of skill to

 travel would cost them before, during, and after-

 Still, he'd see what he could do.

 He had only raw numbers on his own outgoing

 goods. They would have to check their census and

 see how many of the unlucky losers fit what he

 needed to fill other orders. He liked the numbers,

 though. A hundred and six to go out, fifty-six fe-

 males and fifty males, split between two stringers.

 True, he'd have to make a good stab at filling the

 Anchor's orders, but he liked this kind of arrange-

 ment. No up-front outlay and-the goods came on

 consignment.

 After bathing, he unpacked a bit and rummaged

 through his pack to find civilized clothing. Although

 he'd be here three to five days, he did not even

 glance at the drawers and closets in the room. He

 never unpacked any more than he had to, the

 quicker to make a getaway if it were ever needed.

 Dressed in the same manner as when he arrived,

 but with all clean clothes save hat and boots, he

 rearranged his belt, removed the shotgun holster

 and its deadly occupant and clipped on a knife in

 its scabbard and the bullwhip. He liked the bull-

 whip—it had such an intimidating effect on the

 locals, particularly the self-styled toughs.

 Finally, he shaved, all except the moustache. It

 was still just coming in, but he'd been suffering

 lately from a series of runny noses and decided

 that a moustache was the best local cure for a

 constantly chapped upper lip. Finally satisfied, he

 left his room and went down to the street, looking

 first for a restaurant and a good meal. Before he

 was ten meters down the street, though, he stop-

 ped, seeing a black-clad figure riding in on a spot-

 ted horse. The second stringer had arrived.

 26 Jack L. Chalker

 "Arden!" he called out. "Good to see you'"

 The horse stopped and the rider stared for a

 moment. "Matson? That you? Well, I'll be damned!"

 She was several years younger than he, but still

 tough and long on experience. She was tall, lean,

 and lanky, but well proportioned, and if the strain

 of the job showed as much in her face as it did in

 his it made that face no less pretty, and while she

 hadn't bothered to put on a wig as yet to hide her

 shaven head, her oval face seemed complimented

 by its very baldness. She jumped down off the

 horse and walked over to him. "It's been a long

 time," she said softly.

 He nodded. "Tuligmon, two years ago."

 She grinned. "How sweet' You remembered!"

 "How could I forget? You beat me out of some of

 the best damned merchandise I've seen since I

 started stringing."

 She laughed. "Well, no contest this time, unless

 a couple of wild card stringers show up. Good stuff

 here and it's all ours, my dear."

 "Well, since we're not competitors this time, what

 do you say to a night on the town? Um, such as

 it is, anyway."

 "You're on! But let me check in and get cleaned

 up a little first."

 "I'm not starving. I'll wait for you in the hotel

 bar."

 He'd first met Arden years ago, when she was

 just out of her teens and he was a big, experienced

 stringer in his mid-twenties and anxious to show

 off to the younger generation. That was over in

 Anchor Mahri, a depressing factory land half a

 world from here. She'd been such a sexy, wide-

 eyed innocent, hanging on his every word and

 vamping him constantly, and he'd started regard-

 ing her less as a stringer than as just another

 barroom girl with not much future. She'd hung

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 27

 around with him while he'd made some of his

 calls and discussed orders and deals, and he hadn't

 thought much of it. She'd even moved into his

 hotel room.

 Of course, one morning he awakened to find her

 gone, and thought little of it, until he made his

 rounds to firm up his deals and found that she had

 been there first. Not just to one, but to every

 damned account on his list—and with a better

 offer and a take it now or forget it style. She'd

 taken note of every single item of business he did

 and every offer under discussion and beaten him

 by just the exact deal that would make them switch.

 She'd given him one hell of a sour stomach and a

 worse wallop in the pocketbook, but he also ad-

 mired her gutsy style. He was pretty sure after-

 ward that, given a day alone with a recalcitrant

 prospect, she would wind up owning his business.

 She also had a quick mind, a superbly trained

 body and the reflexes to make it work for her, and

 more talent with the Flux than anybody he'd ever

 met. She could hold her own in any fight, and he'd

 heard the stories of some of those as well.

 She joined him in about half an hour, having

 washed up and changed into her city clothes. They

 were still stringer black, of course, but made out

 of some tight, clingy material that seemed to form-

 fit itself to her body and make her seem, while

 fully clothed, almost naked. At least it left very

 little to the imagination. She also wore her dress

 boots, with the heels so high it gave her the sexiest

 walk in the world-

 "Well? Shall we go?" she prompted.

 He nodded and signed the tab. "I guess steak

 would be the best in a place like this. At least

 farmers make good home-grown beer and booze."

 They barely noticed the stares and nervous looks

 they got from those they passed. Stringers were

 used to such things, and both Matson and Arden

 28 Jack L. ChaSker

 were experienced enough that they no longer even

 got the slight charge from knowing they were feared

 by all the "decent" folk of Anchor and Flux. Like

 monarchs, they tended only to notice when such

 reactions were absent.

 The food was good, and perfectly prepared, al-

 though the wine was lousy. While the beer and

 booze were good, this was clearly not grape country.

 They relaxed with shop talk, mostly telling tales of

 good and bad experiences and filling one another

 in on people and places the other hadn't been to,

 at least in a long time. Neither, of course, dis-

 cussed future plans or routings—she would never

 give away anything by reflex, and she'd sure taught

 him long ago not to, either. So it surprised him,

 after dinner and after checking out a couple of

 inferior bar shows, when she said, "You know, I've

 been thinking of quitting for a while. Going to a

 Freehold and contribute while there's still time."

 That stopped him. "Huh? You?"

 "So what's wrong with me?"

 He chuckled. "That would take too long to list,

 but it's all mental. No, I just can't see you taking

 off all that time and becoming a mama to a scream-

 ing kid, that's all. I think you'd go nuts."

 "Most mothers do, I'm told. But, you know. I've

 been a lot of places and seen and done a lot of

 things. I'm very well off, so that's not a problem,

 and it's one thing I've never done."

 "You've never cut off your left arm, either. But if

 that's the way you feel, why not just do it? You

 could have any man you want."

 "Uh huh. And there's one I have in mind who, I

 think, will make half of the best new stringer in a

 century. I decided that fate would make the deci-

 sion if I met him again in time, and it looks like I

 have."

 He stared at her. "You're serious?"

 "I'm serious. I made the decision the moment I

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 29

 saw you, riding in here." She flashed him her

 patented evil grin. "I already arranged with the

 hotel to share your room."

 He thought of the sheets of business documents

 there and felt a mild chill. She caught it and

 laughed. "Yes, I saw them. Want to see mine? The

 same stuff. We're not competing here, remember?"

 He smiled and shrugged. "Okay, then. The shows

 here are pretty lousy anyway."

 She smiled and patted his bottom. "Let's go put

 on our own, then. The next few days are exactly

 the right time for it."

 Bending to fate, he followed her back to the

 hotel.

 4

 TEMPLE

 "Where ya goin', Cass?"

 She stopped and turned to see Dar and Lani.

 Dar was a big, strapping farmboy with a tan com-

 plexion set off by flaming red hair, while Lani was

 a pretty, tiny—shorter and lighter than Cassie by

 far—and extremely overendowed young woman.

 Cassie's father had once cruelly joked that Lani got

 not only her own attributes but the ones that

 were supposed to go Cass as well. Both had been

 in her class through school; Lani was a little more

 than a month older than Cass, Dar just a week

 younger than she.

 Cassie would have liked Lani to have been as

 short in brains as she was endowed in beauty, just

 to provide some symmetry to life, but the truth

 was it was Dar who was rather slow—one teacher

 had used the term "vacuous"—while Lani was quite

 bright and in line for a scholarship to teacher's

 training or perhaps into agricultural research. It

 said something about the beauty that. while she

 could have had any boy not only in the commune

 but probably in the entire Census, she had chosen

 Dar, whose mind was nil but who was certainly

 pleasant and cheerful and, like so many large men,

 uncommonly gentle, but who was also, from all

 reports, rather well endowed himself.

 30

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 31

 Both were simply too nice to stay mad at, and

 Dar had been one of those boys who'd always been

 a friend.

 "I'm going into the city," she told them. "I have

 some books to return and some more I need to take

 out. The exams are only a couple of weeks away."

 They both nodded. Lani said, "I think it's a little

 too late for the books now. These tests aren't like

 the ones in school, remember. Relax, Cass. You're

 a natural for the vet's spot."

 She smiled at the compliment. "I guess you're

 right, .but I can't help worrying and studying

 anyway. It can't hurt, and maybe it'll help if I do

 get the slot. Anyway, it beats sitting around being

 bored."

 "Yeah, you're right about that bored stuff," Dar

 agreed. "In fact, we were thinking of going into

 the city ourselves. Census Carnival opens tonight,

 remember."

 Cass was surprised at herself for not remember-

 ing that. The fact was, she never thought of things

 that cost money, because communards didn't have

 it or need it. All was provided by the council, with

 bonuses for the best work being used for catalog

 purchases. That's why they went to the capital so

 seldom despite its closeness.

 "You have money for that this early?"

 "Sure," Dar responded, "and so do you. A hun-

 dred cubits of silver on account, for coming of The

 Age."

 She had, quite frankly, forgotten all about that,

 although she had the slip for it in her overnight

 bag where she'd stuffed it after they gave it to her.

 It was redeemable almost everywhere if cash was

 available, and cash was readily available during

 Census Celebration. "I'd been thinking of putting

 that away for later," she told them.

 "Aw, c'mon! That's not what that's for," he

 retorted. "Hell, you get staked after classification,

 32 /acA: L. Chatker

 plus expense money. 77ns money's strictly for hav-

 ing a good time. What say we all go into town and

 go to the Carnival? Just relax and let loose for a

 while, have some fun." He looked suddenly uncer-

 tain and turned and looked at Lani, but she gave

 him a nod and a smile.

 Cassie thought it over for a moment. "Well, okay.

 Maybe you're right. I knew I was going to have to

 stay over tonight anyway, since it's already so

 late. Go and get your things. I'll wait for you here."

 The Census Celebration was part of the system

 dictated by the holy scriptures, and it was a curi-

 ous blend of circus, government report, and public

 execution. Its root was in the absolute prohibition

 of any sort of birth control on the part of the

 individual—although the priestesses who were mid-

 wives had the authority and duty to terminate the

 life of any baby determined by a host of very strict

 standards to be defective—and the concurrent duty

 of all married couples to have as many children as

 they could. Large families had greater status in

 the community, preferential treatment, and huge

 allowances.

 Unfortunately, an Anchor could support only a

 finite number of people. Each year a massive cen-

 sus was taken across the entire 680 square kilome-

 ters of Anchor Logh, a census of people, animals—

 everyone and everything that consumed things.

 This was then compared with the harvests, known

 reserves, and anticipated demands for the follow-

 ing year, and a total number of supportable people

 was determined, which was then compared against

 the total numbers of young men and women reach-

 ing age 18—The Age—between census periods. The

 difference, less the average birth-death differential

 for the past five censuses, was the number of sur-

 plus people, and that surplus had to be disposed of.

 The church and holy books gave ample theologi-

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 33

 cal backing to this cruel rite, since the selection

 was done in the most random and fairest of ways

 by a great lottery on the last day of Census

 Celebration. The Holy Mother, of course, operated

 in such a circumstance, and those selected were

 actually selected by Her for reasons of atonement

 or whatever other reasons She might have that

 were inscrutable to humans. The Paring Rite, as it

 was called, was a most sacred and holy rite, per-

 formed by the Sister General herself on the front

 steps of the holy Temple. Those "pared" in the rite

 were forbidden citizenship and became Property

 of the People. As such, they were sold or bartered

 to the stringers as any other goods and removed

 from Anchor Logh. What the stringers did with

 them was the subject of wild speculation and terri-

 ble stories, most contradictory, but nobody really

 knew for sure since no one returned to tell the tale.

 And so it was with some horror that, as the

 three rode towards the city, Cassie remarked, "I

 saw a stringer riding in today."

 The light mood of the other two seemed to van-

 ish at once. Dar shivered- "Them vultures! Demon

 bastards from the Flux!" Neither of the women

 was going to argue that the stringers were actually

 essential to the economy of World; that they alone

 kept commerce of all kinds going. And even if they

 had, for they actually knew this, it would not have

 changed their opinion in the slightest. Anyone who

 rode the Flux for a living simply couldn't be hu-

 man and remain mentally and spiritually whole.

 Cassie had seen the Flux once. They all had, on

 an overnight field trip in school. It was a terrible

 and frightening sight, a wall of nothingness sur-

 rounding World. Although they all knew World

 was round, since it had been made by the Holy

 Mother in the image of Heaven, it still looked like

 the edge of the earth.

 There were a fair number of people in Anchor

 34

 Jack L. Chalker

 Logh who had gone through the Flux in a stringer's

 train, of course. Many professional schools were

 located in other Anchors, and occasionally needed

 professionals were imported. The Sister General

 herself had come from an Anchor far away. But

 stringers controlled your mind in the Flux, and the

 images of the journey were either too muddied or

 too bizarre and Jantastic to believe when others

 were told of those trips. Usually, after a time in

 Anchor, those who recalled and told of those trips

 found the experience hard to believe or accept as

 well.

 Only the stringers knew for certain what, if

 anything, was out there in the Flux, and even if

 you had nerve enough to ask one—well, who could

 believe a stringer?

 Spirits lightened again when they reached the

 city. Already there were huge crowds of people in

 from the outlying ridings and the streets of the

 city were festooned with multicolored lights and

 decorations and there was a festive air. They headed

 straight for the carnival grounds, oblivious of the

 time, and it was a fantastic sight indeed. This year

 the government had outdone itself in rides and

 sideshows and attractions, all powered by the elec-

 trical energy supplied by the sacred modules lo-

 cated well beneath the Temple. Although the crowd

 was large, it felt good to be with so many merry

 people in such close quarters.

 Anticipating that all young people of The Age

 would be physically present as required by law,

 and knowing that each had their hundred cubit

 marker, the Central Bank had a booth set up to

 cash in the markers, and after standing in line for

 quite a while all three were, for the first time in

 their lives, cash solvent. They wasted no time in

 enjoying the money.

 For the first time in a very long time Cassie felt

 good. For a few hours all the worries and tensions

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 35

 of the day and the time slipped away, as did much

 of the loneliness. It was easy, for a time, to even

 pretend that it was she and Dar there at the

 Carnival, with Lani the guest instead of herself.

 It was quite late before they pooled their money

 and saw just how quickly it could vanish and knew

 that it was time to leave. Cassie came to the con-

 clusion with extreme reluctance, as it also brought

 her back to reality. Dar and Lani planned to stay

 at the Youth Hostel, where lodging and basic meals

 were free to commune members. She recalled her

 books, and said, "I have to stay over at the Temple.

 I think it's too late to return these tonight. Want to

 stay over there, Lani?"

 The pretty girl looked slightly embarrassed, and

 Dar sort of shuffled his feet- Finally Lani responded,

 "Uh, Dar can't stay there, Cass. You know that."

 She started to reply, but then thought better of

 it as the social wall went up once again. Having

 been so mentally up that evening, her euphoria

 came crashing down with more than usual force.

 They were not a threesome. They had never been a

 threesome. They were two plus one, and guess

 who was the odd girl out?

 "Oh, that's right. I don't know why I said that—

 forget it," she recovered as best she could. "You go

 on and have a good time. I'll see you tomorrow."

 They seemed relieved now to break it off, and

 she wanted away from them at this moment, too,

 so it was after quick and perfunctory goodbyes

 that they went their separate ways.

 Church and state were inexorably linked in An-

 chor Logh, as in most Anchors, yet they were quite

 separate institutions. As the Holy Mother was

 female, only women could enter the priesthood or

 hold any office in the church. To balance this, only

 men could hold office in the Anchor government

 or in riding or commune governments as well.

 36

 Jack L. Chalker

 However, since the government acted in ways holy

 scripture dictated, and because legal disputes with

 the government were settled by special priestesses

 who decided things according to their interpretation

 of scripture, the fact was that women ran the Anchor.

 This, too, balanced out quite a lot, since priest-

 esses took vows of not only poverty and obedience

 but absolute chastity as well, vows that, once taken,

 could not be withdrawn- Only virgins could enter

 the order, those with an intact hymen. When they

 did, they were no longer subject to the Paring

 Rite, but they became, forever, not citizens but the

 Property of the Church, and second thoughts and

 reconsiderations were strictly for the next life.

 These thoughts went through her own mind as

 she walked to the Temple.

 She had left Leanspot at the Youth Hostel sta-

 bles and brought her luggage with her. Now she

 redeemed it from the check stand near the carni-'

 val entrance and started off towards the Temple.

 Off to one side of the route was the brightly lit

 gaiety of Main Street, but she had no intention of

 going there, or, in fact, anywhere near there. Par-

 ticularly with stringers in town. She approached

 Temple Square and stopped a moment to look at the

 massive structure, an impressive block of some un-

 known reddish material from which rose nine great

 pyramidal spires, the central one reaching some

 one hundred meters into the air. The whole building

 was indirectly floodlit with multicolored lights,

 and the sight was nothing if not awe-inspiring.

 The huge stage and platform had already been

 erected against the front steps of the magnificent

 building, in preparation for the Paring Rite that

 would come now in only three days. The sight only

 added to her sense of gloom and despair, and she

 went around to the side and mounted the long

 stone stairs to the Temple's great bronze doors as

 quickly as she could.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 37

 She saw an unusual number of priestesses about,

 not only in the scarlet robes and hood of the tem-

 ple but in whites, blues, greens, and just about

 every other color as well, indicating local church

 and provincial staff had already arrived in great

 numbers for the holiest days of the year.

 She had occasionally toyed with the idea of join-

 ing the priesthood herself, for it was a tempting

 opening to potential power, position, and prestige.

 She certainly would have no trouble with the celi-

 bacy part, but she'd always hesitated because it

 meant living in a woman's world, cut off from the

 outside for more than three years of intense reli-

 gious education leading to ordination, then more

 years in advanced education in a secular school

 where her devotion would be tested. The novitiate

 period, it was said, was the toughest time, since

 you were already a priestess bound for life and yet

 you would be tempted by all the things you gave

 up.

 Except, of course, what had she to give up? The

 shaving off of all her hair, head and body, as re-

 quired of novices, would hardly detract anything

 from her already nonexistent sex appeal. She had

 never liked the loss of self-control brought on by

 hard drinking or light drugs, and she'd never much

 liked being around those who took them, so she

 could forgo the usual social life of a campus, and

 as for owning nothing and subsisting only on

 charity—well, she'd basically had that for her

 entire life anyway. -. .

 Slowly she walked around the huge platform

 and up the one hundred steps to the Temple

 entrance. When she reached those great bronze

 doors, though, she did not enter immediately but

 instead turned back and stared again at the broad

 platform below, looking out at the massive, empty

 but well-lit square beyond. Empty now, but not

 three days from now.

 38

 Jack L. Chatker

 It looked more sinister and'frightening in the

 darkness. She felt an odd chill run through her,

 and an unreasoning churning in the pit of her

 stomach, and her already deep depression grew

 even more intense. She reached into her bag and

 took out one of the books she was returning and

 stared at the cover- Introduction to Biochemistry, it

 said.

 Who am I trying to kid? her black mood asked. /

 couldn't even understand the first two exercises in

 this thing. She turned and pulled open the door

 and stepped into the Temple antechamber, but she

 did not turn and go downstairs to the small sec-

 tion with complimentary rooms for people with

 Temple business who were obliged to stay the night.

 Instead, she walked straight ahead to a second set

 of doors and entered the Inner Temple itself, not

 quite understanding why.

 Although deserted at this hour, the altar flames

 burned brightly in the colors of the Holy Mother,

 casting a different colored glow on each of the

 huge statues of the Loyal Angels. To her eyes those

 Angels seemed to come alive, and they all looked

 down directly at her and smiled invitingly. She

 prostrated herself before the main altar, her inner-

 most fears surfacing and driving her, although she

 neither understood nor realized this. Her black

 depression, fed by her frustration at what the books

 had told her she did not know or understand, and

 by the sight of that platform in Temple Square,

 had transformed and magnified her insecurities to

 the point where she could no longer bear them.

 And so she had fled, quite naturally, to the Holy

 Mother, where all this was instantly transformed

 in her mind. Nobody else wanted her, but the Holy

 Mother did. She felt this with such a sense of

 conviction at revealed truth that she never doubted

 for a moment that the Holy Mother and Her blessed

 Angels were speaking straight to her. Come to the

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 39

 mother church, they seemed to whisper to her.

 Come to the church and banish all insecurity, all

 fear, all uncertainty. Give us your soul, and we will

 guide your destiny perfectly.

 It was suddenly all so simple, so clear in her.

 mind. A sisterhood of equals, bound together in

 piety and love. Reason fled and was replaced by

 'emotional ecstasy. As if in a dream she got up,

 bowed again to the altar, then went to the sacristy

 door and then through it into the Temple complex

 itself. She had never been back there before, and

 she was thinking not at all, so she just walked in

 search of a priestess, any priestess, to tell her she

 was ready to commit her life, body and soul, to the

 church.

 There was, however, no one in the back adminis-

 trative area, for it was meditation time and very

 late now, and she continued to walk in her daze

 down darkened halls and up and down flights of

 stairs. In all that time she met no one, but time

 had lost its meaning to her and she did not seem

 to notice the futility of her search.

 Finally there was a room down at the end of a

 hall that was brightly lit and she heard muffled

 voices coming from it. She walked towards it, but

 paused nervously in the darkness before going on,

 some measure of sanity and self-control returning

 as interaction with other human beings faced her.

 She had not wavered in her decision, but now she

 seemed to realize that she was where she had no

 business being, and she became afraid that the

 discovery of her presence here, in forbidden quar-

 ters, might be some sort of violation that would

 impede or exclude her from the sisterhood.

 Cautiously and nervously she peered inside the

 doorway to see who was in there. The sight almost

 sent her into shock again, but a far different kind

 than the one that had churned her emotions only

 moments earlier.

 40

 Jack L. Chalker

 The room was a large one, and three women sat

 within. The one in a plush, comfortable chair to

 the left of a projection console would have been

 instantly recognizable anywhere in Anchor Logh—

 but not quite like this.

 • Her angelic Highness, Sister General Diastepha-

 nos, sat in that chair in a state more of undress

 than anything else, puffing away on a big, fat cigar.

 Sharing the chair, and equally in a state of undress,

 was undoubtedly a Temple priestess, and she was

 essentially sitting on the Sister General's lap. There

 was no mistaking the placement of this unknown

 woman's arms and the reciprocated gentle ges-

 tures from the Sister General.

 The third woman in the room was still in her

 priestly robes, the rich mottled silver of adminis-

 trative services. She sat at the projector controls,

 occasionally looking over at several small blinking

 screens, and appeared totally oblivious to the gro-

 tesque scene going on just to her left.

 Diastephanos sighed. "Enough, Daji. We have to

 get through this sometime tonight, you know, or

 we'll be working all the way up the Paring Rite,"

 The other woman untangled herself and got to her

 feet, pouting a bit like a hurt little child, but she

 went obediently over to another chair, pulled it

 up, curled up in it and relaxed to watch. "Next,"

 Her angelic Highness ordered curtly.

 The projectionist touched a switch, and a photo-

 graph of a boy appeared on the screen, under which

 was an enormous amount of typed data that seemed

 to be an abbreviated life history. Cassie could hardly

 suppress a gasp. She knew that boy! She'd gone to

 school with him!

 "Good looking bull," Daji remarked absently in

 a high-pitched voice that sounded vacuous but was

 also oddly accented. Her comment was ignored by

 the others.

 "Okay socially, but the brains of a head of

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 41

 cabbage," the projectionist noted matte r-of-fact ly,

 looking down at the screen. "Barely literate, four-

 teen separate disciplinary incidents starting at age

 eight. A real brawler. He'd be a good soldier as

 long as he only had to take orders, not give them."

 "Wall guard type, then?" the Sister General

 suggested.

 "Hardly. Oh, sure, if he could be bent into shape,

 but it's doubtful that he'd be receptive to military

 discipline."

 "Sounds tailor-made, then," the high priestess

 noted. "Didn't that stringer Matson put in an or-

 der for replacement field soldiers?"

 The projectionist checked her data. "Um, yes.

 Up to ten for Persellus, if we had them. No sex

 preference as usual."

 "What's it matter out in the Flux? What's the

 old bitch offering for them?"

 "The usual. The goddess, you might remember,

 has a real gift for duplicating printed circuit boards

 even though she hasn't the slightest idea what

 they are or what they're used for. Fratina has been

 complaining about how she's had to cannibalize a

 backup unit to keep the water treatment system

 running, and I could use a couple of extra memory

 modules. Three like this one and we'll be set on

 that score."

 Her angelic Highness thought for a moment.

 "Persellus would be close by. How many have we

 given Matson already?"

 "Eleven so far, but they're mostly girls. You

 know the taste of some of our local customers,."

 The high priestess chuckled. "Do I ever! Well,

 we'll give him muscle-brain here and two others

 for the parts list you supply—draw it up and sup-

 ply the patterns for her. We've got a lot of leeway

 in assignments with only two stringers but we're

 in a weaker position. Arden wants a lot of beef,

 too, if I remember."

 Jack L. Chalker

 42

 "Well, there's the two males and two females,

 perfect physical specimens, for Taladon. For experi-

 mental purposes, it says here."

 "Gad! And we're almost completely through the

 list now. Looks like we're going to have to have a

 second run-through and give up some people we

 don't want to."

 The projectionist touched the switch again and

 a new boy's face and record appeared. "Nope, for-

 get him," she muttered.

 "What? He some kind of genius?"

 "No, he's a snot-nosed absolute bastard with an

 asshole where his brain should be, but he's also

 Minister Alhred's son."

 The Sister General sighed. "Another political

 goodie! Holy Mother of Heaven! No wonder this

 takes so long!"

 Cassie knew she should turn right now and chalk

 up her earlier feelings to the shortest religious

 conversion on record, but her shock and horror at

 all this was mixed with a horrid fascination as

 well. The sexual habits of the Sister General were

 but a momentary shock. As disillusioning as it was

 to one who had so recently decided to join the

 church, it was no more than was commonly rumored

 and whispered about all priestesses by half the

 population. No, what was the true and total shock

 was what those women were doing in that room.

 It was something quite obvious, yet it undercut

 the very foundation of Cassie's entire system of

 beliefs, and those of her whole society and culture.

 They were fixing the Paring Rite! They were exempt-

 ing the privileged, and evaluating and choosing

 who would go and who would stay according to

 their own personal criteria.

 She watched as two more boys were evaluated

 and quickly passed over because they had apti-

 tudes for jobs that were needed in Anchor Logh. It

 was obvious by the comments, though, that all of

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 43

 these were the finalists in a long selection process

 that probably began as soon as the numbers had

 been turned in months ago. These, then, were the

 worst of the worst, those of The Age who, for politi-

 cal or personal reasons, were of least use to the

 Anchor. The fact that a Minister's son, the child of

 a high-ranking government official, had made it

 down this far indicated that such a relationship

 was handy but not a guarantee of safety. It was,

 rather, a political club to be held over a recalci-

 trant politician.

 Sin, too, was a criteria, but not necessarily for

 the boy or girl under review. From the off-handed

 comments about the "orders" they had taken from

 Fluxlands, whatever they were, for various types,

 it was clear that being too smart, or asking too

 many questions about the system and the church,

 could be just as dangerous as having as much

 brains as a head of cabbage, Troublemaking par-

 ents could be punished by having their child chosen,

 too, the selection being a confirmation by the Holy

 Mother of their parental sins, while some were

 chosen simply because they fit a specific require-

 ment of some other place in need. This was well

 across the fine line separating natural balance of

 population in the Anchors and divine punishment

 from real crime.

 This was out-and-out slavery, the selling of hu-

 man beings as property.

 Reluctantly, Cassie decided she'd better get out

 of there, even though she'd loye to just stay and

 see who was still to come up on that screen.

 Maybe—her? She shuddered at the thought and

 turned to go, then realized that she was totally

 and completely lost. How many corridors and stair-

 ways were there in this place, anyway? She moved

 as quietly as possible away from the door and

 towards the nearest stairwell anyway, remember-

 ing that she'd seen no one on the way and that, at

 44 Jack L. Chalker

 least, she might have all night to figure it out. She

 reached the opening to the stairs, turned in—and

 ran smack into two of the largest, meanest-looking

 Temple Wardens she'd ever seen. Both women,

 even in the dim light, looked like they could pick

 her up with one finger each and chew her to bits

 for lunch—and enjoy every minute of it. Her heart

 sank, but she couldn't help wondering just how

 long they'd been there.

 There was no use in even trying to make a break

 for it. Even if she managed the unlikely feat of

 getting away from these two, they knew this place

 inside out and she had no idea where she was. One

 of the wardens gave a smirk and gestured with her

 finger for Cassie to turn around and retrace her

 steps. She had no choice, really, and walked as

 directed back to the lighted room. She hesitated at

 the doorway and got a rude shove into the room

 that almost sent her sprawling on her face.

 The three women inside all turned and stared at

 her. Finally the Sister General said, "Well, well,

 well.... The sewer rats are growing very large

 thte year, I see."

 "She was pretty blatant about it," one of the

 wardens noted. "Tripped every alarm on the main

 board. The only reason she got this far was she got

 lost real fast. Her trail's so tangled you can't even

 figure it out on a security chart and floor plan

 without getting lost yourself."

 "How long was she outside the room here?"

 "Ten. fifteen minutes. After the first minute, when

 she decided to stay and watch, we didn't feel there

 was any reason for interrupting Your Highness

 before we had to. Actually, we were just going to

 pick her up on her way out, if she could manage

 it—we were betting on that, see—but she stayed

 around here so long we figured you'd want to deal

 with her personally."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 45

 "Oh, yes, I do indeed," the Sister General purred.

 "Come here, child."

 She was none too gently prodded towards the

 leader of the Temple. When she was standing right

 in front of the woman, the high priestess reached

 out and grabbed her arm, pushing back the sleeve

 and seeing there the slim bracelet that all wore

 until they were registered.

 "It figures," the priestess muttered to herself.

 "We get two or three a year around this time.

 Huah, check her out on the board." She looked

 again at the bracelet and studied its tiny charm.

 "CXT-4799-622-584M," she read.

 The projectionist nodded and punched the num-

 bers into a keypad. The screen stayed blank. "Nope.

 Not on our Bad Girl list," Huah said, and keyed in

 some more commands. This time the screen flick-

 ered and Cassie's picture and data came up on it.

 They definitely updated their files constantly—it

 was her very recent graduation picture.

 The women studied it for a moment. "Very high

 I.Q., but only average in school. A dreamer, butch

 beyond the usual age for such things," the projec-

 tionist noted. "Rather be one of the boys than be

 with one, but still classified heterosexual. Prefers

 horses to people."

 "Kinky," Daji put in. It was ignored, as usual.

 Cassie was forced to stand there silently as the

 details of her life and interests were read out,

 including many incidents and anecdotes she had

 long forgotten. It was obvious that these files were

 extremely elaborate and would have been impossi-

 ble to keep and keep straight without the strange

 powered devices that worked only here in the city

 and with the constant cooperation of local priest-

 esses, government officials, and spies that had to

 permeate the whole of Anchor Logh. It was here

 that their destinies were plotted, not in Heaven,

 46 Jack L. Chalker

 that was clear—but they were plotted on the basis

 of very complete information.

 "We had her down for psychological counseling,"

 the projectionist concluded, "but she's really good

 with animals. Wanted a vet's slot but doesn't have

 the mental self-discipline for the boring and rou-

 tine work required to get the degree- Currently we

 had her down as a good church prospect—she'd be

 an excellent midwife, for example—with the usual

 twist of giving her a choice between that and a

 menial job like stable hand."

 "That's all I came in for—to apply for the

 novitiate," Cassie blurted out. "I didn't mean to

 do anything wrong!"

 "Too bad," the Sister General commented with-

 out a trace of sorrow or pity in her voice. "Well,

 girl, you surely understand that that way is out

 now. Even if we could overlook your sacrilege to

 the Temple and what you saw in this room—nobody

 would ever believe you anyway, no matter how you

 blabbed—we can't overlook the fact that you would

 know. You'd be a latent rebel, never fully able to

 take church doctrine or discipline, uncontrollable by

 us or the government without extreme measures,

 and you're smart enough to figure ways around

 those. You could be the source for some major

 inconveniences at some point down the road, and

 we can't have that. When we identify a potential

 agent of such instability, we really have no choice."

 "What could / do?" Cassie asked, half-pleading,

 "Who knows? Perhaps nothing. Very likely noth-

 ing. But a society like ours works and survives

 because it is in a very delicate balance. It works

 primarily because its people believe it works, and

 believe that they live in a free democracy where

 jobs and promotions are based solely on merit and

 loyalty to the system, and that it's possible for the

 lowest—or a child of the lowest—to become the

 highest. It doesn't take much to upset that balance.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 47

 That is really why we do all of this, and why we do

 it this way. Left to itself, this land would get periodi-

 cally out of balance, opening the way for radical

 ideas and resultant radical changes. The whole thing

 would collapse into anarchy, and the living would

 envy the dead. It's happened before, child, more

 than once, long ago and far away. No matter what

 you think of us, we take our responsibility very, very

 seriously and are totally bound to scripture. The

 church's sole mission is to preserve stability, to

 shore up the system and eliminate its weakest and

 most threatening spots, so that the Holy Mother's

 plan can continue. By your own actions you have

 made yourself a potential source of such instability,

 and you have learned the truth decades before you

 were ready to understand and handle it."

 She was about to continue when a buzzer sound-

 ed on the projectionist's console. The controller

 reached over and picked up a small oblong-shaped

 object that was apparently some sort of communi-

 cations device and talked in a low tone for more

 than two minutes. The rest of them waited, won-

 dering what it was about.

 Finally the projectionist was finished and she

 turned to the Sister General. "More headaches. That

 was Ranatan over at the Lazy Bull on Main Street.

 Seems that last year he got a new girl for the

 upstairs room from another dive in Anchor Thomb.

 Now the stringer Arden told him his chit's been

 called, and he's pulled an abduction to pay up."

 The Sister General frowned. "Damn. Anybody

 we know?"

 "Not on our list, if that's what you mean. I

 remembered her when we were checking slots- A

 real looker, Ranatan says, although she's got some

 brains. Wait a moment." She punched in a code

 and checked a screen.

 "Anybody we can live without?" the Sister Gen-

 eral asked hopefully.

 48 Jack L. Chalker

 "Yeah. Good LQ. and solid aptitudes, but not in

 anything we aren't already overstocked in. I guess

 we can spare her, but Ranatan owes us one now,

 coming up with this so late. Says he forgot about

 it until his marker was called."

 "I'll bet," the high priestess sneered.

 "One problem, though. She has a steady boy-

 friend, and he woke up from the sapping Ranatan's

 boys gave him in a rotten and angry mood. He's

 raising holy hell with the local cops right now.

 Farmhand type. Not on our list but he could easily

 be our third soldier."

 The Sister General nodded. "Arrange it. Since

 there'll be something of a cover-up necessary to

 pacify the police and families, better use the tun-

 nel and bring 'em here. Keep 'em on ice until after

 Paring Rite, then just add her in with the crowd

 and make sure they leave at night. You know the

 routine."

 The administrator nodded. "What about her and

 the boy?" By "her" it was clear that this meant

 Cassie,

 "We'll keep 'em on ice until Paring Day. Use two

 of the cells below, ninth level. Somebody can work

 out cover stories for them staying in town- As for

 Ranatan's girl, put her in with this one until then.

 We'll have to check with the stringers and see

 who's heading in the right direction to make

 delivery."

 "Check," responded the administrator crisply,

 and that was that.

 RITE

 The cell was not, strictly speaking, a jail, but it

 was clear from some of the graffiti on the walls

 that it had served as one many times. In point of

 fact, it was the kind of barren cubicle that novices

 used when living and studying at the Temple. Un-

 der other circumstances, Cassie thought ruefully,

 she might have been in a similar or identical cell

 in this very place as a priestess-in-training.

 The box-like cell was roughly three meters wide

 and three deep, with old and rotting straw on the

 floor. The rear of the place contained two fixed

 wooden "beds" of sorts, one on each side; really

 nothing more than two rectangular boxes filled

 with more straw. In front of these were two small

 shelves mounted on each wall, empty now and

 probably for some time, although, hanging from a

 nail in one was a tiny oil lantern that provided

 some, but not much, illumination. Sitting on the

 floor near the door was a very old chamber pot

 that was cold, shallow, and rust-encrusted- The

 door itself was of solid wood with the hinges on

 the outside and a tiny window in the middle. The

 window was not barred, but it was barely large

 enough to get a hand through. The door, however,

 was barred, and with a very solid plank.

 The wardens had stripped her completely before

 49

 50

 Jack L. Chatker

 shoving her in, and had warned her that should

 she cause any problems while there, they would be

 perfectly willing to bring down some manacles

 and a gag, too, if need be. She didn't intend to

 make any trouble, though—at least not right now.

 Even if she managed a miracle, where could she

 go and what could she do with both church and

 state against her? Anchor Logh was a big place,

 but the Sister General had been right about one

 thing—the people believed totally in the system

 because the alternatives were so horrible. She might

 make it back home for a couple of days, but once

 her number was picked in the Paring Rite even her

 own parents, sad and'grieving as they might be,

 would turn her in.

 She felt curiously ambivalent about her future.

 The fact was, the high priestess had been correct

 about her. She had seen too much, arid she had

 lost her faith. The system was based on the scrip-

 tures, and now she had caught the church red-

 handed circumventing its own system. If the church

 could do that, it must follow the scriptures only

 when it was convenient for it to do so, and if the

 church didn't really buy those holy writings, how

 in hell could she?

 She wondered again about the stringers who'd

 invoked such horror in her- It was obvious that

 they knew it was all a sham, for they participated

 and even profited by it. Perhaps that explained

 their callous attitude towards everything and

 everyone. They knew it was all phony, strictly busi-

 ness and cynically amoral. If you knew that right

 from the start, as they most certainly did, and you

 also knew that there wasn't a damned thing you

 could do about it, what sort of person might you

 become? The answer to that one made stringers at

 least understandable as people, although she still

 couldn't agree with or like anyone who assisted so

 eagerly in perpetuating the fraud for personal gain.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 51

 The church equated disorder with evil. The Seven

 Who Wait really personified that disorder, and,

 thus, were depicted as the ultimate evil. Did the

 Seven, in fact, exist, or were they a convenient

 invention of the church to scare people with, she

 wondered? Perhaps it was a grisly sort of joke on

 all of them, even the church. Perhaps this was not

 some testing ground but Hell itself, and they were

 in fact the fallen angels, suffering pain and an-

 guish and being reborn again and again, forever,

 into eternal punishment, with Heaven so tantaliz-

 ingly in sight and always totally out of reach,

 everyone living rigid and mostly unhappy lives

 because they were working towards ultimate sal-

 vation—an ultimate salvation that would be for-

 ever denied them. Now that made sense—and would

 be the ultimate joke. Perhaps this is the secret the

 stringers knew, that it was all for nothing and that

 nothing really counted.

 She shivered, only partly from the damp chill of

 the cell. Well, if that were the way of World, then

 something, however minor, could and must be done

 about it. If the angels rebelled against the Holy

 Mother and created disorder, and if those angels

 now ran World, then it was time they got a little

 disorder of their own. It was not in stability that

 hope lay, but in rebellion. Somehow, some time, she

 swore to herself, I will help be the instrument of

 that.

 Strong words from someone who knew that she

 was to be cast into the Flux, a prisoner and slave,

 in a matter of days, and who was now pacing a

 tiny cell, stark naked and alone.

 How long she was there, alone with uncounted

 tiny vermin and her own sour thoughts, it was

 impossible to say, but occasionally the heavy bar

 that kept her door securely closed would move

 back and a warden, backed up by another, would

 enter, leave a bowl of foul-smelling gruel, a cup of

 52 Jack L. Chalker

 water, and check the chamberpot. She'd also slept,

 off and on and fitfully, although she was never

 quite sure for how long. The small oil lamp contin-

 ued to bum, and she was afraid to turn it off for

 fear it would remain that way.

 Still, three "meals" into her imprisonment, the

 door opened again, but it was not for food. She

 just stood there, amazed, as two wardens tossed

 another naked figure into the cell. "Let your room-

 mate there tell you the rules," one warden sneered,

 and the door was slammed shut and barred once

 more.

 Cassie stared at the figure now picking herself

 up off the floor. "Lani? Oh, Holy Mother of World!

 Not you, too\"

 The other got up, frowned, and stared at her.

 Finally something seemed to penetrate the shock.

 "Cass?"

 Quickly Cassie helped her friend over to one of

 the beds. "Sit here, or lie back/' she soothed.

 "There's mites and everything else in here but

 they'll get you no matter where you are so you

 might as well be as comfortable as you can,"

 It took some time for the small, attractive girl to

 get a grip on herself, but Cassie was patient, know-

 ing that time was the one thing they had plenty of.

 Eventually Lani was able to talk about it, sort of,

 in small bits and pieces, and the story came out.

 The truth was, there wasn't much to tell. After

 leaving Cassie at the fairgrounds, she and Dar had

 headed for the youth hostel. On their way they'd

 come close to the bright lights and raucous sounds

 of Main Street, and both had, more or less on

 impulse, gone over there. It was just curiosity,

 really—the area was always denied them in the

 past, and now that they were The Age it was open

 to them both. Open, yes, but dangerous. They had

 finally gone into a bar, just to see what one was

 like, and had been befriended by this nice young

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 53

 fellow working there. He'd been very easy to talk

 to, and extremely nice and friendly without being

 anything more than that, and eventually he of-

 fered to buy them one drink each just to celebrate

 their coming of age. It seemed so nice, so reason-

 able. . . .

 Nor, in fact, was there much more to the story.

 She had more or less awakened in a room much

 like a hotel room, but she felt too dizzy and sleepy

 to see much or tell much about it. She was con-

 scious only of being bound, somehow, and of sev-

 eral people coming in and out at various times,

 some giving her sweet-tasting things to drink that

 put her out once more, others just standing there

 and having some sort of conversation or other that

 she couldn't follow, although she seemed to think

 it was about her. Finally somebody came in with a

 novice's white robes and bundled her, still drugged,

 out a back door and down a series of back streets

 to some sort of tunnel, and through there to here.

 She was just coming down from the drugs, and

 just realizing her status.

 "I've been abducted!" she suddenly said, sitting

 up straight. "Oh, Holy Mother protect me from my

 sins! Abducted!" She started to shake a little, and

 began sobbing quietly. Cassie felt sorry for her and

 let her cry it out, giving what comfort she could.

 Finally Lani seemed to realize Cassie's own situa-

 tion. "You—you've been abducted, too!"

 Cassie sighed. "Not quite, but I might as well

 have been." Quickly she outlined her own story,

 and why she was now there. "So, you see, I'm

 above board from their point of view. I'll be picked

 in the Paring Rite. You won't. You'll just—disap-

 pear."

 Lani shook her "head in shock and wonder.

 "What's to become of us after that, Cass? What

 can we do?" Another thought suddenly struck her.

 "Poor Dar! He must be worried sick!"

 54 Jack L. Chalker

 "Yeah, just like us," Cass told her. "He made

 such a fuss they copped him, too. He's probably

 somewhere in a hole like this one until Paring

 Rite, then they'll let him out just long enough to

 get picked. It's less messy that way."

 Lani still could not quite accept it. "The church

 in league with stringers and kidnappers. ... I'm

 sorry, Cass, it's just so—hard to accept, even now.

 And—why me?"

 Cassie sighed. "You were handy. You were, sorry

 to say it, foolish enough to walk into a joint with

 your bracelet showing, and the bar owner owed a

 favor to some bar owner in an Anchor far away. I

 saw them operate. Lani. They put in orders for

 people—size, shape, physical stats, you name it—

 like they were ordering a horse or new plow."

 "But what would anyone want with me? I mean,

 was it just because we were the first ones dumb

 enough or naive enough to walk in there, or what?"

 Cass shook her head. She'd been pretty naive

 herself, and maybe she still was, but she didn't

 recall ever being that naive. "Uh, Lani, a bar doesn't

 exactly want you for your brains."

 For a moment the other girl looked puzzled;

 then, slowly, the light dawned, and she seemed to

 wilt a bit. "Oh," she managed, sounding shocked.

 "Oh, oh, oh. ..." She sighed. "What can we do?"

 she wailed.

 Cassie shrugged. "What can we do? Oh, sure, if

 you could escape you might kick up a fuss, but

 nobody would believe the church was involved, so

 nobody would find me or Dar, and all it means is

 that they'd get some other girl in your place and

 your number would be picked like mine and Dar's

 will be. They don't like problems, Lani."

 "I'd make a stink they couldn't sweep away,"

 Lani retorted bitterly.

 "If you managed anything, they'd just kill you.

 That's the kind of people they are. Lani. I've

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 55

 watched them in action. Look on the bright side.

 At least you're going to an Anchor, and you know

 why and for what. If you're very lucky, and if they

 don't mess with your mind or something—you're

 smart. You'll figure something out. You always

 have a chance at getting them back. Me—I don't

 know. I'm being sent into the Flux, whatever that

 means. If I get back I'll be the first I ever heard of

 to do it."

 Lani just shook her head sadly and was silent

 for a moment. Finally she said, "You just don't

 know, Cass. My field is—was—biology. I read up

 on it a lot. Some of the drugs they have ... I can

 even tell you right now the formula for the drug

 they probably used on me. And the ones they will

 use on me when I get—where I'm going. Somehow,

 when you read about them in cold, scientific lan-

 guage you never think of them being used on people,

 particularly anybody you know. Particularly not

 me. ..." She seemed to lapse into a sort of imper-

 sonal world of horror -

 "First they'll give me a series of doses of aphal-

 amatin. It's used on the criminally insane, mostly.

 It bums out certain localized areas of the cerebral

 cortex, leaving you very nice and happy all the

 time and very, very compliant—you'll do just about

 anything to please, like a little kid, and you're

 dumb enough you can't even add without using

 your fingers. Then, after a tubal of course, they'll

 give me massive hormonal injections to get me

 super-endowed and homy all the time, and . . ."

 "For Heaven's sake. stop it\" Cassie screamed,

 reaching down and shaking her. "You've got to

 fight them! Fight as long as you can, with what-

 ever you have! Sure, maybe it's impossible, but,

 damn it, you fight anyway! Maybe, just maybe, we

 can do something, anything to get these bastards!"

 Lani just sat there and didn't seem to hear. Cas-

 sie finally gave up in disgust and tried pacing

 56 Jack L. Chalker

 around a bit. Maybe it was possible to be too

 smart, she thought. Anybody who ever figured the

 odds on anything radical and believed them proba-

 bly would never try it. As for her, she couldn't

 name a dozen drugs and wasn't sure what half of

 them did, except stop a bleeding cut or cure a

 headache, but she wasn't about to give up. or count

 the odds. Her bitterness and hatred was far too

 strong and too deep for this, and while Lani's

 surrender to the inevitable frustrated and disgusted

 her, it only reinforced her own anger.

 The fact was, she couldn't really blame the girl.

 Like herself, Lani had been brought up very secure

 in the system and was a solid true believer. Unlike

 her, Lani had not witnessed the total betrayal of

 that system firsthand. Lani was here because she

 was pretty; Cassie was here because she knew too

 much. It was a major difference. Secure in her

 knowledge that the system was rigged, a total sham,

 she had no qualms whatsoever about betraying it.

 Lani, on the other hand, faced her unpleasant fu-

 ture still shackled with the beliefs of her upbringing,

 beliefs shaken only by Cassie's admittedly biased

 account and by no real supporting evidence- Lani

 had only Cassie's word they were in the Temple.

 Lani, then, had surrendered to the total fatalism

 that the church and scripture brought, and as the

 hours wore on she seemed to wrap herself more

 and more in the comfort of those beliefs.

 "It is the will of the Holy Mother," Lani pro-

 nounced at last, and relaxed a bit. "It was my own

 past sins that led me to go to Main Street, and this

 is my payment. Well. I will do it. I will be the best

 damned stripper, dancer, whore, or whatever they

 will me to be. The Holy Mother's will be done!"

 Cassie could do nothing but sigh and get more

 disgusted. This, of course, was the trouble, and

 why things worked so well for the people who ran

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 57

 it. They probably wouldn't have to use a single

 drug on Lani, or much of anything else. /

 That, in fact, discouraged Cass the most. A rebel-

 lion was impossible if only one rebel existed. Lani

 in fact showed just how formidable a task rebel-

 lion was, and why it was unheard of in Anchor

 Logh. What could a liberator do when the slaves of

 the system would fight like hell against the rebels

 for their right to remain slaves?

 Still, perhaps unwittingly, the Sister General had

 offered some slight hope. There had been rebellion

 elsewhere, in other Anchors- The old bitch as much

 as admitted it. And, by their conversation, it was

 certain that there was more than nothingness in

 the Flux. There were, in fact, real places with real

 rulers and real names, although just what sort of

 place would be ruled by somebody who thought

 herself a goddess was hard to imagine.

 Well, let the sheep be led to the slaughter if they

 wanted. She, Cassie, would have none of it. She

 would probably die or suffer terribly; even she

 was logical enough to realize this. But she'd die or

 suffer fighting, and if there was any chance, any

 chance at all, for something more she would have

 what revenge she could.

 They came for her after what seemed like an

 eternity. At first she had welcomed Lani's company,

 but by now the poor girl was far gone into her own

 fantasy rationalization, practicing being sexy and

 alluring and seemingly looking forward to her fate

 with a near messianic fanaticism that Cass found

 bizarre in the extreme. Separation was now a relief.

 Of course, Cassie and Dar had to be produced

 for the Paring Rite, for the same reason Lani had

 to stay hidden. They took Cass out of the cell and

 upstairs to a comfortable dressing area, where she

 found all her clothes neatly cleaned and pressed. She

 put them on and gave the wardens no trouble. If

 58 Jack L. Chalker

 nothing else had, Lani had convinced her that what-

 ever future she had was not in Anchor Logh, but

 out there, somewhere, in the terrible Flux. The

 system was simply too good for easy solutions.

 Revenge, and revolution, must come from without,

 for it would certainly never come from within.

 That she knew now with a certainty equalling the

 certainty that her name would-be picked today in

 the Paring Rite. In a way, she was like Lani—she'd

 stopped bemoaning her fate and actually welcomed

 getting it over with.

 Anything rather than go back to that damned,

 cursed cell with its other occupant.

 They kept her in the ante-room while things

 started up outside. She could see their plan, and it

 was really pretty clever. No matter who was

 outside, or what family had attended, she was to

 be released just before the "lottery," out a side

 entrance. She'd be out there, free, but pinned in

 one location by the crowd and with no time at all

 to do much of anything before being called. It

 would look very convincing—and there was abso-

 lutely nothing she could do about it, damn them.

 Outside, the great square was filled with people,

 overflowing down the side streets as far as the eye

 could see. Speakers had been set up all over town

 so that the sacred rite and its result would be

 known to all, and at exactly mid-day it all began

 with the grand processional.

 It was still an impressive sight, even to one who

 knew that it was all just a different version of

 carnival showmanship. At the mid-hour the great

 gong sounded from the high steeple, not its usual

 six times but, for the only time in the year, thir-

 teen times. As the gong started, the great bronze

 doors opened as if on their own, and the proces-

 sional began from within.

 First came the novices, all in bright white cloaks

 with hoods up, then the associates and profes-

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 59

 sional orders, headed by their superiors—the Mid-

 wife General, the Judiciary General, the Educator

 General, and all the others, followed by their

 members. They fanned out, providing a riot of

 colors in their formal robes and vestments, on

 both sides of the platform. Now came the ranking

 priestesses of each parish, large or small, from the

 entire Anchor, followed by their associates and

 assistants, and, finally, the ranking members of

 the priestly guilds of the Temple itself. Below, in

 the square, directly in front of the platform, were

 roped-off rows of chairs, and now the processional

 filed down the steps on both sides of the platform

 and filed into those seats, novices in the back,

 Temple personnel in front, everybody else in

 between.

 Finally the Sister General herself appeared,

 dressed in a robe of sparkling gold inlaid with

 gems that contained all the colors of all the orders

 below, carrying her gold septre of office and wear-

 ing a crown made up entirely of colorful flowers.

 She looked in every respect the absolute monarch

 she actually was, subject only to the orders of Her

 Perfect Highness, the Queen of Heaven, who was

 safely in her palace in Holy Anchor half a world

 away.

 She walked to a small, flower-covered lectern

 that had been set up for her in the front and center

 position on the platform, and stood there while

 aides lit incense in small stands flanking the high

 priestess. The day was cloudy and damp, but no-

 body seemed to mind.

 She raised her right arm and the entire crowd

 went down on one knee, or as far down as the

 packing would permit.

 "Peace be unto you, and the blessings of the

 Holy Mother be with you always," she intoned, the

 small hidden mike carrying her blessing clearly

 throughout the city.

 60 Jack L. Chalker

 "And to you and the Holy Mother Church," came

 the mass response. Even Cassie found herself mouth-

 ing the required responses, although she viewed

 the whole procedure cynically. Even so, she couldn't

 help but wonder what the effect on this crowd

 would be if they'd seen the same majestic-looking

 Sister General the way she had.

 There followed the long and complex sacramen-

 tal service, through which the local priestesses of

 the various churches represented their parishioners,

 interspersing prayers and responses. As it was wind-

 ing down, though, the chief of administration for

 the Temple and two wardens brought down the

 large wire mesh drum and placed it behind the

 Sister General, anchoring it firmly in pre-drilled

 slots in the platform base. At that time a warden

 inside came up to Cassie and said, "All right, you—

 down and out that door there." And, with that, she

 found herself pushed out the side and onto the

 street right in the midst of the throng. She looked

 around on the off-chance that somebody familiar

 would be there, someone who, at least, could carry

 news of what was going on for Dar and Lani as

 well, but she saw no one.

 The Paring Rite itself began.

 "Sisters and brothers, we are gathered here to-

 day for a most sacred and holy duty," the Sister

 General began. "The Holy Mother and Her Angels

 have directed the welfare of this Anchor for the

 past year and have determined it is in all ways in

 accord with the holy scriptures and divine will.

 People were born, people died, in accordance with

 the divine cycle of death and rebirth, so that we

 who once failed our great test could, by Her infi-

 nite mercies, regain the richness of Heaven.

 "Those souls which are darker than others, and

 which must learn much more to reach this holy

 perfection, are revealed to us in the Paring. This is

 surely the most clear illustration of divine will

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 61

 and direct intervention in our affairs, for it is the

 Holy Mother who determines the size of the harvest,

 the death and birth rate, and so, by comparing the

 two, creates the miracle by which souls who need

 purification in the Flux that surrounds us are re-

 vealed to us. This year the number is fifty males

 and fifty-six females, out of a blessedly large

 generation, showing us indeed that Anchor Logh is

 among the most blessed of the communities of

 World-

 "Now," she continued, "through Her divine

 intervention, the names of those souls will be made

 known to us. Do not judge anyone of a family of

 the chosen to be in any way blamed for that

 selection. To blame another is to substitute the

 will of humankind for the wisdom of the Holy

 Mother, and She will not hold blameless those

 who cast aspersions on any family member. Like-

 wise, do not grieve for those who are chosen, for

 they are not lost, but rather found, and through

 their Paring and subsequent purification they, too,

 gain in the eternal quest for perfection. Do not

 judge them—let the Holy Mother alone do that, or

 you, yourself, may be judged wanting by Her in

 your next life, and may have been so judged in the

 past."

 Nice of her, Cassie thought sourly. Next thing you

 know she'll be saying that we're the lucky ones. She

 wondered idly where Dar was. Probably stuck in a

 crowd Just like her, and even less understanding of

 just what was happening to him and why.

 "When each child becomes an adult, she or he

 was given a bracelet and charm by the local par-

 ish to which that person belonged," the Sister Gen-

 eral went on. The explanation was hardly necessary,

 but it was required of the Rite. "Those people are

 here now. For most, this will be the day of their

 true coming of age. Those whom the Holy Mother

 does not choose will report, as soon as they can

 62 Jack L. Chalker

 after returning to their homes, to their local parish

 church and receive a registry number, and then

 they shall go to the government house in their

 communities and register and receive the rights,

 privileges, responsibilities, and duties of full cit-

 izens."

 She turned and looked back at the huge drum

 behind her. "Here are copies of the charms each

 wears. Seven times does the drum spin, and then

 the Holy Mother will tell us the names one by

 one."

 The administrative chief and one of the wardens

 started the thing spinning the requisite number of

 times, then, finally, brought it to a stop. The hun-

 dreds of gold and silver colored amulets made

 quite a racket.

 "We will now begin to read the divine will," the

 Sister General told them. With that she moved

 back, opened the small door in the drum, and

 without looking at anything save the crowd, now

 hushed and tense, she drew the first small tag.

 Cassie couldn't see much of the spectacle, but she

 had been wondering how they fixed it.

 The first tag was handed to the administrative

 chief, who took it and then consulted a large bound

 volume—the birth register. "JRL-4662-622-125K,"

 she announced. "Dileter of Kar Riding, come for-

 ward to the platform."

 -4s easy as that, Cassie reflected. Who was ever

 going to check all those numbers against the charms

 drawn and find out that what the clerk was read-

 ing had actually been worked out in advance and

 had no relation to the charm whatsoever?

 As each number was read out, there was a collec-

 tive sigh, or moan, from the crowd, plus occa-

 sional shrieks, wails, and protests from those called

 or from their friends and family. Dar was the ninth

 called. Cassie was the fourteenth. They were tak-

 ing no chances on giving them any freedom at all.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 63

 Resigned, she made her way, with difficulty,

 through the crowd, which only gave way when she

 told each obstruction in turn she'd been called.

 Then they were very solicitous and their pity just

 dripped from them, yet it was mixed with a strong

 sense of relief as well. It's not me. It's not someone

 I know. And, in the midst of it all, the acute ob-

 server could pick out a small fortune in betting

 slips changing hands with each and every pick of

 the Sister General. Cass hated them for their pity

 and for their hypocrisy as well. I'm coming back,

 you bastards! she swore silently. I'm coming back

 to tear down this damned city and wipe those looks

 off your holier-than-thou faces.

 She reached the platform and was actually

 assisted up by two wardens as if she were some

 sort of honored guest. Talk about hypocrites! She

 was led over to where those called were assem-

 bling in neat rows. Most of them looked scared to

 death or still in shock, and one or two were

 trembling uncontrollably or sobbing softly to

 themselves. Occasionally someone would pass out

 in shock when a name was called, and there were

 several unconscious bodies around by the end of

 it.

 Finally, it was over. The last number had been

 called, and the crowd knew it, and gave the hun-

 dred and six lost souls on the stage the final

 indignity.

 They cheered. They clapped. They built their joy,

 into a thunderous crescendo that echoed off all

 points of the square and throughout the city, sweep-

 ing over the sobbing and shaking friends and fam-

 ily of those on stage who would now be declared

 property, then dead, never to be seen or heard

 from again.

 Out of a class of 3,941, 3,835 rejoiced, as did

 their friends and families. Although a hundred and

 six were now condemned, it was a small fraction

 64 Jack L. Chalker

 of the total, and would soon be forgotten except

 for the parents, siblings, friends, and relatives of

 those now gone. Even that, in time, would fade, as it

 always did, the same as if those hundred and six

 had been felled by accident or injury.

 It was not so surprising that three of the un-

 lucky picks did not show up for the public honor;

 rather, it surprised Cassie that so few had run for

 it. They didn't have a prayer, though, as the Sister

 General pointed out as soon as the crowd let her

 get a word in.

 "Know you all that the Holy Mother has chosen

 three and looked for them and they are not here,"

 she announced. "Know that all those declared prop-

 erty of the state must surrender within one day of

 the first bell of Paring Rite. Know, too, that if

 those we will now designate are not turned over to

 the Temple here within that period they will be

 declared agents of evil and discord. Any who help

 them shall suffer the same fate as they. Any who

 do so much as give them a cup of water, or simply

 not report them at once and aid in their appre-

 hension, shall be guilty of a mortal sin beyond any

 redemption in this life and punished by terrible

 torments in their next, and shall forfeit all rights,

 citizenship, and property and themselves become

 property of the state. Even one who hides this

 from us cannot hide from the Holy Mother, who

 shall wreak a terrible vengeance on those who

 help thwart Her divine will."

 She read the names and numbers once again,

 and gave the benediction. The lottery drum was

 already removed to one side, and she turned and

 walked regally back up the steps to the Temple,

 and inside. Wardens flanked the miserable chosen,

 many of whom had to help their comrades merely

 stand, and they were then directed back into the

 Temple as well. Even Cassie found herself trembling

 slightly now that it was done, and more than a

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 65

 little scared. Knowing that it was fixed and that it

 was all a lie did nothing to change the fact that

 she had been declared property and banished, and

 was now going to the same unknown fate as those

 around her.

 MULES

 They were ushered into a lower level room that

 was large but spartan. In fact, it was often used as

 a small gym by the Temple priestesses, and the

 remains of some gym apparatus were still there,

 pushed against a far wall. The entire group was

 lined up in seven rows of fifteen each, without

 regard to much of anything. Wardens with nasty

 looking batons were posted all over the place, but

 the bulk of the personnel were priestesses in medi-

 cal yellow. While the wardens kept them in line

 and menaced someone here and there who made a

 sound or flagged in position, the nurses measured

 out a clear-looking liquid into small cups and put

 them out on tables.

 "All right—first row, walk to that table there

 and each take a cup," the chief warden instructed.

 "Then get back into line,"

 They did as they were instructed, some sniffing

 or looking dubiously at the unfamiliar substance.

 It smelled a lot like lemonade.

 Cass stood in the third row and waited her turn

 with the rest. She looked, of course, for others she

 might know in the group, as some of the others did

 as well, and saw several familiar faces. Her riding

 seemed particularly wicked this time out.

 Finally she got her drink and was back in line,

 66

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 67

 and after a while everyone had one. "Now, first

 row, drink all of the liquid and, when finished,

 turn the cup upside down," the warden instructed,

 "then sit on the floor where you are."

 They did as instructed, although a couple of

 attempts to hold the stuff in their mouths brought

 sharp and painful blows from the batons and yelps

 of pain, and one was singled out, pinned down,

 and had a cup force-fed down his throat. The ob-

 ject lesson was well-taken; nobody in any of the

 subsequent rows failed to drink their cups dry-

 Cassie had had more than a few qualms about

 downing the stuff after Lani's grisly catalog of

 horrible drugs, but the drink turned out to be

 some sort of tranquilizer. It produced an odd effect.

 She felt her body getting very sleepy, very distant,

 to the point where she was barely conscious that it

 was there at all, and her emotions seemed to be

 equally suppressed, yet her mind remained seem-

 ingly clear and sharp, and she was both conscious

 of and interested in the proceedings around her. In

 fact, it was an effective hypnotic, putting them all

 under yet retaining their undivided attention.

 The head nurse went to each of them and checked

 to make certain that the drug had taken effect,

 then came back and stood in front of them. "You

 will give me your total attention and cooperation,"

 she began, and instantly she had it. "The first row

 will get to its feet now." All of the first row moved

 as one.

 "Take two steps forward, first row," she instruct-

 ed, "then remove every piece of clothing you have

 on you and place it in a bundle in front of you."

 Again, they did as instructed, without regard to

 modesty or sex. The curious thing was, they felt

 wide awake and totally alert—they just did what

 they were told as if they had no control whatso-

 ever over their body movements.

 "Now you will all pick up your clothing and

 68 Jack L. Chalker

 hold it in front of you. That's right. Now, you will

 all turn to your right, so that you form a line, and

 walk slowly to the large box over there, drop your

 clothes in it, then go to the first table next to the

 box."

 The procedure was repeated for each one- At the

 first table non-Temple doctors of both sexes gave

 each a fairly routine physical, then they were di-

 rected to the second, where their heads were shaved

 clean, first with some sort of powered razors, then

 with a creamy compound that removed any last

 vestiges of hair, right down into the pores and to

 the base of the roots. This was the first mark of

 those chosen in the Paring Rite. If, somehow, one

 or more got away, they would be forever marked

 by total and complete baldness.

 The second mark was the most degrading, and

 was administered by a very strange chair-like

 machine. Each in turn was told to sit in the large

 contraption, their rears against a metal plate of

 some sort. An attendant punched a button, and,

 when they got up, there was an indelible long

 number tattooed in purple on their behinds. Simi-

 larly, they were told to put their right thumbs in a

 hole in a small device, and that gave a purplish

 stain that made the fingerprint really stand out.

 Boys, Cassie noted, also had the shave and cream

 treatment for facial hair of any sort.

 Finally, they were given a series of injections,

 purposes unknown, then broken up into small

 groups and taken to smaller rooms where they

 were given a basic meal to eat—some sort of stew,

 not very good, but far better than the crap they'd

 given her in the cell—and then were taken to

 basic showers and rinsed from head to toe. This

 done, they were taken back to the gym, where all

 of the equipment had been cleared and the floor

 covered with huge, gray cushioned mats of the

 usual sort found in school gymnasiums, and the

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 69

 chief warden told them, "All right. You will re-

 main here until it is time to leave. All exits will be

 guarded by wardens who would just love to make

 an example of somebody trying to leave. There is a

 basic bathroom through those small doors over

 there if you need to take a crap. Anybody still

 thinking of leaving before we let you should re-

 member your stigmata and know that these will

 make you known to one and all- There is no place

 to run in Anchor Logh." And, with that, she

 departed.

 The drug was wearing off rapidly now, and Cas-

 sie could feel the sting on her ass where the num-

 ber had been tattooed, but a side effect of the stuff

 was that it made you terribly tired and sleepy.

 Most of them, herself included, just sank down on

 the mats and passed out.

 It was an unpleasant sleep and an unpleasant

 awakening, although in a sense it was better

 because, once it was determined that what had

 happened was no nightmare, there was a sense on

 the part of most of the group to adapt to the

 situation as something new to be faced, with un-

 pleasant future realities shunted to a back part of

 the mind-

 Cassie awoke with a mild headache and a little

 dizziness that soon passed, and she looked around.

 Some of the others had apparently been awake for

 some time, while others were still in various stages

 of half-sleep, but there was some moving around,

 whispered talking, and once in a while somebody

 would stagger to the bathroom.

 They were a strange sight, all these people with

 no clothes or hair and numbers on their asses, but

 since everybody was that way it soon seemed some-

 what normal, sort of like a uniform binding them

 together. Cassie got up and, after a false start or

 two, started to walk around and see if she could

 70 Jack L. Chatker

 find anybody she knew. A large boy sitting up

 against a wall called to her. "Hey! CassI Is that

 you?"

 She smiled, turned, and went over to him.

 Hairless, Dar looked more the country bumpkin

 than ever.

 "I saw you come up when you were called," he

 told her. "I really wasn't expecting to see you here,

 though." His face darkened. "I kind of figured it'd

 be Lani."

 She sat down beside him, paused, trying to col-

 lect her thoughts, then said, "Lani's not with our

 group, Dar, but she'll probably go out with us. I've

 seen her." Carefully, hesitantly, she told the story

 from the point at which they'd split up at the

 Carnival until she'd been shoved outside for the

 Paring Rite, She spared nothing, but was as gentle

 as she could be.

 He took it well, although for a moment he just

 sat there, thinking hard. Finally he said, "Damn.

 And I always figured she was so much smarter'n

 me. That's just dumb foolishness." He paused a

 moment more, then added, "But, like you said,

 this is all just dumb foolishness, isn't it?"

 She smiled wanly. "That's about it. I'm a little

 surprised at how you're taking it all, though. Don't

 you go along with her that it's the divine will?"

 He snorted. "Divine will—hell! I already figured

 that any goddess that would do this mean thing to

 nice people like you and Lani wasn't much worth

 a damn. It ain't fair, that's all, and who wants a

 bunch of gods who ain't fair?"

 She almost kissed and hugged him for that, but

 kept still. Eventually he told her of his own

 experiences, of getting the knockout drinks at the

 bar and waking up in the youth hostel, trying to

 see Lani, and being told she wasn't there. He'd

 become something of a wild man at that, realizing

 that she'd been abducted and blaming himself for

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 71

 it. He'd stormed back to the bar looking for the

 guy who'd done it and, when he couldn't find him,

 he'd started tearing the bar apart. In the end, the

 cops came and arrested him and had refused to

 listen to his protests about Lani. A cop did take his

 statement, when he'd calmed down enough to give

 one, and promised to check for the missing girl,

 but they'd left him locked up.

 Finally a magistrate, who was, of course, a

 Temple priestess, had heard his case, but refused

 to even allow any testimony on Lani's disappear-

 ance. She told him there was no excuse for such

 misbehavior, that there were proper channels if he

 had a problem, and she sentenced him to remain

 in jail until Paring Rite, which he had.

 "I kind of figured my number was up then, and

 Lani's too," he told her. "I mean, when that bitch

 of a judge wouldn't even listen about a kidnapping—

 hell, I smelled rotten meat. Then, when I was called

 so quickly, that just cinched it."

 She nodded, feeling better than she had in a

 long time. It was good to be believed, and to find a

 kindred spirit in all this mess. They talked for a

 while, mostly on inconsequential things, and Dar

 remarked, "Hey—you know, it's funny."

 "Huh? What's funny?"

 "Well, here we are, all naked and all, with a

 bunch of guys and girls, and nobody's the least bit

 turned on, if you know what I mean-1 mean, if you

 can't be bad now, when can you?"

 She hadn't really noticed it before, but he was

 right. Dar was, in fact, as amply endowed in his

 area as Lani was in hers, yet she felt not the slight-

 est urge or inclination there. At first she just put it

 down to the situation, or the public nature of the

 room, but now she realized that this wasn't ex-

 plainable by that at all. In fact, even if some of the

 boys were restrained, others like Dar would not

 Jack L. Chalker

 72

 be, and their sexual arousal would be impossible

 to hide.

 "It must be those shots they gave us," she decided.

 "I guess one of them just, well, turned us all off."

 Dar sighed. "Yeah. It ain't enough to make us

 bald and dye us purple. They got to make us mules,

 too." He looked at her. "Too bad, too. I got to

 admit, Cass, I never much thought of you except as

 one of the boys, but, like this, well. you're kind'a

 cute. Ain't no mistaking you for a boy, anyway."

 She grinned broadly, leaned over, and kissed

 him gently on the cheek. "That's the nicest thing

 any boy's ever said to me. I appreciate it, Dar. I

 really do."

 "Yeah, too bad. The mind's willin' but the motor

 just won't start." They sat there a while longer,

 and eventually several others recognized them and

 came over and joined them. They were a mixed lot

 from the riding, and also somewhat mixed in their

 reactions to all this. Cass was surprised to find

 how few were deep-down religious about it all. It's

 easy to see someone else get picked for sin, but

 pretty tough to get picked for it yourself when

 others whom you know are far worse than you

 were freed to live normal lives. Not that there

 weren't a few wail-and-doom fanatics, but not

 many.

 Some friends, old and new, banded together with

 them for at least a brief association. There were

 Suzl and Nadya, two girls who crushed Cassie's

 old belief—or hope—that the pretty and sexy ones

 would be nothing without hairdos, makeup, and

 careful dressing, and Canty and Ivon, one a short,

 squat boy with a mischievous streak, the other

 built like a bull. Ivon, the big, muscular one, was

 pretty bright, but he had both a temper and an

 attitude that showed a bull-like lack of fear—and

 lack of self-control.

 "Turned us into damned mules, that's what they

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 73

 did," Ivon grumped. "Shaved, sexless, and branded.

 I suppose a halter's next."

 The shots seemed to have affected them all more

 than they'd expected. "I was in the middle of my

 period yesterday," Suzl noted. "Now—nothing. I

 wonder what else those shots did? I wonder if it's

 permanent?" That last was the unspoken primary

 fear of all of them.

 Cassie reassured them at least that there was

 evidence of civilization in the Flux, between the

 Anchors and having trade with them. What sort of

 civilization could exist there none of them could

 imagine, and Cassie decided it was better not to

 mention the place that wanted perfect specimens

 for experimental purposes. What they had now

 was bad enough

 They were fed at intervals, again in small groups,

 and there was some variety despite the basic lack

 of quality in the food. Two of the three missing

 ones also arrived during that period, both girls

 who said that they had been hustled away by par-

 ents or other relatives and had just bought a little

 more time. They had paid for that time, though,

 and dearly. Every hair on their bodies had been

 removed, and not by machine, either—even their

 eyebrows—and they had been tattooed by hand,

 without anesthetic, not merely with the number

 on their rump in the standard purple but all over

 in various colors. They had been tied down and

 anybody who was around was given a needle and

 told to write or draw something. From the looks of

 them there had been an awful lot of people around,

 and most had cruel or obscene minds.

 The third missing one, they were told, would not

 be coming at all. She had gone someplace and

 found a large knife, then entered the Temple and

 began hacking and stabbing everyone she met,

 screaming that she was one of the Seven Who

 Wait, wreaking vengeance on the Holy Mother and

 74 Jack L. Chalker

 Her church. It'd taken seven wardens to subdue

 her, and in the process they'd beaten her to death.

 Talk was she'd taken several in church robes with

 her to the next incarnation. They didn't know her

 name, but she became something of an instant

 hero to the group in the gym.

 They were just beginning to get used to the rou-

 tine and their new situation when the moment

 they dreaded arrived. The doors opened and in

 walked not Temple wardens but uniformed sol-

 diers of the border guard, looking tough and nasty.

 The group was formed up into its now standard

 rows, and an officer of the guard stepped forward

 with a list.

 "When I call your name, you will step forward

 and form a new set of ranks to my left," he in-

 structed them- "Failure to move immediately or

 not carry out any and all orders any member of the

 Guard may give you without question will result

 in you experiencing more pain than you have ever

 felt in your lives. There will be no talking or whis-

 pering or gesturing of any sort. I don't care if you

 have to shit—do it in line. Now, listen and move

 when I call your name."

 Fifty-two names were called out, slightly more

 boys than girls, which left Cassie's group with a

 decided female numerical superiority. Whether by

 chance or what, Dar, Ivon, Suzl, and Nadya all

 remained with Cassie's group, although Canty and

 several other friends were split.

 Now the roll was called for the remaining people,

 just to make sure that everybody was in fact in the

 correct group, and both were formed up into regu-

 lar rows, four across for the smaller group, with

 one straggler in the odd-numbered other group.

 They were then told to extend their arms and

 stand that far away from the person next to them,

 which they did. There was the sound of clanking

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 75

 metal from the doorway, and everyone in both

 groups stiffened.

 The guards were quite efficient. First worn-

 looking collars of some cheap metal were placed

 around their necks, then tough rope of some

 unnatural-looking but extremely tough white ma-

 terial was passed through rings on either side of

 the collar until they were all linked together. More

 of the rope was then passed through other collar

 loops right to left, so that they were linked and

 secured in a cross-hatched pattern. Some adjust-

 ments were made for height, but not a lot of atten-

 tion was paid to niceties that might make things

 more reasonable or comfortable- Now waistbands

 of similar metal were brought out and more of the

 strange rope was used to have them affix the waist-

 bands as the neckbands were.

 There were some attempts to miss loops, of

 course, but the guards were sharp-eyed and dealt

 with anyone causing trouble by pointing and shoot-

 ing small hand-held pistols of some sort at the

 offenders, who received bloody welts where they

 were hit and screamed in agony. Few examples

 needed to be made.

 Finally, it was done, and the final indignity was

 performed by a guard who used his pistol to melt

 and seal all the endings, effectively welding them

 into this incredible position. The officer of the guard

 stepped forward once more.

 "Stretch yourself out so that both of your ropes

 are tight," he instructed. "Keep 'em tight\ No slack,

 Some people have short legs, some long. Be respon-

 sible for your own ropes—the one across and the

 one directly in front of you. So long as you keep

 those ropes as tight as you can, you won't get into

 any trouble. If anybody isn't doing their part, one

 of us will deal with that person. If anybody falls,

 you are not, repeat, not to stop, but to yell out for

 help. Those of you in the lead, you will match the

 Jack L. Chalker

 76

 pace of the sergeant of the guard. You will move

 when we tell you, stop instantly if commanded to

 do so. Now, let's practice."

 Cassie was unprepared for the wrenching mo-

 tion that twisted her around as they began, and

 there were many people stumbling and falling.

 The officer and sergeant yelled and screamed and

 cursed and made all sorts of comments, yet seemed

 to have almost infinite patience and self-assurance

 that, sooner or later, they would get it down pat.

 They did not. Finally, the officer sighed, and brought

 out a chest of leg manacles. These, however, were

 not strung together with rope but with rigid tele-

 scoping rods that could be adjusted, then locked

 into position.

 Again they practiced, and this time the rods,

 running only front to back on both legs, acted like

 pistons. When those in front moved their left legs

 forward, those farther back had no choice but to

 do the same. For most it was a terribly unnatural

 gait, but after what seemed like hours of marching

 they managed some semblance of order. At least

 nobody was likely to fall down.

 The rods could be twisted to telescope, revealing

 a ball joint that allowed them to sit, so long as

 they just about hugged their knees, and it was

 only after a number of perfect marches that they

 were allowed the luxury. By the end of the day

 they ached all over, yet they were never released

 and, in fact, were fed in line—some sort of taste-

 less meat cake, a small stale loaf of bread, and

 some fruit juice. That last was the most welcome,

 and they downed it eagerly.

 It contained, of course, more of the previous

 day's hypnotic drug, as many, including Cassie,

 had suspected, but none of them cared. The thirst

 could not be denied, and at least the stuff made all

 the aches and pains seem to disappear.

 After the drug had taken effect, the guard moved

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 77

 rapidly, ordering them to their feet and affixing

 the rods in place once again. Again they marched,

 but this time corrective measures were easily

 implemented. To Cassie, as to them all, the most

 important thing in the world, the only thing that

 mattered, was keeping a perfect pace with the

 ropes taut.

 And, with that, the large doors to the gym were

 opened, and both groups were marched out, down

 a corridor, and out through a delivery entrance

 into the back of Temple Square.

 The chill was still in the air, and there was a

 light, misty rain. It had obviously rained far harder

 in the hour or two preceding their exit, for it was

 quite wet. Night had fallen, but police were posted

 at all intersections to block off the curious as the

 sad marchers passed. Once out of the city the roads

 were unpaved, and the rain had turned them into

 a sea of thick, gooey mud, although the type of dirt

 used and the stone mixture in it did not make it

 particularly slippery, only messy.

 The sergeant of the guard knew his stuff, and

 kept the pace exactly right, also sensing what they

 could not—when they had to break—and halting

 them at regular intervals. Each time they were

 given cups of juice that contained drug boosters.

 Finally, near dawn, they were marched into a

 field guarded from view on all sides by thick trees

 and halted, fed, and given a different drink. Within

 minutes of finishing, all had lapsed into the deep-

 est sleep they had ever known.

 They slept through the day, but when they awak-

 ened near dark they were all so wracked with

 tremendous pains through their bodies that they

 almost fought to drink the hypnotic that would

 take that pain away, and the pattern repeated.

 They continued to move only after dark, thus

 avoiding meeting very many curious onlookers or

 creating the kind of crowd that always seemed to

 Jack L. Chalker

 78

 materialize around accidents, and thanks to the

 drugs and the preset pace one time seemed to

 merge into another, until they had completely lost

 track of how long they had been marching. It was

 certain, though, that the distance was over a hun-

 dred kilometers from the capital to the west gate,

 and their pace was quite deliberate but slow. In a

 sense the entire period seemed like some sort of

 hazy nightmare in which there was only the

 clanking, the occasional chanting and commands

 of the guards, and the single set of purposes. Keep

 the ropes taut. Keep the pace exactly....

 The most curious thing, for those able to think

 about it at all, was that, after a while, they awoke

 with less and less pain and linked up and marched

 with perfect adjustment without being told.

 And then, late one night, they reached the west

 gate, the high fortified wall stretching out into the

 darkness on both sides of them, its inner guard

 walkway illuminated by torches every few meters.

 The whole structure, including the gate structure

 itself, was made of solid stone. The wall was four

 meters thick, with a stone guard station every fifty

 meters around the entirety of the Anchor. The gate

 added another three meters on each side, and had

 a headquarters building on top. The inner gates

 were of solid steel, a third of a meter thick them-

 selves, and it took an entire team of mules just to

 turn the mechanism to open or close them. Inside

 was a passage called, with good reason, the Death-

 way: a stone opening through the wall that had its

 own small openings from which guards could not

 only monitor anyone and anything inside but fire

 upon it as well.

 Above, just inside the gates on both sides, hung

 a heavy steel portcullis held up on a winch. A

 single kick of a lever by any guard could cause

 both to drop, imprisoning anyone inside who

 managed to jam the gates. The gates themselves

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 79

 were on a clever mechanism that had the outer

 gates always open if the inner ones were closed

 and vice-versa. It was said that vats of boiling hot

 oil could be unleashed in the Deathway with the

 same ease as dropping the portcullis.

 The officer and sergeant of the guard halted them,

 then rode forward to the gate itself. There they

 were met by other uniformed border guards and

 there was a long conversation. Then there were

 some shouts, men ran one way or another, then a

 single shouted signal, and, slowly, the massive

 closed gates began to open.

 It was a dramatic event in and of itself, but as

 they opened more and more a figure was revealed

 framed between them. It was the stringer Matson,

 on his white horse, idly smoking a cigar.

 As soon as there was clearance he eased his

 mount slowly forward, then approached the sad-

 looking column, stopping here and there but tak-

 ing a ride completely around the group. He mum-

 bled something to himself and then rode back over

 to the guards watching him.

 "A pretty miserable-looking lot," he commented

 sourly. "You could have at least sized them to

 make it easier."

 The officer shrugged. "Not my problem. After

 ten days with 'em on the trail seasoning them up

 for you on the juice, I ain't too particular about

 anything except gettin' rid of 'em. You don't like

 their condition, you take the next batch out from

 the city."

 Matson snorted. "That ain't my responsibility,"

 he responded sarcastically. "How well seasoned

 are they?"

 "Meekest group in years," the officer told him.

 "Hardly any trouble at all. Today they were barely

 on the juice at all and they made the best time of

 the trip. You could, take them ropes and rods off

 now and I bet they'd keep perfect distance and

 80 Jack L. Chalker

 interval and even sit just right. Ain't but a handful

 complained about any aches or pains when they

 woke up today, either. Some of 'em got real good

 leg muscles, even the women, and they're all in

 better shape than they ever been in their lives.

 'Cept in the head," he added.

 Matson nodded, a sour expression on his face.

 "Okay, then, get those damned rods off and remove

 the strings. I can't take 'em through all at once,

 you know."

 "You got to sign for them first," the officer re-

 minded him. An orderly who had been standing

 nearby brought up a clipboard with pen attached.

 Matson took it and looked over the forms carefully.

 They matched the ones he was carrying in his

 head.

 "All present, if you want to count 'em," the offi-

 cer assured him.

 "I already have counted them, and checked their

 general condition," the stringer replied curtly. He

 scribbled a signature on the sheet. "All right—let's

 get 'em over to my side."

 It was a strange experience to have the leggings

 and ropes removed. It had been such a seemingly

 endless time with them that their removal seemed

 almost an unnatural, out-of-balance thing to the

 exiles. The drug used, which was occasionally used

 for religious indoctrinations and retreats by the

 church and by guards in basic training, was quite

 a powerful conditioner. Highly repetitive actions

 performed over a sustained period were reinforced

 a hundredfold or more each time, and they had

 been almost continuously under for more than ten

 days. The officer was not exaggerating—freed of

 all linkages, they all still stood as if bound, and

 guards had to actually restrain the rear part of the

 party to keep it from following the first group

 through the gates and in the Deathway.

 Matson went with the first group so he could

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 81

 effectively reassemble them on the other side. The

 inner gate slowly closed, and, as it did, the outer

 gate opened to reveal a large, brightly lit tent city

 crowded with strange and misshapen creatures.

 This area, technically referred to as the Anchor

 apron, was as close as most from the Flux were

 ever allowed into Anchor. Beyond the apron, barely

 visible in the darkness and reflecting none of the

 light from wall or apron, was the Flux itself.

 FLUX

 It really wasn't until they had been fed, bedded

 down, and slept for some time that their senses

 started to return to them. Cassie awoke with a

 strangely disoriented feeling, not quite understand-

 ing where she was or what had happened. Open-

 ing her eyes and looking around only helped

 slightly, for the sights of the tent city and its mill-

 ing throngs of very strange human beings and very

 scruffy animals did little to orient her or the others.

 It was only when she looked up and saw the Flux

 before her, then turned and saw the great wall and

 gate behind, that she understood exactly what was

 going on.

 It took a moment more to realize that the

 leggings, rods, and even the ropes were now gone,

 although the collar and waistband remained, the

 latter hanging rather loosely on her hips. Her mus-

 cles ached, but not with the terrible pain of the

 first—what, days?—out. They had just been used

 to their maximum, pressed to their limits, and

 were letting her know it.

 All of these discomforts were minor compared to

 seeing the Flux—and from outside the gates. It

 was a terrifying sight, even more than it had been

 when she'd stood on top of that wall back there as

 a young schoolchild and stared at it.

 82

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 83

 There was no difference, really, between the apron

 and the Anchor itself. The wall had been built well

 in from the Flux boundary for a number of reasons,

 some practical and some superstition. There was

 grass here, and well-worn paths, and it felt quite

 normal. Still, the Flux lay just beyond.

 It rose upwards as far as the eye could see,

 blocking off the sky and everything else from view.

 It looked like a great, infinite wall of opaque glass,

 a light reddish tan in color, and it shimmered some-

 thing like an early morning fog in the fields. Inside

 there seemed to be tiny little flashes of energy, so

 small they would not even be noticed in isolation

 but so numerous that they could not be ignored.

 The overall effect was of a smooth wall or con-

 tainer holding a mass of fog-shrouded, moving se-

 quined material.

 There were a number of grumbles and groans as

 the group slowly awoke to the new day and the

 same realizations that Cassie had felt. They had

 very little time to socialize, though, for Matson,

 looking sharp in his black outfit, hat, boots, and

 with his shotgun, knife, and whip on his belt, strode

 over to them from a nearby tent.

 "All right—everybody up on their feet!" he

 ordered. "We're going to have a little orientation

 talk and then you'll get food and drink but with no

 drugs to help you along. That part's over. And

 don't give me any trouble or any shit or I'll skip

 food and water in your case for starters, and once

 we're in the Flux you'll wish you'd never been

 born."

 There was no problem now. They were too scared

 to do much more than obey. Scared—and curious.

 "All right- Now, my name's Matson and I own

 you. Yeah, I know that sounds funny, but it's liter-

 ally and legally true. You stopped being people

 when your numbers got drawn. Now, that means

 that there's no place to run, no appeals, no protec-

 Jack L. Chalker

 84

 tion. I'm the law, the absolute authority and if I

 don't like you I can do anything I want with you

 and I don't even have to have much of a reason. If

 I wake up in a bad mood and decide that the first

 two of you I see will have their arms chopped off

 because I feel like it, that's the way it'll be. You

 remember that. And you remember, too, that any-

 body who gives me lip can have his or her tongue

 cut out with a gesture from me and I won't even

 lose any sleep over it. Do you understand?"

 There were a few mumbled assents. The rest had

 progressed in one short moment from being scared

 to being terrified.

 Matson looked slightly peeved. "When I talk to

 you as a group I expect to be answered by the

 group. Now, let's try that again. Do you under-

 stand me?"

 "Yes," came an almost uniform response.

 "When you talk to me you call me 'sir' always.

 Now, what was that again?"

 "Yes, SIR!" they responded.

 "Louder! Sometimes it's hard to hear in the Flux,

 so shout everything, you understand?"

 "YES, SIR!" they screamed at him.

 He nodded. "That's better. All right. Let's start

 with the apron here. Those people that you see are

 Flux people. They usually live in the Flux, except

 when they have business here, although some of

 them are permanent residents of the aprons, dealing

 in goods and services for stringers like me. Just

 in case you never heard the term before, they

 are called duggers. Duggers are one kind of group

 that lives in the Flux. Forget that bullshit they

 sold you in school and church—the Flux is full

 of life, and death, and is anything but empty.

 In fact, a lot of stuff that keeps the Anchors

 going comes from Fluxlands. Anchors trade for the

 stuff, and what they trade is often information or

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 85

 services, but is also people. You, to be exact, in

 this case."

 He paused to let that sink in.

 "Now, you may wonder why the hell the Flux

 needs people. Part of the reason is that it's a

 pretty hard, violent place compared to Anchors.

 They have a very high death rate. The odds are

 that your own lives will be short, but don't let that

 upset you too much. There are still a lot of folks

 out there who live to ripe old ages, and some who

 live so long they seem almost immortal. Children

 are bom in the Flux, too, but the infant mortality

 rate is very high, and the odds are against some-

 body growing to adulthood there. Again, that

 doesn't mean everybody. I was born in the Flux, and

 I've lived more than twice as long as any of you."

 Again he paused, looking at their faces to see

 how they were taking it.

 "Okay, then. Right now you're imagining some

 wild, savage kind of Anchor or something. Well, for-

 get it. In fact, if you want to stay alive, forget

 every single bit of science or logic that you were

 ever taught. All that applies only to Anchors- In

 fact, that is the real difference between Anchor

 and Flux.

 "In Anchors, everything's following a clearly de-

 fined set of natural laws. You drop a stone, it falls

 at a specific rate to the ground thanks to gravity.

 That's a good example. In the Flux, there are no

 natural laws- None. There are standard conditions—

 what we call 'default conditions,' but those exist

 only where not modified. You will not go floating

 into the air. You will be able to breathe it, and the

 temperature is rather warm although usually ex-

 tremely dry. But these are all defaults, not fixed

 conditions. They are subject to change. You can

 take nothing for granted in the Flux. Nothing.

 "Now—what changes these conditions? Well, the

 fact is, the Flux is as you see it over there. That's

 86 Jack L. Chalker

 the default, too. A big nothing. What looks like fog,

 though, isn't fog at all—it's energy. The Flux does

 obey one natural law—energy can neither be cre-

 ated nor destroyed, but it can be changed. When

 you put a match to oil in a lamp you let out the

 energy in the oil. When you were in the city, though,

 you saw electric lights and powered gadgets. That

 power came from turning some matter, some solid

 stuff, into energy- You can do that in the Flux,

 too—but there you can also do it backwards!"

 That caught some of them off balance. Those

 who had been able to follow things so far tried to

 figure out his last comment and fit it in, the others

 just stood there trying to look like they understood

 it all.

 "What that means," he went on, "is that energy,

 what you see back there, can be changed into

 matter. Solid things. If you're good enough, or

 smart enough, you can do almost anything there-

 Those who can totally control it are like gods. In

 fact, some of 'em think they are gods and act like

 it, too. We call 'em wizards—master magicians.

 They really do have the power of gods in the Flux,

 and they run tilings. They're the ones who created

 the Fluxlands, the independent places in the Flux,

 and they run them like gods as well. Watch out for

 them.

 "As for the rest, there are those who have vary-

 ing degrees of skill in manipulating the Flux. Some

 of 'em are what we call false wizards. They, say,

 turn you into a bird. You think you're a bird, and

 everybody else thinks you're a bird, and when you

 jump into the air off the cliff you and everybody

 else thinks you're flying. But you're still you, and

 you can't fly, so you crash and die. Watch out for

 the false wizards. In their own way they're more

 dangerous than the real ones."

 He looked them over, then allowed a half-smile

 to conie over his face. He knew they didn't under-

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 87

 stand much of it, and probably the ones that did

 didn't believe a word of it, but that was okay. This

 lecture would come in handy when they saw the

 reality of Fluxlands.

 "Now, within the next day we'll he going into

 the Flux itself," he told them. "You'll be on my

 strings, but relatively free and loose. It might be

 possible for somebody to escape." He turned back

 towards his tent. "Jomo! Kolada! Front and center!"

 From the direction of the tents came two crea-

 tures that probably were human once. One of them,

 Jomo, must have weighed a hundred and fifty ki-

 los or more, but that was not what struck anyone

 who looked at him. His face was a mottled, mis-

 shapen mass with the standard features barely

 recognizable in it. His hands were massive, claw-

 like things that seemed useless for grasping much,

 and his shoeless feet were enormous caricatures of

 what feet should be- He looked, in fact, very much

 like Cassie's vision of a troll from the old children's

 stories. He wore only a skirt-like rag fastened by a

 crude belt-

 Kolada was even worse. It was hard to tell if the

 creature was male or female. It was tall and

 humanoid, but its entire body was covered by tre-

 mendously thick brown hair including the face,

 from which gaped an animal-like mouth with two

 fangs rising up from the lower jaw and a pair of

 blood-red eyes that seemed to shine with an inhu-

 man fury- Its arms were so long that they just

 about reached the ground, terminating in two huge

 paw-like hands.

 "These two duggers are my chief driver and my

 point guard," Matson told them. "To answer your

 question even though you haven't asked, both are,

 or were, human just like you. Both, at different

 times, escaped from stringer trains into the Flux.

 Anybody who does that and either has no natural

 power over it or doesn't run into somebody who

 Jack L. Chalker

 88

 lives there will be dead quickly, for there's no food

 and water you don't make yourself in the void, nor

 any way at all to get your bearings to know where

 you are, where you've been, and where you're going.

 Only stringers and wizards know their position in

 the Flux, and we make certain that nobody else

 ever finds out how we do it. No dugger can do it,

 and they try all the time.

 "Now, if you're wondering what happened, both

 of them did run into others, but they ran into

 different sorts. Jomo has a little of the real Flux

 power, you see, but no control. We've all got our

 little fears and insanities in the back of our minds.

 Well, see what Jomo's do to him. He doesn't

 always look like this. Sometimes he looks worse,

 occasionally better. Kolada, on the other hand,

 ran into somebody with real power in the Flux,

 somebody who was very, very dangerous. In a story

 far too long to go into here, that person changed a

 nice, normal Anchor woman into the creature you

 see here. And, because it was a wizard, she's abso-

 lutely stuck like this unless somebody even more

 powerful changes her, for she has no Flux powers

 at all.

 "Most of the people on the apron, the daggers,

 have similar stories. They're all quite mad and

 they've all been changed in one way or another by

 wizards or their own minds. But they're the rare

 lucky ones. They survived in the Flux, and, after a

 while, they signed on with stringers like me and

 have about as much security and stability as it's

 possible to have in there—and some independence.

 In the Flux, most people more or less belong to

 other people, because whoever has the most power

 over the Flux can control everybody below them.

 Duggers belong to no one except themselves. These

 people work for me and they get paid for it. Now,

 if anybody wants to take a risk on surviving long

 enough to become a dugger, now you've seen what

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 89

 duggers are like, you just escape. That's it. Get

 some food over there at the big tent and come

 back here to eat."

 They went in orderly silence. The earlier lecture

 hadn't had much effect, but the duggers had, and

 as they entered the apron camp and saw that

 Matson's "employees" were among the least exotic

 variations around, the effect was greatly enhanced.

 The whole place was a terrible, crawling creep

 show. Most had little appetite when they returned

 to their grassy spot.

 The small group reformed for the first time since

 back in the gym, but they were a sober lot.

 "Did you see that one that looked like a squirmy,

 squishy thing?" Nadya asked, shivering a bit.

 "And how about the one with the wavy things

 coming out of its head?" Ivon added.

 "I think I've seen more than I want to right

 now," Cassie put in. "I don't need to catalog it. It's

 tough enough to eat now, and I was starving ten

 minutes ago."

 They nodded agreement, but most managed to

 get something down nonetheless. At least the food

 was palatable—some sort of warm meat and vege-

 table pies and a very sweet cake, with some sort of

 wine that was not at all sweet but a good thirst-

 quencher, Ultimately, though, the conversation re-

 turned to their own fates, past and future. They

 talked about their long drugged march, and com-

 pared aches, pains, and bruises, as well as leg

 muscles which were pretty outstanding, even on

 the girls. Finally, it was Nadya who noticed. "Hey—

 what happened to the other group?"

 They all looked around. Sure enough, there was no

 sign of the first group, the one that was to go with

 the other stringer. Jomo, who was looking to the

 mules grazing nearby, heard, turned, and in a gruff,

 barely human voice, said, "They go before you wake

 up with Missy Arden. They well into Flux now."

 Jack L. Chalker

 90

 Rather than be startled by the dugger's attention,

 they all turned and looked towards the imposing

 Flux itself. The void, Matson had called it. The

 void between the Fluxlands. After a while they

 snapped out of it and attention turned to the future,

 although it was mixed with a little caution. Jomo

 had accomplished his main purpose of letting them

 know that they were being overheard.

 "What do you think is going' to happen to us?"

 Dar asked at last. "I mean, once we go—in there?"

 Cassie sighed. "I don't know, but it doesn't sound

 very promising, does it?"

 "Do you buy this magic business?" Ivon put in.

 "Sounds like those crazy old stories to me."

 "I think he's telling the truth. Some of it, any-

 way," Suzl opined. "If what he was saying was true

 about the Flux energies, then it's very possible to

 have magic and a whole little set of mini-godhoods.

 The only thing I can't figure out is why some

 people have the power and others, probably most,

 do not. It seems to be something you're born with,

 anyway, if the story of Jomo is right, not something

 you learn or get from your parents, although prac-

 tice probably makes you better and better."

 Nadya looked worried. "They have made a lot of

 changes in us, you know, so I can see how that

 might be taken further. I wonder, though, if they

 can change your mind like they can change your

 looks?"

 "They can do it with drugs and conditioning in

 Anchor," Cassie pointed out, "so why not in Flux

 as well? What's really odd, though, is that the

 changes seem to be so real, so permanent. I mean,

 if it was just in Flux, then these people would

 change back to their old selves here in Anchor,

 right? They didn't. That means to me that we've

 got some real trouble in there. Anything they did

 to us in Anchor can be changed around in Flux,

 but anything done to you in Flux is permanent."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 91

 Nadya looked at the Flux. "A world of magicians,

 madmen—and slaves. It's horrible."

 Cassie thought of the Sister General, the ma-

 chines, the Paring Rite, and Lani's catalog of terrible

 drugs, and could only wonder just how different it

 was from Anchor Logh after all. In a way, it just

 might be a more direct, more honest and open

 version of the world from which they had come.

 It took quite some time to form the stringer

 train, and it was an impressive affair. There were

 twenty mules, all loaded down with things in large

 packs, as well as two horse-drawn wagons driven

 by duggers. Between the mules and the wagons

 Matson placed his human cargo, four abreast in

 familiar pattern, and linked together with com-

 mon thin rope of the sort used on farms for

 clotheslines. He had expertly reformed and sized

 them so that the shortest were in front and would

 thus set the pace. The lines were then tied off to

 the last pair of mules ahead of them. None of the

 lines were intended to keep anyone captive, it was

 pointed out to them, but merely to give some logi-

 cal distribution to the train and set a logical pace.

 It was also their lifeline, Matson added, for it was

 very, very easy to get lost in the Flux, and with a

 train this size, even with a dozen or more duggers

 managing it, it would not be possible to keep an

 eye on all parts of it at once.

 All the duggers were mounted on horses except

 the impressive Jomo, who preferred being on foot,

 the better to get wherever he needed in the mule

 train. They noticed that Matson and all the duggers

 had small bugles or some similar instrument on

 their saddles or in their belts. These, it turned out,

 were the means of communication along the train,

 and each stringer had his own private codes so

 that none could easily trick him with false signals.

 After the train had been completely assembled,

 92 Jack L. Chalker

 Matson rode slowly all the way down it from front

 to back on one side, then back up to the front on

 the other, stopping occasionally, shouting orders

 to adjust or fix this or that, positioning and reposi-

 tioning people and things. This went on for some

 time until he was completely satisfied and then

 rode quickly up to the front and stopped. He

 undipped his bugle from his saddle, raised it to his

 lips, and, turning back, blew a series of sharp notes

 of differing length and pitch, repeating the same

 pattern three times. The duggers on the wagons to

 the rear returned a slightly different signal twice,

 and they saw the hairy creature called Kolada sud-

 denly ride forward and vanish into the Flux at full

 gallop. They waited then another minute or two,

 then Matson gave one last, long blast on his horn

 which was returned by all of the other duggers.

 The train began to move forward, towards the

 Flux.

 Dar and Ivon were both big men. so they were

 well back in the group, but Nadya, Cassie, and

 Suzl had maneuvered themselves to be near one

 another, being only slightly different in height,

 and Matson had allowed it. They began to walk

 towards that huge, shimmering wall.

 "Here we go," Cassie muttered under her breath.

 First Matson vanished into the stuff, followed by

 Jomo and his mules. As the great Flux region came

 ever closer, they all felt themselves stiffen, felt an

 urge to break and run, but duggers on both sides

 kept shouting and growling curses at them and

 they slowed and staggered a bit but went on. The

 first rows went in and essentially vanished from

 view, then it was Cassie's row and they were

 through before they even realized it.

 They entered an eerie world such as none of

 them had ever known before.

 There are a few times in everyone's life when

 they feel totally and completely helpless, at the

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 93

 mercy of fate. The bull that suddenly appears out

 of nowhere and charges when it's fifty meters to

 the nearest fence. The time when you're patching

 the roof and grab frantically for something to break

 the fall, only nothing's there. Cassie and the others

 felt that way now, which is why even the roughest

 and most boisterous of them were meek and quiet

 through this experience. They were caught in the

 web of deceit in Anchor Logh and now they were

 tethered and bound together by the stringer's spi-

 dery lines.

 The effect of suddenly entering the Flux was too

 much for some who had endured so much. Some-

 body screamed, somebody else started sobbing

 hysterically, as they were pulled, helplessly, by the

 mules away from the Anchor that was all the real-

 ity they'd ever known, away from all that was safe

 and sane and real, into the terrible, shimmering

 void.

 There was a sensation of dry heat, like being in

 an oven that had not yet quite warmed up to

 intolerable temperatures. The raw Flux was around

 them all now, producing an odd, slightly tingling

 sensation that was more eerie-feeling than uncom-

 fortable.

 There was also a terrible absence of sensation. It

 was dead quiet in a way that simply could not

 exist in Anchor, the only sounds those of the train

 itself, and even those beyond the immediate peo-

 ple in front and back seemed curiously damped or

 muffled. The air, too, was perfectly still and had

 none of the odors that were always present in

 normal air. No scent of grass, or the very subtle

 fragrances of things you never even knew were there

 until they were gone. The effect was to heighten

 the sense of smell of everyone in the group, but the

 only source for that was the now very pungent

 body odor that was already hard to take even back

 on the apron.

 94 Jack L. Chalker

 Nor had Matson been exaggerating when he

 warned them that they would have no sense of

 direction in the Flux. Every direction looked ex-

 actly like every other direction, and there were no

 landmarks, no markers of any sort. Even the ground

 was more sensed than seen; it felt slightly soft and

 spongy, and visually, they and the train walked as

 spirits through empty air on a surface that was

 totally invisible and indistinguishable from the air

 around them- It was extremely disorienting, and

 only the solidity of something underfoot, seen or

 not, allowed them to keep their balance. It was

 still better, they found, if you didn't look down.

 The duggers on either side of the train dropped

 back in alternation, checking on the marching lines.

 They seemed somehow different now, far less de-

 formed if no less mad, and they seemed to radiate

 an air of comfortable confidence. This was their

 element, and they were comfortable with it.

 Some of them still slobbered and drooled and

 made bizarre, often animal-like sounds, but they

 never seemed to look the same way twice. For a

 while Cassie thought they might be different people.

 She soon made a sort of game of it, something to

 occupy her mind in the midst of the terrible

 nothingness, watching the one nearest her on her

 side as best she could. The dugger seemed almost

 hunchbacked one time, then ramrod straight the

 next. The creature went from fat to thin, almost

 but not quite while you were looking at it. One

 time she was sure she saw a beard on the dugger,

 yet the next time it went by it seemed clean-shaven

 and even had rather formidable breasts. The clothes,

 too, so tattered and filthy on the apron, seemed to

 undergo changes in color, design, and newness. It

 was both frightening and confusing. The horse,

 though, seemed solidly real.

 Matson was unchanged through it all, but in

 constant motion, riding up and down, back and

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 95

 forth, making certain that all was going well. He

 was all business and he had no patience with any-

 one or anything that was out of step. Once in a

 while, of course, somebody in the group would

 become disoriented and slip, and there would be a

 yell from those around, a blast from the nearest

 dugger's bugle, and this would bring everything to

 a stop as the blast was echoed by all—and bring

 Matson at full and angry gallop. Maybe nobody

 else knew where they were. but he did, and he had

 a schedule he wanted to keep.

 It was strange, though, that gallop, and those of

 the dugger horses. The horse was making no sound

 as its hooves struck invisible ground, although you

 could hear the great beast breathing hard and the

 sounds of saddle and rider.

 Suddenly, in the row in front of her, one girl

 stepped in some mule droppings, slipped, and fell.

 There was the yell, the bugles, the very efficient

 stop, and here came Matson. He stopped and looked

 down at the fallen girl in disgust.

 "We can't keep having this," he said, mostly to

 himself. "You! Get up—now\"

 The girl gaped at him, then broke down and

 started sobbing, but she simply couldn't bring her-

 self to her feet. Matson spat, gave a disgusted sigh,

 and made a casual gesture in her direction with

 his hand.

 Energy flew from that hand in a pencil-thin line,

 striking the girl in the head, and she screamed in

 terrible agony. Just as quickly as it had appeared,

 the beam was gone, and the victim almost col-

 lapsed in relief. Matson waited a moment, then

 asked, casually, "Want me to do it again?"

 "No! Please! I—"

 Another, very brief jolt was sent. "Please what7"

 "P—Please, sir!"

 He nodded. "Now get up and resume your place

 96 Jack L. Chalker

 in line. You just had your warning. Next time it

 gets tough."

 "That son of a bitch," some boy in the back

 muttered loudly. "One day I'll kill the bastard for

 that."

 The stringer's head shot up, and his eyes seemed

 to glisten. "Well, well, well.... The gallant tough

 guy standing up for the little lady. How chivalrous.

 Trouble with chivalry, boy, is that then you got to

 make good on it." He rode back several rows and

 looked directly at the offending boy, although it

 was impossible to see how he could have identi-

 fied the speaker. "I don't want to break you, son,

 because my customers are buying that spirit of

 yours, but I think I'll put a mark on you so I can

 remember you."

 Cassie found it hard to turn around and see

 properly without twisting the line, but she man-

 aged, as did most of them forward of the incident.

 She remembered the face of the boy Matson was

 confronting—he'd been the strong one with the

 "brain of a cabbage" they were talking about as

 some sort of soldier.

 Matson seemed to concentrate a moment, then

 he fixed his eyes intently on the outspoken boy.

 Energy flashed and coalesced around him, but only

 for a few seconds, and then vanished. The watch-

 ing duggers chuckled, and those among the exiles

 who didn't scream either gasped or gaped.

 The boy was in every way the same as he'd been

 from the shoulders down, but above that point he

 now had the perfectly proportioned head of a mule.

 The mule-mouth opened to say something, but only

 a mule's bray came out. His hands went up and

 felt along his neck and head, and you could feel

 the horror in his body movements.

 "What I can do I can also undo, punk," Matson

 told him. "You give me no more trouble and I

 might be able to remember what your head used

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 97

 to look like and give it back to you. Any time you

 make threats in the Flux to anybody you be sure

 you can back 'em up all the way. There's worse

 things than being dead." He moved forward on

 his horse and looked again at the girl whose fall

 had precipitated it all. "Now, little lady, if you

 can't hack the pace, I can always use another pack

 mule. That's how I got most of the ones I'm using

 now anyway. Time is money, and I don't have

 much use for somebody who can't make the grade."

 With that he raised his bugle, gave his command

 notes, and the train started forward once more

 through the void.

 "It's impossible^' somebody muttered, and it was

 what the others were thinking. "It can't be real! It

 just can't be!"

 "It's magic, that's what it is," a girl said wor-

 riedly. "He's an evil wizard back in his own foul

 home."

 Matson was all the way forward again before he

 allowed himself a self-satisfied grin. The challenge

 had come very early this time, and he was glad of

 it. The earlier you acted, and the earlier you used

 your little bag of parlor tricks, the less trouble you

 had later on. That mule-head alone would hold

 them for a while. Like most stringers he was a

 false wizard, a weaver of totally convincing il-

 lusions, but they were good enough for kids like

 this. He liked to imagine what it would be like to

 be a real wizard, but he always had doubts. He

 liked to think that he'd still be a stringer, but you

 never could tell what that kind of power would do

 to any human-

 8

 CULT

 After a while, the monotony of the void replaced

 any sense of fear or awe in their minds over the

 Flux. Their fear was still real, of course, and fo-

 cused partly on their unknown fates and partly on

 their fear of Matson's frightening powers.

 Every few hours they would break from their

 slow but steady pace and get something to eat.

 One of the wagons in the rear had a sort of mini-

 kitchen in it, and while the meals were not very

 tasty nor varied they were nutritious and filling,

 and everyone, Matson included, ate the same thing.

 The other wagon contained an enormous quantity

 of hay in small bales which were apportioned out

 to the mules by the ever-doting Jomo. It was clear

 that part of Matson's mania for a schedule once

 they started out was due to a tight supply allow-

 ance.

 There was little trouble with the group after the

 initial episodes with Matson. If anybody had any

 rebellious thoughts they had only to look at the

 poor fellow trying to get the stew down his mule's

 throat to think the better of it.

 Once she'd gotten over the initial shock of the

 magical transformation, however, Cassie could see

 some hope in it as well. "Look," she pointed out to

 Nadya and Suzl, "if he can just wave his hands

 98

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 99

 and make somebody half-mule, then nothing is

 permanent here. Nothing. That means we might

 have hair again, for example, and those poor girls

 with the body tattoos might one day look as good

 as they ever did. Maybe better."

 "Or worse," the gloomier Nadya responded. "All

 we've seen coming out of this Flux are monsters of

 one kind or another. These duggers, the mule head,

 that sort of thing. Maybe our new masters, who-

 ever and whatever they are, just want us as raw

 material for animals or something. Matson, re-

 member, said some of his mules were once human."

 "Maybe," Cassie admitted, "but I think it can

 work both ways. All we can do is hope right now."

 "I just wish we'd get somewhere," Suzl put in.

 "I'm sick and tired of this march, march, march.

 Good or bad, I want to just get it over with. A day

 or two more of this and I might turn into one of

 those drooling slobberers myself."

 They all pretty much felt that way, but the train's

 progress was slow and steady, the sleep periods

 seemingly dictated by Matson's feeling of how tired

 the marchers were and Jomo's feel of when the

 horses and mules needed rest. Time seemed to

 have lost its meaning for them all, although Matson,

 who carried an elaborate pocket watch, seemed to

 know exactly when as well as where they were. For

 the rest of them, the "days" were measured only

 by sleep breaks and were broken down by feeding

 periods. It never seemed to get completely dark or

 completely light in the Flux, so there was no way

 at all to guess what it might be in "real" time.

 They were five "days" into the Flux when' the

 first break in the monotony came. They were pro-

 ceeding normally after a meal break when sud-

 denly a horse and rider appeared ahead of them

 and closed on Matson. He ordered the train to a

 halt and waited as the rider neared and stopped. It

 was the animal-like Kolada.

 100

 Jack L. Chalker

 Kolada rode the "point," which meant she was

 often well ahead of the train, perhaps half a day

 ahead, following some sort of route mark that

 stringers had laid down but which few were given

 the power to see or read. Whatever the news it

 wasn't good, for there were sudden bugle signals

 of a type they had not heard before and the duggers

 whipped into action with a frenzy. All strings on

 mules and people were suddenly dropped, and the

 mules themselves were led into a circular pattern

 with the wagons at opposite ends closing each

 circle. Cinches were loosened, so that the packs

 formed a crude outer barrier around the mules.

 The duggers took out their weapons and checked

 them. then set up patrols both inside and outside

 the circle. The human cargo was loosed inside the

 circle and told just to sit.

 Jomo took charge of the entire party, moving

 very fast for a huge man and giving orders in a

 combination of words and gestures to the other

 duggers. Matson took one of the duggers with him,

 leaving ten mounted and one afoot to guard the

 train, and the three of them went off at full gallop

 in the direction from which Kolada had just come.

 None of the duggers would pay any attention to

 the fifty-four confused and frightened young peo-

 ple unless they got out of line, in which case the

 offender was rudely struck with fist or rifle butt.

 In more than one way this frightened them still

 more, if only because, no matter what Matson's

 disposition or powers were, he was human and a

 known quantity. Now they were completely at the

 mercy of these animalistic creatures.

 They spent a nervous hour or more sitting there,

 talking low and speculating a lot, until there was a

 sudden shout from one of the duggers ahead and

 they heard bolts slide into place and the whole

 crew tense up-

 It was Matson, though, and they relaxed. He

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 101

 rode up to Jomo and talked for some time, and

 they could see from the look on his face that there

 was something up ahead that had considerably

 shaken the iron man. His face looked almost dead

 white, and, if anything, he looked twenty years

 older,

 He talked in low, clipped sentences to Jomo,

 who nodded and then gave a series of signals.

 Rapidly, the train was reassembled in a loose

 manner, with the duggers spacing themselves out

 and keeping guns at the ready. Although they ran

 the strings back along the mules, they only ran

 one string on each side back from the mules to the

 wagons, leaving the young people free inside this

 makeshift boundary. With a few quick bugle blasts,

 the train began to move.

 It was a good hour or more before they reached

 the spot, but this was a different sort of march,

 tinged with danger and excitement. Many of the

 young people actually welcomed the diversion, but

 Cassie, along with many others, did not. It was

 like approaching an accident on the main highway

 from a distance. You wanted to see what was going

 on but you knew that when you got there you

 would find nothing good.

 The scene was one of almost inconceivable

 carnage, the most horrible sight any of them had

 ever seen. Clearly the mess, spread out almost as

 far as the eye could see, had once been a stringer

 train not unlike their own, but one that had been

 hit with a deadly ferocity by some overwhelming

 force. There was blood all over, human blood mix-

 ing with that of animals, and dead bodies strewn

 all over the landscape. If you looked hard enough, it

 was possible to see that this had once been a for-

 mation similar to the one they'd assumed back a

 ways, but it had proved totally inadequate for

 whatever had hit them.

 Matson had recovered some of his composure

 102

 Jack L. Chalker

 and came back to the group. He took a deep breath,

 then said, "All right. Now you see it. I told you

 this was a rough place, and now you see how

 rough it can get. I'm telling you this because I'm

 going to need your cooperation to go through that

 mess and see what, if anything, can be salvaged

 and what we can leam about the bastards who did

 this. You're going to need a strong stomach for

 two reasons, so anybody who just can't handle it

 can remain here or come back here when it gets

 too much for you. One reason is that it's even

 uglier than you can tell from here. Some of the

 animals and people have been partly—eaten."

 The group stiffened almost collectively at this.

 "The second reason is that this was—oh, hell, it

 was the other train from Anchor Logh that should

 have been a day or more ahead of us. You will

 know or recognize some of those bodies."

 Some gasps, chokes, and sobs began from vari-

 ous parts of the group at this news. Matson didn't

 wait for it to subside.

 "Now, not everybody is here, that's clear. That's

 one reason I need your help. If there's anybody you

 know who was in that train whose remains aren't

 there now, I want to know about it. We're only

 another hard day's ride from help, and if we know

 who to look for we might be able to save them.

 Also, whoever did this is still around. This hap-

 pened only a matter of hours ago at best, from the

 state of the remains- We have to act fairly quickly,

 because the Flux tends to break down dead or-

 ganic matter pretty quickly. I need to keep the

 duggers armed and on guard, so it's up to you.

 Volunteers?"

 A dozen or so hands went up, including Cassie's,

 and he nodded and told them to come forward.

 They did, and walked straight into Hell itself.

 Assuming the same size train, more than half

 the mules had been killed, the rest run off with the

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 103

 attackers. All of the remaining packs had been

 thoroughly ransacked, with the unwanted part of

 their contents just strewn about haphazardly. Both

 wagons had caught fire and been rendered useless,

 but it was clear that some of the contents there

 had been salvaged and probably loaded on the

 remaining mules—and, perhaps, on the backs of

 the survivors.

 All of the human bodies were stripped naked if

 they hadn't been to begin with, but it was easy to

 tell the duggers from the other group of exiles by

 their shape if nothing else. It was a stomach-

 churning chore to gather up all those bodies and

 lay them out so they could be potentially identi-

 fied and counted. Several times members of the

 party suddenly felt sick; a few threw up, a few

 more finally ran back to the rest, but were quickly

 replaced by others whose curiosity or consciences

 now prodded them.

 Most of the victims had been shot, some several

 times, but others were run through with arrows or

 spears. Some who had obviously been only wounded

 when the train was overrun had been put to death,

 most often by beheading but occasionally by slow

 dismemberment, the horror still on their faces-

 Many of bodies had been chewed, with huge chunks

 of flesh just ripped from them, but it was unclear

 just what had done the chewing. What was clear

 was that whoever had overrun the train had been

 human, and probably in numbers far larger than

 the train's defenders.

 Still, laid out, the bodies included some that

 could not be accounted for by duggers or exiles.

 These, too, had been treated just as harshly as the

 others, but they were clearly from some different

 place entirely.

 For one thing, they resembled duggers but had

 some regularity to their dehumanizing aspects. They

 were mostly very tall, chunky females reminiscent

 104

 Jack L. Chalker

 of the kind that became Temple wardens, but all

 had undergone animalistic metamorphosis that

 might show madness on the part of the perpetra-

 tor but at least showed some conscious planning.

 The most obvious thing was that they all had

 thick heads of hair that apparently hadn't been

 cut in years. The shortest hair length was below

 the waist. Their fingers seemed unnaturally long,

 too, and terminated in very long, thick, sharp claws.

 Some of the bodies seemed covered from the waist

 down in very short fur with animalistic patterns

 and colorations, almost horse-like in texture and

 appearance, and all of these had tails resembling

 various animals—rabbit, horse, cat, they were all

 represented. Perhaps the most striking thing was

 their faces, though, with bushy, oddly upturned

 brows, and pink animal-like noses over mouths

 that seemed abnormally wide and which contained

 oversized, slightly protruding canines.

 Although in a state of shock over the carnage,

 Cassie couldn't resist questions. "What—what are

 they?" she asked Matson.

 "People," he responded dryly. "Members of a

 cult. Looks like they got a fair number, too." This

 last was said without any sense of exhilaration or

 pleasure. Matson had been curiously more cold

 and withdrawn since they began, but there was no

 trace of meanness, authoritarianism, or any other

 emotional mannerism. He was either holding some-

 thing in very deeply or forced upon himself a re-

 markable detachment for the scene.

 "Cult?" she prompted, treating him less like the

 slave master than as just someone else to talk to.

 He nodded. "Say you get a dugger type with

 some talent for the Flux who not only gets out

 here but can survive. He or she goes nuts, of course,

 but it's a crafty sort of nuts. Eventually these kind

 of people pick up other lost balls out here, maybe

 one day stumbling across a stringer train and catch-

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 105

 ing a few escapees, something like that, or getting

 people trying to flee a Fluxland. This person gets

 'em and imposes his particular kind of madness on

 them. They become his followers, his worshippers,

 his slaves—his playthings. If there's enough power

 available in the leader or in the collection they

 form a pocket in the Flux. A place where they can

 live and feed themselves. A real tiny little worldlet.

 They're around, usually near stringer trails, so they

 can sneak up and collect our garbage. This one is a

 lot more than that, though. There are few of 'em

 that can have the power to take on and lick a

 stringer train, and those few get known, we switch

 routes, and they wind up isolated. That's what's so

 weird about this one."

 "Huh?"

 "Arden was the best stringer I ever knew, bar

 none. It would take an army to do this much dam-

 age to one of her trains, and she had the biggest,

 meanest duggers you ever saw. That's them over

 there. Any cult big enough and smart enough to

 take her is big or smart enough to take a Fluxland.

 It just couldn't remain hidden this long, then show

 up here, on a trail with no previous trouble. Some-

 thing smells here. Smells bad. / want these bas-

 tards\"

 That last was said with such sudden force and

 emotion that she stepped back from him. Inside

 him, not too far from that totally businesslike

 surface, was an explosion she would not like to see

 directed at her, even unthinkingly.

 She went over to where the bodies were being

 laid out. It was almost complete now, but she had

 to force herself to look at them. It was a sight that

 no church vision of Hell could equal. Those dead

 warriors from this strange cult—how animalistic

 were they inside? More than they were outside? If

 so, could they or their kind have ripped out those

 pieces of flesh with their jaws? It was horrible to

 Jack L. ChaXker

 106

 contemplate, but there seemed no other conclusion.

 What kind of sickness could breed ones like those?

 Jomo, ugly and primitive as he was, was the

 only dugger she didn't fear. He came over to her

 and frowned, the effect producing hundreds of rip-

 ples in his broad hairless forehead. "Saw you talkin'

 to Master Matson. Best you not if you know what

 good for you."

 "Why? He didn't seem to mind."

 Jomo looked over at the mass of corpses. "You

 see any you know in this bunch?"

 She nodded- "Several."

 Jomo pointed a stubby finger at one off by itself,

 the figure of a woman, head shaved—or what was

 left of it. Most of the body was a bloody mess.

 "That one not like you. That one Missy Arden.

 Great woman."

 "Oh, I see... ."

 "No, you not see at all! Missy Arden carry Matson

 child!"

 Suddenly she understood, and felt foolish. Of

 course, it made sense, only she had not, frankly,

 thought of stringers as having sex, let alone chil-

 dren- They were like doctors, teachers, priestesses—

 when you met them in a store in town or maybe

 saw them in a public bathroom it was, somehow,

 shocking and unusual, as if they didn't do the sort

 of things real people did.

 If Jomo was right, and he had no reason to lie,

 then Matson right now was at his most dangerous,

 and that could be as fearsome as these cult members.

 "Coduro!" Matson bellowed, and a dugger on

 horseback reigned up, turned, and came over to

 him.

 "Yeah, boss?"

 "I give you my string," he said flatly. "Can you

 see it?"

 The dugger looked startled. "Yeah! I—can\" It

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 107

 seemed to awe him, although the others had no

 idea what was going on.

 "You take the string to Persellus. We'll have

 some time because this cult or whatever it has to

 stash its booty. Maybe enough time for us, maybe

 not, but if you start now you should be able to

 avoid them. They might have a sentry or two just

 up the string, though, so be careful."

 The dugger grinned, a sight that was in itself

 pretty gruesome to behold, and lifted his rifle. "I

 think maybe I like that."

 "Well, don't let 'em bog you down, either. I

 want you in Persellus even if you have to kill your

 horse to do it, and you give the first important

 official you can meet the whole story. Tell 'em

 we're coming in, but also tell 'em the size and

 description of these bastards. We need protection

 to get in, even if I speed it up, and we better get

 this pest hole and eliminate it before they get strong

 enough and bold enough to make a try on Persellus.

 You tell 'em it's somebody with real wizard power.

 Tell 'em anything you want, but get them here with

 a big force as soon as you can!"

 "Got'cha, boss. Rolling!" the dugger responded,

 then reared back on his horse and took off into the

 void which rapidly swallowed him up.

 Matson walked back over to the mass of now

 neatly laid out bodies, and counted- Eleven of the

 beast-women, twelve duggers, Arden, of course,

 and twenty-^iine refugees from Anchor Logh who

 would grow no older. He looked that last group

 over, then frowned and walked up and down be-

 tween the bodies, nodding and mumbling to him-

 self, then looked up and saw Cassie. "You!"

 She was startled. "Yes, sir?"

 "Notice anything funny about this group? Any-

 thing particular strike you?"

 She frowned, coming over although she really

 didn't want to come near that terror again. Ab-

 Jack L. Chalker

 108

 sently she looked down at one of the bodies and

 suddenly could not suppress a sob- "Oh, Holy

 Angels! It's poor Canty!" she managed.

 Matson grunted, then took out and lit a cigar.

 "Cut the hysterics. We don't have time for it. I lost

 somebody close to me here, too. She's dead, and

 so's he. If you don't want us to be you'll put them

 behind you until you get a chance to do something

 about it and concentrate on us. Now, how many

 boys were in that Paring Rite shit?"

 She fought back the tears as best she could.

 "Fifty," she told him.

 He nodded. "And we have twenty-two in our

 group, so there were twenty-six in Arden's. We've

 got twenty-nine bodies from the other group here,

 and only three are female."

 She snapped out of it and gasped. "And some of

 them were executed after they lost!"

 He nodded- "Whoever our bastard is, he only

 likes the girls. All those fighters were women, and

 he took all the women while killing all the men-

 That sounds like Rory Montagne, but that son of a

 bitch doesn't have enough power for all this."

 Despite Jomo's warning, and despite her own

 situation, she could not break away. It was obvi-

 ous that, no matter what happened to her later,

 right now Matson needed a relatively sane human

 to talk to and she had more or less elected herself.

 "Who is this Rory Montagne?"

 "A cult leader from way back, but thousands of

 kilometers from here. He's a woman-hater, and,

 therefore, a church-hater as well."

 "Seems to me he likes women, maybe too much,"

 she pointed out.

 "Oh, no. His hatred of the church is so absolute

 that his mission in life is the capture, submission,

 and humiliation of women. Every woman repre-

 sents the church to him, and every time one be-

 comes his slave or plaything he's scored in his own

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 109

 warped mind. But—he never had this kind of

 strength or power before. They've been hunting

 him as long as I can remember, but he's always

 been a nuisance rather than a real threat. I can see

 why his attack was particularly savage, though.

 When he saw a woman stringer he just couldn't

 help himself." He paused for a moment, then

 seemed suddenly galvanized into action. "Can you

 ride a mule bareback?"

 "I can ride anything with four legs," she assured

 him. "So can half of us."

 Matson turned and called in the duggers. "We're

 going to fast march," he told them. "All speed. Cut

 loose all but totally essential cargo, and get the

 rest into the wagons. Toss what you have to. Spare

 rations only." They nodded and set to work. He

 turned back to Cassie- "Pick your best riders. I

 want two on each mule. Jomo is already cutting

 them loose and rigging basic bridles. The rest will

 cram into the two wagons and I don't care about

 comfort. I don't care how it's done, but everybody

 rides, understand?"

 She nodded, then hesitated- "Uh—what about

 the bodies? Shouldn't we bury or cremate them or

 something?"

 "No time. Doesn't matter, anyway. In a week

 the Flux will have absorbed them, and in a month

 the rest will be gone, too. Anything that doesn't

 move for any length of time goes back to energy.

 Don't stand and worry about those things. They're

 dead. Move it!"

 She did. Four of the twenty mules still had to

 carry supplies, so that left sixteen available. She

 went back, not really explaining anything, and

 started making choices. She wanted the largest

 people on the mules, to make more room in the

 wagons, so most of the boys were paired up, and

 that took eleven of the mules. Reserving one for

 herself and, she decided, Nadya, she assigned the

 Jack L. Chalker

 110

 rest to the larger girls with some riding experience.

 That still left twenty-two people to fit someplace,

 and some food and hay had to remain in the

 wagons. She managed to get twelve in the cook's

 wagon, although very cramped and uncomfortably,

 but because of the bulk she only could get eight in

 the hay wagon. When she could get no volunteers

 among the girls to sit next to the driving duggers,

 who were the worst sort of the lot, she pulled Ivon,

 and the poor fellow with the mule's head off their

 mounts, replaced them with girls, and stuck them

 on the wagon seats.

 Ivon didn't seem too thrilled, but he had too

 much self-image to refuse to do it. The driver, a

 hulking, hunched creature with bulging, mis-

 matched eyes and a tongue hanging out of its

 mouth, giggled and snorted at him and seemed to

 be having a good time sensing his discomfort.

 Matson placed one wagon, the hay wagon, at the

 head of this new train, and the other in the rear. It

 looked very strange, but it was a much shorter

 train now and easier to guard. Jomo had impro-

 vised a four-across bridle and rein combination

 for the four remaining pack mules, and managed

 them while somehow perched in front of the pack

 on one of them. Cassie. in the first row of mules

 with riders, admired the troll-like man's tremen-

 dous skill.

 They were underway before Nadya, hanging on

 to her for dear life, asked, "What suddenly made

 you an honorary dugger?"

 Cassie smiled. "I don't know. I guess I've been a

 professional shoulder to cry on all my life. I never

 could figure it out but I'm not asking questions."

 They did make better speed, but the combina-

 tion of mules and mostly inexperienced mule rid-

 ers did not make for a really good pace, and mules

 tended to set their new pace and come to a halt

 when they wanted a drink from the canisters un-

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 111

 der the hay wagon or when they were just too

 tired. Matson's powers could give them more en-

 ergy and will, but even he could only do so much

 with a mule, and it was almost fifty kilometers to

 this land of Persellus.

 They made very good time, but there came a

 time when the mules and even the horses really

 couldn't be pushed much further. They needed a

 rest, and the riders, although still haunted by vi-

 sions of the slaughter they'd just left behind, par-

 ticularly the visions of the dead faces of people

 they'd known and shared a lot with over the past

 weeks, could take only so much on mule back,

 bare as their own bottoms were.

 Finally Matson called a halt, and they got down,

 many feeling terrible pain from muscles they had

 seldom used. They were not allowed to rest just

 yet, though. The mules had to be tended First, and

 this time individually, and the stringer and his

 duggers arranged a security line, or as much of

 one as they could with most of the packs and hay

 left behind. The mules would be their primary

 fortress, although the remaining hay bales were

 hauled out and spaced around the encampment as

 firing positions. Only then were they allowed to

 eat the hard bread and cold beans that was all

 that was saved, and get drinks of water themselves.

 When they were finished, Matson walked over to

 the group. "Any of you know how to shoot a rifle

 or shotgun?" he asked them.

 There was no response. All save the border guards

 and the police were forbidden any access to fire-

 arms in Anchor Logh.

 "I was afraid of that," Matson sighed. "All right,

 we're still going to sleep in shifts. I want at least

 two of you up with each dugger at each gun

 position, and I want a few more on watch in the

 gaps. It may bore the hell out of you but you just

 remember your friends back there and what hap-

 112 Jack L. Chalker

 pened to them. If you'd rather live, then you try

 and not be bored. If you see anything, and I mean

 anything out there, or even if you just imagine you

 do, you sing out. The first one that goes to sleep on

 duty gets to be another of my mules. The First one

 who misses something and doesn't give a warning

 will wish he or she was a mule!" He looked over at

 Cassie. "You! What's your name?"

 "They call me Cassie, sir."

 He snorted. "Too long. You're Cass. Anybody

 ever call you that?"

 "A lot of people."

 "Better to have a strong, one-syllable name that

 can be yelled in a pinch anyway. You're strong

 and you have a knack with people. I'm putting you

 in charge and that means the rest of you take

 orders from her like you would from me or my

 people. Cass, you pick your guards for each period,

 then get some sleep."

 She was amazed. "Yes, sir!" she responded, shak-

 ing her head a bit. She was no more amazed and

 awe-struck by the sudden promotion than the rest

 of them, some of whom looked a little resentful.

 Well, so what? she told herself. Maybe she'd be-

 come a dugger herself or something. It sure beat

 some of the alternatives.

 The attack began slowly, with a cautious sound-

 ing out. Two duggers, looking battered and bleed-

 ing, reeled into view and began half walking, half

 crawling towards the circle- The alarm was sounded

 almost immediately, and in an instant everyone

 was awake and tensely at what positions they could

 take.

 "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! We're from the Arden

 train!" one of them called out weakly.

 "You stop now or this scattergun's gonna end

 things for you in the next three seconds," Matson

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 113

 shouted back. "How the hell do I know who or

 what you are?"

 "We're from the train, the Arden train," gasped

 the talkative one, but both stopped where they

 were. "Happened hours ago. They were all around

 us. . . ."

 "What was her whip's name?" he shouted back,

 unmoved. "You have three more seconds!"

 "Whip—what?" the wounded dugger gasped,

 looking confused.

 "If you don't even know the name of Cuso, then

 there's no reason to let you live," the stringer said

 icily, raising his shotgun.

 "Oh, Cuso! Sure, sure. I thought you meant—"

 "Her name was Herot, you scum!" Matson snarled

 at them and opened fire.

 The air was suddenly alive with shapes; terrible,

 nameless, gibbering monsters who were all hating

 eyes and gaping, tooth-filled mouths, the dark mon-

 sters of nightmare and madness, dripping blood

 and screaming foully at them.

 Matson and his duggers opened up on them,

 ignoring the flying things and at all times shooting

 low. From the mass of the monstrous attackers

 came occasional screams of agony as bullets and

 shot found their mark in the sea of terrible illusion.

 But there was one hell of a lot of them. Matson

 took a moment to concentrate, and his head

 snapped back, then forward again with his eyes

 suddenly burning with power and concentration.

 "Armies of the void, attend me!" he commanded

 loudly over the din of battle, and suddenly, around

 the outer perimeter of the train appeared hun-

 dreds of huge, dark apelike shapes with eyes of red

 fire. The monsters, so huge and thick that they

 completely shielded the train, started roaring back

 at the attacking shapes and then slowly advanced

 outward.

 It was a clever maneuver, Matson's best trick-

 114 Jack L. Chalker

 The attacking cult had only limited power on its

 own, and that concentrated in its leader, but it,

 used illusion with great skill and cunning, creat-

 ing for their prey what they themselves feared

 most and sending it forth in the hopes that those

 nightmares might equally terrify others.

 But there were wizards in the Flux as well as

 illusionists; wizards who had the power to create

 out of the void a true and living demon army.

 Matson and his duggers knew that everything sent

 against them now was illusion, but the attackers

 could have no such assurance that the reverse was

 also true.

 And so the stringer, himself a master of illusion,

 cast upon them a hundred demonic beasts at least

 as horrible as those being hurled at him, but

 Matson's beasts all had the same name and it was

 Doubt, and it had an immediate effect.

 The mad shapes attacking the train shimmered,

 winked in and out, and seemed to lose much of

 their steam as their creator hesitated in the face of

 the counterattack. And because of their creator's

 diverted attention, when the monsters winked out

 it revealed the ones behind them.

 Automatic rifles on wide spray had a devastat-

 ing effect, even in the void; in the midst of a

 fading scenario of Hell, bullets found mark after

 mark, causing odd shapes to cry out and fall back,

 some dropping in their tracks and laying there in

 pools of their own blood.

 Matson halted his own shooting routine and con-

 centrated once more. "Armies of the void, back to

 guard this train!" he shouted-

 The huge demonic shapes paused, then did a

 backwards step in perfect unison, then another

 and another. Matson only hoped he'd been in time.

 No matter how crazy or frenzied some of these

 culties were, they'd notice, if given a chance, that

 for the past few seconds the train had been shoot-

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 115

 ing through their allegedly real phantom army.

 Although the Anchor people could just crouch down

 and wonder, the duggers understood immediately

 what the problem was and ceased firing, taking

 the time to shift positions and thus not be where

 they would be expected-

 Matson stuck the stump of an unlit cigar in his

 mouth and peered out at the void, which was sud-

 denly deathly quiet and still once more. Jomo,

 Cass, and several others helped reload new clips

 into rifles as the break lengthened- "How many

 did you make, Jomo?" the stringer asked.

 "We shoot twelve, maybe more," the big mule

 driver responded. "They was at least as many left."

 Matson nodded agreement. "Yeah, I figure we

 still got another dozen, maybe fifteen out there.

 Bastards. I wonder if any of 'em noticed our more

 than natural shooting?"

 At that moment explosions went off all around

 them, the concussions knocking several of them

 back, and from all sides huge, lizard-shaped crea-

 tures reared up and hissed defiance.

 "I think maybe somebody notice!" Jomo called

 back, and began shooting again into the now

 crowded void.

 "Well, we'll just see how they like their ear-

 drums broken!" Matson called back. He made a

 series of sweeping gestures with his hand and went

 around in a nearly three hundred and sixty degree

 circle as the duggers continued their shooting.

 Cass continued to supervise the reloading, so

 that all of the ones who could shoot had an almost

 continuous supply of firepower. She saw Dar come

 up to her operation, near Matson, and look at the

 rifles and then Matson. She frowned. "What are

 you thinking?"

 "Lani—she has to be with them. It don't look

 so hard. One shot . .."

 "One shot and you'll kill yourself and maybe all

 116 Jack L. Chalker

 of us!" she screamed back at him. "He's the only

 chance we got. Dar! They killed all the boys last

 time!"

 He looked at her strangely. "You've gone com-

 pletely over to him, ain't you? You forgot what he

 is, and you don't give a damn any more about the

 rest of us."

 Before she could reply he launched himself at

 her. At that moment all of Matson's mentally placed

 charges went off in a great circle of fireworks so

 effective that it pushed over not only the attackers

 but half the train as well.

 Dar recovered first, and, in his crazed mental

 state, struck Cass hard on the jaw with his fist,

 knocking her cold. In the recovery and follow-up

 shooting to the concussions, nobody really noticed

 him pick up her limp body and sprint for a weak

 spot in the line to the rear of Matson. The giant

 lizard-things, frozen for a moment in the shock of

 the explosions, did not deter him one bit, for he

 did not believe in them. A dugger saw him run-

 ning with her, but as his rifle was on spray he

 didn't dare shoot for fear of hitting the uncon-

 scious captive on his shoulder. By the time an

 alarm was shouted and his rifle readjusted, Dar,

 carrying the unconscious Cass like a sack of pota-

 toes, was behind the monsters and out of sight of

 the train.

 9

 POCKET

 Cass awoke to a scene out of nightmare. All around

 her was the void, yet she was not in it any more.

 She tried to turn and see just how far it was, but

 couldn't manage, and it was only then that she

 realized that she was bound to a flat slab of some

 kind, arms and legs out in spreadeagle fashion,

 while something also held her through the neck

 and waist rings, making much movement impossi-

 ble.

 After the first few fuzzy moments she remem-

 bered what had happened, remembered Dar's crazy

 lunge—and then what?

 The slab was angled slightly upward, so she had

 a view of what was in front of her. It was in fact an

 eerie and impossible scene, an outcrop of reddish

 rock rising up perhaps fifty meters over which

 spilled a small waterfall whose effluent landed in

 a pool below but did not seem to either drain to a

 creek or flood. There was a cave in back of the

 waterfall, but it was impossible to tell who or

 what might be inside. Around the pool were a

 number of palm trees and small bushes, and there

 seemed to be a few trees and bushes growing here

 and there all around the place. The void was just

 in back of the large rock, and she couldn't imagine

 where the water was coming from.

 117

 118 Jack L. Chalker

 She was not alone. It seemed that there were an

 endless number of slabs set back from the pool

 area in an eerie sort of amphitheater, and while it

 was difficult to see much at that level she was

 certain that each slab held someone, similarly

 bound as she was.

 Around the pool and waterfall there were—shapes.

 She was far enough away and at a bad angle so

 that at first she could not identify them, but sud-

 denly she knew what they were. They were women,

 very much like those bodies at the massacre site.

 Primitive, part animal, some scampering about

 with animal-like motions, others crouched down

 and eating or gnawing on something. They looked

 like the visions of Hell painted by the church in

 sermon after sermon. In fact, except for the eerie

 warm light the whole scene resembled a painting

 of Hell that hung in the temple at Anchor Logh.

 For a moment her upbringing broke through her

 skepticism. Have I died? she wondered. Did Dar's

 blow or the attackers of the train kill me? But no,

 she decided at last. She might have believed it if

 she hadn't seen those bodies, but she knew better.

 Those were real savages who attacked, and so were

 these- She wondered, though, if Dar had gone on

 to kill Matson and thus allow the second train to

 be overrun as well- She could hear, but not see,

 the noises of mules off to her right.

 Suddenly the savage women near the pool stopped

 what they were doing and scattered, making

 agitated noises. From the cave behind the small

 waterfall emerged a group of four of the women

 carrying on their shoulders a body seemingly

 strapped to a cross-like structure made of wood-

 They walked through the waterfall and down a

 small path to the right side of it, then around the

 pool, finally approaching Cass and the others on

 the slabs. There was a neatly drilled hole in the

 rock at the base of the grisly amphitheater, and

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 119

 the structure and its occupant were hoisted into

 place so that the base of the cross was securely in

 the hole. It swayed a moment, but then settled and

 held firm. Cass gasped as she finally recognized

 the figure on the cross.

 It was Dar.

 He looked dazed and only semi-conscious, but in

 some pain. He seemed to be bound with tight

 metal clamps around his wrists and by strong rope

 through the neck and waist rings. It held him

 secure and helpless, but hardly comfortably.

 A large figure now emerged from the cave and

 walked slowly down the path, around the pool,

 and up to the hapless man on the cross. This new-

 comer was dressed entirely in black robes without

 adornment of any kind, although he wore a large

 golden medal on a chain around his neck. It was

 impossible to tell what was stamped on the round

 medallion from Cass's vantage point-

 The primitive women seemed to treat this dark

 one with reverence and awe, and gathered silently

 to watch. It was hard to do much counting, but'

 there seemed to be no more than seven or eight of

 them.

 The dark one threw back his hood to reveal a

 round, distinguished looking face with a carefully

 cropped goatee and short hair, black once but now

 tinged with gray. He looked over at the savage

 women and made a gesture, and they prostrated

 themselves and virtually grovelled at him. He

 smiled and turned to the ones on the slabs.

 "Why, hello!" he said cheerfully, in a cultured if

 highly accented voice, almost as if he hadn't really

 noticed them before. "You are all doubtlessly won-

 dering why I've brought you here today, not to ^

 mention where this is, who I am, and what will

 happen now. I shall be most happy to explain it all

 to you."

 He gave a benign smile and then continued. "I

 120 Jack L. Chalker

 am Roaring Mountain, high priest of the powers of

 darkness, anointed so by the Seven Who Come

 Before, which you might know as the Seven Who

 Wait."

 There were a few sounds at this, but no great

 outcry. Most of them had expected as much, if

 nothing else, from the familiar scenario.

 "This is my holy place," he went on, "my temple,

 if you will, a place of life in the midst of the void

 established for my own and Hell's convenience.

 No, you are not dead, nor are you dreaming. You

 have instead received a signal honor. You have

 gone to Hell while still alive."

 He sighed, but it was clear that he was quite a

 ham actor and enjoying every moment of this.

 "Now, then, that takes care of two of the ques-

 tions- As to what I, and my followers, and this

 place are doing here—we are, quite simply, guard-

 ing one of the seven gates to Hell. It is not far from

 here, and while it is guarded by a different sort we

 can take it, given sufficient personnel, at the time

 and convenience of our own choosing. And that, of

 course, is what you are doing here."

 Cass could already see, with some horror, where

 he was going with this, but like the rest she could

 do nothing but watch.

 "When we struck our first blow not long ago, we

 had thirty-five soldiers in the cause, but many of

 them were outcasts in the void and thus did not

 have the reason or discipline to be more than,

 shall we say, rifle fodder. Only ten now remain,

 alas, but there is cheer, for now we have an addi-

 tional twenty-six otyou."

 Cass began doing some mental arithmetic. Ar-

 den's train had twenty-four survivors, plus her,

 plus Dar, there. She felt at least a tingle of excite-

 ment and relief that Matson had obviously beaten

 off the attack. Roaring Mountain had obviously

 lost too many in the first attack, which must have

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 121

 been nearly suicidal, to have a chance of taking

 theirs. So she'd been abducted by Dar, who'd es-

 caped the train and been taken prisoner by these

 people. She had to wonder if Dar had enough sense

 left in his head to have some second thoughts

 about that. There was no doubt that this strange

 man was the same one Matson had guessed was

 behind it all. Roaring Mountain. Rory Montagne.

 "Now, what we will require to eventually liberate

 this gate I estimate at about one hundred smart,

 dedicated troops. The attack on the first train

 brought us a tremendous quantity of arms and

 ammunition which we are still cataloging, not to

 mention explosives and other useful devices. It

 also brought us twenty-five fresh, sharp young peo-

 ple to be the vanguard of that new army."

 Cass frowned. Twenty-five? That couldn't be right.

 "Oh, I know what you're thinking," the dark

 man went on. "Me? Work for Hell? Never! But

 consider—it was your own church that cast you

 out. It was your own kind who branded you, tor-

 tured you, then sold you as slaves. It is they who

 deserve the punishment, not you! See! With your

 own group rode one of the harlots of the church!"

 He snapped his fingers, and two of his savages

 went out of view and came back with a small

 figure dressed in a white robe, hands bound. But it

 couldn't be a novice—this woman had a fair amount

 of hair.

 Cass gaped, recognizing Lani instantly. So that

 was how they'd gotten her out of the Anchor. She

 looked uncertain and frightened, but she looked

 up at the man on the cross and gave a short cry as

 she recognized Dar. The demonic priest's eyebrows

 went up. "Ah, then you know this fellow. Very

 good. Darkness provides symmetry, always. Now

 look only at me!" He reached out and pulled her

 face around until he was staring down into her

 Jack L. Chalker

 122

 eyes. She stiffened, then seemed to relax so well

 that the two savages had to help support her.

 "Just like all the others," the dark man sneered,

 an expression of madness creeping over his face.

 "Just like all those harlots in robes who are the

 chief whores, selling out their people and them-

 selves- It is an abomination for women to so rule

 and control men!" He reached-down and ripped

 off the white robe, revealing her voluptuous naked

 body. She had, Cass had to admit to herself, one

 hell of a body.

 This, too, did not escape the attention of Roar-

 ing Mountain. His madness faded into a broad

 grin, and he made a few signs with his hand in

 front of her face. She stiffened, almost like a statue,

 and the dark man motioned the support away. At

 that moment Dar seemed to come to. He groaned

 and looked down at the little scene in front of him

 in confusion. "Lani?" he managed-

 Roaring Mountain turned and looked at the man

 on the cross. "Well, this is unexpected timing. You,

 sir, present me with a problem. A moral dilemma,

 if you will. On the one hand, you defected, bring-

 ing with you a much-appreciated offering. On the

 other hand, Hell's minions in this holy cause must

 be female, for it is fitting that the just cause of Hell

 be carried out by those very types who oppose us

 so desperately. Nor, of course, could I allow the

 distraction of you to be around while we get about

 our work. Tell me—this girl here. Sister, perhaps?

 Or lover?"

 Dar still seemed completely confused by the

 situation. "Lover," he responded.

 "Ah! So they start their whoring younger than

 even I believed." He thought for a moment, then

 nodded to himself. From his robe he produced a

 large, sharp knife similar to the one Matson had.

 "To kill you would be an injustice. Therefore, we

 must be delivered from temptation and all will

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 123

 work out." He turned to Lani. "Girl? Open your

 eyes and look upon the man up there."

 She did, although still in a trance-like state.

 "Do you know him?"

 "It is Dar," she responded woodenly.

 He nodded. "And you want Dar, don't you?"

 "Yes."

 "You know what you want from him. You can

 see it hanging there, can't you?"

 Lani seemed to tremble slightly. "Yes. Oh, yes."

 "But who do you belong to now? Who must

 have your total devotion?"

 "You, Master."

 \ "Then you must prove your devotion. You must

 give me what you want most." He handed her the

 knife, and she took it. "Now go to that which you

 want most and bring it to me."

 They all held their collective breaths, but the

 savages seemed amused as well as fascinated by

 the grisly sadism of their master -

 Lani walked over to Dar, the knife outstretched.

 At last he understood at least this much and

 screamed, "Lani! In the name of all that's holy,

 no! Please!" he sobbed.

 The knife moved. Dar screamed, and suddenly

 there was blood all over. The girl knelt down and

 picked up the severed genitals and brought them

 back to Roaring Mountain, laying both the grisly

 object and the knife at his feet, kneeling jn front of

 them.

 Sparks flashed from the dark man's hand, and

 Dar stopped screaming and was still. The blood

 and wound on him vanished, and in the pubic

 region there was a very natural-looking female

 vaginal cavity, complete with pubic hair.

 "He is otherwise unchanged," Roaring Moun-

 tain told his captive audience. "I took the model

 from his own lady love, so in this sense they are

 Jack L. Chalker

 124

 one." He chuckled over his gruesome humor. "Dar!

 Awaken free of pain!"

 Dar's body moved, then his eyes opened and

 again he looked confused. Two of the savages re-

 leased his bonds and he fell limply to the rocky

 floor but soon shook his head and got up. All of the

 onlookers who could still either bear to watch or

 hadn't passed out just from the shock and horror

 of the scene waited to see what would happen

 now.

 "Arise, Lani," the priest of Hell commanded,

 and she did. "Girl, you have been punished for

 your sins and purged of them. Boy, you have also

 received justice. Do you both understand that?"

 Both just nodded.

 "Very well. Then the two of you are the van-

 guard of our new army. You, Dar, will be my

 general, and you, Lani, will be his aide. Both of

 you will lead, together, the mighty crusade. Do

 you agree?"

 Lani, still mostly under his spell, breathed, "Yes,

 Master." Dar, who still hadn't sorted it all out,

 asked, "Then we'll be together?"

 "Yes, of course. You have paid a high price for

 it, why not?"

 Dar nodded and squeezed Lani's hand. The sight

 was bizarre. "Then we'll fight for you."

 Roaring Mountain sighed. "Ah, true love con-

 quers all. Both of you can go back in the cave and

 get to know each other better if you wish. We have

 more business here."

 Cass had watched the whole thing and felt sick

 at it, but she found her emotions mixed. Those two

 certainly deserved each other, that was for sure,

 and she felt little pity about their enduring fate,

 either, for Roaring Mountain had obviously greatly

 enhanced their lust for one another while render-

 ing that lust impossible to consummate the way

 they wanted it. The true sickness in the scene was

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 125

 the dark one below, and his powers, which were

 obviously real—or were they? Matson's had cer-

 tainly looked real, and they were but illusions.

 Roaring Mountain approached the slabs and

 looked down at his first helpless captive. For a

 while he caressed, cajoled, and stroked her help-

 less figure in a scene of particular horror consider-

 ing that the onlookers could only witness their

 own fate. It looked like rape was inevitable, but

 suddenly the dark one stopped, that look of mad

 fury coming back into his face. "All the same! All

 the same!" he snapped, sounding both insane

 and violent. Suddenly Cass realized the source

 of that madness and that insane hatred. It was

 the only thing that made sense.

 Roaring Mountain was himself full of lust, but

 he was also impotent. The man with the power to

 make women worship him and to change the sex

 of another couldn't get it up himself. How he must

 be filled with hate! No wonder he could abide no

 normal male around. Dar, in fact, would have to

 be his favorite, for the mad wizard had bestowed

 on the boy the ultimate impotence.

 "Nonetheless, you are mine!" he roared, and made

 a pass over the girl with his right hand. Two of the

 savages then ran up and undid the bonds, and the

 dark one held out his hand and pulled the hapless

 girl to her feet.

 She was transformed. She was in fact extremely

 well built herself, although it was impossible to

 know how much had been exaggerated by Roaring

 Mountain's frustrations. From her extremely nar-

 row waist down her body was now covered in a

 fine brown hair terminating in two very large clo-

 ven hooves which the legs had been reconfigured

 to support, and from the end of her spinal column

 now grew a short, stubby, goat-like tail. She had a

 rich head of hair once more, too, of the same brown-

 ish color, but her face below her eyes had elon-

 126 Jack L. ChaSker

 gated a good five centimeters, giving her what

 could only be described as a pug-like snout. Finally,

 through her hair, rose two short, blunt goat-like

 horns.

 "Behold the first of a new race," Roaring Moun-

 tain thundered. "This shall be the model for the

 future of all harlots of World!" He sounded coldly

 furious now, and stretched out both hands at the

 captive multitude. At the end he issued some

 commands, and the first row was released. All

 were helped to their feet, and all looked exactly

 like the first creature he had made.

 Cass, in the third row, could only wait for it

 with mounting horror. Far worse than the trans-

 formation, for there was nothing permanent in the

 Flux and anything done could be undone, was the

 totally silent submissiveness of the newly made

 creatures who but moments before had been cap-

 tive girls just like she. The dark priest did the

 second row, and they became as the first. It was

 only when the first group came up to unbind the

 second that they were close enough for Cass to see

 the depth of the transformation. In one way. Roar-

 ing Mountain was right—this was a whole new

 race, and she was next to join it!

 Well, at least I'll finally have some tits, she

 thought inanely, her grip on sanity very, very thin.

 "Hold!" commanded a deep, booming, authori-

 tarian voice behind them, and Roaring Mountain

 stopped, then turned and himself dropped to his

 knees, as did all the savages and transformees,

 following his lead.

 The speaker and object of this worship walked

 into view. He was enormous, standing fully three

 meters high and fully proportioned with muscles

 to match. He also had a goat-like head with huge

 ram's horns, deep purple skin covering his human-

 looking body, and he wore a loose-fitting robe of

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 127

 crimson satin open at the chest but tied off with a

 belt at the waist.

 "Oh, great Prince of Hell. we welcome thee,"

 Roaring Mountain intoned.

 "Oh, get up from there," the giant goat-man

 muttered disgustedly. "We have business to discuss."

 "I was just in the holy process of—" the dark

 priest began, getting up hastily.

 "Of turning excellent raw material into mind-

 less savages. Yes, I know. I'm beginning to wonder

 about you, I really am. I fear the hangups that

 attracted us to one another may be too much for

 you to do a decent job. Well, we'll see." The crea-

 ture looked up at the dozen' or so girls still tied

 down. "You couldn't be satisfied with the one train.

 No, you had to go after another one without replac-

 ing your losses from the first attack." He sighed.

 "Sometimes, oh Roaring Mountain, I think I should

 transform you into a giant asshole."

 The priest looked stricken. "Please, Master! I

 can explain!"

 "Bullshit! I went and carved this homey pocket

 in a very convenient location and handed you the

 nucleus of an army. If you had any sense you'd

 have struck at the first train, forgotten the second,

 and now be well on your way to training that

 expanded force. Instead, here you are creating a

 new wild animal species with barely more than

 you had before! Worse, yet, you didn't take that

 second train. They'll be back in force, hunting for

 this pocket now."

 The priest looked suddenly concerned- "Then

 hadn't we better do something?"

 The goat-man cleared his throat impatiently.

 "Yes, I think we better. Any captives from that

 second train? I mean, any you haven't already

 transformed into mindless idiots?"

 "One, Master—no, two!" He looked up at Cass

 and pointed. "That one there, for example."

 128 Jack L. Chalker

 The mysterious giant nodded his goat's head

 and walked up the rocky surface between the slabs

 and looked down at her. After what she had just

 witnessed and now expected to go through, she

 was anything but taken aback by this great appari-

 tion.

 "What's your name, girl?" the goat-man de-

 manded to know.

 "Cass," she told him. There was no use in being

 coy, particularly when she knew she was facing

 the power behind this little throne.

 "Now, then, Cass—you were with the second

 train?"

 "Yes, sir."

 "Whose train was it? What was the name of the

 stringer?"

 "Matson, sir."

 "Um. Damn. And I suppose he sent a dugger

 ahead to Persellus when he saw the remains of the

 first train?"

 "Yes, sir. Straightaway."

 He turned to Roaring Mountain. "Another stu-

 pid mistake. I don't suppose you left anybody to

 take care of that little detail?"

 The priest shrugged. "How was I to know there'd

 be a second train by so soon? Besides, I lost a lot

 of troops there."

 "Idiot." He turned back to Cass. "You don't seem

 particularly frightened by me."

 "In the past few days I've been sold to a stringer,

 forced marched in the void, cleaned up after a

 massacre, been in a fight, and just now I witnessed

 a castration and the turning of a lot of good people

 into animals, and I was about to join them myself

 when you showed up. I'm sorry, sir master wizard

 or whatever you are. I just don't think I have any

 more fright left."

 The giant was impressed. "Now this is some-

 thing special, priest. A hundred like this and we

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 129

 could rule World. And you were about to turn her

 into a slavish goat-woman!" He paused a moment,

 controlling his temper. "Do you know who and

 what I am?"

 "A wizard. Isn't that what they call people like

 you?"

 The goat man crouched down, and she could see

 that the goat head was not some sort of mask.

 Either it was all illusion or else the man had liter-

 ally changed himself into this whatever it was.

 She decided on the latter, noticing that he wore A

 ring with a serpent design on his right ring finger.

 She also noticed that he was most certainly left-

 handed.

 "I'm one of the Seven Who Wait," the creature

 told her. "Does that bother you?"

 "Not particularly," she answered honestly. "The

 church hadn't exactly impressed me for honesty

 and sincerity. I see no reason why your side should

 be much different."

 He looked at her for a moment. "There is great

 power in you," he told her. "I can fee! it. Tremen-

 dous latent power that even now makes tentative

 probes at my defenses. Your very calmness, your

 intelligence, and your almost magnetic ability to

 get into the worst of situations makes me suspicious.

 I have seen this combination before, in many bodies,

 with many faces." He sighed and got up and turned

 to Roaring Mountain. "Come. Your fun here can

 wait. We must talk and soon, for I must be quickly

 gone from here. I warn you though not to try your

 tricks with that one. What she has within her is

 stronger than you. For your own sake, kill her."

 Cass suddenly felt some fear return, particularly

 when the priest grinned and said, "I'll do it right

 now."

 "No! Not until I am gone." Was that a worried

 tone in the master wizard's voice? What sort of

 power, she wondered, did she have that even one

 130 Jack L. Chalker

 of the Seven, if that was who he was, would not

 like to take on?"

 The two men of evil walked away, and Roaring

 Mountain went to the cave. Dar met him at the

 entrance just inside the waterfafl and they ex-

 changed a few words. Then Dar nodded, and the

 evil priest rejoined his master and they went off

 out of view. Dar hesitated a moment, then walked

 out and over to the slabs, then up to Cass herself-

 None of the savages or goat-women made any at-

 tempt to stop him.

 Roaring Mountain had given Dar practically

 everything, she saw. His build, already considerable,

 was now totally filled and so muscular that you

 could see every flex or movement in them, and his

 already strong, lean, handsome face was somehow

 altered into near total perfection, set off by a crop

 of thick, black hair. If there were male gods, then

 he was the absolute perfection of them—with one

 detail importantly missing. He was Roaring Moun-

 tain's pet joke.

 "Come to gloat?" she asked him sourly. "Or cry

 on my shoulder, which isn't very good for that sort

 of thing right now."

 "He ordered me to kill you," he told her. "AS

 soon as goat-face was gone."

 She sighed. "Well, go ahead. Get it over with."

 "I'm not going to do it, Cass." He reached down

 and freed the restraints binding her to the slab.

 She sat up uneasily, a little suspicious but feeling

 that she had nothing to lose.

 "Now what am I supposed to do? Run and be

 eaten alive by those things over there?"

 He shook his head slowly. "No- They won't hurt

 you. Look, I did a dumb thing. I did a lot of dumb

 things. I just kept thinking of Lani, and that she

 was out here, and then I saw you start acting like

 that stringer's partner and it all just sort of snapped.

 I kind of deserve this, I guess, but you don't."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 131

 She suddenly felt a little uneasy. "Where's Lani

 now, Dar?"

 "Dead," he said softly- "I killed her. I—" his

 voice choked a bit—"I put her out of her misery,

 really. That bastard made me a woman who looks

 ' like a man, thinks like a man, wants like a man.

 He made her all sex, frenzied like, and only for

 me—and I couldn't do a damned thing. She was in

 torture from his games, Cass—I gave her peace."

 She was silent a moment, not wanting to de-

 sert him but fearful that Roaring Mountain, who

 couldn't be. far off, might return at any second.

 "What do you want me to do?"

 "Look, they have to have a war party heading

 this way. I say we take our chances, get into the

 void, and wait. The odds ain't great, but even if we

 did it's better than staying here."

 She was surprised. "We? You're coming, too?"

 He nodded. "Oh, I thought about killing myself,

 but I got this real urge inside me to pay 'em back.

 Pay 'em all back, like you said back in the gym at

 the start. I want to get these bastards, and particu-

 larly I want to get the ones that caused this back

 in Anchor Logh. Will you come?"

 She thought a moment. "What about the others

 here?"

 "No time, and too big a risk. Either they'll be

 rescued or they won't, but if we take the whole

 mob they'll catch us sure."

 "All right, then. Let's move."

 They walked in back of the slabs and she found

 it a level area above the encampment, mostly more

 of the sheet rock with little growing. She could see

 the whole thing from up there and was shocked to

 see how tiny the place really was. They had less

 than twenty meters to reach the void, and they

 made it before any alarms were sounded, holding

 hands so they would not get separated.

 132 Jack L. Chalker

 As soon as they were in the void itself she stopped

 him. "What's the matter?" he asked nervously.

 "We don't want to get too far from the pocket or

 we'll just wind up lost and alone," she told him. "I

 say let's walk just a hundred paces in a straight

 line, counting from now. If we can't see the pocket

 from there, then we stop and wait there."

 "Fair enough for a start," he agreed, and began

 the counting process. At a hundred paces they

 stopped and looked back. There was a very slight,

 almost imperceptible lightening of the void in the

 direction from which they'd come, but otherwise

 there was no way to know that anything was there.

 It provided the only orientation they had, so they

 decided to settle for it. There was nothing to do

 now but sit down on the soft, spongy, invisible

 ground and wait until they had to return or strike

 out blindly in search of food and water.

 "I wanted to bring a canteen, at least," Dar told

 her, "but all that stuff was over by the mules and

 so were they." They sat in silence for a while, and

 Cass lay back and tried to relax as much as she

 could. Although they were most probably dead

 people at this point, the immediate terrors were

 out of the way and she found herself suddenly

 unable to stop shaking and crying a bit. She just

 didn't fight it any more, and let it come, and it

 was a long time flowing from her. Dar held her

 and tried to comfort her, and it was some time

 before she realized that he was crying, too.

 Coduro had brought half the armed might of

 Persellus, from the looks of it, including two offi-

 cers of high rank that were real wizards, albeit of

 lesser powers.

 "One of mine went nuts and defected, carrying

 off a girl," he told them. "We beat them off and

 cost them some lives, but with all the captives he's

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 133

 got this bastard has another army at his command.

 How many troops you got with you?"

 The colonel, a bearded man in his fifties but in

 prime condition and looking ready for a fight,

 responded, "Fifty experienced soldiers, a chief

 noncom, and the captain and myself. But how are

 you going to Find a tiny pocket in all this space?

 They could be anywhere by now. We came as an

 escort, not a raiding party."

 "Well, I'll lead you to his pocket," the stringer

 told him. "I don't know why except I kind of took

 a liking to her, but I put my string on the girl he

 carried off. It'll lead us right to them."

 "Well! That's different! Tremendous stroke of

 luck, though."

 Matson suddenly hesitated. It was an odd thing,

 him putting that string on the only one that was

 captured. He'd never done anything like that be-

 fore in his life, and he didn't know why he'd done

 it this time. He shrugged, went about his business.

 and didn't think much more on it as he recreated

 the strong defensive position. He didn't think the

 cult could possibly have turned all those captives

 into troops that could be used effectively in so

 short a time, but he didn't want to return here and

 find out he was wrong, either. Finally he remounted

 his horse and went over to the soldiers. "Let's go

 get 'em," he said enthusiastically.

 Rory Montagne, he thought as he rode. A minor

 real wizard, able to make changes in individual

 human and animal bodies but that was all. He

 certainly wouldn't have the power to create a pocket

 on his own. The one he'd used for years down near

 Anchor Dowt had been an old one created by some

 wizard traveling the void long ago, or so the story

 went. He remembered when Montagne 'was still

 leading a double life out of Haratus, a Fluxland

 near there, acting as a scenic designer for the local

 wizard while kidnapping a number of local women,

 134 Jack L. Chalker

 one by one, and hauling them off to this pocket of

 his for who knew what purpose? Finally the bas-

 tard had picked on a woman who happened to be

 a drill instructor at the local military school and

 he'd damn near had his balls kicked off and was

 lucky to escape with his life.

 What was he doing here?

 The tiny, thin energy trail left by Cass was rag-

 ged but not hard for him to follow, since it had his

 personal frequency. They did not have a long ride

 before he suddenly raised his hand and brought

 the troop to a halt.

 "What's the matter?" the colonel asked him, hand

 going to his pistol.

 "See that slightly lighter area over there? That's

 got to be it. The trail goes right to it. I'd like to

 take a few troopers and scout it first. Best to know

 what we're getting into."

 The colonel nodded and turned. "Fiver! Mihies!

 Godort! Fall in over here and dismount'"

 The three soldiers, two men and a woman, looked

 tough and smart enough. Matson loaded his shot-

 gun and dismounted with them. "Stay ready," he

 warned the officer. "Montague's range is pretty

 limited—he has to be looking at you to do anyr

 thing—but he's too much for me to handle." With

 that he and the soldiers started cautiously forward.

 "Sir!" one of the troopers hissed when they were

 almost to the pocket's border.

 "Huh? What's the matter?"

 "Over there to the left. One, maybe two shapes.

 Guards, perhaps."

 He looked in the indicated direction and was

 impressed by the senses of the trooper. These were

 good soldiers. The figures were barely blobs at this

 distance, but they fanned out and moved slowly to

 close the net. At the point where they could finally

 make out the figures, though, Matson stopped, held

 up his hand again, and stood up, then pointed his

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 135

 shotgun at the pair. He knew one of them, but the

 other was a stranger, and he didn't know what

 they might have done to the one he did know by

 this time.

 "All right—both of you! Stand with hands raised,

 facing me!" he commanded sharply.

 They both jumped at the voice, then did as

 instructed. Cass suddenly recognized the lean fig-

 ure in black. "Matson! Thank heaven!"

 "Or somebody. You understand I don't know

 who's been messing with your mind, so I have to

 be cautious. There's three more guns on you two,

 so come forward and don't make any sudden

 moves."

 They did as instructed, and soon were facing

 him across less than two meters. Matson reclipped

 his shotgun and walked up to them, staring at the

 larger of the two. "I'll be damned! I thought you

 were a man!"

 "I used to be," Dar responded glumly.

 Matson stared at him. "Don't I know you?"

 Quickly Cass stepped in, telling the story as com-

 pletely as she could, while trying to spare Dar

 some of the most painful memories. Matson just

 nodded and waited for her to run out of words-

 Finally he said, "All right. So you say he's

 changed about twenty of the girls into his play-

 things, and he's got ten of the others. That's pretty

 fair, considering that the new ones won't know

 how to fight. I don't like this goat-headed fellow,

 though. Handling him will be rough."

 "Oh, it's been hours," she assured him. "He was

 going quickly, or so he said. I'm sure he's gone

 now."

 "We'll have to take the chance," the stringer

 decided. "All right—you two stay here for now.

 We're still going to keep you covered, so don't

 move until we tell you. Okay?"

 136 Jack L. Chalker

 "We won't," Cass assured them. "I just wish

 you'd brought a drink of water with you."

 "All in good time," he assured her, and was off-

 They pretty much were able to confirm the

 pocket's layout and general dimensions that Cass

 gave them from cautious observation, and a trooper

 was sent back to bring up the rest. Matson re-

 turned to the pair and lit a cigar. "Okay. You sure

 that cave's got no outlet?"

 "I'm sure," Dar told him. "It doesn't even go

 back very deep, but it's kind of squared off, ar-

 ranged like a one-bedroom cubicle."

 He nodded, and the rest of the troops came up.

 Matson and the troopers quickly sketched in the

 layout and the stringer and the colonel mapped

 out a plan of attack. They had four submachine

 guns with them, and those were placed at the

 most likely points of breakout. Matson eyed the

 guns greedily, thinking of what he could have done

 to the cult if he'd had even one with enough

 ammunition. Twenty-five of the other troopers were

 stationed in between, so there was almost a contin-

 uous zone of fire. The others would ride right in,

 guns blazing, and secure positions inside as quickly

 as possible, with the hope of driving those inside

 out to the waiting firepower. If they could not

 within ten minutes, then the outer circle would

 move in with two of the machine guns taking the

 heights above the slabs,

 Both Dar and Cass, after getting some water and

 a food bar each from the troopers, volunteered to

 go in with the party. Both Matson and the colonel

 were dubious. "We can't totally trust you yet, but

 I would like somebody there who knows the layout,

 just in case," the stringer said. "How about they

 come in with us in the middle of the party, un-

 dressed and unarmed as they are?"

 The colonel nodded- "If they're crazy enough to

 do it, why not? Take the two gunners' horses there."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 137

 Both Cass and Dar mounted expertly and brought

 their horses into the formation. Dar gave a dry

 chuckle.

 "What's so funny?" Cass wanted to know.

 "I just realized how much easier and more com-

 fortable it is to ride a saddle naked if you're a girl,

 that's all."

 "Maybe you'll get to like it," she returned, feel-

 ing better than she had since entering the Temple,

 despite the imminent battle. "Hell, with those mus^

 cles you got bigger tits than I do by far." And, with

 that, they were off.

 10

 PERSELLUS

 The attack was simple, direct, and quite effective

 because it was a total surprise. Half the riders

 came in from one side of the pool, the other half,

 almost perfectly synchronized, rode in from the

 other way. The inhabitants of the pocket, as hoped,

 were first totally frozen in confusion at the noise

 of the attack, then pulled in several directions, not

 certain what to do or who to fight first.

 Several of the savages, undone by this, simply

 stood there uncomprehending and allowed them-

 selves to be shot down. One, up in a tree, took the

 first target of opportunity and pounced down on a

 trooper, dismounting him. Seeing it, Dar leaped

 from his horse as the savage raised a bone club to

 deliver the fatal blow and knocked the wild animal-

 like woman away. Another trooper then shot her

 down.

 It was over almost before it started, in a care-

 fully planned hail of bullets. Part of the reason

 was that the newly transformed captives did noth-

 ing to fight back the attack. Some died simply

 because it was not immediately obvious that they

 were no threat, but the bulk of them simply hud-

 dled back in a large mass against the rocks and

 cowered in terror.

 As soon as Cass hit the small grove of trees she

 138

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 139

 bounded off her horse and looked for signs of Roar-

 ing Mountain and his savage creatures, but aside

 from the pitiful ones huddling in the rocks there

 were none. The riders made two passes before they

 seemed to realize this as well, and they met in the

 center of the amphitheater and stopped, several

 dismounting and taking up guard positions.

 A rider left to gather in the encircling troops,

 and soon the machine gunners had set up a defen-

 sive post on the rocky flat above the slabs from

 which they could hit almost anything in the pocket.

 Matson, still atop his horse, reclipped his shot-

 gun and looked around. "Where the hell is Mon-

 tagne?"

 The colonel frowned. "It was too quick for him

 to duck out through some escape hatch. He's got

 to be in the cave." The mounted troops split up

 into two detachments and rode to the paths on

 either side of the waterfall. The captain, who was

 the other wizard in the troop, now satisfied that

 his people were in control, took the right path,

 while the colonel, with Matson, covered the left.

 "Rory Montagne!" the stringer shouted, his deep

 •voice struggling to be heard over the waterfall.

 "It's all over. Come on out now. In ten seconds

 we're going to start pouring lead into that cave of

 yours, and if a shot doesn't get you one of the

 ricochets will. Live or die, it makes no difference to

 us. Your choice."

 Suddenly great fire-breathing dragon lizards, each

 ten meters tall, roared out of the cave and startled

 the horses. As this diversion was taking place, and

 drawing shots, a dark figure leaped through-the

 waterfall and into the pool and began swimming

 straight for the other side. The great dragons were

 hard for the troopers to ignore, but the colonel

 wheeled around on his horse and made for the far

 end of the pool, Matson following.

 Roaring Mountain, looking quite soaked, reached

 140 Jack L. Chalker

 the edge of the pool, pulled himself up quickly,

 then stopped, seeing the two figures in front of

 him. He shrugged and smiled at them. Wearing

 nothing but his medallion, he looked more foolish

 than dangerous. The dragons vanished.

 "You didn't answer Mr. Matson," the colonel

 remarked calmly. "Or were those hissing illusions

 your answer? Would you like to take me on now?"

 The priest of Hell's smile faded and he studied

 the colonel intently. "Answer me this first, sir, if

 you will," he said smoothly. "If I were to not take

 you on, what will happen to me?"

 "You will be rendered unconscious, then taken

 to Persellus to stand trial," the colonel told him.

 "Beyond it being a fair trial by magicians of your

 rank I can promise nothing further." It was clear

 by his tone, though, that he really hoped that the

 evil one would choose to fight him here and now.

 The colonel's confident manner rattled Montagne.

 He was not, after all, a very powerful wizard, and

 quite limited in real, rather than illusory, magic.

 Nor, for all his insanity, was he stupid. One did

 not take on a wizard who knew your own powers

 and limitations while you knew none of his. "To

 Persellus, you say? I understand it is a delightlul

 place, Colonel- I shall be delighted to accompany

 you."

 "First things first," Matson put in. "Montagne,

 we go back a ways as you might remember, and I

 know you're not the big man in all this. Now who

 the hell is the joker hiding behind the goat's mask?"

 "Jok—I don't know what you mean, dear boy.

 The authorities made it a bit hot, shall we say, back

 home when my dear little pocket was stumbled

 upon by a military patrol while I was away. I have

 scouted these obscure pockets for years, so I moved.

 That's all."

 Matson reached down on his saddle and undipped

 his bullwhip. The dark man saw it, frowned,

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 141

 then looked over at the colonel. "My dear sir, I

 have surrendered to you! I am under your protec-

 tion and the merciful laws of Persellus."

 "We're not in Persellus now," Matson said coldly.

 "You killed a very good friend of mine. Worse, you

 stole stringer property. In the void a stringer is the

 law in matters concerning his train. You can an-

 swer to me, and answer straight, or take on the

 colonel. Your choice, I don't care which." The bull-

 whip was unfurled to its full length.

 "Colonel!" Montagne implored, but the colonel

 filled his pipe, started humming an old tune, and

 looked around at the scenery.

 Rory Montagne sighed. "Oh, very well. Yes, I

 was contacted back home one day by the one you

 refer to, but aside from the fact that he is one of

 the Seven I have no more idea than you as to who

 or what he is. I have seen and heard him only as

 you describe, in deep disguise. He made this pocket,

 and he sent some of his minions to bring me here

 with all that I had. I was to build up weapons and

 personnel until we were strong enough to attack

 and secure one of the seven gates to Hell which is

 'not that far from here, that time to be in the

 rather distant future, I believe."

 Matson looked over at the colonel. "That true?

 One of those things is around here?"

 "So I've heard, but I've heard that since I was a

 kid and I never knew anybody who really knew if

 it was, or where it was. I been thirty years in and

 out of the void in these parts and I never ran into

 it, but I could have been right next to it a hundred

 times and never known it. You know how the void

 is."

 The stringer nodded. "Well, it's no concern of

 mine if it's true or not, but I do want the bastard

 behind all this- Montagne, you seem mighty casual

 about going to Persellus. Any special reason?"

 142 Jack L. Chalker

 The madman shrugged. "Why not? As I said, it's

 supposed to be a delightful place."

 "And the place where your mystery man is?"

 The colonel seemed shocked by Matson's sug-

 gestion. "In Persellns'? One of the Nine? Without

 the Goddess knowing? Impossible!"

 "It would be the ideal place for such a one to

 hide," Matson pointed out, "and for the very rea-

 son you just showed. All I can do is state the

 obvious- Whether or not you follow it up is up to

 you. I'm not going to be around these parts very

 long."

 The colonel seemed deeply disturbed by the idea,

 but simply said, "It will be looked into, I promise

 you. At least I will bring it up in my report, and

 higher authority can do what it wishes."

 "Fair enough," the stranger agreed. "Now, then,

 Montagne, one more piece of unfinished business

 and I'll let the colonel have you. You stole a lot of

 merchandise from a stringer. As the recovering

 stringer, I am entitled to it, but I don't like dam-

 aged goods."

 Rory Montagne frowned. "The mules are in ex-

 cellent shape, and what packs we rummaged

 through can, I'm sure, be restored in short order."

 "Them," Matson said, pointing to the cowering

 goat-women. "Put them back the way they were."

 The whip hand twitched slightly.

 "Now how in hell am I supposed to remember

 what they looked like?" the captive retorted in a

 helpless tone. "They're women!"

 "Can you bring back their senses? Memory?

 Personality?"

 "Oh, sure. It was a quick mass job. All I did was

 push them back from the control centers of the

 brain. What's the point unless they know exactly

 what's going on but are helpless to do anything

 about it?"

 Matson and the colonel exchanged sharp glances

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 143

 at that. Finally the stringer said, "Okay. It doesn't

 matter to me what they used to look like anyway,

 so long as they're people again. Just pick some-

 body in your head at random and make them all

 look like that, and bring back their minds. If they

 don't think and talk they're no good to me,"

 Although some of the troopers were busy survey-

 ing the pocket and also repacking and readying

 the mules for transport, most of the others, includ-

 ing Cass and Dar, stood back watching the show.

 The latter two were enjoying every bit of it.

 Montagne sighed. "I do wish you would send

 someone to fetch my robe. A prisoner should be

 allowed some dignity."

 The colonel shrugged and gestured to a trooper,

 who went up, into the cave, and returned with it.

 It was then carefully searched but there were no

 pockets or concealed compartments within it and

 so they gave it to him and he put it on, looking

 quite pleased, then looked up at the colonel. "With

 your permission, sir?"

 They cleared a path for him and he walked to-

 wards the goat-women, who seemed to relax and

 greet his coming with joy.

 "He won't try any tricks, will he?" Matson asked

 worriedly.

 "It would take months to find out his particular

 frequencies and patterns by deduction, but once

 he starts I'll know if he's doing it right. You can't

 alter a spell, only impose a different one. If he

 undoes it, it has to be all the way, or the math just

 won't add up."

 The stringer nodded, understanding at least the

 basics as a false wizard.

 Montagne was still a ham, and he still put on a

 nice show of mumbo-jumbo, chanting, and gestures,

 but finally he made a few basic gestures and the

 figures of the hapless women shimmered and

 changed.

 144 Jack L. Chalker

 "Bastard! I'll kill him!" Dar screamed, and two

 troopers had to restrain him.

 All nineteen of the surviving members of Arden's

 train now looked exactly like Lani. The black magi-

 cian turned, grinned, then shrugged. "Well, after

 all, you did leave her dead in my bed. Who else did

 you think I'd have in mind?" He turned to the

 colonel. "I'm ready to go now, sir. Take me away!"

 Cass shouted at Matson, "You can't make him

 go back with the train! You just can't! It'd be like

 you traveling with nineteen women who looked

 just like Arden!"

 That stung the stringer, and he softened slightly.

 "All right. Colonel, can we find or make some

 clothes for those two and let them go in with you?

 All in all, they've done us a pretty good service,

 and these will more than make up for my loss on

 them."

 The colonel was surprised. "You mean you're

 giving them their freedom? A stringer gives some-

 thing for nothing? Now I know the gates will be

 opened and the end of World is nigh!"

 "Cut the sarcasm. The big one will have to face a

 hearing when you get home to judge his actions,

 both good and bad. I'll leave that judgment up to

 your court- Cass I'm not so sure about, but she's

 done me enough service to buy her way out. That's

 as far as I'll go."

 "Fair enough," the colonel agreed. "Let's see

 what we can do about some clothing for the two of

 them, then we'll commandeer two of the mules

 there to let them ride. You'll get them back when

 you reach Persellus."

 "Agreed. I need a couple of troopers to help me

 go back and get some packs I ditched back on the

 route, then we'll be headed in. I have some busi-

 ness in Persellus."

 "We'll see you there, then!" And, with that, the

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 145

 colonel went off to reorganize his troops, Montagne

 walking before him.

 Dar was finally calm enough to be freed of

 restraint, but he turned his back on the now milling,

 chattering throng of Lanis and refused to look at

 them any more.

 Matson came over to them, dismounted, and

 said, "Well, Cass. You heard me there, although

 I'll never live the story down. Don't disappoint

 me,now."

 "I just wish I could buy my friends out," she

 told him honestly. "In a way I feel kind of guilty

 about this."

 "Well, you're free, but you're broke, so forget it.

 However, I want to warn both of you about Persel-

 lus. You've never been in a Fluxland before."

 Even Dar suddenly grew interested. "What are

 they like?"

 "Well, each one is so different there's no telling,

 but this one happens to be a pretty nice place

 filled with pretty nice folks, overall. The first thing

 you have to remember," he said, his voice drop-

 ping to a whisper, "is that every Fluxland is the

 creation of a very powerful wizard, one so power-

 ful that they're like gods- Well, this one's wizard

 thinks she is a goddess. Lives up in a high tower,

 but really does the part. She can hear and see

 everything and everyone if she wants to, and she

 loves to. If you pray to her, your prayers might be

 answered if she's in the mood. If you say anything

 she doesn't like, or question her godhood, you'll

 wish you didn't. The best way to act is to steer

 clear of even any questions about her and for your

 own sakes make no even slightly nasty comments.

 The only way people there can get along is if they

 believe in her godhood, so they do. Even these

 troops and the colonel. Never mind what you know

 is true. Act in every way like she's a real deity,

 because, in real life, she is one. And do not ever

 146 Jack L. Chalker

 accept an offer to see her, because you'll come out

 of it a raving religious fanatic about her. Okay?"

 They both nodded, although neither was quite

 sure just what it all meant.

 Matson left shortly afterwards to return to his

 train, taking a half a dozen troopers with him and

 his newly acquired mules, packs, and people- That

 last made things a little more tolerable for Dar,

 anyway.

 The colonel proved to be a man of many abilities.

 When they came up with two basic trooper uni-

 forms, one far too small for Dar and the smallest

 far too large for Cass, he made a small gesture and

 both fit as if they were tailored for the two. A

 second pass turned the water and the waterfall

 from clear water to a brown, foul-smelling sub-

 stance that bubbled and hissed. Nobody was going

 to use this pocket for a refuge again, that was for

 sure. He did not otherwise destroy it, though, since     li-

 ne fully intended to send back a team of experts on     |

 void magic to study it for clues as to its origin—     ^

 and originator.                                     ^

 Finally, they were ready. The clothes felt odd     f

 after so long without any, but they had no trouble     ^

 riding as they had before. A third commandeered

 mule held the now comatose Rory Montagne, ren-

 dered so by a spell from the colonel that made it

 highly unlikely that the evil one would awaken

 before they were ready for him.

 Finally everything was packed, inventoried, and

 they were off into the void once more, but with a

 difference. Cass was now a free woman, but in a —

 hostile and unknown place and without resources.

 Dar, because of his earlier actions in the train and

 against Cass, was technically under arrest.

 The colonel was advanced enough in the magic

 of Flux to find his own way in the void, although

 he did have to return via Matson's train route

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 147

 before he could tie in to the main trail that only a

 few could see or sense.

 It was a slow, relaxed, deliberately paced ride,

 but it was still far faster than any stringer train

 could go, even in the speedup configuration Matson

 had used.

 "What will you do now, Cass?" Dar wanted to

 know.

 She shrugged. "I'm not sure. Take each thing

 one at a time, I guess. Maybe I'll like this place up

 ahead and just settle down there. Probably not,

 though. If I could just find some way to earn a

 stake, I might like to see a little more of World

 now that I'm out here."

 "What we've seen so far isn't very encouraging,"

 Dar noted. "It's all been pretty ugly."

 "But there must be nice places, maybe even won-

 derful places, too," she replied. "I mean, these

 wizards have the powers of gods. They can't all be

 corrupted by it, not completely. Look at the colo-

 nel and these troops here. They're pretty nice, and

 as human as anybody in Anchor Logh. We've seen

 the worst the Flux has, now it's time to see the

 best."

 They reached the borders of Persellus after a

 lengthy ride. It was not an abrupt transition, like

 the pocket, but a very gradual one, as the void

 slowly gave way to actual forms. First there was

 the feeling of solid ground beneath them, and the

 clattering of hooves on rock that seemed so odd

 here that it startled them. Then there were misty,

 indistinct shapes here and there, like landforms of

 one kind or another, and here and there a trace of

 grass or bushes. The sky lightened, until it turned

 increasingly transparent, although it was now an

 odd and unfamiliar pale blue above the fleecy white

 clouds, with no sign of the ever-present Mother of

 Universes in sight. The clear blue sky unnerved

 148 Jack L. Chalker

 both Dar and Cass, but they soon got used to it,

 particularly when they didn't look up.

 And, suddenly, they were completely in the land

 of Persellus. It was, even the gloomy Dar had' to

 admit, a very pretty place indeed.

 In effect it was a huge, wide valley with a small

 meandering river cutting through it. The valley

 itself was, perhaps, twenty or twenty-five kilome-

 ters across, and flanked by low mountains with

 gentle green slopes that were forested all the way

 to their tops.

 At first there seemed little sign of people or

 indeed any signs of life, but after traveling a while,

 the road, now paved and well-maintained, took

 them through farms quite different from those of

 Anchor Logh, with broad fields of grazing cows or

 horses and large houses and barns of an unfamil-

 iar design sitting back from the main road. Clearly

 such farms were independently managed, proba-

 bly by single families. They were smaller than

 Anchor communes, and the buildings could not

 possibly handle a collective. Just the idea of inde-

 pendently owned and operated farms was as hard

 for them to grasp as was the blue sky and wizards

 who did magic,

 "Actually," a friendly trooper told them, "Per-

 sellus is slightly smaller than Anchor Logh and yet

 it produces a good deal more. We're totally self-

 sufficient in food here."

 They marveled at this, but could not figure it

 out. It seemed so—inefficient somehow.

 They went through one small town, strictly two

 streets wide and a block long, that seemed to cater

 to the farming community, and nowhere did they

 see anything or anyone who looked odd, abnormal,

 or out of the ordinary. About the only complaint

 they both had was that the light was so bright and

 constant here that their eyes hurt.

 Still, Cass liked what she saw. "It's peaceful and

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 149

 pretty here," she remarked to Dar. "And they're

 farmers, too, which is what I know best. Maybe I

 can get me a farm job."

 / Finally they reached the outskirts of the city—

 the one and only city in the Fluxland. It spread out

 on both sides of the river valley and up onto the

 hillsides themselves. Here was the governmental

 and transportation center of the land, along with

 the places where light manufacturing went on,

 from harnesses to farm machinery to lumber and

 building supplies. It was far smaller than the capi-

 tal of Anchor Logh, but it was the right size to

 serve the place- It even had its own version of the

 Temple, although not right in town.

 Ahead, beyond the town, they could see it—a

 great white tower stretching up into the sky, its

 top hidden in clouds, its base not seeming to touch

 the ground. The home of the goddess of Persellus.

 The houses, with their red roofs and stucco walls,

 seemed quite different from Anchor Logh, yet

 hauntingly reassuring. This place may have pro-

 blems, as Matson indicated, but it was certainly

 no chamber of horrors.

 Government House was a flat, two-story build-

 ing made out of the same weathered white build-

 ing material as most of the structures in the land,

 6ut it was a good block long and certainly just as

 deep. They said their farewells to the troopers with

 thanks, and followed the colonel into the building

 to report.

 The place looked like any administrative seat,

 except that there seemed to be equal numbers of

 men and women working there and that was some-

 thing of a shock as well to two coming from a

 culture where only men were in government and

 administration. The Hearing Room, however, to

 which they were directed, was not what they ex-

 pected at all.

 It was a large room, somewhat resembling a

 150 Jack L. Chalker

 courtroom, but the entire far wall was taken up

 with a breathtaking and somehow three dimen-

 sional floor-to-ceiling portrait of a stunningly beau-

 tiful woman wearing white flowing robes, a small

 gold crown, and with an unnerving solid-looking

 halo over her head and an equally unnatural aura

 surrounding her body. Her face was looking down

 and smiling, her hands outstretched, and the more

 you looked at the thing the more you swore that

 the entire figure was somehow alive.

 The colonel regarded it as such, entering, hat

 removed, then kneeling and bowing to the figure

 and remaining that way. Cass and Dar had al-

 ready decided to follow the lead of the natives, so

 they did the same, wondering what happened next.

 "Arise, my colonel," said a deep, musical woman's

 voice that seemed somehow distant and echo-like,

 and which filled the chamber. "All of you may

 stand."

 They did so, and faced the huge portrait. "Holy

 Divine One, to whom we owe everything, this hum-

 ble servant begs you to hear his report," said the

 colonel reverently, all trace of the pragmatic, tough

 soldier-wizard gone. Clearly this man was in the

 presence of his god.

 "Proceed, my faithful servant." Both of the new-

 comers kept looking around to find the source of

 the voice that seemed all around them, but it was

 impossible to discover—if, indeed, it was there.

 Cass remembered Matson's description of Fluxlands.

 If this woman was indeed a wizard of enormous

 power, then she was in fact a goddess—as far as

 her mind could control and stabilize an area of the

 Flux in the image she desired. And she could make

 all the rules, and change or disobey them, on a

 mere whim.

 The colonel immediately launched into his report,

 suddenly becoming the crisp military man once

 more. He obviously had enjoyed the action, and its

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 151

 result, and couldn't resist reliving it with relish.

 Cass noticed, though, that while he told about the

 goat-headed giant who claimed to be one of the

 Seven, he did not pass on Matson's suspicion that

 he was a resident of Persellus. Apparently the colo-

 nel had simply rejected it as too fantastic, for it

 was clear he would neither lie nor hold back from

 his goddess deliberately. The goddess let him talk,

 and waited until the account was complete. Then,

 she thanked, blessed, and dismissed the colonel,

 but ordered Cass and Dar to remain. The colonel

 kneeled again, then backed out of the room and

 closed the doors behind him. The two of them

 waited.

 Finally she said, "The evil wizard must be tried

 and punished according to our holy laws, and the

 two of you will be required as witnesses. However,

 in light of the colonel's account, we are inclined to

 dismiss the charges against you, Dar. The madness

 and evil you both willingly joined and aided is

 counterbalanced, it seems, by your later actions in

 unmasking and undoing that evil. However, the

 fact remains that you did take a life, and changed

 or jeopardized others, and that cannot be totally

 wiped clean. Therefore, we give you a choice, for

 some judgment must be rendered against you. First,

 are the facts that the colonel stated true and

 complete?"

 Dar seemed nervous and a bit startled to be

 directly addressed by a disembodied voice and a

 painting, but he nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

 "Is there anything you wish to add to that ac-

 count before our choice of judgments is offered

 you?"

 He thought a moment. "No, Ma'am."

 "If you please, merciful goddess," Cass put in,

 trying not to stub her tongue. She was learning

 fast about the Flux. "May I intercede?"

 "Continue."

 152 Jack L. Chalker

 "I have known him all my life. He was one of my

 few good friends, and I can assure you that he is a

 good man deep down. Any mere human could be

 driven mad after the sights we'd seen and the

 things we had done to us, and, being both fallible

 and human, he finally cracked under this pressure.

 Even then, what he did he did out of ignorance,

 not an intent to aid evil, and when he was given

 the chance to lead evil he refused and acted for the

 good. He will live with the terrible torture this evil

 priest put him through, and its consequences, all

 his life. Please be merciful with him."

 "We are not unmindful of this," the goddess

 responded. "Nevertheless, wrongs were done and

 judgment must be made. You must understand

 that unless these factors were present he would

 stand trial with the evil priest and share his fate.

 Still, the fact remains that you, for instance, and

 the rest of your party, did not fall victim to

 madness. A judgment must be made that will

 serve to remind this poor one of his own inner

 failings so that, if ever he reaches that point again,

 he will know and do the right thing.

 "Dar, these are your choices. You may request a

 trial, which in your case would be presided over

 by the stringer Matson and would include random

 citizens, both military and civilian. We must warn

 you that such trials, when they occur, are held

 under rigid rules of law, and that the best you

 might expect is to be remanded to a permanent

 slave status with the appropriate alteration in your

 outlook to make you a perfect one. You do under-

 stand that, don't you?"

 He thought a minute, and thought of the goat-

 women and savages of the pocket. "Yes, Ma'am."

 "Your other choice is to throw yourself right

 now on my mercy, and accept as final our decision,

 no matter what that might be."

 He thought a moment. "Your worship," he said,

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 153

 using the form of address used for high Temple

 priestesses in Anchor Logh, "I'd just like to get it

 over with. I feel guilty as hell—beg pardon, your

 worship—and I'll be mad at myself forever for

 being so dumb. I'll take what you dish out here

 and now."

 The goddess seemed pleased. "Very well, then.

 What you did, you did for love of a woman. It is a

 very old story among humans, and the history of

 the human race is full of things, both wonderful

 and terrible, done for that reason, and for the

 opposite. For the love of that woman you defected

 to the enemy, knowing she was there. After suffer-

 ing the most terrible of torments for a man, you

 then killed that woman, not out of anger or self-

 pity or revenge, but out of mercy for her own

 tragic state. The fact remains, though, that had

 you not run from the train under fire she might

 not have died. You will have to live with that."

 She paused for a moment, and Dar stood motion-

 less, frozen, staring at the eerie picture. Cass felt

 sorry for him, but was helpless.

 "It seems to us," the goddess continued, "that

 through a very strange chance, the evil one has

 rendered an appropriate judgment on you. We

 therefore, by divine spell of a sort that has never

 been broken by any of the gods and goddesses of

 World, perfect and make irrevocable your present

 state, as constant reminder of your own deeds and

 as a warning if needed to you and to others. Beyond

 this, no other thing will be done to you for any

 deeds in the past, and we declare you free and

 independent. We further stipulate that each of you

 will receive our total hospitality while you are in

 Persellus, for so long as you both choose to be

 here. Dar, you may go now and wait outside, while

 we talk with Cass." It was not a request.

 He bowed his head slightly. "Ma'am, it's only

 justice, I guess." He did not feel happy, but he had

 154 Jack L. Chalker

 enough sense to remember and back out of the

 room. Cass was now alone with the goddess.

 "You are troubled by our judgment?"

 "It's pretty hard on him, I think," she admitted.

 "He's neither one thing nor the other, and he can't

 be happy either way."

 "That was the idea. However, we decided to ex-

 plain to you our reasoning, for h^ will need you at

 least for a while. Inside him bums tremendous

 guilt, and with it a self-hatred. We would willingly

 have restored him for all the reasons you gave, but

 to do so without also totally remaking his mind

 and memories would have increased that guilt and

 self-hatred quickly to the point where he would kill

 himself. The reasons for everything he did are jur-

 ied deep in his mind and his experiences, much

 from long before he was cast out of Anchor Logh,

 so to remake his mind would have been to, es-

 sentially, kill him anyway. We do not do such

 work for people. By making of him a hermaphro-

 dite, oddly enough, Montagne saved his life, for

 then he felt punished for his own failings. He, not

 we, consider this appropriate punishment, and so

 he remains, perhaps to be useful and productive in

 some way. He is not without courage, only self-con-

 fidence."

 She considered it. "I don't know much about

 psychology, divine one, and it seems a little mixed

 up to me, but I'll take your word for it. You're

 saying that only because he's not whole can he be

 sane."

 "That is about it," the goddess admitted- "Unless

 there is something else, you may go now."

 She thought a moment. "Except that both of us

 need jobs, there's nothing, your worship."

 "You will find what you need, for you have within

 you a Soul Rider who guards."

 That startled her. "A what?"

 "A Soul Rider. Do not fear it, for there is pre-

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 155

 cious little power it cannot command if need be,

 and it fights the forces of darkness on World. You

 must only be warned that it uses you in its fight,

 and so you can expect more danger and adventure.

 Making a living will be no problem. This is enough

 for now. You may go."

 She wanted to ask a lot more questions, particu-

 larly about this Soul Rider, but there was no way

 she was going to press somebody like this, particu-

 larly not now. She gave the bow and backed out

 the door, closing it behind her.

 11

 HALDAYNE

 An officious-looking woman was waiting with Dar

 when Cass emerged from the room. Dar looked at

 her and said, "Well?"

 She shrugged. "Tell you later, maybe. How are

 you doing?"

 "I'm feeling a little off and my muscles ache, but

 I'm okay." He turned to the woman. "This lady

 says she'll see to our needs."

 "I am Gratia," the woman introduced herself.

 "Please accompany me and I will show you to

 your hotel and give you a brief orientation."

 They followed her out of Government House and

 down a central street filled with small shops and

 cafes, most with merchandise on racks outside or

 a few streetfront tables. A small hotel was two

 blocks down on the comer, and it was clearly a

 hotel and nothing else. Cass delighted at some of

 the displayed merchandise but couldn't help com-

 paring what she was seeing to Anchor Logh. There

 was, it seemed, no equivalent of Main Street, no

 bars or entertainment area of any kind. The people

 seemed normal enough, but there was not the gai-

 ety or spontaneity that she expected of people in a

 city setting. A cautious remark on the lack of some

 expected services brought a response from their

 guide.

 156

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 157

 "Our lives are lived according to the Divine Plan,"

 Gratia told them. "Such things as you describe are

 the products of evil and are not needed nor permit-

 ted here."

 They were given vouchers of some sort, pieces of

 paper with numbers printed on them and another

 unnaturally lifelike head portrait of the goddess

 on them, and told that this was the money of

 Persellus. It was difficult to accept something as

 flimsy and destructible as paper as money, but

 this was not Anchor Logh.

 They were left in a small hotel room with a map

 of the central city, the money stake, and recom-

 mendations for some of the better cafes and shops

 in the area. "You may as well relax and enjoy your

 stay here," Gratia said. "It is unlikely that the

 stringer tram will be able to be here in under

 three days, and we have scheduled the trial for

 four days from now. If you have any questions

 about anything here or have any needs in the

 meantime, do not hesitate to come by my office in

 Government House and discuss these with me."

 And, with that, she left.

 Dar eyed one of the two single beds in the room

 and shook his head. "You know how long it's been

 since I've slept on a real bed? I wonder if I can do

 it?"

 Cass laughed. "Well, if you want to be homesick

 for the stringer train, then you can always strip

 and lie on the floor."

 A room both had originally taken for a closet

 turned out to be a bathroom, something both had

 never seen individually connected to a hotel room

 before. There was no power except wind, water,

 and muscle outside the capital of Anchor Logh,

 and when in that city both had stayed in commu-

 nal quarters. It was some time before they even

 fully figured out how all the things worked, and

 marveled at hot water coming from taps without

 158 Jack L. Chalker

 any pumping or pre-heating, and they spent some

 time flushing and re-flushing the toilet and trying

 to figure out just how it worked.

 "As for me, that's the tiniest shower I've ever

 seen but I'm going to use it," Cass decided, strip-

 ping off her makeshift uniform. "How about you?"

 Dar nodded- "I think it's strictly one at a time in

 there, though. I don't think I'd fit with anybody

 else. I still wish it was a tub, though. My legs are

 killing me and I'd like to soak them."

 He undressed, and at least part of the reason for

 his distress was painfully evident. There was some

 blood on his legs, large and hairy as they were,

 and it disturbed him.

 Cass still found it hard to get used to the sight of

 him like that—a true god, huge and musclebound,

 looking and sounding like a man who lifted weights

 casually and bent steel to relax, except in that one

 area. And that, of course, was his problem. The

 big, strong he-man was going to have to have peri-

 ods explained to him. It was rather clear now

 what the goddess meant when she said she would

 "perfect" what Rory Montagne had done to him.

 Later, a bit cleaner, they went shopping, both

 picking plain, practical clothes, such as tough denim

 pants and simple work shirts. They also picked up

 toiletries and various portable packing kits for their

 stuff. Neither overdid it, wanting to be able to

 travel light if they had to. Both also picked high

 boots that gave good protection and support, but

 only Cass picked fairly high heels which gave her a

 little extra height. She still did not come up to his

 broad shoulders, but it made her feel a little more

 even with the world. She also selected a dark brown

 flat-brimmed hat with a string tie to secure it

 while riding, and a hand-tooled leather belt with a

 plain silvery oval buckle, just because she liked

 the look of it.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 159

 Afterward they ate at one of the recommended

 cafes and found the food quite good although rather

 plain and unvaried, except for a seeming national

 passion with fancy pastries. Obviously, the god-

 dess loved fancy pastries.

 After sundown, however, the whole city just plain

 died. There was no nightlife at all, and no real

 diversions. It was clear from their shopping expedi-

 tions that the people of Persellus lived for their

 jobs and families and did very little else recrea-

 tionally. Not that they weren't an apparently happy

 lot, but they seemed content with everything as it

 was and doing what they were doing and had no

 real curiosity, ambition, or even much of a competi-

 tive spirit. When looking for her belt, a leather

 shop had directed her to another down the street,

 for example.

 Reading matter seemed to consist mostly of book

 after book of the goddess's musings, aphorisms,

 ramblings, and the like, most of which was tough

 going and made very little sense. There appeared

 to be little education beyond basic skilled trades

 and reading and writing for business reasons. They

 didn't need doctors because when they got sick or

 injured they just prayed to the goddess and she

 healed them. They didn't need scientists or engi-

 neers, because everything worked through the

 goddess's magic, even the water and electricity.

 Smoking, drinking, dancing, gambling, even basic

 entertainment like plays was forbidden, and foul

 language was strongly discouraged, which made

 Dar realize what a gaffe he'd pulled in using the

 very mild "hell" in the "presence" of the goddess

 herself.

 It was, in fact, so deadly dull a town filled with

 such incredibly dull people that it almost drove.

 both of them nuts. Even the humdrum farm life of

 Anchor Logh was a thrill a minute compared to

 this place. By the end of the second day they were

 160 Jack L. Chalker

 both so bored that they decided on the third 'day

 to rent horses and see a little of the countryside.

 But the countryside, too, had the same dull same-

 ness as the town. The only problem they had was

 occasional small bouts of vertigo now and then,

 after which something would be slightly changed.

 Mountains seemed a bit taller one time than

 another, houses seemed to grow and shrink now

 and then, and when they got back to town there

 were minor, subtle differences in the look of the

 buildings and even the people.

 "The best guess I can make," Cass said when

 they were back in their hotel room, where the

 furniture and fixture designs seemed very slightly

 different, "is that since this land is entirely the

 product of the goddess's imagination, she some-

 times makes little changes now and then, like re-

 decorating a room. Or maybe it's just that, like us,

 she remembers things a little differently than they

 really were, and, unlike us, how she remembers

 them is how they become."

 "Still thinking of staying here and Finding a job?"

 Dar asked her. They had not really discussed the

 future.

 She shook her head. "Nope. I think when Matson

 gets here I'll ask for some suggestions and, if I can

 afford it, travel along with him for a little while

 until I find a place I can really settle. You?"

 "Oh, I'll come along, I guess. I sure can't see

 somebody like me fitting in around here, that's for

 sure. Oh, maybe if I joined the army or something

 like that, I might make do, but I could never call

 this home or fit into their family pattern. I don't

 think she had me staying around in mind." He

 sighed. "I wonder if there is a place where I'd fit

 in?"

 She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I'd like to know

 what a Soul Rider is, though. Nobody around here

 seems to know anything about it."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 161

 "Maybe Matson will. He's been around and seen

 everything, and he'll be in tomorrow."

 She nodded. "None too soon, either." She thought

 a moment. "You sure about coming with Matson,

 though? I mean, there'll be all those Lanis, and

 they sure aren't the kind of people Persellus would

 want."

 "I've licked that, I think. Look, I'm part Lani

 and part me. If I can't take people who look like

 her, then I may as well pack it in, right?"

 She couldn't argue with it, but she hoped it was

 true.

 They saw Matson first when they were sum-

 moned for Rory Montagne's trial. He looked clean

 and relaxed, although irritated that his cigars could

 not legally be brought into the Fluxland proper.

 He looked and felt naked without one stuck in his

 mouth.

 All of them were seated in a comfortably ap-

 pointed "witness room" well stocked with cold

 drink and pastries while waiting to testify. They

 greeted Matson warmly, and he reciprocated in

 his usually reserved stringer fashion, but when he

 asked how they liked Persellus and both silently

 spelled out "D-U-L-L" he had to chuckle. Finally

 Cass got around to business. "How much for a ride

 with your train?"

 Matson grinned. "A week ago you'd have paid

 your arms and legs not to be anywhere near my

 train, now you're offering money to get back in?"

 "As passengers, not cargo," she was quick to

 point out. "There's a big difference."

 He thought a moment. "Well, Persellus money's

 not much use to me, although I could credit it to

 an open account here in the name of Anchor Logh

 and get something more transportable in return.

 Tell you what—if you supply your own horses and

 packs, and buy what supplies you'll need for at

 Jack L. Chalker

 162

 least a week's travel, I'll take you along'as duggers—

 without pay, of course. You're both pretty good

 with animals and Jomo's got more than his hands

 full with the nearly double-sized train, even though

 we're going to pare it down a bit here. We'll try

 and give you a few shooting and close fighting

 lessons, too. How's that?" He paused a moment.

 "But no hysterics over the human cargo, no going

 nuts seeing people who look like other people, things

 like that."

 "I'll be good," Dar responded, knowing who that

 was directed towards. "I've done some real think-

 ing in the past few days, and I'm not the same

 person inside that I was."                >

 That settled, Cass asked, "How come they're going

 through all this formal trial business for that scum?

 Why not just let the goddess deal with him and be

 done with it?"

 "Well, now, that's kind of hard to explain,"

 Matson replied. "First of all, he's a wizard. A real

 puny one, I admit, but a real one nevertheless.

 There's a sort of a fraternity that all real wizards

 belong to, mostly to protect them from each other.

 They've got their own rules, and their conduct has

 to be judged by other wizards of equal or greater

 rank before they can be disciplined. It sounds

 stupid, I know, but every one of them does things

 all the time that might be considered criminal to

 others, so they insist on being judged by their own

 standards. Next time one of the judges might be in

 the dock, so he or she wants to make sure that they

 followed the rules when they were judges- See?"

 The door to the courtroom opened and a tall,

 distinguished-looking man entered. He looked to

 be in his late forties or early fifties but in excellent

 condition for that age. In fact, age had been very

 kind to him, and he was lean and handsome, his

 silvery gray hair complementing his dark com-

 plexion.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 163

 "I am First Minister Haldayne," he told them. "I

 am, in effect, the prosecutor in this case." He picked

 up one of the gooier pastries and ate it. "In a few

 moments we'll be calling direct witnesses. Just tell

 everything exactly as it happened, adding or sub-

 tracting nothing, and don't volunteer anything. Just

 answer what questions are asked, and let me be

 your guardian against defense questions. Above

 all, don't get emotional if you can help it, making

 moral judgments on the defendant or calling him

 names. The standards here are a bit different than

 in a normal court of law." They all nodded, and he

 left, then returned a few moments later. "Mr.

 Matson, if you please."

 Matson went in and the door closed, and both

 Cass and Dar regretted not being able to see or

 hear anything. They were used to open, public

 courtrooms.

 Matson's testimony apparently didn't last long,

 and Cass was called next. Haldayne offered his left

 hand to her to help her up from her overstuffed

 chair, and as she stood she noticed on his right hand

 a small but distinctive gold ring. Suddenly she

 remembered that he'd eaten the pastry with his

 left hand as well.

 She had little time to reflect on it, though, as

 she was ushered into what appeared to be a tradi-

 tional courtroom, although with a board of three

 women and two men acting as judges, and no jury.

 Haldayne examined her on the facts, and she told

 her story, almost absently, trying not to be fixated

 on the man himself but unable to totally betray

 her preoccupation. The more he talked, the more

 he moved, the more she was sure.

 Rory Montague looked relaxed in the dock, act-

 ing as if this somehow did not concern him at all.

 He had given a slight smile and wave when she'd

 entered, and listened to her testimony while ab-

 sently gnawing on an apple. If she was right, she

 164 Jack L. Chalker

 thought nervously, he had every reason to be

 unconcerned.

 The defense put only a few clarifying questions

 to her, then she was dismissed, and Haldayne led

 her back to the jury room and called Dar. When

 the door closed again, she turned to Matson and

 whispered, "That man Haldayne—he's the goat-

 headed boss! I'm sure of it!"

 Matson frowned. "Haldayne? But he's the big-

 wig around here, the most powerful wizard in the

 land, second only to the goddess herself."

 None the less, she outlined her reasons and her

 instincts, and he did not dismiss them. "It both

 fits and it smells," he told her- "The trouble is,

 we'll need a lot more proof than you can give for

 it, and I'm not sure how to get it. Do you think he

 knows you suspect him?"

 "He could hardly ignore it. I wasn't being very

 subtle, I'm afraid."

 "Hmmm.. .. Well, even if he is our man, he's

 unassailable as he is, but if he's as good and as

 careful as he has to be he won't want to leave any

 loose ends."

 She looked at him nervously. "You mean he

 might try and come after me?"

 Matson nodded. "I think you better buy what

 you need this afternoon and get down to my train.

 Just follow the road the way you came in. I'll try

 and clear my business this afternoon and get back

 there. If he's really one of the Seven in this kind of

 control this close to a Hell Gate somebody will

 have to be notified. Damn! I wasn't headed that

 way, but after GlobbusJ think we'll have to take a

 detour to Pericles. Well, maybe it won't be a total

 loss. Pericles always likes fresh young women,"

 She looked up at him sharply. "Watch it!"

 He shrugged. "No moral judgments, remember?

 Besides, there's a lot worse places to wind up than

 Pericles. But you watch it from now on. He may

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 165

 try anything at any time,, and if he is our man and

 if he's also what he claims to be, he's one of the

 most powerful wizards on all World. He'd have to

 be just to reach First Minister in Persellus." He

 thought it over. "Still, if I were him, I wouldn't

 touch you at all. It'd give him away, where all we

 have now are strong and unsupported suspicions."

 She suddenly remembered the goddess's com-

 ments on her. "Matson? What exactly is'a Soul

 Rider?"

 The question took him by surprise. "Huh? Where'd

 you hear about them?"

 "The goddess said I had one inside me."

 His mouth dropped and a light seemed to dawn

 in his head. "So that explains it! I was wondering

 if I was too long in this job or what. Uh huh. A

 Soul Rider. Well I'll be.. .."

 "You do know, then!"

 He nodded. "More or less. They are—creatures.

 Not much is known about them, except that they're

 parasites of some kind and they hate the Seven so

 much they get their hosts in a whole lot of trouble.

 One picked you, probably back in the Anchor, and

 most of what happened after that was at least

 partly its doing."

 She grew nervous. "Parasite. Will it—hurt me?"

 He chuckled. "Well, depends on how you look at

 it. Supposedly they pick people, ordinary people,

 and get inside them, and all of a sudden those

 people get into a whole lot of trouble. Things hap-

 pen to them that wouldn't happen to most folks in

 a lifetime. Now I know you're on to something

 here with this Haldayne fellow."

 She felt very uncomfortable. "Then, it might

 have been this Soul Rider that caused me to find

 the Sister General fixing the lottery in the first

 place? And the reason Dar took me and only me

 when he ran?"

 Matson nodded. "Probably. But, remember, it's

 166 Jack L. Chalker

 also responsible for somehow getting me to put

 my string on you so we could follow your trail and

 find the pocket. And I don't think it was coinci-

 dence that Montagne was stopped just before he

 changed you into one of his—creatures, or, maybe,

 that Dar had an attack of conscience and freed

 you. In fact, the odds of us finding you first were

 pretty slim, but we did. And now you've drawn the

 attention of somebody who at least thinks he's one

 of the Seven."

 She thought it over. "I'm not sure I like being a

 puppet of a—thing." She shivered slightly.

 "Well, they're not human, whatever they are,

 but they're on our side. You can't expect them to

 act like people would, but they're not all bad. In a

 pinch, they're supposedly stronger than the strong-

 est wizard, which is why, I think, the goddess

 won't shed any tears when you leave."

 "Still, this makes what happened to Dar even

 less excusable. I mean, if this thing caused him to do

 what he did... ."

 "Nope. You miss the point there. He did that

 himself. Taking you along might have been the

 Soul Rider's idea, but not him running out or

 anything else he did. In fact, he was completely on

 their side until it was either kill you or let you

 escape, in which case he had to go, too, or his neck

 would have been chopped. You see, it's the goddess's

 opinion that he only saved you because he was

 forced by your protector to do so."

 "Oh. I see. I'm not sure I agree with it, but I at

 least can understand it a little better now. I—"

 She was about to continue when Dar returned,

 and all conversation in that direction ceased.

 "Thank you for your help," Haldayne told them,

 sounding sincere. "The judgment will be rendered

 some time this afternoon or evening. I think he's

 far too insane for any appropriate punishment,

 but we'll see. You may all go now."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 167

 They got up and left quickly, Matson following

 them down to the street. "Remember—move quick-

 ly," he cautioned Cass. "If he's as good as I think

 he is, you can't even depend on the goddess for

 help in a pinch."

 "I'll remember," she assured him. Dar looked

 bewildered, and she added, to him, "I'll explain

 later- Let's get back to the hotel—we're getting out

 of here as quickly as possible."

 By the time they'd packed their meager belong-

 ings, bargained for horses, saddles, and riding gear,

 picked up what supplies they thought they would

 need, and checked out with Government House, it

 was close to dark. Matson had been right on one

 thing, though—everybody concerned seemed un-

 naturally glad to see both of them leave.

 Although he had taken her word for the urgency

 and gone along, it wasn't until they were on the

 road out of Persellus that she felt safe enough to

 explain to Dar what was going on. He thought

 about his own brief contact with the goat-man,

 and admitted there were some similarities, although

 he was by no means as certain as she about it.

 It was well into night when they passed through

 the small farming village, and they were grateful

 for the paved road as the stars gave very little

 light. They stopped to rest the horses, though, in a

 grass field near a small creek, and while just sit-

 ting there, silently, they heard sounds from the

 direction they'd just come, the sounds of several

 horses riding steadily towards them.

 Cass frowned. "This is too dead a place to have

 that kind of traffic."

 Dar nodded. "Maybe it's Matson with some

 others."

 "I doubt it. He said he had just a little business

 and he said nothing about horses or passengers."

 She thought a minute. "Get the horses and let's

 Jack L. Chalker

 168

 beep very quiet and still off the road here. We

 can't outrun them, but they don't have to see us,

 either."

 He nodded and did as instructed. There was

 nothing particular to hide behind, but it was a

 very dark night and they couldn't make out the

 road from where they were, which was down in a

 slight indentation made by the creek. A small

 wooden bridge over the creek was not far.

 The riders reached the area but did not hesitate,

 and they could hear the hollow sounds of hooves

 hitting the wood, echoing hollowly across the

 landscape, and then they were gone.

 Dar breathed. "Could you make out anything

 about them?"

 "Not a thing. Just a blur. There were at least

 four of them, though." She sighed. "I wish we

 knew more about weapons and had some around."

 "If they reach the train and we're not there,

 they'll be back," Dar pointed out.

 "Maybe. But they'll have to have some excuse

 when they get to the train, and that should bog

 them down. No, I think they'll get close to the

 train, then lay ambush for us just up from it. It

 would make sense, and if any of them's a wizard

 they won't attract the duggers, either."

 "We could stay here until daylight. That might

 make it a little easier. There may be people around,

 and Matson'll be on his way back."

 She considered it. "I don't think it'll work. For

 one thing, down this far there weren't many people.

 I don't remember any, do you? And they're not

 going to stay all night. When we don't show after a

 while they're going to come back slow and sneaky."

 "Well, what then? If we get off the road we're

 lost good and proper and you know it."

 "It's mostly unfenced this far along, and I guess

 it's not more than another seven or eight kilome-

 ters to the border and the train. The river's over

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 169

 there, maybe a few hundred meters. Let's follow it

 down. It's going pretty much the same place but

 it's less likely to be covered, particularly by only

 four people."

 Having no other suggestion, Dar agreed- They

 followed the creek down to the river, then ner-

 vously waded the small creek just up from its

 joining with the larger body of water. It was fairly

 deep, but not deep enough to be a problem to two

 riders used to horses.

 The ground, however, was pretty wet, and the

 depth of the creek told them that the river would

 be an obstacle in case of any sort of attack, almost

 certainly too deep to cross. Fortunately, this far

 down there were few tributaries to worry about,

 and each one seemed to be shallower than the one

 before, telling them they were getting close to the

 border. They thought they were going to make it

 easily when the river suddenly curved away into

 the dark hills after making a bend bringing them

 close enough to actually make out the road.

 They stopped to consider what to do next, and

 there was an ominous rumbling from off to their

 right. Dar looked over in that direction and saw

 the hills suddenly light up as clouds rolled in im-

 possibly fast. "Thunderstorm," he remarked.

 "Looks pretty odd for a real one," Cass responded

 uneasily. "A good wizard could whip one up,

 though, and light up the whole landscape and us

 with it. I'd say we'd better make for the road and

 just make a run for it as fast as we can."

 "I'm with you," Dar told her, and they kicked

 their horses into action. Suddenly a great roaring

 wall of fire rose up in front of them, spooking the

 horses and causing them to stop and rear. Less

 experienced riders would have been thrown, but

 both Dar and Cass managed to stay in the saddle,

 if barely. The wall of fire spread, until it encircled

 them on three sides. With the horses already near

 170 Jack L. Chatker

 panic, they had no choice but to take the one exit,

 even though they knew they were being forced

 into a trap.

 They cleared the fire, then halted as they saw

 four riders on horseback ahead, spread out to re-

 ceive them, guns in the hands of all four. The wall

 of fire vanished abruptly, and Cass cursed herself

 for not betting that it was an illusion and urging

 her horse to jump through it, but the four riders

 were still somehow illuminated, as were Cass and

 Dar.

 "Just stay where you are and make no sudden

 moves," one of them, a man, said. "The fire may

 have been a trick but the bullets are real. You two,

 get down slowly and walk towards us, real slow

 now."

 They did as instructed, until they were right in

 front of the four riders, all men of middle age, all

 bearded and wearing farm work clothes. Cass

 couldn't help but remember that the goat-man,

 according to Montagne, had had his "minions" move

 the dark priest from his old pocket to the new one.

 These, then, must be minions of the mad priest's

 boss.

 "What do we do now?" Cass asked them.

 The leader chuckled. "Now, ain't that something!

 Look at em, Eck! Two pieces of ass pretending

 they's men. Neither of 'em look like they'd be any

 fun a'tall. I sure don't want 'em. Any of you?"

 There were a few sniggers from the other three,

 but no takers.

 "Then I guess the answer to your question about

 what to do next is to pray," the leader said coldly,

 steadying his rifle.

 Yeah, sure—pray. Cass thought sourly, then hope

 soared for a moment. Yeah! Sure! Pray! She only

 hoped that Dar had enough sense to roll when she

 did, for there was no way to tip him off. And pray

 she did.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 171

 "Oh, great and divine goddess, deliver us from

 evil!" she practically shouted, then dropped and

 rolled at the same time. The leader, caught off

 guard, fired, but neither target was there any more.

 Cass had just made for the grass, but Dar had

 other plans. While Cass just kept praying in a low

 tone, he leaped up from the side and pulled one of

 the men off his horse. The man fell, dropping his

 rifle, and Dar picked it up as the others were

 turning to meet the threat, then dropped and rolled

 once more, coming up in front of them, rifle pointed

 at them. The fact that he had only a vague idea of

 how it worked or how to hit anything with it was

 something he knew, but they did not.

 "Drop your weapons!" he commanded sharply.

 The leader turned and grinned at him. "Why?"

 Suddenly the whole area was brightly lit as if

 from a suspended floodlight, although no source

 was visible. Dar looked down and was startled to

 see that he was now pointing a stick at the men.

 While a second helped the fallen comrade to his

 feet, a third dismounted and walked over to where

 Cass was still lying, now fully exposed, and ges-

 tured with his rifle. She got up, but did not stop

 praying until ordered to shut up.

 "Who sent you?" she demanded to know.

 "What's it to you?" the leader asked. He thought

 a moment. "You know, boys, we could use a sim-

 ple spell on 'em to make 'em easier to take, if you

 know what I mean."

 "Now you're talking, Crow," the one called Eck

 responded. "I always did hanker to screw that

 little milkmaid up at Corner's. You know who I

 mean."

 Crow made a pass at each of them with his

 hand. Cass looked over and was startled to see not

 Dar but the vision of a very pretty and much

 smaller dark-haired girl. She knew it was just Dar,

 172 Jack L. ChaVcer

 and that it was all illusion, but it was still startling.

 She wondered what she looked like to them.

 "Get them clothes off now, and don't be too

 gentle about 'em. You won't be needing them

 afterwards," Crow said ominously.

 Suddenly there was a great flash of lightning,

 striking very near them and spooking the gunmen's

 horses a bit. Crow looked puzzled- "Now what the

 hell is that? I didn't do nothin'!"

 "Sinners! Blasphemers! Agents of Hell! You dare

 this in our domain!" came a familiar woman's

 voice, angry as they had not heard it before. "For

 this you shall pay beyond your imaginings!"

 "It's the goddess!" one of them cried, and Crow

 said, "But Haldayne promised she wouldn't—"

 "Haldayne!" thundered the goddess, and there

 was lightning all over the place. "So it is true!

 Well, first we will deal with you, and then we will

 deal with First Minister Haldayne, formerly of

 Persellus, soon of Hell." A lightning bolt came out

 of the sky, then split into four finger-like segments

 much like a ghostly hand, then struck all four

 riders simultaneously. All four, including the one

 newly remounted, toppled out of their saddles to

 the ground, screaming in agony as they continued

 to be enveloped by the electrical field. There was

 another flash at each of the four points, then silence.

 "You were right to call upon us," the goddess's

 disembodied voice told them. "We heard you ac-

 cuse Haldayne in the witness room but could not

 believe it. We elected to go along with you and

 discover the truth and now we have."

 "Those four men—what happened to them?" Dar

 asked her-

 ''Transformed. Take them along as presents for

 your stringer. Use them to pay for what you need.

 I must now attend to their master. Do not fear the

 four, for they are imprisoned in their own minds,

 unable to act or do anything at all. They are

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 173

 property, and they are yours, and they will now

 see what the other side is like." And, with that,

 they sensed that the presence was gone.

 Cass and Dar approached the four figures ner-

 vously, and were struck by what they found. Both

 she and he looked themselves again now, and there

 was very little light but enough to see close up.

 "Well, she certainly has a single mind when it

 comes to punishing men," Dar remarked.

 All four men were now vacant-eyed and not very

 attractive but quite nude women with shaved heads

 and tattooed behinds. They seemed to be waiting

 for Cass to do something, so she finally said, "All

 right, you four—mount those horses and follow

 us." All four got up and obeyed their instructions

 exactly.

 "I think we'd better get moving," she told Dar.

 "There's going to be all Hell breaking loose, literally,

 around this land soon and I want to be in the void

 when it does."

 Dar nodded, and said, bitterly, "You know, this

 is the first time I really regret not being a man

 down below."

 "Huh? What do you mean?"

 "I'd love to show them exactly how it feels to be

 on the other end of things."

 Cass had to laugh. "Welcome to the world / live

 in all the time!" she said. »

 12

 MATURITY

 Even on the periphery of Persellus they could feel

 the giant struggle going on inside. In one sense,

 Cass, Dar, and the duggers had to fight back urges

 to return, at least for a small distance, to the

 reality of the land proper to see it for themselves,

 but they did not. They had their responsibilities to

 themselves and to the train, for one thing, and, for

 another, they did not want to be caught up in such

 a fight between two supremely powerful wizards.

 When the land changed just because of a lapse in

 the goddess's memory, what might be the changes

 when she was directing all her energies to fighting

 a powerful foe with neither combatant having ei-

 ther much thought or much regard for the people

 caught in the middle?

 Still, there was the sound of thunder and the

 ground beneath them shook like all of World, had

 suddenly come alive and revolted. The animals

 grew panicky and hard to control, and Jomo and

 his two new assistants struggled to keep them calm.

 "Maybe we'd better move completely into the

 void," Cass shouted over the roar.

 "Too late," Jomo yelled back. "We not be able to

 get them formed. Best just hold on!"

 And hold on they did, sometimes with the help

 of the Anchor Logh exiles, for what seemed like an

 174

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 175

 eternity. Suddenly, though, very suddenly, it all

 stopped dead, and everyting became quiet and still,

 After so long fighting scared animals and being in

 the midst of what felt like a great storm, it seemed

 almost unnatural to go back to the normal lifeless-

 ness they had so taken for granted.

 After sorting the mess out and settling down,

 Dar wiped his brow, sat down on a pack, and said,

 "Well, I guess somebody won. Wonder who?"

 That suddenly was uppermost on all their minds.

 For Cass, it was particularly unnerving, since if

 Haldayne was the victor he would waste no time

 coming after her, and perhaps the whole train, to

 keep the news secret as long as possible, and they

 were up against a wall. Without Matson, none of

 them could navigate the void, and even Kolada,

 the train's "point" or scout, could only take them

 back as far as the massacre or, perhaps, to Anchor

 Logh. That route would be pretty easy for Hal-

 dayne's people to trace.

 The duggers were particularly distressed that

 Matson had been in the midst of all the pyro-

 technics. Some doubted that he was still alive at

 all, but others, particularly Jomo, held that he

 would come. Clearly, if anyone could have gotten

 through that stuff, Matson was the one.

 No matter how any of them thought, the deci-

 sion to wait was easy. There simply wasn't any-

 thing else to do. Cass talked Jomo into finally

 reorganizing the train enough to move it com-

 pletely into the void and beyond the reach of any

 ruler of Persellus. It was a difficult and time con-

 suming procedure even though the total move was

 only a little more than a kilometer, but they agreed

 and, at least, it took their minds off anything else

 for a few hours.

 It struck not only Dar but their erstwhile com-

 rades how very easily Cass was taking over, giving

 more orders than suggestions now—and being

 176 Jack L. Chalker

 obeyed by the duggers. She set up the new camp

 in a defensive position, then posted riflemen both

 front and rear. This done, she ordered a general

 inventory of supplies and ammunition be taken,

 for they didn't know how long they would be stuck

 there.

 Jomo paid her a high compliment, "Too bad you

 not know how to string. You seem sometime to be

 ghost of Missy Arden."

 Finally, though, all that could be done had been

 done. The supplies were quite promising—with the

 recovered material from the Arden train taken from

 the pocket and the subsequent recovery of the

 supplies dropped by Matson before coming in, they

 had sufficient food for people and animals for a

 long stay, perhaps two to three weeks if they con-

 served carefully. Water, however, was in shorter

 supply and could pose a problem. Because it was

 so heavy, stringers rarely took along more water

 than they had to, depending on their knowledge of

 small stringer-created water pockets to replenish

 their casks. There was probably one or more of

 these on the Anchor Logh route, but as the trip

 had been short enough Matsoirhadn't bothered to

 stop and so they did not know where any might be.

 Still, if they didn't stay too long, it was possible

 that they had enough water to return to the Anchor.

 "What's the use, though?" Cass asked Dar and

 Jomo. "We'd get back, maybe, but only as far as

 the clear spot—the Anchor apron. That's assuming

 we all didn't go nuts in the void without Matson's

 powers to protect us."

 Dar thought it over. "Well, the goddess was nice

 enough to take our damned tattoos off, so we

 wouldn't be marked. The duggers would have the

 train to deal with in signing on with the next

 stringer who came along. I think you and me could

 talk our way back in. I don't look much like I did,

 and I bet they "don't remember what Arden looked

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 177

 like all that much- You could say it was Matson

 who was ambushed and you, that is Arden, sur-

 vived. Or you could stay with the duggers and

 make your own deal with another stringer."

 She looked at him quizzically. "You want back

 in Anchor Logh? What on World for? What is there

 for you back there now?"

 He grinned. "I could always join the priesthood-

 That would drive 'em nuts, wouldn't it? At least

 I'd have a shot at those bastards in that bar back

 there, and maybe at the Sister General."

 She shook her head. "No. As much as I'd love to

 see her get what's coming to her, and as much as

 I'd realty love to see what they'd do if you did

 apply for the priesthood, I don't think it'll go.

 Somehow we've got to warn somebody of Haldayne

 and the threat to the gate."

 "Yeah? Who, for instance? And where? And how?

 And are we so sure that the bad guys won?"

 "You want to go back there and find out? As to

 the who, well, if the gates to Hell are real. and

 Haldayne really is one of the Seven, then it follows

 that the Nine Who Watch must exist someplace,

 too."

 Dar chuckled dryly. "Gates, Hell, the Seven and

 the Nine. Just stories. Who do we have to say they

 aren't? Roaring Mountain? Even his friends agree

 he's living in a different world. Haldayne? It's a

 good gag to get those that believe in the stuff but

 don't like it to come over to his side, but that's all,

 You don't need demons from Hell to be bad, but

 maybe the bad need the demons as much as the

 church does."

 That was a pretty good point, but she just wasn't

 ready to change her entire life view that easily, not

 yet. Roaring Mountain had been sought out and

 transported a tremendous distance to do his dirty

 work here- Men with power such as Haldayne's

 didn't grow overnight, either—clearly he had a

 178 Jack L. Chalker

 long history and knew much of World, and such a

 one, whether one of the Seven or not, would have

 a host of enemies, probably other powerful wizards,

 and few friends or allies.

 "Jomo?"

 "Yes, Missy?"

 "How long might it be before another stringer

 train came this way? Best case and worst case?"

 Jomo was not dumb, but his mind worked in a

 very literal fashion. "Best—now. Worst—never "

 She sighed- "No, I mean, what would be your

 best guess?"

 "Mr. Matson not go back to Anchor Logh for

 long time. Has lot of orders for Anchor Logh. That

 mean train must be coming soon, yes?" He hesi-

 tated a moment. "Unless Missy Arden plan to go

 back."

 And that was part of the problem. With Arden

 gone and her plans unknown, it might have been

 she who would carry the wanted materials back to

 the Anchor. Or it might be another stringer on his

 or her way here now—but how far off? Just when

 on his long route did Matson expect to meet this

 possibly imaginary train going the other way?

 She sighed. "We'll give him one day. Three meals.

 Then I think we have no choice but to go back to

 Anchor Logh and wait for another stringer, trad-

 ing what we have for what we need until then. It's

 either that or sneak back into Persellus and get

 water from the river. Any volunteers?"

 Jomo was unprepared to give up Matson so easily.

 "I go in. Take two, maybe three slaves."

 Dar sighed and stood up. "Oh, all right, I'll go.

 No, not you, Cass—if Haldayne's in charge you

 won't last ten minutes. Me he couldn't care less

 about. At the most it'll take a couple of hours."

 She started to protest, and realized that part of

 her protest was based on her still uncertain feel-

 ings about Dar deep down. He had gone over once

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 179

 to Haldayne's side—would he take the chance to

 join up again? He had quite a present to deliver

 Haldayne if he did—not only her, but the whole

 train and detailed knowledge of its defenselessness

 and predicament. Finally she relented, though. If

 he were bad, he would eventually find a way to

 betray them anyway. Best to find out now. "Who

 will you take?"

 He walked over and examined the hay wagon

 and its casks. "Two should be enough, I think. It's

 a simple crank siphon system." He walked back

 and sought out Suzl and Nadya, who had not up

 to this point recognized him. He brought them

 forward and Cass greeted them warmly. "Look,"

 she told them, "we'll try and buy your way out of

 this if we can, I promise. And I won't order you to

 do this. It might be very dangerous in there right

 now."

 "We'll go," Nadya told her. "It is far better than

 sitting here." Suzl nodded agreement, and looked

 up at Dar. "Might even be fun."

 They pulled out towards the edge of Persellus,

 Dar with the reins holding the four mules, the

 girls sitting on either side of him.

 "It's hard to believe that you're Dar," Suzl

 remarked, "although once you told us you can see

 it. Wow! If you'd looked this good back in Anchor

 Logh you'd have had every girl begging for you,

 even the priestesses!"

 He laughed. "It's the magic out here. Wish I had

 some to use! I'd give both of you long, brown hair

 and get nd of those purple numbers."

 The edge region of Persellus looked the same, but

 as they proceeded into the land proper there was a

 devastating alteration. While the area nearest the

 border was untouched, the distant skyline showed

 a terrible change in the now early morning light.

 Across green fields to the horizon, the land turned

 180 Jack L. Chalker

 suddenly dark and brown, and in the distance there

 seemed to be dark new mountains growing up and

 split near their summits with cracks belching fire

 and smoke. Everything up ahead seemed bathed

 in that smoke and flame.

 Dar sighed. "Well, I guess we know who won.

 One thing's for sure—ain't nobody coming through

 that back this way any time soon."

 "It's pretty nice down in here, though. I guess I

 can sort of feel what it was like before," Suzl

 commented. "So this is a Fluxland. Even with that

 stuff over there, it's not as bad as I thought."

 Nadya looked up at him. "You're the boss now.

 At least, some of the boss."                /

 They turned off the road as soon as the river was

 visible to them. It looked reasonably clean and

 unsullied at this point, since it flowed towards the

 capital and not away from it. They had no trouble

 backing the wagon down near the bank, uncoiling

 the sipons, and quickly filling all the casks. After,

 Suzl and Nadya just wanted to lie in the grass for

 a bit, luxuriating in the feel and smell of some-

 thing real for a change. Dar came and relaxed

 beside them.

 As he stretched out, relaxing for a moment for

 the first time in quite a while, the two girls snug-

 gled up close to him. Their intent, and movements,

 were pretty obvious, and he felt for them. For the

 first time, and for this little time, they were free,

 unwatched, unchained or roped, in a setting that

 was peaceful and nearly idyllic after all that they'd

 experienced. He liked the situation, and he liked

 and sympathized with them which made it all the

 better. He thought briefly of Lani, and found it not

 painful but really more, well, nostalgic. He'd seen

 that group of Lani look-alikes back at the train

 and found that they no longer affected him much

 at all. That was the past, and all the terrors that

 had happened to him were because he had refused

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 181

 to let go of the past but chased it instead. No

 more. The future was unknown and probably bad,

 but living in the present was more than acceptable.

 He felt himself getting turned on, and it was an

 odd sensation, both physically and emotionally.

 He very much wanted to get inside these two, but,

 almost at the same time, he wanted them in him.

 He understood what it was, and sighed. His head

 wanted what it always had, while his working

 part was sending the opposite messages. The two

 didn't cancel out, they coexisted, making the ten-

 sion inside almost unbearable. When Suzfs hand

 headed for the obvious place, he suddenly forced

 himself. "No!"

 They both stopped. "Why not?" Suzl asked. "Who

 will ever know? Or are you still hung up with—"

 "Lani? No, that's gone."

 "It's Cass, isn't it?" Nadya guessed.

 He chuckled- "No, not that, either. You remem-

 ber what I said about magic? Well, I got rewarded

 with this body for doing the right thing, but I also

 got punished for doing the wrong ones. Go ahead,

 reach in and grab what you can Find."

 Curious and a little fearful, Suzl did, and when

 she hit the area she felt around, disbelieving. "Oh,

 by the Heavens!" she breathed, and Nadya looked

 puzzled. Now it was Nadya's turn. She gasped

 and exclaimed, "He's a girl!"

 "That part of me is, yeah. The rest is what you

 see." In a way he was glad it was out in the open,

 particularly with them. He knew he'd faced this

 for a long, long time-

 Suzl thought a moment and chuckled. "Dar—

 were you a virgin? I mean, did you ever get the

 chance...?"

 He grinned. "No, I wasn't a virgin. I had a cou-

 ple of times early with some older women, and

 Lani and me, we figured it wouldn't matter. In

 182 Jack L. Chalker

 fact, them older women taught me a whole lot of

 stuff I'd never have thought of otherwise."

 "Show me," Suzl said.

 "Huh?"

 "Show me."

 "But I can't—"

 Both girls laughed. "You'd be surprised. We never

 did it with a guy, because we just knew we'd wind

 up pregnant, but we still had the urges. So after

 we'd see a couple of boys we really wanted, and

 couldn't have, we'd sneak off and sort of, well,

 pretend on each other."

 And, while volcanos belched in the distance as a

 land was being torn asunder, they showed him,

 and he showed them, and what he did to them

 they did to him. And it felt real good and lasted

 quite a while.

 They were still at it—it seemed impossible to

 stop—when, during a silent period, Dar's hearing

 picked up a distant sound coming closer. He froze,

 then rolled over and hurriedly got dressed again.

 "Wagon coming!" he warned them. "We better

 move it!"

 "Let 'em come," Suzl said dreamily. "It can

 only get worse than this, it can't get any better."

 Dar, however, had experienced far too much to

 take such an attitude. In fact, his interlude with

 the two girls had the curious effect of energizing

 him, and his mind was clearer and more at peace

 with itself than he could ever remember. Still,

 Suzl was right about one thing—any wagon close

 enough to be heard couldn't be outrun at this

 stage. He went to the wagon and got the rifle,

 which had a clip in it. He still couldn't hit the

 broad side of a barn, but with its spray control, he

 was assured, if he just aimed in the general direc-

 tion and pulled the trigger anything within range

 would get struck by at least one of the sixty small

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 183

 but powerful bullets it would spew in less than a

 second and a half.

 The wagon approached, behind a sweaty team

 of horses being driven hard. It was of the canvas

 covered type, similar to the one they were using,

 and looked fairly empty from the way it rocked.

 The lone driver looked over, spotted them, and

 with some difficulty slowed his four horse team

 and pulled off to the side of the road, a weapon in

 one hand and the reins in the other.

 "What the hell are you all doing here7" Matson

 wanted to know. Then he spotted the water casks

 and understood. "All right—you get all my prop-

 erty back right now. Let's move! That mess back

 there is expanding and I've barely been able to

 keep ahead of it."

 There was a cry of joy from the duggers at

 Matson's arrival, and several fired shots of celebra-

 tion in the air. Cass was overjoyed as well. not

 only by Matson's sudden arrival but also by the

 return of Dar and the two girls- Matson, however,

 was having none of it, and quickly snapped orders

 to get the train in line and prepare to move out. To

 Cass's attempt to welcome him he Just snapped,

 "Why are you just standing around? You're work-

 ing for me, now! And where the hell are my cigars?"

 It wasn't until the train was formed and well on

 its way, with Kolada given the string lead and

 dispatched ahead, that Matson relaxed at all and

 became approachable. Cass dropped back from her

 point opposite Jomo at the head of the mule train

 until she, on her black purchased horse, rode paral-

 lel with Matson. He acknowledged her with a nod

 and said, "Jomo tells me you did the whole defen-

 sive setup and even thought about the water. That

 right?"

 She nodded. "I didn't know if you were coming

 back or not, but I had to act like you weren't."

 184 Jack L. Chalker

 "It was good thinking. I got out of there barely

 one step ahead of the new matrix and had to out-

 run it for four solid hours. If I'd stayed overnight

 like I originally intended I wouldn't be here now.

 Something just told me that Haldayne couldn't

 resist a stab at you, and that would flush him out,

 force him into a revolt."

 "I hear from Dar that he won."

 "Pretty sure he did, anyway. Bubbling, boiling,

 smoking—that place is turning into a real old-time

 view of Hell. Too bad, although it's got to be live-

 lier than it was under the old bag."

 She really couldn't argue with the sentiment,

 although, unlike him, she also couldn't forget jthe

 poor people whose lives, if not snuffed out, would

 be radically and permanently changed—and cer-

 tainly not for the better.

 "I brought some trade goods with me," she told

 him. "Four more girls and four good horses." At

 his raised eyebrows she told him the story of the

 encounter the night before that had saved her but

 precipitated the destruction of Persellus as .they

 had known it.

 "Fair enough," he responded. "They'll help make

 up for some of the ones Arden lost in the attack."

 "Not so fast' They're not gifts, you know."

 He assumed his stoic pose, trying hard to sup-

 press a smile and not quite succeeding. "All right.

 What do you think they're worth?"

 "Come on!" she chided. "You know that I'm

 ignorant enough of the way the system works out

 here that you'll skin me in the deal no matter

 what. I deserve at least a little consideration."

 "Why? We're even as far as I'm concerned. More

 than even, in fact, considering that you've gone

 from slave to woman of property in record time."

 "That may be, but the fact is that we—Dar and

 I—aren't free just because of. your kind generosity.

 Even if you hadn't freed me before, you wouldn't

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 185

 want anybody with a Soul Rider in your stock. I'd

 be a time bomb waiting to go off with any customer,

 and in the end you'd regret it- And, as I under-

 stand it, most of these people are not going to stay

 the way they are when they get delivered. They'll

 be subject to the magic of the land or wizard that

 gets them. That makes Dar a lousy property, since

 he's locked in that way until a stronger wizard

 than the goddess comes along, untangles her spells,

 and writes new ones. That reduces his value a lot,

 I'd say, so it was no big thing to free him, either,

 particularly since you get nineteen more than you

 bargained for. And, as you pointed out not long

 ago, we're working—for free—for our ride and us-

 ing our own supplies. So what do we owe you?"

 The smile could no longer be suppressed. "All

 right. Granting that, this is still business, but don't

 give me any more of that poor little innocent shit.

 I have this feeling that even without your damned

 Soul Rider you'd wind up running this train any-

 way if I looked away for a moment or didn't read

 every little contract clause. Now, understanding

 that, you tell me what you want and I'll tell you

 what your four slaves and four horses will buy of

 it."

 She thought a moment. What did she want,

 exactly? She had "the feeling she should consult

 with Dar, but she decided against it. Matson would

 just use him to rob them both blind.

 "I want freedom for as many of my friends as

 I can buy," she told him. "I also want some kind of

 stake and passage to a place where I—we—can

 enjoy and earn our own livings."

 He laughed. "You want a lot for four horses and

 four slaves! Now, the stake needed would depend

 on the place, wouldn't it? And I don't think you

 really have a particular place now, so long as you

 have that Soul Rider inside, anyway, and that

 could be for life."

 186 Jack L. Chalker

 "I think I wouldn't mind being a stringer," she

 told him seriously.

 "I doubt it. For one thing, you're too soft-hearted.

 You start thinking of that cargo as people back

 there instead of just more trade goods, like horses

 and mules and hard goods, and you start bleeding

 for them. You couldn't help it, even though none

 of 'em can ever go back to Anchor and they'd all

 go nuts or die quickly in the Flux without a wizard

 looking over 'em. Anyway, it's a closed guUd. If

 you aren't bom a stringer, you can't be one. And if

 you tried to set up in competition, other stringers

 would get together and do you in. Part of the code,

 and good business. And we don't have partners,

 just employees. Still, I agree that you're doomed

 to wander. Want a job with a stringer train, then?"

 She grinned. "That might be the next best thing.

 But I wouldn't want a job where I had to stay out

 of the Fluxlands and Anchors with the mules and

 wagons, or where I just stayed a few hours."

 "That's not a problem," he responded, understand-

 ing that they were in fact negotiating. "Most

 duggers don't go into Fluxlands because they don't

 want to or they're afraid they might get kidnapped

 or used by the powers that be. Some of 'em are

 just sensitive about their looks and don't feel com-

 fortable outside the void. As for Anchors, I've had

 a problem the last couple of years because I didn't

 have any total humans to help me with the packs

 going in. Had to depend on the locals, and they

 charge. The average layover is three days, and would

 have been back there if things didn't feel funny

 and if I didn't have this big human cargo to de-

 liver down the line, eating me broke the longer I

 have that many on my hands."

 She nodded. "Fine. So the Anchors allow only

 people they consider as human as they are inside,

 and you need humans. I'm human. I don't know

 whether Dar would pass their inspection, though."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 187

 "Probably. They're not as fussy so long as you

 look normal. They have the mental image of duggers

 as you know them. He, or she, or whatever it is,

 would have to be careful that nobody found out

 that secret, though. Anchorfolk are so damned

 scared of anything different that a mob would tear

 him to bits and get a medal for it. You should know

 that."

 She nodded. "I think he'd take that risk. I as-

 sume we work for expenses in the various places."

 "Expenses, hell! You get a salary on account.

 Anything you spend anyplace you get deducted.

 Anything left over at the end of each circuit, which

 is most of a year, you get credited to a stringer

 account. If you live long enough, don't get fired,

 and keep your costs down you can retire to the

 Fluxland of your choice someday. Or sucker some

 friendly wizard into making the pocket of your

 dreams, which is what most of 'em do."

 "So there are some friendly wizards- I'd begun

 to wonder. Seriously, though—how many duggers

 that you know of ever lived long enough to retire?"

 He shrugged. "Well, none personally ..."

 "Uh huh. It's a deal."

 He laughed- "Impulsive, aren't you? You decided

 on this first thing, didn't you?"

 "Well, I admit I had it in mind. I wasn't sure

 whether you wanted to travel with a Soul Rider,

 though."

 "That's more serious than you think. But there

 are pluses with the minuses on that. Potentially

 you're stronger than any wizard, although it's use-

 ful only in defense, I hear. That's fine. What pro-

 tects you protects the train. Of course, you're a

 magnet for trouble, but out here I'm not sure I

 could tell the difference anyway. At least your

 Rider's concern is also mine now, so maybe we'll

 work together to get rid of that and it'll be done

 with you."

 188 Jack L. Chalker

 She looked at him with interest. "Then you're

 going to report this?"

 "Honey, I'm going to do at least that. Haldayne's

 bad for business right where he is, at the intersec-

 tion of three good routes. He ordered an attack on,

 and was responsible for, a massacre of a stringer

 train, so nobody's safe until he's eliminated. As

 soon as we unload as much as we can in Globbus,

 not to mention alerting them there s6 the route

 from this side can be closed, we're heading for

 Pericles. Not the whole train—I'll just have to eat

 expenses on what I can't unload, although I'm

 going to take some merchandise with me to Pericles

 because I think there might be a market for if."

 "What's this Pericles?"

 "The home of one of the oldest, battiest, most

 degenerate and powerful wizards on all of World—

 and, incidentally, the dean of the current Nine

 Who Guard."

 She gasped. "So there is a Nine! But—what do

 you mean by 'current'?"

 "Nobody lives forever, even out here. I think the

 old boy told me once that his grandmother was

 one of the originals. He's barely, he says, six hun-

 dred years old."

 "Six hun—oh, my! Do you think he's really that

 old?"

 "Could be. But he's the strongest of the Nine,

 and therefore the only one publicly known. If he's

 been around that long, and known for at least a

 hundred years, then he must be one hell of a wiz-

 ard because that makes him automatically one

 hell of a target." He sighed. "Well, I guess that

 concludes our business. See if your friend wants to

 go along or what, but the job's open either way."

 "We haven't settled anything," she responded.

 "I just got hired, that's all. I still want some of my

 friends free."

 He sighed. "You need an advance, so the four

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 189

 horses will take care of that for two of you. But

 what if I freed four of your friends in an even

 trade? They'd have no jobs, no defenses, no place

 to go, and I'm not about to hire on six new hands,

 none of whom can even shoot. All you'd do is kill

 'em for sure, or give them to Globbus or some-

 place else for free. In the Fluxlands, everybody's

 either owned, if they have no Flux power, or em-

 ployed if they do. If any of that lot had much

 power we'd have seen it by now."

 She hated to admit it to herself, but she had to

 agree that he was right. It was very easy to say

 "You are free!" and feel good about it, but they

 would be free in a land where they would be at the

 mercy of just about everyone and powerless to

 prevent slavery at no gain to themselves or anyone

 else, and no input by anyone into how and where

 they would be used. If she could free them to

 return to Anchor that would be one thing, but

 even she would only be a visitor in that realm

 now, there at the sufferance of authorities and on

 a limited permit. "Well, there are three I'd like to

 free, anyway."

 "Nope. Two is tops. I can't handle any more.

 After that the cost becomes counter-productive.

 The only reason I can handle four of you is that

 I'm sure one or two of you will screw up and never

 return from one place or another, at least in any

 usable form. And those two will work strictly for

 the value of the other two slaves we sell until they

 exhaust their accounts. Then well see if they are

 worth keeping or if they're fired. No other guaran-

 tees, no other deals than that."

 "Mister generosity."

 "I'm not generous. I'm your boss. And I'll fire

 your ass and that of our musclebound friend if I'm

 the least bit unhappy. No more lip, take it or leave

 it."

 190 Jack L. Chalker

 "I'll talk to Dar when we stop and then let you

 know," she told him. "How far to Globbus?"

 "Oh, it's about sixty kilometers from here. We

 average a little better than twenty kilometers a

 day, so that's three days. Closer than Persellus is

 to Anchor Logh by a fair amount. In fact, it's

 about the same distance to Anchor Logh from

 Globbus or Persellus—I had to go out of my way to

 do some business that, damn it, will probably never

 get done now."

 That "night," as train time was measured in the

 void, Cass put the proposition to Dar, who seemed

 interested although unhappy that they didn't get

 more. "You really want to be a dugger," he^told

 her, "and I can't see any other place I'd fit in. Hell,

 anyplace else I'm a freak, but out here I'm normal

 compared to most of 'em."

 She nodded. "That's what I figured. Now comes

 the hard part, though. Which two?"

 He didn't even have to think. "Suzl and Nadya,

 of course."

 "Not Ivon?"

 He chuckled dryly. "That bigmouth was hiding

 behind a wagon while you girls were reloading

 rifles in the fight. He's also still scared to death of

 the duggers. I like him, but for all his muscles he'd

 never fit in around here. I think the two girls

 will."

 She had to agree, but found it surprising they

 agreed so readily on both choices. "You three spent

 an awfully long time getting the water. We just

 about gave you up for dead. Something I should

 know about now?"

 He sighed. "Aw, hell. We took a three-way roll in

 the grass, Cass, if you must know."

 "But—"

 "Hey! If the Sister General can do it, why not

 us? Besides. I can't help it. I still like girls. And

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 191

 what man is going to give me a tumble even if I

 was willing to do it? Jomo?"

 She didn't argue that point, although she sus-

 pected that there were some men who'd be de-

 lighted with him the way he was. Considering the

 people she'd already seen in Anchor as well as

 Flux, that would be a minor oddity hardly worth

 noting. "What I mean is, I didn't really think that

 those two were that way."

 He chuckled. "They never tried the other way,

 but they were willing. Then they—found out."

 She was fascinated- "What about—you? How do

 you feel about it?"

 He grew very serious. "It was really kind of

 funny. Until now I been real tight about the first

 time it would happen, but I knew it had to happen.

 Now, hell, it's like I'm free, a whole new person. I

 got lucky, that's all. Most folks would have turned

 away, or treated me like I had some deathly, disease,

 or something, but they didn't. Funny, too—those

 shots must have worn off, 'cause they got real

 turned on, if you know what I mean." He paused

 and looked suddenly concerned. "This doesn't poi-

 son them for you, does it?"

 She shook her head. "Of course not. In fact, it

 says something about them that they accepted you

 as you were. It means they'll fit in this crazy setup.

 Let's call them over."

 The two girls were delighted at the news, but

 distressed that they were to be the only ones. "It

 makes us feel so guilty," Suzl told them.

 "I told Cass about back at the river," Dar told

 them.

 Both looked slightly embarrassed. "Is that what

 it is, then? Because we . .." Nadya said finally, her

 voice dropping off. "But we didn't intend to. It

 just sort of built up in me the longer we were in

 that place."

 "Me, too," Suzl agreed. "Stronger than I ever

 192 Jack L. Chalker

 felt before, and it didn't matter who or what. I'm

 just glad Dar was there. If I was alone and feeling

 like that I'd have screwed a horse if one came-up.

 Nothing personal, Dar."

 He nodded. "That's funny, though. I felt it/too.

 Still do. I just put it down to the shots wearing

 off."

 Nadya shook her head. "Nope. None of the oth-

 ers have it. It was something in the air, I guess."

 Cass thought it over. "Something in the air....

 Maybe part of Haldayne's new world that was

 strong enough to seep through. Who knows what

 urges somebody like that has, or what sort of thing

 he likes? If the goddess could absent-mindedly re-

 arrange a couple of mountains because it slipped

 her mind how they were and she liked them better

 that way, then his own ideas might change things

 as well, even without him consciously willing it.

 Maybe emotions run stronger than will, or at least

 ahead. It would make sense."

 "A whole land run like Roaring Mountain's

 pocket/' Dar said, and shivered a bit.

 Cass got back to business. "Don't feel that was

 the reason. At least, not the only one in either of

 our cases. I picked you two before I knew. You're

 both farmgirls, you know how to ride, and you're

 adaptable. Look at most of them back there. Still

 mostly dead inside, just waiting for the ax to fall.

 That's what sets the four of us apart—we accepted

 what was and went from there. They are probably

 better off where they're going if they can't go home.

 We're going to beat this system, and maybe have

 some fun doing it."

 She went forward and told Matson of their deci-

 sion and their choices. He was surprised only at

 one thing. "No men, huh? Didn't pick out anyone

 for yourself?"

 She shook her head. "No. I gather by that

 comment, though, that you knew about them."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 193

 He grinned. "I could hardly avoid noticing. For

 the record, those two are the best of a mediocre

 lot, I think, from past judgments. They may work

 out, although they'll have to watch themselves in

 the Fluxlands—and Anchors, too, if they get into

 any. Attractive humans, male and female, have a

 habit of disappearing there. In either case I'm deal-

 ing with a wizard who has more power in his little

 finger than I have in my whole body or with a

 church with absolute control of a large population

 of ignorant idiots, which means it would cost me

 too damned much to get help and I have no real

 pressure. There are other stringers if I become a

 problem. No, I'm satisfied. Dress up the train a

 bit. We'll get them presentable in Globbus." He

 paused. "But what about you? If you want to blow

 the account, you could get some hair and maybe

 remake yourself if you wanted to,"

 She thought about it. "No. I've been this way

 and I think I'll stay this way, at least for a while."

 He stared into her eyes. "You ever had sex?

 With anybody, I mean, of either sex?"

 She was startled by the directness of the question,

 but felt comfortable enough with him to answer it.

 In fact, around Matson her feelings were oddly

 different, although she couldn't really put her fin-

 ger on it. "No," she said softly. "Never."

 "Never wanted to?"

 "Oh, sure. I had the urges, yes. But I'm just not

 the sort that boys want, that's all."

 "Maybe. Maybe for some boys, or men, that'd be

 true. Most of 'em only look at the outsides in

 Anchor, which is why I call 'em all dumb and

 ignorant. If I only looked at outsides in the Flux,

 I'd never have the best dugger team on World and

 I couldn't stand ninety percent of the Fluxlands.

 Arden, now, wasn't pretty by some standards, al-

 though she sure knew how to make herself so when

 it counted. She was as bald as you, you know.

 194 Jack L. Chalker

 Kept it that way because she said she didn't have

 time in the void to mess with her hair."

 The only view Cass had had of Arden was pretty

 ugly and not conducive to knowing anything a^out

 what she had looked like in life. "I didn't Know

 that," she told him.

 "You sure you're not running from sex? I've seen

 it before. Women who get to where they try and

 make themselves as unattractive as possible. Con-

 fess, now. You got rid of those shots back in

 Persellus."

 "Maybe you're right," she responded, her mind

 a little mixed up at what he was saying, wonder-

 ing if in fact it was true. "But maybe it's just (hat I

 don't want somebody attracted to me just because

 I faked it all with fashions or even magic spells.

 This is crazy, but I really do like being me, and,

 right now, I've never been happier in my whole

 life. Does that sound like I've gone mad with the

 void or what?"

 "No," he said gently. "No, it sounds like you did

 something most folks never really do, in Anchor or

 Flux. You grew up. Most folks never do. Most of

 them never will, never would in any case. That's

 the bottom line in why I took you on. Now you

 have to grow up one little bit more or else you're

 going to lose something. Either you can hide be-

 hind that boy's face and voice and keep forcing

 those feelings down or you can say the hell with it

 and let it out. If you hold it in and hide, then you'll

 still make a hell of a good dugger but you'll never

 be a complete human being." He pointed to the

 regular duggers, all misshapen, most deformed in-

 side and out. "The Flux will just reinforce it, like it

 reinforces their own problems. Ever think that any

 of them has enough on account to get themselves

 done back to any human form they want?"

 No, she hadn't thought of it. "You mean they're

 that way because they want to be like that?"

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 195

 He nodded. "They're all hiding, just like you.

 Oh, they're not all hiding from the same things,

 but they're hiding all the same. We'll never know

 what turned them into those forms, so we'll never

 know what keeps them that way. But's that's you

 over there, Cass. Now."

 She didn't like that idea, but she was in a minor

 state of shock from his talk, and she didn't want to

 admit that he might be right "So what would you

 suggest? I shoot the profit making myself into a

 glamorous sexpot? Who wouldn't last long in Flux

 or Anchor?"

 He shook his head negatively. "No. If you like it

 that way, be that way. But be that way because

 it's practical, or comfortable, or it's just you. not

 because you're hiding behind it."

 She thought back to that time in Anchor, about

 all the rejection and her own attitudes and feelings.

 Was Matson right? Could it be true? "So what do I

 do if it i5 true, which I don't think it is."

 "If it isn't, prove it. Take the plunge."

 She smiled grimly. "Yeah, that's an easy dare.

 Take the plunge with who? Jomo? Nagada? One of

 the fake Lanis? Seems like everybody around here

 is either female or not exactly human."

 "There's one," he said casually, blowing a smoke

 ring. "Me."

 She stared at him as if he were suddenly some

 strange and terrible creature, the man she'd imag-

 ined when she first was scared stiff of the sight of

 him that day back in Anchor Logh. Her emotions

 were so jumbled up inside her she could neither

 understand nor sort them out. "You?" She paused

 a moment. "It's just Haldayne's influence. You got

 a jolt along with them, and coming on top of

 Arden's death...."

 "Could be," he agreed. "Probably at least a little.

 But that doesn't mean that anything I said was

 wrong. Look, I'm not asking you to marry me, just

 196 Jack L. Chatker

 take a tumble up in the hay wagon. The only

 chance you'll have to screw your boss and get

 away with it. Yes, or no? It may be your only

 chance—I'm going to work the tail off the four of

 you from now on, and you've got to learn ho\v to

 fight and how to shoot to be any good to me m the

 long run."

 "You aren't just teasing me? I mean, this is for

 real?" She felt oddly distant, her mind and body a

 confused mess and somehow out of control.

 "Nope. Serious. I'll even pour us each a shot of

 good brandy so you won't have the cigar smoke."

 "Yes, all right," she heard herself saying, as if in

 a trance.

 He got up, and she followed him. They walked

 forward after he took a small bottle out of his own

 pack, and he cleared away a couple of dugger

 guards, repositioning them well away from the

 wagon. He jumped up, turned, then helped her up,

 and then put the tarps down front and rear, light-

 ing a small lantern inside with a match so that

 there was a small amount of light.

 They were in there the better part of two hours,

 and there was little doubt to anyone who noticed

 what was going on in there, but the only conversa-

 tion heard was his sudden exclamation, "I'll be

 damned! You really are a virgin!" and her soft,

 nearly unintelligible reply in a tone of voice she

 had frankly never used before and never knew was

 there-

 '"Was," she responded dreamily.

 13

 GLOBBUS

 The next two days were extremely busy ones, offer-

 ing little time for the newcomers to have their

 minds on anything other than business, but it was

 obvious to those who knew her that Cass had

 changed. She seemed more relaxed, more at peace

 with herself, and, if anything even more deter-

 mined to leam what could be learned and make

 the most of every opportunity.

 As for Cass, while she felt different she couldn't

 quite explain what that difference was. It was less

 in the experience itself than in the sense that some

 enormous load had been lifted from her mind. It

 was an odd sensation, but out here, in the void,

 she felt completely and totally free for the first

 time in her memory.

 Matson had been marvelous that night, even cau-

 tioning her that the blood and mess would not

 happen again, but she hadn't cared about that.

 After, though, he hadn't really referred to it nor

 treated her any differently than before. He was the

 boss, and a pretty fair but tough one, and that was

 all right with her, too.

 Equally gratifying to them all was the way the

 duggers had accepted them, although there was

 still some strong, underlying suspicion of Dar for

 his actions in the fight and they bore down on him

 197

 198 Jack L. Chatker

 far harder than on the others. It was clear that he

 would win their confidence and respect only by

 superior conduct in the next fight and not before.

 It was also clear that the additions, two of them,

 anyway, made the train dugger-heavy in the sense

 that there really wasn't enough extra work for four

 of them. To everyone's surprise it was Nadya who

 proved the most worth, after Cass of course/help-

 ing equally with the animals, supplies and repack-

 ing, and even cooking. Although Matson had agreed

 that they would not have to have anything' to do

 with their former fellow captives on this trip, since

 they knew them, Nadya also proved adept at the

 literal stringing technique and didn't mind the

 nasty comments and envy from the others. Suzl,

 on the other hand, did the minimum necessary

 and seemed to spend most of her time with Dar.

 Still, they got some arms training, and some

 other fighting techniques as well, but clearly it

 would take far longer than the two nights and few

 breaks they had for the starter lessons. Although

 Dar proved to be the best natural shooter, it was

 Cass and Nadya who were presented, their last

 night out, with their own guns by Matson on rec-

 ommendation of their dugger trainers.

 The final day in would be a short one, and Cass

 rode up to Matson as they approached the Fluxland.

 "Just wanted to know something about the place

 before we got there," she told him.

 "Well, it's like its name. Exactly," the stringer

 replied casually.

 "It's like a globbus? What's a globbus?"

 "It isn't anything. It's a nonsense word. And that

 pretty well describes the place. It was set up by

 the guild the wizards have as one of three places

 where young wizards could study and practice and

 perfect what powers they have."

 "You mean it's like a school?"

 He nodded, "In a way. But no school you've ever

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 199

 seen before. Think of the mess a hundred or so

 practicing—and mostly not very good—young wiz-

 ards might make, then multiply that by the num-

 ber of students who went through it, and you have

 an idea of what real insanity is."

 "It's dangerous, then?"

 He shrugged. "If you mean in the sense of kid-

 nap and kill, no, it's not at all dangerous. But if

 you think of it as a playground for a bunch of

 children of gods, then you get an idea of what it

 really is. Just remember to stay on the road, trust

 nobody and believe even less of it, and stick to the

 central district which is fairly safe and sane by

 comparison. Don't let one of the locals sucker or

 seduce you into something, no matter how innocent.

 They have what is known as an implied consent

 rule."

 "What's that mean?"

 "It means that nothing you see can hurt or affect

 you no matter how it seems otherwise unless you

 give your implied consent to it. It's a game with

 them to get that implied consent, and you don't

 have to say 'yes' to something to give it, which is

 why it's implied. Just think everything through

 and use all your common sense and you'll find it is

 something of an experience."

 She went back and briefed the others on what

 he'd said, but she couldn't answer their questions

 because Matson either couldn't or wouldn't. The

 only way she got the implied consent idea across

 to herself, as well as the other three, was to re-

 mind Dar of his experience in trust in the bar at

 Anchor Logh that had cost so much.

 Globbus began in the manner of all Fluxlands,

 with things becoming a bit more solid, normal

 senses returning, and, finally, it opened up into a

 real place in every sense of the word. Or was it? It

 was very easy from the start to see why Globbus

 was nonsense.

 200 Jack L. Chalker

 Grass grew in multicolored striped and checked

 patterns. Cows and horses in the fields had any

 number of legs and even heads, and looked like

 creatures put together by a bunch of drunks and

 then painted in outlandish patterns- Trees in places

 looked like nothing they'd ever sefen, and some

 grew upside down, roots high in the air, while

 others had weird looking fruit. Dogwood would

 occasionally bark at them, and pussywillow purred

 or hissed, and at one part tiny crabapples scuttled

 back to their branches, pincers closing. Hills and

 bushes were sculpted into fantastic shapes, and

 even the sky often changed colors and at one point

 was half a dull pink and half dark as night, with

 stars shining, some of which had the disconcerting

 habit of occasionally racing to new positions and

 patterns as you watched.

 Water Howed in no particular direction, and some

 waterfalls flowed up. Large clouds floated by over-

 head and suddenly decided to make obscene ges-

 tures at the travelers below. Few people were seen,

 and none close up, until they approached the cen-

 ter of the Fluxland and its university proper.

 There were buildings now, large and small, no

 two even remotely alike. One very normal-looking

 stone house was atop a high and very fragile-looking

 tree with no sign of a way up or down; another

 was a traditional cottage with peaked red slate

 roof, sitting upside down on its roof point: As they

 watched, two rather ordinary looking young men

 approached the house, stood there, flipped upside

 down in the air, then walked in the upside down

 door, their heads about three meters off the ground.

 It was a bit much for any of them, but it was

 particularly stunning to the captives, for this was

 the first Fluxland they had ever seen. Most just

 gawked in disbelief or tried not to look, particu-

 larly at some of the people, who were only theoreti-

 cally people. It was easy to see, looking at them,

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 201

 why this Fluxland was no inhibitor to duggers.

 The entire train moved into the center of what

 could be loosely called "town".

 The street was not crowded, but was nonethe-

 less a mob scene. In front of them, a small horse

 was riding a man, while on a porch two ugly-

 looking old dogs were arguing in perfect human

 speech about the proper solution to an abstract

 mathematical problem. People with two heads ar-

 gued with each other, while others looked lizard-

 like or were part animal, pan human, part some-

 thing else. It was, nevertheless, less a chamber of

 horrors than a lunatic's view of World—no, every

 lunatic's view of World, all at once.

 There was, however, an area in the center that

 looked normal. It was really four huge two story

 square buildings around a central open plaza, but

 that plaza had a large circular stage in the center

 and cordoned off areas of turf all around it. It was

 empty now, but it was clear that it was used often.

 "That's the Market Block," Matson told them.

 "That's where we're going to unload most of our

 surplus merchandise in three days."

 "Three days! You mean we have to spend three

 days in this place?" Dar exclaimed nervously. "I

 mean, two blocks over there is a square rainstorm—'

 and it's raining up into the. clouds!"

 The stringer grinned. "Yep. I hadn't expected to

 be here so early, but it's not bad so long as you can

 get used to the people and animals and whatever

 wandering about. So long as you all stay in this

 area, within the Market Block and the four big

 buildings facing it and on the streets between them,

 you're safe. There's shops and services available in

 these places that you can't get anywhere else, par-

 ticularly at decent prices, because they're all prac-

 tice shops for the best students with specific talents

 rather than the general type like the goddess or

 Haldayne."

 202 Jack L. Chalker

 "You mean the Rory Montagne type," Cass noted

 sourly.

 "Yeah, like that, but service oriented rather than

 criminal types. It's all magic, of course, but it's all

 the permanent type. Just about none of this is

 illusion, remember. There's hotels in that building

 over there, as well as holding areas for the Market

 Block. That one next to it has a huge number of

 eateries of every size and type. The building across

 from the hotel is the services building. That's where

 you go if you want numbers removed or hair or a

 whole new you. The one across from the food pavil-

 ion is the merchandise mart. Got it?"

 They nodded. "Now, how do we draw on our

 accounts?" Cass wanted to know.            '

 "First you say you're with the Matson train, then

 sign for it when they give you the bill- I'll let you

 know any time you want what your balance is,

 since they're all posted to the train bill at the hotel

 center. Most Fluxlands have their own money of

 some kind, just like the Anchors, but the universal

 unit, used here as well, is the kil. It's short for

 kilogram, but nobody knows now what it's a kilo-

 gram of. That's long lost in history. It's broken

 down into a hundred grams, of course, but don't

 look for it- It's all on paper, and settled on com-

 mon bills paid out of established accounts."

 "Well, that's fine," Nadya put in, "but how do

 we know how much we have to spend of this

 money?"

 He thought a moment. "You don't, since I haven't

 sold your stakes yet. Cass, you and Dar should

 figure on no more than two hundred kils each,

 while Suzl and Nadya might have a little more—

 but, remember, you two girls, you have to stake

 yourselves out of that when we pull out, so keep it

 in the fifty to seventy kil range. That's for every-

 thing here except hotel, which the train picks up."

 It was clear from the central lobby of the hotel

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 203

 building that they were far from the only train in

 Globbus. In fact, there were at least four, and

 Matson was greeted with shouts and waves from a

 host of duggers, most of whom looked even worse

 than his, and at least one tall, dark, exotic-looking

 female stringer who ran up and gave him a big

 hug. Cass had to suppress more than a little tinge

 of jealousy, but she kept control of herself. It was

 just a reminder of the new enigma, that the

 unattainable, now attained, was still unattainable.

 The rooms were large and comfortable; in fact,

 more comfortable than those Cass had stayed in in

 Persellus, with the floors fully carpeted and a small

 parlor area with two chairs and a sofa. The room

 had a bathroom, and Cass, who elected to stay

 with Nadya, had the joy of being the old sophisti-

 cate showing the rube the joys of running water

 and Hush toilets.

 They weren't needed to check in the team and

 cargo, so they were free as soon as they were set-

 tled in, and the foursome met again in the lobby

 and went first to the food pavilion to eat. The

 amount of choices was overwhelming, although

 some of the prices gave good indication of just

 how far a kil did, or didn't go- Although they had*

 all dreamed of a real restaurant meal, they de-.

 cided to settle, for now, on sandwiches and beer

 from a walk-up. They noticed, though, that the

 first floor only was devoted to countless eateries—

 upstairs were all sorts of bars, entertainment joints,

 and other signs of a wide-open place the likes of

 which even Main Street had never seen.

 After eating, they decided to tend to first things

 first, going to the "services" building and trying to

 ignore the six men and women going by who had

 wheels instead of legs and feet and seemed to just

 roll along effortlessly, as well as the woman with

 the body of many men's dreams and the head of

 some sort of short-beaked bird and other oddities.

 204 Jack L. Chalker

 Dar did remark, though, that in this company he

 was absolutely ordinary, and there was no deny-

 ing that.

 The building directory listed what seemed to be

 hundreds of service experts, most of whom were

 specialists in things they couldn't make head nor

 tail of. What, for example, was a master of sustenta-

 tion? Or a storax modifier, for that matter? And

 did they really want to know?

 Fortunately, there was an information kiosk at

 which to ask for what was needed. In point of fact,

 the kiosk was asked directly, for it was a human-

 looking man down to the waist, but below it he

 had a huge, round mass on which he could appar-

 ently swivel. He was surrounded by a rack with all

 sorts of handouts, particularly accessible because

 in place of those legs he had four hands. He looked

 at them as they approached and said, "May I serve

 you?"

 Cass swallowed hard. "Tattoo removal and hair

 growth?" she tried tentatively -

 The information kiosk nodded. "Corridor C, of-

 fice 202," he responded briskly. "General cosmetic

 alterations." One of the arms shot out. "Right over

 there. Anything else?"

 "How about breaking transformation curses?"

 Dar asked.

 "General, group, specific, or personal?"

 "Ah, personal."

 "Corridor F, office 509."

 They nodded and walked away. "I'd say let's see

 about you two first," Cass said to Suzl and Nadya.

 "After, we'll check on Dar's situation."

 "I can meet you." Dar suggested. "I don't need

 anything where you're going."

 It was agreed, and the three young women headed

 for the designated corridor and office. The sign on

 the door said to walk in, and they did to a small

 waiting room. One wall was covered with pictures

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 205

 of all sorts of people and creatures and combina-

 tions of same involving women, the other involv-

 ing all men. Obviously, this one did quite a bit

 more than they were after.

 A small window slid back, revealing a very dark

 woman's face. "Yes?"

 As briefly as they could, they explained what

 they wanted, and Cass added, "I guess I can stand

 some minor work myself." She hadn't intended to,

 but there was something about seeing that lady

 stringer embracing Matson that just changed her

 mind- She knew it was silly, but it meant very

 little one way or the other.

 The woman emerged from a rear door into the

 waiting room. She was stark naked, with dark

 brown face, hands, and feet, but her body was

 covered in very fine fur that was alternately black

 and white striped, in a spiral pattern from neck to

 legs. Her thick, wiry hair was snow white except

 for a single wide black screak running from brow

 all the way back, and she had long, pointed ears

 and a short, shaved tail with a furry white blob at

 the end. When she talked, it was noted that the

 inside of her mouth was black with a snow white

 tongue.                                     ^

 She took note of their attention and smiled. "Do

 you like it? It was one of my old teacher's last

 works for last year's total body collection. It didn't

 sell, for some reason, but I liked it so much I kept

 it."

 "It's—stunning," Nadya responded truthfully,

 hoping not to be pressed.

 The woman seemed pleased. "Step back into

 here, all of you, please."

 They followed her a bit nervously through the

 door, Cass starting to rethink the whole proposi-

 tion of any changes in this way. There were four

 large chairs in back lined up in front of a single

 long mirror. The woman indicated that they were

 Jack L. Chalker

 206

 to each pick one and sit down, and they did, grow-

 ing more uncertain-

 "Now, then. Most of my designers are off right

 now, but I think I can handle the three of you.

 Let's start with you," she said, going first to Suzl.

 "Nice build. A good foundation. We could do a lot

 with you."

 "Just some hair and get rid of the tattoos," she

 told the woman.

 "About twenty added centimeters and a slight

 body realignment will do you wonders," the striped

 woman suggested. "As it is now you'll run to fat

 and get chunky as you grow older."

 She actually considered it, but finally rejected

 it. There followed a whole series of attempts to'get

 her to accept hair with an unusual color or pattern,

 but she decided on straight, shoulder-length, and

 black just the way it had been. The striped woman

 sighed and you could see she thought that Suzl

 had no imagination or spirit of adventure whatso-

 ever, but she stood back, made a pass with her

 hands, and Suzl gasped at her reflection. It was

 like greeting an old friend you'd thought lost and

 gone forever.

 The tattoo and thumb stain went with the hair.

 "Now, the hair is low maintenance," the magical

 cosmetologist assured her. "It will stay at that

 length and style unless you change it, and if you

 do just wash it before changing it and it'll remain

 the new style. If you wish, I can have it grow

 normally, but right now it can be cut shorter but

 will always grow back to that length and set."

 "That's fine. Wonderful, in fact," Suzl assured

 her. "Now all I need are some clothes."

 "I could give you a treatment similar to mine—no

 design if you prefer, color of your choice—that

 would make clothing unnecessary up to forty de-

 grees or down to ten below,"

 Suzl passed.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 207

 Nadya got much the same spiel from the woman,

 who was obviously aching to be "creative" and

 not finding any takers. Nadya chose a permanent

 dark brown pageboy and declined even the modest

 offer to do something about her slight overbite. By

 the time the striped body wizard got to Cass she

 was resigned. "Just hair and tattoo, right?"

 "I don't have any tattoos. They were taken care

 of before," she replied. "Actually, I'm not really

 sure what I want."

 The magical cosmetologist brightened. "Tell you

 what. Let me try a few things out on you. No

 charge if you don't like them, and I'll change any-

 thing back at any time."

 It was tempting. She looked over at the other

 two. "Suppose you go check with Dar? I'll meet

 you there or back at the hotel."

 They agreed, signed the required small papers

 they were handed, and were gone, although Nadya

 remained a moment and said, "Don't get carried

 away. You may hate yourself tomorrow."

 She grinned. "I'll remember. Nothing radical."

 But, the fact is, what was done was a lot of fun.

 Rejecting the exotic or freakish, the cosmetologist

 tried a variety of hair styles and colors, subtle-

 facial adjustments, and body adjustments. She

 found out exactly what it was like to have large

 breasts and a sexy figure and decided that it wasn't

 her style. At least now she knew, she told herself.

 But is was finally a matter of small changes that

 she settled on, mostly after telling Miss Rona, as

 the cosmetologist was known, that she was, after

 all, a mule whip on a stringer train who had to

 remain both practical for the job and human for

 entry to Anchor. She had an odd impulse for long

 hair, and finally Miss Rona suggested a reddish

 brown, thick and straight, coming just below the

 shoulders, and showed her how to tie it up or into

 a pony tail, the last her preferred style. Her face

 208 Jack L. Chalker

 was softened a bit, losing a little of its boyish look

 while not changing all that much, and her com-

 plexion was darkened to a light olive to comple-

 ment the changes. On her body, she wanted strong,

 hard muscles that would not have to be main-

 tained but would not give her a mannish look, and

 this proved amazingly easy.                  :

 To balance, her shape was slightly recontoured,

 her hips slightly widened so now her work pants

 would hang on them at the waist, and her breasts

 were slightly redone so that they were still small

 and required no support but were clearly there

 and perfectly formed. In the end, most of the

 changes were so subtle that, except for the hair, it

 was difficult to really point to them, but the over-

 all effect of the changes was to make her unmistak-

 ably female.

 Miss Rona, in fact, was delighted. "This sort of

 very small detail work is the most challenging,"

 she told her. And so was the forty kil bill, which

 couldn't really be disputed since the whole thing

 could be withdrawn with a few waves of the striped

 woman's hand. She sighed, decided that it was

 worth it but that this was it, no matter what, and

 signed the slip.

 No one was at the kiosk except the kiosk, but he

 told her that the others had gone back to the hotel.

 Nadya was in the room, just relaxing, and she was

 enthusiastic over the change in Cass. "Perfect! Just

 perfect! It's more you than you, if you know what I

 mean."

 She appreciated the compliment. "For what it

 cost, it better be. If I have any money left, I'll buy

 some spare clothes. I think it's time for you to get

 some, though."

 She sighed. "I suppose. It's been so long they'll

 feel funny just to wear." The merchandise building,

 though, changed her mind, and they both spent

 quite a while just trying on various things. Both

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 209

 finally opted for practical wear, more or less

 stringer fashion, yet in colors other than the

 stringer's basic black. Although she bought a pair

 of boots, Nadya carried them back to the room,

 finding that the clothes actually made her feel

 human again but that her feet and lower calves

 revolted against footwear. For the moment, she

 decided to remain barefoot.

 Dar and Suzl weren't back in their rooms yet, so

 the two women decided to eat without them.

 "I forgot to ask—how did Dar's session go?"

 Cass wanted to know.

 "Not good. They said it was powerful and com-

 plicated and would take real experts to work out.

 They wanted over a thousand kils up front to do it,

 too, with no guarantees."

 Cass whistled. "How'd he take it?"

 "Pretty well. A lot better than Suzl, I think."

 The handsome young man approached them in

 the bar and stood there for a second. He was young,

 perhaps only a couple of years older than they,

 and extremely human, although his hair was white

 save for a small reddish spot near the peak. "Ah,

 you are the man with the problem?" he asked

 tentatively.

 Dar looked up at him, "Yeah- Are you the bud-

 ding god the guy near the kiosk talked about?"

 The young man chuckled and sat down. "I sup-

 pose so, although I have no ambitions to carve out

 any little worldlets and preside. I am entirely inter-

 ested in research, in learning everything there is to

 learn about these powers. Until I can get a posi-

 tion here, though, I have to support my researches

 on my own, hence my friends over at services.

 They get a small percentage for sniffing out people

 like you, pardon my language." He looked over at

 Suzl. "I can see why you are anxious to be rid of

 the problem, sir." She smiled at him.

 210 Jack L. Chalker

 "Can you do it?" he asked.

 The young wizard shrugged. "I don't know until

 I take a good look. But I won't charge unless I can

 at least help. Is that not fair?"

 Dar looked at Suzl, who nodded. "Sounds faip.to

 us."

 "Then come with me now, if you can."

 "We can. But how much will it cost?"

 "Shall we say a hundred?"

 He thought a moment- "That's almost all I got. I

 have to eat for the next couple of days, you know."

 "Seventy-five, then, but no less."

 "I'll make it up," Suzl told him. "I'll take it back

 in trade."                                  ,

 They left and followed the young man outside,

 then down a side street and out of the Market

 area. Dar started getting a little nervous.

 "Just in here," the young wizard told them, and

 they stopped by a small pyramidal building, then

 went inside after him. It was a small pyramid on

 the outside but a large rectangle on the inside,

 crowded with all sorts of junk as well as the re-

 mains of half-eaten meals and lots of dust. There

 was, however, a carpeted clear area in the back

 near a bed that obviously had last been made

 when the boy arrived in Globbus. "Now, take off

 your clothes."

 Dar did, and was subjected to a minute • and

 somewhat embarrassing physical examination.

 "Fascinating," the wizard muttered. "Just fasci-

 nating." He stepped back and looked at Dar again.

 "It's superior work," he told them. "Among the

 best. I've seen many variants of this—there are

 lots in Globbus—but the math here is simply

 brilliant. Who did it, did you say?"

 "The former goddess of Persellus."

 Brows went up. "Former?"

 "She was overthrown and, I assume, killed a few

 days ago."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 211

 "Too bad. A great loss to the science. Still, I can

 follow the basic formulae." He closed his eyes and

 appeared to be in deep thought. Finally he said, "I

 think I have the spell's complement. If I under-

 stood what she did correctly, that is. There is,

 however, some risk."

 "To his life?" Suzl asked apprehensively.

 "Oh, no, nothing like that. The application of

 the complement could, conceivably, go more than

 one way, since it's not an undoing of the spell—we

 don't have the weeks necessary for that and you

 don't have the money to shorten that period—but

 an effort at applying an equal and opposite spell

 superimposed over this one. I think it will work,

 but there is a slight percentage that it could push

 him all the way to the female matrix, physically

 and psychologically, or it might split him—twelve

 hours totally and completely female, twelve hours

 totally and completely male. There is always a

 risk in this sort of thing, you must understand.

 That's why the specialists demand their money up

 front."

 Dar looked over at Suzl. "You really want it?"

 She nodded- "I do. If you're willing."

 He shrugged. "What have I got to lose? Go

 ahead."

 The young man closed his eyes once more, and

 his head snapped back, then forward once again.

 He staggered but did not fall. Suddenly he came

 fully erect, his eyes opening, and he seemed to

 struggle with his right hand. A single gesture was

 made with the trembling hand, and Dar felt a

 slight tingling. "Now!" the young wizard shouted,

 and Suzl screamed.

 Dar turned towards her, concerned, and the young

 man looked slightly upset. "Now that's a cwse\

 Damn!" Suzl fainted, and both rushed over to her,

 picked her up, and put her on the bed.

 212 Jack L. Chalker

 "What's wrong with her?" Dar demanded to

 know. "She wasn't even in this, damn it."

 "I'm afraid she was, and I didn't notice it," the

 wizard replied. "That is one tricky curse you have-

 It took the complement and deflected it to the

 nearest receptor. Here—let's get these pants off

 her."

 They did, and Dar gasped. "She said she wanted

 it, and that was all the curse needed for implied

 consent," the wizard explained. "Now she's got it,

 as solidly as you got yours."

 "But I still got a woman's crotch!"

 "And in my judgment you always will have.

 And, unfortunately, she will now always have what

 you lost, the complement being as strong as' the

 original."

 "But—it's so big\ And she's so short'"

 "Well, it is a scaled-down version of yours," the

 wizard told him. "I did what I could to keep it

 proportional, but it is the complement to your

 curse, and so basically your pattern. Uh—of course

 there will be no charge. I admit I have learned a

 great deal from this curse."

 Dar shook his head. "And what I leam about

 guys in bars is of no value. Damn!"

 Suzl stirred and came to, having fainted mostly

 from the shock. She looked puzzled, then felt gin-

 gerly in the crotch area. "Oh, by the Heavens! It's

 real!" She groaned, then sat up on the side of the

 bed, then got to her feet. "How do men walk with

 these things?"

 "The same way women walk with breasts like

 yours," Dar responded. "You just are used to it."

 "But it's—huge\ On you, it'd be okay. On me, it's

 grotesque." She looked over at the wizard. "Take

 it away! Take it back!"

 The young man looked sheepish. "I can't. It's

 beyond me. It may be beyond anybody but the

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 213

 best. That goddess wasn't only good with curses,

 she was devious as Hell."

 She stared at him. "You mean I have the same

 curse he does—only backwards?"

 The wizard nodded. "That's about it. I'm afraid

 the curse construed you to ask for it, and since it

 couldn't give it to your man, here, it gave it to you.

 You're stuck."

 She sat down again on the side of the bed and

 sighed- "And I never even found out what it was

 like to be a woman, damn it." She sighed again.

 "But, then, neither do men." She looked up at the

 wizard. "Will it work?"

 "It's a proportional model of his. It'll work if

 your mind wants it to."

 She stood up and put her pants back on. "Ugh!

 More shopping to do. Something to support this

 thing and some pants with real give in the crotch.

 These hurt\" She looked over at Dar. "Well, it isn't

 exactly the way I wanted it, but I think at least in

 one way that you and I were made for each other."

 14

 COUNCIL

 "Now let me get this straight," Nadya said, sound-

 ing confused and bewildered. She stared at the

 small, attractive, well-built woman and the huge

 muscular man in front of her. "You, Suzl, are the

 man, and you, Dar, are the woman? Holy Mother

 protect me!"

 She and Cass had now heard the complete story

 but still couldn't quite believe it. Even so. Cass,

 relaxing in a chair and chewing idly on a stick of

 hard candy, said, "I have to say, Suzl, you're taking

 it a lot better than I would."

 She shrugged. "I was real upset for a while there,

 but then the more I thought about it the. more

 I—accepted it. You know, I think I'm the only one

 ever taken in the Paring Rite who wasn't really

 sorry to go. I used to sit there and dream -of what

 was beyond dull, stodgy Anchor Logh. Sometimes

 I'd imagine myself as something different. Part

 horse, maybe, or cat, or something. I always knew

 there was something else out here, beyond the

 Flux wall. I imagined it as something like it is—a

 world full of freaks."

 They, Nadya in particular, started to protest but

 she silenced them, and, at the moment, she had

 the floor.

 "Uh-huh. Freaks. You know, like in the old

 214

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 215

 children's stories of fairies and trolls and all that.

 Well, thanks to Cass and Dar I'm out here and I'm

 free, and now I'm a freak. Maybe I'm Flux crazy

 now, but I kind of think that this was like, well,

 my dues. I'm one of them now, and it's not so bad.

 I'm still sort of getting used to it, even with the

 wizard's help. He said something about men and

 women's centers of gravity being different, what-

 ever that means. All I know is that every time I

 don't think and cross my legs the old way it hurts

 like hell, and I'm always aware that it's there."

 "You'd hardly know it, what with those black

 denim pants hanging so low on your hips," Nadya

 said.

 Suzl shrugged. "It was either that or get 'em

 super-baggy in the crotch. Besides, I kind of like it

 this way. I can still be me and still be a freak, like

 Dar. And you wouldn't believe how fast and how

 easy it turns on, with all the sensations concen-

 trated in that one place. I think I understand men

 a lot better now."

 "You better," Nadya murmured. "Uh—have you

 tried it out yet?"

 Suzl giggled. "No, but I plan to. Better shape

 up, girls—I'm the man around here, pardon the

 bosoms."

 "It doesn't make any difference out here what

 sex you are," Cass put in, stirring from her chair

 where she sat. "There doesn't seem to be any men's

 or women's jobs—just jobs. That's why you two

 won't have problems, except maybe getting picked

 up by the wrong people in bars."

 "I'm swearing off bars for a while," Dar told

 her. "So far I've been in two and both haven't

 been exactly great experiences."

 They were about to go further when there was a

 sharp knocking on the hotel door- It startled them,

 because they weren't expecting anybody or any-

 216 Jack L. Chatker

 thing as yet. Cass got up and went to the door,

 opened it, and found Matson standing there. He

 looked at her and frowned as if slightly puzzled at

 her new look, but he recovered quickly. "We won't

 have to detour to Pericles after all," he told them.

 "The old boy I wanted to see is here in the hotel

 right now. He and some friends of his want to see

 all four of you in one hour, Room 224. Be there

 and we can settle this as far as we're concerned."

 "We'll be there," Cass assured him- She'hesi-

 tated a moment, then asked, "Like the new look?"

 "Hadn't noticed," he responded curtly, turned,

 and walked down the hall. Crestfallen, she watched

 him go down the stairs.

 "That rat," Nadya commented, and she turned

 and shook her head.

 "No, he's not a rat, just, well, unobtainable in

 the long term." The ironic thing was, although

 they didn't seem to know it, she had obtained the

 unobtainable from him, knowing that he was as

 out of reach as ever.

 "What's that all about?" Suzl asked.

 "Probably another thing like the trial we told

 you about. Give the same information to a bunch

 of powerful wizards and then they'll decide some-

 thing or other about Haldayne and Persellus. After

 today it won't concern us, though."

 Dar sighed and^ooked down at Suzl. "Well," he

 said hopefully, "we still have an hour to kill."

 Room 224 turned out to be a large rectangular

 end room that was obviously rarely used as a place

 for anyone to stay but rather for small receptions

 and gatherings. It had been set up in this case

 with a head table in the front and a dozen or so

 folding chairs for an audience. Matson was there,

 as were two other stringers—the dark woman Cass

 had seen when they'd arrived and another, a huge,

 beefy man with a full beard and cold brown eyes.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 217

 Also present were two duggers, obviously the chief

 train drivers for the other two. One was totally

 reptilian, down to being covered in green, scaly

 skin and having a snout-like face with fangs, sex

 indeterminable, while the other was a man whose

 skin was all blotched and twisted, like a long-dead

 corpse. The foursome sat with the duggers, ner-

 vously eyeing the reptilian one. They didn't care

 so much any more about the walking corpse—he

 looked too much like a couple of duggers in their

 own train.

 Soon, three people entered. The first was an

 elderly man with long, flowing gray beard and

 hair that looked as if it had not only never been

 cut, but also never washed, combed, or otherwise

 cared for. He used a short cane to walk on, and

 seemed slow and stooped with age and infirmity.

 It was hard to imagine him as a wizard of power

 like the handsome Haldayne.

 The second was a young looking woman with a

 rather attractive face, although she was only a

 meter high, had bright green skin and dark green

 hair, and shell-like ears, while the third was a very

 fat man with a nearly bald round head who looked

 more than slightly drunk. None were the sort of.

 people who inspired confidence and dynamic lead-

 ership by their every look and gesture.

 They took their seats up front, the old one with

 difficulty, and for a moment said nothing, just

 looked out on those whom they had summoned.

 Finally the fat man and the tiny green woman

 looked over at the old one and he nodded absently.

 "The room and its contents are clean, although we

 have a Soul Rider present," he croaked in a voice

 that was barely audible to them. Cass jumped a

 little at that but decided to hold her peace for

 now. "That is either a very good sign or a very

 ominous one, depending on how you look at it."

 The other two nodded slightly in agreement.

 218 Jack L. Chalker

 "Now, then," the old one continued, "I am

 Mervyn, the lovely one here is Tatalane, and on

 the other end is Krupe." He brought up his cane

 like a rifle, and from it shot a tremendous spray of

 yellowish white energy- It struck the walls, then

 coated them as if a living thing, then floor and

 ceiling as well. When it passed under their feet it

 gave a very mild numbing sensation that lasted

 only when you were in direct contact with it. "These

 proceedings are now sealed," Mervyn told them.

 "What proceeds is for our ears alone. Although

 only three of our fellowship of nine are present, it

 is sufficient for action in this matter. I am going to

 call upon each of you to tell me the various facts

 that you know directly in this matter. We Will

 begin with the attack on the Arden train. Mr.

 Matson first, if you please."

 Matson stood and gave a general, brief descrip-

 tion of the discovery of the train, its grisly contents,

 and his conclusions from that evidence. Then Suzl

 and Nadya were called upon to supplement, then

 Cass up to the time she'd been knocked out, and,

 finally, Dar. He was hesitant in telling his part in

 the story and his feelings at the time, but this was

 brushed aside by Mervyn. "Just the outline," the

 old one told him, "no moralizing or excuses. We

 are aware of what happened. We are reading your

 reactions when these things are called up in your

 mind."

 Eventually, in this fashion, step by step, the en-

 tire story was told to them. The three listened

 passively, prompting only when necessary, and

 made no comments or gestures at anything told

 them or not told them. Ultimately, with the im-

 pressions of Persellus gleaned from Dar, Suzl,

 Nadya, and Matson, the tale was told-

 The three then lapsed into deep thought, not

 apparently conferring or even showing awareness

 of the others' presence, but finally Mervyn said,

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 219

 "Stringers Hollus and Brund, what do you think of

 this?"

 "Sounds like Haldayne, all right," the bearded

 stringer commented. "Cheeky bastard to use his

 own name like that, though."

 "Yes, isn't it? And you, Hollus?"

 "I never had a run-in with him, but it's clear to

 me that he ordered the deliberate murder of a

 stringer and took control of a valuable crossroads.

 This cannot be allowed."

 The two duggers were also called on for opinions.

 Both. except for wishing to avenge the duggers

 more than Arden, echoed Hollus.

 "If we were to take on Haldayne, it would re-

 quire not only the three of us but an army," Mervyn

 told them. "There are enough raw souls in a land

 that size to make its retaking very hard. Knowing

 Haldayne, he would never take us on directly, but

 he would make his minions, his conquests, and his

 would-be conquerors pay dearly for each tiny bit

 of Fluxland. We see only two choices. Either we

 retake Persellus bloodily, or we act to seal it off

 completely and totally reconfigure the trade routes.

 That is, isolate it and write it off."

 There was some consternation among all three

 stringers at that. "You can't just reconfigure those

 routes!" Matson protested. "It would take years to

 reestablish new patterns and get word to everyone.

 Not to mention the fact that it would take one of

 you near there permanently just to make sure his

 buddies didn't break through and unseal the land."

 "And yet the object of this exercise seems to be

 to draw us into a direct confrontation," Tatalane

 said, speaking for the first time. "He deliberately

 invites attention by moving this madman and then

 exhorting him to attack the stringers. He could

 clearly see the string on Cass and could have eas-

 ily eliminated it, but instead he allowed it to remain,

 meaning certain discovery of the pocket. He changed

 220 Jack L. Chalker

 his shape absolutely while in the pocket, yet

 seemed to go out of his way to display his manner,

 his ring, and his left-handedness to Cass. Any one

 of these might be overlooked, but the combination

 was certain to rouse suspicion. Even so, when, he

 could stay out of her way, he deliberately places

 himself in close contact with her in Persellus, then,

 when she could still prove nothing, sends four in-

 ept minions to subdue her, thereby proving her

 story. Clearly, too, Matson was allowed to see and

 then escape when it would have been child's play

 for Haldayne to have taken him, his train, and

 Cass."

 "Well said," Mervyn approved. "So he did every-

 thing but raise a flag to cover the sky of World

 saying, 'Here I Am—Come and Get Me!' He wants

 a fight, that is certain. He knows who and what

 he'd be facing. That, too, leads to two different

 possibilities. Either he is certain he can win, or he

 wishes to lose. It is that simple."

 Cass frowned. Why would anyone want to lose a

 battle?

 "Good point," Mervyn responded, as if she'd spo-

 ken aloud. "Why, indeed would someone want to

 lose a battle? Perhaps to prove to us that we saw a

 danger, met it, and vanquished the evil? Then we

 would all go our merry ways, satisfied in a job

 well done, and look elsewhere for the next evil. We

 would overlook what Haldayne really docs not wish

 us to see."

 "But what could that be?" Hollus asked him. "I

 know the crazy man said they were going to attack

 the gate, if there is one, but I didn't think that was

 possible."

 "Insofar as we know, the Guardians of the

 Gates of Hell have never been defeated or even

 tricked," Mervyn assured her. "Nevertheless, the

 conclusion is inescapable. Remember, however, that

 we know the location only of four of the seven

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 221

 gates. We do not know how many the Seven might

 know of—perhaps all—nor what they might have

 accomplished on one or more. The conclusion is

 inescapable. There is a gate lying between Persellus

 and Anchor Logh. We must assume that, somehow,

 Haldayne has access to and perhaps control of

 that gate no matter what logic says to the contrary.

 That is what he wishes to hide from us."

 "So what do you propose?" Matson asked him

 directly. He was growing impatient with the long-

 winded theorizing.

 "We must recapture Persellus, if only to do what

 he expects," the wizard told them. "We must also

 find out what he knows that we do not."

 "But it could also just be a trap for the three of

 us," Tatalane argued. "What if it is—and he wins?"

 Mervyn shrugged. "Then we will know at least

 that the gate is still secure and our successors on

 the Nine will know and avenge us. But if he loses,

 then the gate is open to Hell. Haldayne has six of

 the seven combinations to open the gates. Hell has

 most certainly worked out the seventh after all

 this time. If he has a way in, if he can talk to the

 horrors of Hell, he will have all seven and need

 only control of the physical gates to open them.^

 My friends, this is grave. We dare not ignore it."

 Mervyn thought a bit more. "Hollus, have you

 enough daggers able to follow strings to get to

 Domura, Salapaca, and Modon?"

 She looked back at the reptilian dugger, who

 nodded.

 "Brund? Can you take the alarm to Zlydof,

 Roarkara, and Fideleer?"

 The bearded man did not consult his dugger.

 "No problem."

 "Are you all three willing to avenge your slain

 comrades?"

 The three stringers huddled in whispers for a

 moment. Finally, Matson said, "We are agreed that

 222 Jack L. Chalker

 this thing can't be allowed to go on. Otherwise

 everybody will be doing it."

 Cass smiled slightly at that. That, really, was

 the feared stringer, the terror of Anchor and Flux—

 one who saw all World as a giant ledger sheet,,the

 battling storekeeper who would leave his lady's

 body to rot in the void but take strong action

 when his trade was inconvenienced. How utterly

 romantic.

 "Matson," Mervyn continued, "your train will

 be the point and guard along the route from here

 to there. We will supply equipment, explosives,

 and fifty good fighters to staff your outpost, all at

 least minor wizards."                     ^

 "Will they take orders?" he asked sourly.

 "They will because we will tell them to. You

 three also have between you almost two hundred

 young people from Anchor ready for the block. We

 will remold them and use them."

 That got the stringers upset again. "Who's going

 to pay for all this?" they all demanded to know.

 "Who is going to buy them if we tell them not

 to?" Mervyn responded with a slight smirk. "How-

 ever, we guarantee you an equal number for the

 market out of conquest if we lose them. Further,

 we will ourselves fill any specific goods Orders

 intended to be picked up in the old Persellus. That

 should restore a tidy bit."

 Mollified, the stringers sat down once more.

 "Hollus, Brund, you will work with Tatalahe in

 getting these new troops into line. Hollus knows

 Haldayne, which should simplify matters a good

 deal, while you, Brund, are particularly gifted with

 explosives, their transportation and use. This will

 have to be done in a newly created pocket between

 here and Persellus. There should be no traffic in

 either direction between Haldayne, Matson, and

 you, so it should be perfect—and private. We also

 have two Anchors to draw upon and I intend to do

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 223

 so. Since the four of you appear human and will

 pass muster at the gates, I am detaching you tem-

 porarily from Matson's service. I hate to break up

 a happy couple, but Dar and Nadya must accom-

 pany Krupe to Anchor Abehl, as we have no one

 from there here to assist. Because both Suzl and

 Cass have direct knowledge not only of the Anchor

 but the Temple of Anchor Logh, you two will come

 with me to Anchor Logh. There are things I must

 know there."

 They all four looked at each other in some

 distress. "I think I know the Temple as good as

 Suzl," Nadya responded. "Why split up the teams?"

 "Please do not waste time second-guessing me.

 We must move and move quickly. Do you not

 think that at this very moment Haldayne's spies

 aren't going mad trying to penetrate the shield on

 this room? However, just this once, I will explain

 that the rather unusual aspects of two of you are

 required for effect in Anchor, and both of you can-

 not be in the same place when the places you

 might be needed are three hundred kilometers

 apart."

 Dar looked at Suzl, who shrugged and grinned,

 "Have fun. I know / will!"

 He grinned back. "Yeah. I always wanted to see

 the inner sanctums of a Temple."

 "This Council is now adjourned," Mervyn pro-

 nounced, "and will convene again in twenty-seven

 days at the proper points around Persellus. With

 divine help, perhaps we can convene once again in

 Persellus. Normal precautions have been taken so

 that details of this meeting cannot be picked from-

 your minds. However, it is essential that we all get

 to our work and out of Globbus as soon as possible,

 for while compromise is inevitable we need not give

 the demon any advantage."

 The energy field retreated, flowing first back

 into the walls, then along them and back, it seemed,

 224 Jack L. Chalker

 into Mervyn's cane. Cass and Suzl went up and

 approached the old wizard, as the others ap-

 proached and talked to their appointed leaders

 and guardians. The wizard's eyes, an enigma from

 a distance, seemed surprisingly sharp and: full of

 life and energy up close. "Go, get your packs, sign

 out at the hotel desk, and wait for me there. We

 will go together. I rather imagine you are looking

 forward to this."

 "I'm not too thrilled with asking the Sister Gen-

 eral for help," Cass responded honestly, "but at

 least I'll have the chance to get word to my family

 that I'm all right. It'll be a shock to anyone who

 knows us to see us again. I don't know anyone who

 ever met anyone who went out in the Paring Rite

 and returned."

 "I'm just gonna have fun," Suzl told him. "I can

 sure defile their holy Temple and surprise a whole

 lot of people."

 "It is true that this is an unprecedented event

 for Anchor Logh, but this whole business is unprec-

 edented. Win or lose, I fear that our dear World is

 going to come in for some severe changes by the

 time this is all resolved," the wizard said seriously.

 "Damn. And before I saw most of it the way it is

 now," Cass muttered.

 They left him and went immediately back to

 their rooms. Nadya caught up with Cass as they

 approached their door. "Tough luck. But we'll get

 together again. I sure would like to get back home

 and rub it in their noses, though."

 Cass nodded. "I know—but I'd much rather be

 going back with an army than to get one. I still

 can't believe Anchor would ever send forces into

 Flux, not even on the request of the Nine Who

 Guard. We shall see. At least you can tell me what

 another Anchor is like. I've been curious to see

 how much they're the same and how they differ."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 225

 "Not like Fluxlands, that's for sure. Not with the

 church in such control—huh?"

 Suddenly the lights in the room went out, and

 both felt extreme dizziness and a sense of falling.

 Nadya recovered in what seemed like only a few

 moments, and looked around. The lights were back

 on, the door was closed—and Cass was nowhere to

 be seen.

 Cass drifted in a dreamy, uncaring fog neither

 asleep nor awake, not dreaming, not thinking, but

 just so, so relaxed.. ..

 After a while there were voices, distant and in-

 distinct at first but growing clearer with time. She

 heard them, a man's and a woman's voices, but it

 made no impression on her-

 "She is well protected," said the woman clini-

 cally.

 "She has improved her looks a good deal," the

 man's voice noted. "I guess she really is in love

 with that stringer. Ah! Unrequited love! Takes me

 back to my youth."

 "You never had a youth, love. Still, we won't get

 it by spell. That leaves it in my department. Good

 thing a drug is a drug."

 "So long as we keep it that way and there's

 nobody around to counteract it- It's simple and

 direct."

 The woman seemed to be fumbling with some-

 thing, and there was a mild pricking sensation on

 her-arm. They waited a while, just chatting plea-

 santly. "Lucky for you I was here. Your crude

 methods would have killed her before she talked."

 "Luck had nothing to do with it. I summoned

 you because I needed your help. Geniuses are few

 and far between, my love,"

 The woman snorted. "She's under but good. Let's

 get that spell off her," There was a sudden tingling,

 and Cass felt herself being drawn back to reality.

 226 Jack L. Chalker

 She was aware of everything, of every noise, feeling,

 sensation, more aware of such things than she had

 ever been.

 "Wake up, Cassie! It's your mom and dad here!"

 the man's voice called to her, and it did sound just

 like her father. She opened her eyes and saw, with

 some surprise, that she was under a tree in the

 pasture just outside her old farm, and her Mom

 and Dad were there, looking down at her.

 "I know you're only seven years old, 'but you

 must have had a big, bad dream," her mother told

 her.

 "Oh, yes. Mommy! It was real scary, too."

 "Did you dream about the old man with the

 cane that shot sparks again?" her father wanted to

 know.

 "Uh huh."

 "What happened this time after he shot sparks

 all over that room? You have to tell us your dream

 to make it go away."

 And, so, she told them, repeating the entire ac-

 count verbatim, just as it happened. All about the

 terrible looking people and the talk of war and

 strategy, all the way to when she walked back to

 her room with her imaginary playmate and they

 woke her up. It was all there, better than she could

 have remembered it any other way.

 "This is bad," her Mommy said. "You've been

 too clever for your own good, Gift. The old boy's

 already on to you."

 "And what'll he have?" her Daddy responded.

 "Persellus and a vague suspicion and nothing else.

 Eventually they'll scratch their heads, maybe put

 extra guards around the Gate, and that will be

 that, for all the good it'll do them."

 Cass frowned- Her Mommy and Daddy were talk-

 ing such funny stuff, the kind of stuff in her dreams,

 but to each other, not to her-

 "What about her?" Mommy asked, pointing to

 T ^

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 227

 Cassie. "So long as she has a Soul Rider she's a

 mortal danger to us all."

 "But we can't destroy Soul Riders, whatever

 they are. Kill her and it just takes over somebody

 else whose identity we don't know. No, I prefer my

 enemy in plain sight."

 "You just can't leave her here, though. That thing

 could come out and attack at any time."

 He chuckled. "Not yet. If it acts too soon it

 might get one of us but it'll be useless later on and

 it won't know the facts. No, I have a better, more

 effective idea. An original one." He turned to her.

 "Cass, you cannot move, but see me now as I am."

 Her father dissolved into another figure, a man

 she also knew. Haldayne. And, beside him, the

 woman, too, was visible, and she knew her as well.

 She knew, but she couldn't believe. Sister Daji!

 The sexy but dumb consort to the Sister General!

 Still gorgeous, still sexy, but hardly dumb. Not

 this one. Even the odd, ignorant tone in her voice

 had vanished, although she still had that very odd

 accent.

 Haldayne grinned, and it was obvious that he

 liked to have his victim know who was doing it

 before he did whatever it was. He put out a hand

 on her forehead, and it was warm and wet. "All

 memory flies," he intoned, "all that is there is

 null."

 Her mind literally became a complete blank.

 Cass no longer thought at all.

 "So, genius?" Daji taunted. "That isn't going to

 stop a Soul Rider when it wants to take charge."

 He grinned, and made a pass with his hands.

 Cass seemed to shrink down until she was very

 small, standing and looking up at giants.

 Daji looked down, and saw a magnificent look-

 ing falcon. She nodded approvingly.

 "What will you call her?" Haldayne asked.

 228 Jack L. Chalker

 Daji thought a moment. "How about Demon? It

 seems appropriate. But what good does this do?"

 "My dear, I said I was a genius. There is your

 passport back through the Guardians. They will

 not harm a Soul Rider and its companion. I know—

 I've done it once before. She is a falcon. She thinks

 she's a falcon, too, and will respond only to you

 and only to the name Demon. She is devoted to

 you, will obey your simple commands, and that is

 all- Now you just take her back to Anchor Logh,

 then keep her on a leg chain as a pet. Feed her

 mice and insects and she'll adore you forever. And,

 most importantly, there is no power in Anchor."

 Daji brightened. "Oho! I see! But what if it breaks

 away, or betrays me at the Gate?"

 "It won't. I have presented our powerful but

 predictable Soul Rider with a series of moral

 dilemmas. If it wants to leam the truth, as it must,

 it must accompany you all the way to Anchor.

 Otherwise it will never leam it, and it knows it-

 On the other hand, if it goes to Anchor, it is trapped,

 at least for the life of the bird. That should be

 more than enough time, I would think. Do not,

 however, let her off her chain. It can and might fly

 long distances, over walls and into Flux. That's

 what it plans on doing, you see, which is why it

 will cooperate with us. And, so long as you con-

 tinue to perform that little chore, we are safe."

 She kissed him. "Giff, you really are a genius!"

 15

 HELLGATE

 They flew from Persellus as great winged crea-

 tures of- their own imaginations, out from the

 Fluxland now remade in his image and into the

 void, following first the stringer trail marks, small

 bands of energy seen as a criss-crossing network of

 lines below them, then special marks on a fre-

 quency intended for their eyes alone. Held by a

 small chain to the foot of one of the creatures, the

 falcon called Demon flew with them, having no

 trouble keeping up.

 Finally the small lines below split and then joined

 again a ways off, outlining a circular pattern be-

 tween them. They descended carefully, landing at

 the point of the first split, and their forms shim-

 mered as they landed and became once more hu-

 man figures. Now both walked forward, leaving

 the trail lines, to a bright point ahead that only

 those trained and gifted as they were could see

 and understand. They were almost upon it before

 it took true form.

 The Hellgate was actually a saucer-shaped de-

 pression in the void, very regular, solid, and smooth,

 and immune to the void's energies and powers. A

 long ladder seemingly made out of the same stuff

 led down from the edge to the floor below, where,

 229

 230 Jack L. Chalker

 in the center, there was a dark circular area that

 was the true entrance.

 Daji calmed the nervous falcon and looked down,

 wishing she could calm her. own nerves so easily.

 "You're sure this will work?"

 "You got here that way, didn't you?" he soothed.

 "Nothing bothered you emerging from it,"

 "Yeah, but I had sent a couple of those silly

 novices through first to make sure. What's to pre-

 vent the Guardians from letting her through arid

 killing me?"

 "The Soul Rider won't allow it, because then it

 would never know. I do admit this is a one-time

 thing, my dear, but I feel much better with you

 not gone so long from Anchor but merely a few

 hours."

 Never before, since she and Haldayne had inter-

 cepted the real Daji in Persellus and substituted

 her as an indistinguishable carbon copy, had she

 met with him in the Flux. Always it was Haldayne,

 flying over the walls in the form of a common

 raven, who had sought her out. He, of course, could

 not change back from raven shape once in Anchor,

 but he could talk and discuss things with her virtu-

 ally within the Temple. Now he had summoned

 her, through the gate, for this very purpose—to

 trap the Soul Rider in Anchor as he would be

 trapped.

 "You must do it," he told her, "or the entire

 plan is lost. No one recruited you as one of the

 Seven—you volunteered, and you accepted my lead-

 ership freely and of your own will, without reser-

 vations. Either go back on that now, and lose it

 all, or trust me and go."

 She knew that what he said was true, and that if

 she refused it would not be merely the plan that

 died. Still, it was a terrifying thing to be asked to

 do, to enter a Hellgate from the Flux and survive.

 She took a deep breath. At this point she was dead

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 231

 either way, and only if Haldayne was correct did

 she have a chance. He did not risk leaving Persellus

 at this delicate time, even for a short while, merely

 to see her off. Without being able to neutralize the

 Soul Rider, inevitably drawn to such a scheme as

 this, the plan was nothing but bloody madness.

 She took a deep breath, let it out, then began

 climbing down the ladder.

 The powers of Flux still operated here in this

 fixed bowl, but she dared not use them, for they

 would inevitably attract the unknown Guardians

 of the Gate—unknown because none had ever seen

 them and survived. She reached the bottom, her

 bare feet providing decent traction, and walked

 slowly and apprehensively towards that dark cen-

 ter spot. The falcon made a sudden fluttering mo-

 tion with its wings, as if trying to fly away, startling

 her and almost making her fall, but her nerve held

 steady and she again pulled the bird back on its

 chain to her and then held it against her breasts,

 petting it and somewhat calming both of them.

 Up close the dark hole showed a web-like grid of

 strong cables going completely around it and down

 into the darkness. She knew what to expect, and

 gingerly turned and started climbing down, the

 bird placed down on her shoulder and seeming a

 very heavy and unbalancing weight. It was not,

 however, far to the floor, where the webbing

 stopped and a tubular structure replaced it, going

 off horizontally in front of her. No horrible Guard-

 ians had yet appeared, and she began to relax a

 bit: She did not doubt, though, that those Guard-

 ians existed. Once, at another Hellgate, she watched

 while sacrificial slaves had been ordered in, saw

 the flashes of multicolored energies fly out of the

 dark central hole, and had heard the horrible

 screams of agony from the slaves as they had been

 destroyed.

 The tunnel was long and sloped slightly down-

 2.^2.             Jack L. Chatker

 wards, but again was no problem. Although made

 of apparently seamless material the yellow-orange

 color of the void itself, it was actually sectioned,

 and as she reached the first section it glowed for a

 distance of ten meters in front of her. She walked

 forward, and near the end of the light, at the gap-

 ing darkness, the next section came on. When she

 entered it, the first section winked out. There were

 seven such sections, and in this direction it was a

 long, long walk indeed. Now, though, she reached

 the end, and before her was illuminated the gate

 itself, a great swirl that might be solid, might be

 energy, or might be itself alive. To her right was a

 large, blocky machine that did not seem to belong

 to this eerie place, with its hundreds of small

 squares and its read-out screens. This was the lock-

 ing mechanism, and the ultimate trap for anyone

 attempting to open the gate, clearly placed here

 not by the builders of the gate but by someone, or

 something, else. To walk into that swirl, without

 all seven machines being fed their unique combina-

 tions within sixty seconds, would trigger instant

 vaporization.

 But she turned away from swirl and machine, to

 the wall opposite the locking device. There was

 nothing whatsoever to mark or otherwise distin-

 guish the wall from any other part of it, unless you

 knew the proper pattern. She pressed it in several

 spots with the flat of her hand, eventually tracing

 a pattern that had no meaning to her. A section of

 the wall glowed bright red, but she did not pay

 any attention to it, turning around instead to see

 an intricate pattern now traced on the floor of the

 tube, almost in front of the machine. It was a

 duplicate of the pattern she had just traced with

 her palm on the wall, enclosed in a circle of red.

 She walked to it, then into the center of it. There

 was a slight moment of dizziness, and the Hellgate

 vanished, replaced with the view of a dark and

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 233

 damp sub-basement piled high with the signs of

 work.

 She stepped off the cleared and swept spot and

 into dust and debris, and as she did she felt all

 sense of the Flux leave her. It made her feel empty,

 as it always did when she entered Anchor, as if

 something wonderful and important had been taken

 away.

 She had left her regular robe here when she'd

 left, and had reentered naked so that she would be

 as unencumbered as possible. She groped in the

 dark and found a small light switch, then pushed

 on it. A small, naked light bulb hanging from a

 wire came to life. She saw her robe on the nail,

 then managed to put it on, although she found she

 had to remove the bracelet binding the falcon's

 chain to her to do it properly. She had a few

 seconds of nervousness at that, but the falcon made

 no move to escape. Now she reattached it, and slid

 back the bar that sealed the door to outside entry.

 She opened it carefully, stepped out into the

 corridor, then reached back, shut off the light, and

 closed it again. She fumbled in her robe, found the

 key, and then locked the door again from the

 outside. She had spent a lot of time making the

 door look like nothing more than a bunch of

 nailed-on boards covering a crack in the foundation,

 and it was very convincing.

 A dozen novices, working secretly at night for

 more than six months under her direction, had

 first discovered the old door, then taken up the old

 concrete flooring inside the room. The sub-basement

 was a secure area: the wardens and their monitors

 did not reach this far down, and, in fact, only the

 Sister General and the chief warden had keys to

 the area at all, almost never used except during

 the annual maintenance checks. It had been easy,

 though, to get the key from the Sister General's

 safe and give it to the raven Haldayne, who, of

 234 Jack L. Chatker

 course, easily returned two so identical they even

 had the same old markings under a microscope.

 Things done in Flux held as they were in Anchor,

 within, of course, the physical laws of Anchor. No

 huge flying creature such as she had become from

 Persellus to Hellgate could fly in Anchor—it was"a

 violation of the fixed laws of physics. But a raven

 was a raven, in Flux and Anchor, and so was a

 falcon.

 She went swiftly now through back passages

 and service areas she knew by heart, avoiding the

 wardens' mechanical security sensors as only one

 with an intimate knowledge of the building could,

 then took the small back hidden stairway to the

 Sister General's luxurious apartment, using combi-

 nations even the Sister General had probably not

 bothered to learn. Explaining the falcon would not

 be a great problem. She had one of the very few

 VIP necklaces given out by the Sister General that

 made her immune to most of the security devices

 in the temple. The wardens would not necessarily

 see her go in or out at any time, nor would they

 bother to note or log it if they did.

 After checking and finding, to her relief, that the

 Temple chief was not home, she checked the time

 and then the schedule on Diastephanos' desk. She

 had selected this time because the Sister General

 was supposed to be out of town visiting some of

 the local churches for three days, but there was no

 way to guarantee that the old bitch wouldn't louse

 her up by coming home early. Clock and calendar

 said that Sister Daji had cut it close, but still had

 a margin of several hours, perhaps a whole day,

 before the play began again. That would be very

 convenient.

 She removed the falcon-restraining bracelet once

 more and clipped it around the brass air condition-

 ing duct, letting Demon perch on the back of a

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 235

 chair. The bird still seemed very calm and some-

 what confused, and that suited her fine.

 She went to the intercom and buzzed the war-

 dens' office. "This is Daji," she told them unneces-

 sarily, using the vacant and ignorant intonation

 she always used. "When is she coming back?" There

 was no need to say who "she" was.

 "We expect her any time after eight this evening,"

 a warden told her. Again she glanced at the clock.

 Barely three. "Thanks," she said, and switched off.

 Almost five hours.

 She took a long, comfortable bath, then put on

 only the loose, open informal robe and called

 services. A novice was sent up immediately, who

 took her dirty clothes and also received a written

 notice signed by the Sister General for the special

 construction to be sent up. The novice bowed and

 left. Poor, brainwashed idiots, she couldn't help

 thinking. She recalled the ones who'd done all the

 work for her below. All now were Haldayne's

 creatures, having tested the Hellgate passage be-

 fore she dared go through.

 She got a bite to eat from the small kitchenette

 while she waited. After twenty minutes or so, the

 buzzer rang and two novices delivered the solid

 wood perch she had ordered at Haldayne's instruc-

 tions days before. She thanked and dismissed them,

 then took it over and placed it by the Sister

 General's desk, then moved Demon from her odd

 perch and attached her to the ready-made one.

 She fed the bird some raw meat from the small

 refrigerator, then went to work on the sewing ma-

 chine in her small and normally unused office area.

 Soon she had a scarlet hood, which fitted over the

 bird's head. As she'd hoped, the falcon went to

 sleep.

 She sighed, finally relaxing, and realized that

 Haldayne had done his homework well. This time

 he'd thought of all the angles, of that she was now

 Jack L. Chalker

 236

 certain. This time, for the first time, a known and

 guarded gate would be totally in the hands of the

 Seven, making only three to go. If it worked here,

 it would work, with variations, elsewhere- The long

 centuries of frustration would be nearing an end.

 Now she redid her hair, applied perfumes and

 make-up, then went back into her office, lifted the

 sewing machine off its cabinet, reached in and

 took out three medium-sized pill bottles. She re-

 moved one pill from each, then replaced them in

 their hiding place and resecured the sewing machine.

 She went back into the living room area, turned

 on the small entertainment console and took a

 tiny clear cube no larger than her thumb nail and

 put it in the device. Standing there, she dictated a

 long string of sentences, then programmed the

 device. It would play until she shut it off, but

 when she shut it off it would self-erase.

 She poured herself a whiskey and soda, then

 took the three pills, then went over and turned on

 the recorder to playback and sat back in a large,

 comfortable chair, feet up.

 It took several minutes for the pills to take effect,

 and she just lay there, relaxed, and let them do

 their job. The recorder kept going, and, finally, it

 was the only thing in her mind.

 "All memory gone, floating, relaxed, so pleasant,

 so free of any thought, any worry, anything at all,

 just feeling so, so good and relaxed... . You are

 Sister Daji, and she alone is you now. Let her

 come, let her become you, flow into you, so that

 she alone is in control. . .." Then came a series of

 instructions to Daji, an explanation of the falcon

 and perch, and an account of what she had been

 doing these past three days. She drifted into a

 deep, deep hypnotic trance.

 Haldayne had created Daji by working in Flux

 with the real one, before he transformed her into

 another of his creatures. The Daji persona was

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 237

 then transferred, also in Flux, to her, where it

 resided, complete but separate from her. No chances

 could or would be taken of any compromise in her

 identity, which was totally submerged, inactive,

 until brought forth again by a special trigger com-

 mand given by Haldayne or one of his agents or

 another of the Seven.

 And so the woman who awoke with a start in

 the chair was not an agent, nor did she even know

 what the Seven were. She was, in fact, a carbon

 copy of the original Daji, a woman with the body

 of a goddess, the mind of a child, and an insatiable

 worship of and lust for older women. The agent of

 Hell had not minded. Otherwise, this sort of life

 would have been unbearable.

 The woman in the chair frowned, annoyed by

 the prattle of the recorder. She got up, went over

 to it, and shut it off. The recording on it erased

 automatically. She popped out the small module,

 picked another at random and popped it in. A

 lively tune began playing, which she started hum-

 ming along with and dancing to. Eventually she

 tired of the game and went into the Sister General's

 office and walked up to the sleeping falcon. "Oooo,

 my pretty birdie! Daji's just gonna love you to

 death."

 It was well into the night, and the Sister Gen-

 eral had long ago returned. Now both she and Daji

 were asleep on the bed in the next room, and the

 entire complex was in darkness save for a small

 nightlrght in the commode.

 Deep below the temple, below the sub-basement

 and foundation itself, below even the glassy-smooth

 rock base, something triggered on. Now there was

 a slight hissing noise in the sub-basement itself,

 and in the area marked in dull chalk in the empty

 and damp room a form took shape. None in An-

 chor could see the form, and none in Flux would

 238 Jack L. Chalker

 want to. It was a creature of pure energy, yet so

 terrible was it to gaze upon that humans would go

 mad at the sight, could they see it at all. Slowly it

 looked around, not seeing as things of flesh and

 blood saw but sensing energy and receiving direc-

 tion- Slowly, it stepped off the chalk-marked area

 in the floor and up to the door. Although the light

 was still switched off, the lone hanging bulb sud-

 denly glowed.                              ;

 It paused only a moment at the door, then seemed

 to flow under it and out the other side. Once in the

 corridor, which itself became lit as the bulbs re-

 ceived the energy from the creature, it moved slowly

 and deliberately down to the far end, where a

 complex of machinery whined dully. It merged

 carefully with the power grid, not wanting to over-

 load it, although those still awake not only in the

 Temple but throughout the capital's electrically

 powered area frowned and noticed lights seemed

 to be burning brighter and electrical devices seemed

 to speed up slightly.

 Firmly in the power grid, the creature rode it,

 searching the entire Temple area until it came

 upon the one place it was searching for. The tiny

 nightlight in the Sister General's bathroom glowed,

 then flared and burnt out, as the creature entered,

 but other lights came on in their ghostly fashion.

 In the bedroom, one of the sleeping women gave a

 muffled cry, turned over, and was soon fast asleep

 again.

 The creature was not heading for the bedroom,

 but for the Sister General's office. The rear area

 was again in darkness as the lights in the office

 came eerily to life.

 The Soul Rider inside the sleeping bird read the

 intense energy field and was confused. It knew the

 nature of the creature, but could not comprehend

 how it had gotten here. Still, it understood that

 the unknown power that directed its destiny had

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 239

 sent an ally, although it was unprecedented in

 form. The Guardians of the Gates of Hell were in

 fact creatures of Flux with a specific mission, and

 to have one detach itself from that mission was

 almost impossible to believe.

 The Soul Rider sensed the Guardian, but had no

 common language to speak to it, if, indeed, such a

 creature had speech. Still, when the Rider under-

 stood that the Guardian was about to touch its

 host, it screamed out, "No! Do not destroy the

 host!"

 Energy touched the sleeping bird, and engulfed

 it, then transformed it. Matter became energy, and

 the stronger of the three entities now carried the

 other two in a manner that had no words to

 describe. Back again they went to the bathroom,

 and into the electrical system at the nightlight.

 Again, all electrical devices flared in the capital,

 and in the wardens' security office the alarm board

 rang. The startled warden looked up at the board,

 which showed every single alarm in the Temple

 triggered all at once, with all the tiny lights flash-

 ing on and off. "Damn!" she swore. "A stinking

 short on my shift!"

 Below, the Guardian emerged once more from

 the power grid and walked to the door in the

 sub-basement, then flowed under it and back to

 the chalk-marked area. The area glowed for a

 moment, and then they were in the tunnel at the

 gate to Hell itself.

 The Guardian moved swiftly up the tunnel, which

 blazed with light, then up through the hole and

 into the air above the saucer-like depression. The

 Soul Rider and its companion were flung high into

 the air and out, away from the gate and into the

 void.

 The Soul Rider was confused and bewildered,

 but lost no time in acting. Having been present at

 the casting of the spell on its host it knew the

 Jack L. Chalker

 240

 counter, and rushed it into form, with modifica-

 tions to suit the occasion. It did not understand

 what had just occurred, but it certainly knew why.

 The energy that had been transformed from mat-

 ter became matter again, reconstituted. Cass burst

 into sudden consciousness, remembering everything,

 including the details of what had happened while

 she was in bird form, although it all seemed distant,

 unreal, almost like it had happened to someone

 else. Her last clear personal memory had been

 going into the hotel room in Globbus.

 Instinctively she stretched out, and was startled

 to find that she did indeed have wings. So she was

 still a bird, and it had been no dream, but she was

 now in Flux, thinking, remembering, and free. Sh^

 wondered how she had gotten here, since the last

 bird memory was the Sister General and Daji

 playing with her, then hooding her to sleep, but

 here she was, suddenly whole in mind and flying

 through the void.

 Only it wasn't a void.

 Below she saw the void as wizards and stringers

 saw it, a criss-crossing network of complex lines of

 differing colors and intensities. They had an insub-

 stantial look to them, much the same as the after-

 image of a swinging light, but they were fixed in

 place and could be followed.

 She banked and circled a moment, staring at the

 patterns, flying as if it was the most normal and

 natural thing in the world to her, but she felt some

 concern. She knew she had to get back, to warn

 Matson and the others, but which of those strings

 led to Globbus? Which to Persellus? Which to other

 places, perhaps Anchor Logh itself?

 Although there were countless secondary strings,

 there were only three main ones, so she picked one

 at random and followed it, hoping it would lead

 eventually to someplace that would orient her.

 Although there were no real landmarks except the

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 241

 occasional patterns in some of the secondary strings,

 she knew that she was flying abnormally fast and

 realized that she was feeling neither hunger nor

 thirst. The Flux was supplying all the energy she

 required.

 She was upon it almost before she realized it,

 breaking through into Anchor, At that moment she

 felt herself start to drop like a stone, and with

 great difficulty she turned herself back into the

 void, thankful that she had had enough altitude to

 make it in time. Strength and that curious sense of

 weightlessness returned. Now, at least, she knew

 where she wasi for below her as she'd started to

 fall had been the apron and gate to Anchor Logh-

 Now two main trails led from Anchor, and she

 pikd the right-hand one, remembering Matson's

 comment that Globbus and Persellus were almost

 the same distance from the Anchor. She realized

 after a bit that she still wasn't certain if this was

 the route to Persellus or to Globbus, but she had

 no choice now but to follow it and pray that there

 were no other forks. Suddenly she passed over two

 figures, odd enough to see along any route in the

 void. She was going too fast to tell much about

 them, but banked, slowed, and approached them

 again, flying high enough, she hoped, to avoid their

 detection but just low enough that when she banked

 and came around again she could see more about

 them.

 Both were mounted on horses with just saddle-

 bags for their gear. One was a young, handsome

 man dressed in riding clothes who had a full, light

 beard. The other was a small, well-built woman,

 bare from the waist up but wearing a broad-

 brimmed hat and blue denim work pants. She rec-

 ognized the figure. Suzl! But who was the other

 man? An agent of Haldayne's, or one of Mervyn's

 men? After all this, she decided she had to risk an

 appearance. At least these two, alone, would be

 Jack L. Chalker

 242

 easier to deal with if the man were an enemy than

 an armed and wizard-filled camp suspicious of

 everything and likely to shoot first and ask ques-

 tions afterwards. She came around again and this

 time dipped low in front of them, so both coutd

 see her. She saw their faces look forward and up,

 and their mouths droop, but they made no hostile

 moves. Both riders, however, stopped, and she cir-

 cled once more as they watched and landed right

 in front of them.

 With a shock she saw that she was as large as

 they were, if not even larger. They stared at each

 other for a moment, and she wondered if she could

 speak. Finally she said, "Suzl?" It sounded right.

 Suzl frowned. "Cass? Is that really you? Hoty

 Mother of Universes! What in hell happened to

 you?"

 Feeling a little relieved, she responded, "First,

 who's that with you?"

 The young man chuckled. "Why, my dear, I am

 Mervyn." His voice changed, taking on the old

 man's low, broken cackle. "We are what we choose

 to be in Flux."

 She looked back at Suzl. "Is that right?"

 She nodded. "Yeah. Second biggest shock I ever

 had. You're the third. What happened to you at

 the hotel? Who changed you into—that?"

 "I'm not sure what 'that' is," she told them

 honestly. "Some sort of bird, I guess."

 "Some sort, yes," Mervyn agreed, and made a

 gesture. Between them appeared a huge mirrored

 surface, and she could see herself.

 Her body was that of a giant falcon, and her

 arms were wings, but her underside, raised up and

 facing them, was human all the way, and she had

 her own face, although feathers replaced hair on

 her head. She stared at the reflection for a mo-

 ment more in wonder than in shock or horror.

 "The only reason I didn't bring you down was

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR ify

 because I sensed the Soul Rider still inside you,"

 the wizard told her. "It has certainly delivered you

 from evil." The mirror vanished, and both riders

 dismounted and sat down, relaxing. "Now, then,

 tell me all that you have been through. Spare

 nothing."

 She went into extreme detail, although it still

 seemed like a dream to her. When she finished the

 wizard just nodded and sat thoughtfully for a

 moment. Finally he said, "It is very clever. It is. in

 fact, diabolical. It should have worked completely,

 for I know that white a Soul Rider can exist in

 Anchor its powers there are minimal and mostly

 involved in influencing specific actions of others. I

 would love to know how you escaped, how it

 escaped."

 "I'm not sure / do," Cass replied. "I don't have

 any real memories between the time they stuck

 that hood over me until I was suddenly flying in

 the void, but there's a sense there of something—

 terrible. I really can't describe it."

 "I can read it inside you, but aside from verify-

 ing your sensations there is nothing more I can

 make of them. It is certainly not anything I've ever

 experienced from a Soul Rider before, nor are they

 particularly—terrible, as you call it." He sighed-

 "No matter for now. It is a question now of what

 to do next."

 Cass looked at them. "If you're such a powerful

 wizard, how come you two are riding to Anchor

 Logh? Couldn't you just transform the both of you

 into flying things like me and make it quicker?"

 "I could," the wizard agreed, "but, for one thing,

 we would arrive without bags or horses, and that

 would terrify the guards. There were also other

 factors, not the least of which was timing. I needed

 some time to think, and it would not do to arrive

 too early. If we got the aid we are seeking they

 would be hot to ride out immediately and on their

 244 Jack L. Chalker

 own, and that would be disastrous. And, finally, I

 wanted to check this route in detail, for it forms

 the third arm of the triangle with Globbus, Persellus,

 and Anchor Logh, with the Hellgate in the center

 of that triangle. I wanted no surprises, and could

 trust none but a wizard of my rank to do the

 survey. I suspected that Haldayne was not acting

 alone. Otherwise he would not be so bold in his

 actions."

 "Well, you'll clearly get no help from Anchor

 Logh, not with dear Daji as the power behind the

 throne."

 "On the contrary, I think we will get it. This

 dual personality trick is a favorite of Haldayne's in

 Anchor, because it is impossible to detect there.

 By the same token, a command from a third party

 must be made in order to summon up the original

 personality."

 "But surely Haldayne and she have agents in the

 Temple, ones that will find out I escaped and trig-

 ger it."

 "Perhaps," Mervyn replied, "but perhaps not.

 All the Daji personality knows is that her pet es-

 caped and is gone. This will upset her for a while,

 but the Sister General will console her and give

 her a new toy or something and she may forget all

 about it. The agents might never know, or never

 know the importance. Even if they do find out,

 they must trigger the other personality, and

 one or more must be taken through this intriguing

 gate access and then get to Haldayne, who must

 respond. This will take time, particularly since

 those agents are unlikely to be wizards of any

 significance. By that time we will have had our

 audience."

 "Maybe," Cass said dubiously, "but what good

 will that do us? I mean, if this woman is this

 highly placed, then she's probably got agents or

 corrupt innocents all over the place. That army

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 245

 might wind up fighting on the wrong side if at

 all."

 "But I don't care about its loyalty," Mervyn told

 her. "Don't you see? Haldayne has rigged things to

 lose. They will contribute and they will fight well

 with us because of that alone. After—well, think of

 this. Isn't it obvious to you by now that we must

 not only conquer Persellus but Anchor Logh as

 well?"

 Both of the others looked shocked. It really hadn't

 occurred to either of them until now.

 - "And, if we do, I certainly would prefer a good

 share of their army out under our control in Flux-

 It'11 make things a lot less bloody, I suspect." He

 laughed. "No, now that we know it all, I think we

 are about to give a truly bitter pill to Mister

 Haldayne." He sighed and got up. "And now we

 must let the others know of our plans. That will

 mean a slight inconvenience."

 "I could fly back with it," Cass suggested. "I

 kind of like this."

 "No, unless you were lucky enough to come across

 a first class wizard they would at least try to kill

 you, certainly not listen to what you have to say,

 or believe a word of it if they do. I'm afraid I must

 go, but this time I will take the express. You two

 are still half a day's ride from Anchor Logh. You

 go on, and I will catch up to you."

 It was Suzl who looked distressed at that. "But

 how will we find our way in the void?"

 Mervyn chuckled. "That should present no prob-

 lem at all. You see, as she is just discovering, Cass

 is a wizard herself and a fairly strong one, al-

 though limited right now to her own self,"

 "What!" they both cried in unison.

 He nodded. "It took this stress and trauma to

 bring it out, although it has been latent all along.

 That is why the Soul Rider chose you. I knew it

 the moment I sensed the Rider, for Riders are

 Jack L. Chatker

 limited to using the powers and abilities of their

 hosts. That is why your escape is so puzzling-

 Flux has no power in Anchor, as you well know.

 Now that you know, and now that crisis has brought

 it out, you can use it. You could not have found lis

 unless you were following a main trail—correct?"

 Cass nodded soberly. "Yes, that's true. I found I

 could see them. But I thought it was the Soul

 Rider or the transformation."

 "No. It merely brought them out in you. Now,

 understand, you have power but no knowledge-

 That means that this power as regards specific

 things will affect only you or that which you need

 or which threatens you. Without much study and

 much mathematical training you cannot know how

 powerful you really are or use it practically. But

 you can follow this trail, and if you need water

 you can find or even create it. Besides, I still want

 a good look at this whole route by a wizard I can

 trust. You fill that bill."

 "But—what about this form?" she asked lamety.

 "If you concentrate hard enough, you can be

 anyone or anything you wish to be, with any

 attributes you need," he told her. "It will take

 much experimentation to get it right all the time,

 but you should at least have no problem whatso-

 ever in becoming yourself, for you know your true

 form better than anyone. Try it now. Just close

 your eyes and concentrate on your old self. Picture

 it, and want to be that way again. Go ahead."

 She did as instructed- She remembered herself,

 not as she was, but as she remembered that slightly

 redone Cass in the mirror at Miss Rona's. She

 pictured it, remembered it, and called up the same

 amazed satisfaction.

 She opened her eyes. "See? Nothing?"

 "Oh no?" Suzl responded. "Don't you feel a

 little—shorter? And maybe a little hairier?"

 She looked down at herself, and gasped. She

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 247

 was, in fact, human once again. That body looked

 very familiar, although it was stark naked. She

 brought her arms up and looked at her hands. Her

 handsl She felt her head, and there was hair there,

 although not tied, just streaming down. "I did it."

 she said wonderingly.

 "That you did. And if you need to be a bird

 woman again, just think of that image you saw.

 That's the way it works on a personal basis."

 She grinned. "I'll be damned! Wow!" She hesi-

 tated a moment. "But—wait a minute. I can't go

 into Anchor dressed like this."

 "Why not?" Suzl asked. "That's the way you left

 it."

 The wizard shrugged. "We'll have to teach you a

 few simple tricks when we can. For now—" he

 snapped his fingers—"that should do it." And,

 suddenly, she had on a short-sleeve red pull-over

 shirt, brown work pants, and boots. "Yeah, you

 will...." she breathed.

 "Well, I'm off. If I'm not back before you get to

 Anchor, wait on the apron for me. Under no ac-

 count go in there alone. Particularly not you, Cass.

 If word is out, Haldayne will have you marked for

 instant death this time, Soul Rider or not."

 16

 HOMECOMING

 They rode along for a while, just getting up to

 date.

 "After you disappeared, and Nadya came scream-

 ing out of the room, there was holy Hell to pay all

 over Globbus, I'll tell you," Suzl said. "It was

 pretty clear after the initial search failed to find

 you, though, that you'd been snatched and carried

 off, and there was no problem guessing by who

 and where to. They met again after that and

 switched some things around, particularly the train-

 ing and stakeout stuff, but otherwise they just ac-

 cepted it. There wasn't anything they could do

 short of attacking Persellus then and there, and

 they weren't ready to do that yet, no matter how

 much we screamed at them."

 She thought for a moment. "How did Matson

 take it?"

 "He was pissed. Took it as a personal insult.

 Wanted to ride in with a rescue right away. I think

 he really likes you, Cass."

 She smiled. "I wonder what he'll think when he

 finds out I'm a wizard? Me—that's still pretty hard

 to accept."

 Suzl shrugged. "I don't know. There was always

 something funny about you, ever since we got

 248

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 249

 caught up in that Paring Rite. Even when bad

 things happened to you they turned out O.K."

 "Does it change anything between us—as friends?"

 "Not on my account, uh uh. Might be good to

 have a friend with some power around here. What

 about you, though? Everybody says when you get

 that kind of power you go nuts."

 "Maybe I always was nuts, so it doesn't matter. I

 don't know, Suzl. I guess I don't really believe it

 yet. Back in the gym, when we all got together and

 swore we were coming back and take our revenge

 on Anchor Logh—I didn't believe that, either. Not

 for a minute. And yet, here we are, heading back

 in, with you and me knowing that they plan to do

 just that. I'm really off balance, and have been all

 this time. I mean, just think of the others."

 "Huh?"

 "The others taken in the Paring Rite, not just in

 Anchor Logh but all over World. Almost nobody

 escapes becoming somebody's slave or somebody's

 thing. And yet, here we are, right in the thick of

 great events like World's never seen before. Maybe

 causing a lot of it. I never thought of myself as any

 great mover and shaker. I mean, I'm still me, Cass,

 off the farm at Anchor Logh."

 Suzl shrugged. "Maybe it's because we think of

 those big movers and shakers all wrong. Maybe we

 build 'em up after they're dead and gone or some-

 thing into saints and angels and all that. I think

 maybe that all those greats really went to the

 bathroom same as we, and maybe got stomach

 aches and thought of themselves as folks just off

 some farm. And they probably were."

 "Yeah, but why us? Why not a couple of the

 others? Ivon or Krai or Jodee, for example? And

 why now?"

 "I think it's just gotta be somebody, sometime,

 and we just happen to be it. I don't think it's

 planned. Look, the way I see it, this bastard

 250 Jack L. Chalker

 Haldayne came up with this plot and put it into

 operation. This brought forth your Soul Rider or

 whatever it is, who picked you because you were

 the first one it ran into who had this power or

 whatever. Now, whether or not it was that thing

 or you that went nuts and violated the Temple

 we'll never know, but maybe it picked you because

 it knew you were the type to do just that. Who

 knows? This Mervyn reads minds pretty good, I

 think, and if he can, why not a creature of some

 kind? Once you were stuck with it, it used you and

 your power to unmask the plot. All because it,was

 just floating along or something and you just hap-

 pened to be the first one in the way. See?"

 She sighed. "Maybe you're right. Uh—this Mervyn

 and you have been riding along for some time. Did

 he do anything about your—problem?"

 She laughed. "I don't have a problem. Other

 people might, but I don't. Oh, he looked at it,

 decided it was too complicated, and offered to

 turn me one hundred percent male. That he could

 do."

 "And you refused?"

 She nodded. "I like it this way. Because you got

 snatched we had extra time, and I went over to

 one of the bars. Had a ball with it. Nope, I like it.

 No more periods, no more afraid of getting pregnant,

 none of that. But I like the way I look, and I like my

 tits and ass. I got the best of both worlds. There's

 lots of guys who only like other guys, you know.

 I'm the only one you know that can have it both

 ways and not be a pervert." She giggled at that.

 "And Dar, of course."

 "Yeah, well, maybe. But he's still pretty hung

 up on his maleness, and I don't think he'll ever

 have the kind of freedom I feel."

 "Speaking of freedom, how come the shirtless

 look? It's sexy with your equipment, but hardly

 usual."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 251

 "Men don't have to wear shirts if they're com-

 fortable without them. Oh, don't worry, I have a

 couple packed for dear old Anchor Logh. This is

 just kind of a turn-on. Makes me feel really free,

 that's all."

 They rode along, laughing and joking like two

 schoolgirls. When the horses seemed thirsty, Cass

 found it easy to identify which of the off-trail strings

 led to water pockets. It was all becoming very

 familiar very fast now. She was beginning to enjoy

 this newfound sense and the power it brought, and

 she only hoped she had enough self-control to keep

 from going wild with it. That, of course, was the

 madness of the wizard.

 Mervyn still hadn't returned by the time they

 reached the border of Anchor Logh. Because traffic

 was being stopped in Globbus and was not likely

 to come via Persellus, they felt reasonably safe in

 remaining there, just inside the Flux. Cass did not

 take Mervyn's warning lightly—Haldayne now

 would kill her on sight, since time was so crucial

 at this point that he would bet the Soul Rider

 would not find another suitable host in time to

 stop him.

 "He seems so confident," Cass said worriedly.

 "But Haldayne's good, real good, and he knows

 more about his enemies than they do about him."

 "Sure, but if he's on to the fact that we know

 about his lady love there in the Temple, he might

 just give it up as not worth it," Suzl responded

 hopefully. "What's the use of fighting it out if you

 can't gain anything?"

 Cass shrugged. "Who knows what he thinks? I

 wish I knew more about what this was really about."

 "Huh? Sleep through your religion classes? It's

 ail checking out in that department."

 "Well, maybe. But I've been through that gate to

 Hell, and I've seen the so-called sacred seal. The

 gate's supernatural enough, but that seal is a

 Jack L. Chalker

 252

 machine, Suzl. Real strange looking all right, but

 a machine all the same, a very fancy kind of ma-

 chine but still a relative to the ones in the capital

 and the Temple. It sure wasn't put there by the

 ones who built that Hellgate—it just looks 'too

 different, that's all. More like something we would

 build if we knew how. Now, if the Holy Mother

 and Her Blessed Angels forced the demons into

 that hole and then sealed it with the seven seals,

 why did they use a machine? Why not just use the

 Flux power, or godly powers? And don't give me

 that crap about the ways of gods and demons

 being unknowable to humankind. Somebody knows.

 Haldayne, for example, knows, and maybe Mervyn

 does, too."

 "Yeah, but the old boy didn't know the gate

 connected to the Temple until you told him. Boy! I

 never saw him so shook!"

 Cass nodded. "The big thing is, if you can use

 this gate to get to the temple in Anchor Logh, then

 the odds are you can get to other Temples through

 other gates. That says to me that, for some reason,

 it's the Anchors that are important in this, not

 really the Flux, and I'm sure old Merv's wondering

 now just how many Anchors Haldayne's side al-

 ready controls. He sure knows more about those

 gates than Mervyn and the others."

 Conversation drifted to other things as they

 waited.Time hung heavy in the void if only because

 there was no sense of it. Finally, though, a huge,

 dark shape came from the direction of the trail.

 They watched, ready to dart into Anchor if need be,

 but the enormous flying shape landed, shimmered,

 and changed into Mervyn's old man form, and

 they relaxed. Cass saw that there was a certain,

 indefinable something radiating from the man that

 marked Mervyn as Mervyn and no one else to her.

 Suzl, however, needed her nerves calmed, for she

 had none of these senses.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 253

 The wizard walked up to them carrying a small

 satchel. "I've notified everyone I could find of your

 information—those that needed to know it, anyway,"

 he told them. "We want to keep your escape secret,

 and I'm afraid I didn't tell them the source, so you

 are still officially missing, even to my fellow

 sorcerers. We are going to move up the attack,

 even though we might not have everybody, just to

 keep Haldayne off balance." He put down the

 satchel, fumbled with the catch, then opened it

 and reached inside, first bringing out a cube, al-

 most a meter square, of some undefined grayish

 substance. He put it in front of him, stepped back

 and made a gesture with his wrist. The cube

 shimmered, grew, and seemed to inflate as if it

 were some sort of balloon, until, standing there,

 was a full-sized living mule. "It's so convenient

 when you have to to be able to compress them

 down to maximum survivable density," he said,

 ignoring their total lack of understanding.

 He reached down into the bag once more and

 pulled out clothing. "We are going to have to be

 convincing," he told them, "and have easy access.

 Both of you get undressed here and now. We're

 going in undercover, you might say."

 After she undressed, the wizard handed her a

 robe- It was the scarlet and gray robe of a parish

 priestess. She put it on, and it was a bit too large

 for her. "Well, grow into it. You're going to have

 to change your appearance totally here and now

 anyway. We want as many basic differences be-

 tween you and your original looks as possible, and

 height is important because it's the first thing

 noticed. I want you very tall in bare feet—call it a

 hundred seventy-five, even a hundred and eighty

 centimeters. Very tall. And looking like nobody you

 know."

 She frowned. "That's tough. Aside from my

 friends, the only women I can think of enough to

 Jack L. Chalker

 254

 concentrate on are my mother, my sisters, and

 those two priestesses."

 He sighed. "Oh, very well. Stand still." He made

 a flinging gesture with his hand, and suddenly the

 robe fit very well indeed. She towered over the

 very short Suzl, who stood back and nodded. "Not

 bad. Maybe you ought to keep that."

 She desperately wanted a mirror—so desperately

 that the reflective surface Mervyn had used before

 materialized in front of her. She was stunning,

 very tall and perfectly proportioned to the height.

 Even her figure was absolutely perfect, and, unlike

 the experiments at Miss Rona's, it felt very com-

 fortable, Her face, a near-perfect oval set off by

 very large, dark brown eyes and short hair of the

 same color, and her light brown skin made her

 almost the living model of religious pictures of the

 Holy Mother.

 She wished the mirror away and was startled to

 see not Mervyn but another woman there, this one

 about halfway between Suzl's height and her own,

 also dark and attractive but dressed in a skin-tight

 outfit of what looked like red leather, with high

 red boots and even a cape- The strange woman

 was helping Suzl into a black outfit—a stringer's

 outfit.

 "Don't be so shocked," said the strange woman

 in a deep, melodious voice. "We have to see a high

 priestess in a Temple. You didn't expect them to

 let me just walk in the way I was, did you?"

 She laughed, feeling that sense of recognition

 she could not define. This was the third guise for

 Mervyn, and the most confusing of all. Since Suzl

 refused to permit a disguise by sorcery, she was

 instead going in slightly different clothing. She was

 soon dressed as the shortest, cutest stringer in

 anybody's memory. Mervyn then went over their

 cover names and stories and rehearsed them until

 they got it right. Suzl would be Sati, the name of a

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 255

 real female stringer that would be on the guard

 lists, but a stringer who had not been to Anchor

 Logh, being relatively new in the business. Cass

 would be Sister Kasdi, of Anchor Bakha, an An-

 chor far to the southwest of Anchor Logh but still

 closest in that direction, and an Anchor in many

 ways similar to Anchor Logh. She was given a

 spell-reinforced history and geography lesson that

 made her feel like she really had lived there. Mervyn

 would be Mera, a professional woman.

 "Matson told me that they were anxiously look-

 ing for an electrical engineer," he told them. "I

 have some knowledge in that field and I think I

 can pass as a possible applicant for the job."

 Satisfied, they mounted, Cass taking the mule as

 was appropriate for priestesses, although she hated

 the side-saddle riding method that tradition dic-

 tated a priestess adopt exclusively. All set, they

 rode into Anchor.

 Suzl had taken, apparently in Globbus, to smok-

 ing and slightly chewing on thin, crooked little

 cigars. While it was all part of the self-image she

 now had, she stuck one in the side of her mouth as

 they rode in and it gave a very good added effect

 to her stringer act. She led the mule with Cass

 aboard by a small rope, with Mervyn bringing up

 the rear. Suzl's whole expression and body took on

 a look of arrogant tolerance of the surroundings,

 like a government minister forced to tour a gar-

 bage dump, and she was obviously enjoying her-

 self to the limit. She rode right past the shantytown

 of tents and dugout buildings and the small semi-

 permanent population of duggers there and right

 up to the gate. A guard watched them, and when

 she stopped in front of the opening he called out,

 "Who are you and what is your business and

 intent?"

 "My name is Sati, stringer," she responded boldly.

 "I am still apprenticed, and was delegated to take

 256 Jack L. Chatker

 these two from the Hollus train at Globbus, which

 is not heading here, up to Anchor Logh and the

 Temple."

 The guard vanished for a moment, then the outer

 gates closed with a dramatic rumbling. They w&ited

 there a couple of minutes, and then they opened

 again. There were now three soldiers, well armed

 and looking spiny, on horseback in the gate, and

 they rode towards the waiting trio. Cass recog-

 nized the officer who led them as one of the men

 at the gate that terrible night they'd left Anchor

 Logh.

 Suzl barely glanced at them, but reached down

 into her saddlebag and pulled out a small book,

 handing it to the officer. He looked it over, then

 looked at the three of them, and frowned. There was

 nothing unusual about such detached deliveries—

 they happened all the time—but his job was to

 ensure that these were legitimate. He rode out a

 bit further so he could see the guard atop the

 tower. "What do you say?" he called up.

 "Checks out, sir," the guard responded. "She's

 on the last list given to us by the guild, and she's

 apprenticed to Hollus."

 He nodded to himself and turned back to her.

 "And what is your cargo?"

 "Two passengers, that's all," Suzl told him.

 "Sister Kasdi was sent over here from Anchor Bakha

 for some specialized training in the Temple, and

 Miss Mera was traveling with another train when

 Matson came through with the word that you were

 looking for engineers. She decided to come on up

 and look your charming land over to see if she can

 save herself a longer trip to another job." Cass

 admired how Suzl made the words "charming land"

 seem like the nastiest of insults with sheer in-

 tonation.

 The officer looked at the other two. Cass looked

 back at him, smiled sweetly, and gave him a bless-

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 257

 ing with her hand. It unnerved him for a moment.

 Finally he said, "All right, will you two ladies

 please dismount?" They did, Cass with slight diffi-

 culty she hoped wasn't obvious. "Stringer, you

 come in first and file the papers for the passes.

 Ladies, these two troopers will remain with you

 until we have passed through, then take you through

 with them."

 Suzl, the animals trailing, rode confidently into

 the gate and the officer followed. It closed, there

 was a pause, and then it opened once more. Suzl,

 at least, was back in the land of her birth.

 They followed behind the troopers and into the

 gate, which closed behind them. One of the troop-

 ers turned and said, "Our apologies. Sister, Lady,

 but we must arrange for a search. Please remain in

 here and do not move until someone comes for

 you."

 Cass looked over at Mervyn, but just got a shrug.

 For him it was just routine, but to her this was a

 new experience. She wondered, though, what all

 the fearful and prejudiced folk of Anchor Logh

 would feel if they knew how silly and useless their

 dreaded gate and defenses really were? It was pretty

 obvious that people went from Flux to Anchor and

 back all the time, no matter what the official line

 was—or even if the officials quoting that line knew

 it.

 They waited there a few minutes, and then a

 priestess came into the gate. She was quite young,

 her robe of light yellow very plain and unadorned,

 saying that she was not long out of the novitiate.

 Clearly this was a bottom-rung job.

 She approached Cass first, who outranked her

 by her robe's indication, then kneeled. Cass had

 seen this done enough to have no problems with it.

 "The blessing of the Holy Mother be upon thee for

 eternity," she pronounced. "Be free and do your

 duty."

 Jack L. Chalker

 258

 The young priestess rose, bowed slightly, and

 responded, "We thank thee, Sister, for thy under-

 standing and blessing. Humble apologies to you

 both, but it is required that you both disrobe com-

 pletely for physical examination. You have seen

 out there what lurks in Flux, and while we realize

 that it is most unnecessary on your part we can

 make no exceptions."

 Cass smiled, undid, and removed her robe, let-

 ting it drop to the ground. Mervyn, dressed more

 complexly, had more of a problem, and was assisted

 by Cass in reaching the same state.

 For a groveling priestess not yet even allowed, to

 have a name of her own or use the personal

 pronoun, she was most thorough in her inspection.

 Clearly she did not want to be here forever, or

 worse, and just one slip and worse it would be.

 Finally she nodded and said, "Please put your

 clothing back on, and again our humblest apologies."

 "That's all right," Mervyn soothed. "If you had

 seen what we have seen in Flux you would know

 just how important your job really is."

 She smiled, not realizing how totally irrelevant

 that job was.

 The priestess in yellow led them to the other

 side, where Suzl waited, looking impatient and

 bored. Both of the newcomers were given a form

 to sign, and then issued passes good for one week

 maximum. Of course, should they be allowed by

 the Temple to stay, then they would be granted

 citizenship.

 The officer and a trooper assisted Cass in re-

 mounting her mule, then they were off along the

 main highway to the capital. They were well along

 and far out of sight of the guards when Suzl finally

 laughed. "So much for their security. Checked you

 two over with a microscope, and you both phony

 as can be, while they just kept shoving papers at

 me and never even looked me in the eye."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 259

 "I counted on that," Mervyn told her. "Remember,

 a bureaucrat does not believe in Heaven or Hell,

 Church or Government. A bureaucrat only believes

 in paper."

 They rode on, stopping overnight in Lawder, a

 small town about halfway to the capital. Cass found

 her disguise both annoying and fun at one and the

 same time. Annoying, because as a priestess she

 had no money and had to more or less beg for

 food, drink, and lodging from the locals and was

 really prevented from going to the bar and other

 public rooms. It was FUJI, though, in that she was

 treated deferentially by almost everyone, and it

 was funny to watch them try and control their

 language and behavior around her. She found some

 diversion, though, in the fact that, as an outside

 priestess, everybody wanted to confess to her and

 this became the main agent of barter. It was obvi-

 ous that many sought absolution from sin but did

 not relish confessing to their local priestess, who

 would be living in the same town with them.

 Since she had been through the ritual on the

 supplicant end most of her life, she knew all the

 proper things to do and say, and it occurred to her

 more than once that this, more than anything else,

 was the most effective way in which the church had

 the pulse of, and control of, the entire community.

 They barely needed the spies and agents she had

 imagined when she'd seen the dossiers on that

 screen. All they needed was weekly updated re-

 ports from each and every parish priestess on the

 confessions of the faithful-

 She soon had quite an earful from the locals,

 too. Clearly Anchor Logh was not the calm, straight-

 laced community she had always imagined it being.

 It was one thing in Flux, but here, in a place she

 thought she new, she began to feel a stranger.

 Jack L. Chalker

 260

 They set out again the next morning, Suzl feel-

 ing a little grumpy because Mervyn had stopped

 her fun in the bar short of the payoff. She knew, of

 course, that this was not the time, and that there

 was much danger in exposure, but it still irritated

 her.

 By early afternoon they were approaching the

 capital, and as they passed a large farm Suzl and

 Cass halted and looked suddenly serious.

 "What's the problem?" the wizard asked them.

 "Over there is where both of us were bom and

 raised," Cass told him. "Our families are still there.

 I'd hoped to be able to see them, tell them I was

 all right." She sighed. "I guess I can't, looking and

 sounding like this."

 He thought a moment. "If you can pull it off, not

 blow your cover or break down, it might be all

 right if you just, say, carried the news as a third

 party," Mervyn said. "Do you think you can act

 the part in front of people you know? They won'f

 know you, remember, for you are someone else."

 "I'd like to try—for their sakes," she responded

 honestly. "I think, after all, this is something I

 have to do."

 "All right then," he agreed. "Go and do it. We

 will go ahead and register at the hotel. Don't take

 more than one hour, then follow us in. That will

 give us a chance to settle and get the lay of the

 land, as it were. Meet us there, and we'll discuss

 what to do next. And if anything goes wrong here,

 anything, break off and come to us immediately. I

 want no surprises here that we don't generate."

 She nodded. "I will. The Holy Reverend Sister

 Kasdi will behave." She turned to Suzl. "Want me

 to pass on any word about you?"

 She thought a moment. "Just tell 'em I'm free

 and I'm happy." She had a sudden thought. "I

 hope nobody who knows me is in town now." She

 alone appeared, at least, the way she had^een.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 261

 "There is very little chance of that," Mervyn

 told her. "It is midweek, after all. Let's cross that

 bridge when we come to it."

 They left Cass there, and for a while she hesitated.

 Here it was—the large box she- had come to check

 that day that now seemed so long ago, the day she

 had seen Matson riding in. The difference between

 that child and her now, although separated not

 really all that long in time, was an unbridgeable

 chasm.

 Sh& decided, though, to walk down the road,

 and tied up the mule at the post box. How many

 times had she walked down this same road to

 those buildings? She looked over at the pastures

 and could still identify and name just about every

 horse and cow she could see.

 Finally she reached the familiar complex, and

 made the almost automatic turn that took her to

 the blacksmith's shop. The old sounds of iron

 being pounded and reshaped caused her heart to

 skip a beat, and she began perspiring despite the

 slight chill. Could she do it—or not? She sighed,

 and took several deep breaths to get hold of herself.

 As she had told Mervyn, she had to.

 She walked in the barn-like open doors of the

 smithy and saw her father there, dunking a horse-

 shoe in water, as two other smiths and three ap-

 prentices worked elsewhere. She approached her

 father, the tension rising within her. He looked up,

 frowned, stared a moment, then put down his work

 and came to her. "Yes, Sister? What can I do for

 you?"

 She repressed the urge to fling her arms around

 him and hug and kiss him as she so desperately

 wanted to do. Instead she said, "You are the father

 of the girl called Cass who was taken in the Paring

 Rite?"

 He suddenly went a bit tense and white. "Yes.

 What's this all about?"

 262 Jack L. Chalker

 "I have news of her."

 He looked suddenly very concerned and she could

 see the emotions within him rising, despite his

 efforts to contain them. "Speak," he said hoarsely.

 "I have just come through the Flux from Anchor

 Bakha- During that journey I met many from this

 Anchor. Most are suffering as expected, but your

 Cass is doing well."

 He looked very interested and slightly relieved,

 but he wanted to know more.

 "I cannot tell you of the Flux, except that it is

 very strange," she continued, struggling with the

 words. "However, there is some opportunity there

 for those with special talents. Your Cass and three

 others from this riding have broken their bonds

 and now work as paid employees for a stringer,

 mostly tending to animals. They were healthy and

 seemed happy, but were anxious that I carry news

 back to their families."

 She could hardly believe it. Were those truly

 tears in her father's eyes? Never, ever, had she

 known her father to cry, not under any conditions,

 and she was so touched by it that she had to

 fight back tears herself.

 "Cass also wanted me to inform others that the

 ones called Suzl, Dar, and Nadya are also safe,

 well, and have jobs and careers- Alas, for the

 others—there is the purging. Will you see, though,

 that their families also get word?"

 Her father broke down at that point, dropped to

 his knees and took and firmly clasped her hand. It

 was at once both touching and embarrassing, but

 she knew she had done the right thing. She also

 knew that she'd better get out of there before she

 broke down completely herself.

 "I must go," she managed, voice breaking, "but

 I am glad I could bring you some joy. Cass said to

 t-tell you s-she loved you, and missed you, but that

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 263

 she was probably happier now than she would

 have been back here."

 He didn't want to let go of her, but she managed

 to break free and walked out, leaving him sobbing

 in his shop. She walked briskly back down the

 road, the light wind stinging the copious tears that

 now flowed unchecked and unstoppable.

 It was dark and she was once again in the city

 before she had completely cried it out.

 She went immediately to the hotel, tying up her

 mule, and went inside. Suzl was sitting there smok-

 ing one of her little cigars and looking through

 the paper, while Mervyn was checking the hotel

 directory. They saw her, and came over to her.

 Suzl saw at once what sort of experience it had

 been for her. Her eyes were puffy and red.

 "How'd it go?" she asked gently.

 "It went fine. The job got done with nobody the

 wiser, but I'm afraid it was pretty hard on me."

 "Poor kid. It must have been tough,"

 She nodded. "Real tough, but worth it. I'll never

 regret it no matter what happens from here on

 in."

 Mervyn came up to her and whispered, "Let's

 step outside for a moment, Sister." They followed

 him out into the darkened street. "All right," he

 went on when he was sure they were not being

 overheard, "we're in too late to do anything tonight.

 Sister, you will have to stay at the Temple, of

 course. Just relax, act the part, and get a good

 night's sleep. In the morning, go out and wait for

 us in the Temple Square." He paused for a moment.

 "I'm afraid you're going to have to go through

 their whole rigamarole."

 She shrugged. "I think my lessons will hold up.

 Don't worry about me—I've been more places in

 that Temple than anybody not working there, and

 if your spell holds they're not going to be able to

 264            Jack L. Chalker

 make much use of hypnotic drugs to get any

 information."

 "It'll hold," he assured her. "Go. We have a

 busy, and risky, day tomorrow."

 She nodded, and led her mule down streets she

 knew so well towards the great, lighted Temple

 spires.

 "Any problems?" Mervyn asked her in the crisp,

 clean morning air when they met in Temple Square.

 "None that I know of," she told him- "I had to

 do some explaining, and a lot of praying and

 chanting, but that's about it. It's not bad when

 you've got rank. Novices to wait on you hand^and

 foot, private rooms with all the amenities, soft

 feather beds. They know your covers, though—I

 had to tell them that."

 He nodded. "Don't worry about it. We won't

 need them long. Come."

 Together all three of them went up the Temple

 steps to those forbidding bronze doors, opened

 them, and stepped inside. Cass saw that Suzl was

 playing the memory game from her glances. In

 there is the chapel, down there is the gym where they

 marched us, over there are the Temple boarding rooms

 for young girls in town, over there is the library

 stairs. .. . She had done much the same the night

 before.

 Mervyn seemed to know his way around pretty

 well. "They're all built pretty much the same," he

 told them. Standardization. They went down the

 library stairway but did not make the turn to go

 down the next flight to the library itself. Instead

 they stopped, and Mervyn knocked on an unmarked

 door opening onto the landing. It opened to reveal

 a puzzled warden. "Yes?" she asked.

 "I am here to deliver a message to the Sister

 General. Can you take one to her from me?"

 The warden looked hesitant. "I can't just disturb

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 265

 her for any old thing. You can take it up with the

 proper channels."

 "I have no time to be put off by bureaucrats

 whose job it is to put me off," he responded curtly.

 "If you get this message to her, she will see me. If

 you do not, I will raise something of a stink that

 will be as unpleasant for you as for me. At the end

 of that time I will probably be hauled off to jail,

 but the Sister General will get my message in the

 report and then we will change places, or worse."

 The warden did not seem moved by this, and

 made as if to close the door. Mervyn stuck his foot

 in it, then pushed the warden backwards with a

 shove. Clearly that woman's body he'd tailor-made

 for himself had a lot of nasty surprises, for the

 larger, tougher-looking warden flew back as if struck

 by a sledgehammer. Aghast, Suzl and Cass fol-

 lowed him into the wardens' room.

 Three other wardens were in there and came on

 the run when they saw the problem. Mervyn

 reached behind to his long cape and brought out

 an automatic rifle. They stopped, unable to believe

 that anyone would commit such sacrilege.

 "Sati, shut that door. You on the floor—get up

 and get over with your sisters. Now! And all of you

 just stand there and stay away from any nice little

 buttons or consoles. I am a creature of Flux and I

 will not hesitate to shoot. If I do, the spray this

 thing makes in stopping one of you will kill all

 four of you."

 Suzl reached under her shirt in the back and

 pulled out a small automatic pistol, reinforcing

 Mervyn and freeing him to move. "You four—come

 into the outer room here with us. Don't touch

 anything or try anything funny."

 They obeyed, hands high, but they glared at her.

 "You'll fry in Hell for a thousand lives for this,"

 one hissed.

 "I already been there, honey, and it don't scare

 Jack L. Chalker

 266

 me a bit," she snapped back. "Ca—Kasdi, you watch

 'em and if you see one of 'em pull anything funny,

 you yell and they're gone."

 "You'll never get out of here alive," one of the

 wardens said smugly. "You know that, don't you?"

 "If I don't, neither will you," came the equally

 tough reply. Suzl, Cass noted, was loving every

 minute of this, and there was genuine hatred and

 contempt in her expression and manner. This was

 no act. She ached for revenge.

 Mervyn studied the control panel for a moment,

 checked out its switches and relays, then found the

 master manual and thumbed quickly through it.

 He found what he was looking for immediately,

 and tapped four numbers on the intercom pad-

 There was a buzzing sound, then an unfamiliar

 voice answered. "Sister General. What is the

 problem?"

 "There is an urgent message here for the Sister

 General's ears alone," he said into the speaker. "It

 is urgent. Put her on at once."

 There was a sigh at the other end, and the con-

 nection was muted for a moment. Finally a far more

 familiar voice said, "This is Sister General Diasteph-

 anos. What is the nature of this emergency?"

 Mervyn looked over at Cass, who nodded. That

 was her, all right.

 "The Seven Who Come Before have gathere'd at

 the gates of Anchor to release the spawn of Hell,"

 he said carefully. "The Nine Who Guard call upon

 the holy church for aid."

 There was a long pause, and then the Sister

 General asked, "Who is this?"

 "Pericles," he responded.

 Again there was silence. Finally she asked, "Are

 my wardens all right? I assume it wasn't easy to

 get in to use the intercom."

 "They are mad and angry and vengeful," he toid

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 267

 her truthfully, "but aside from a slight bruise on

 one of them they are in fine shape."

 "Who's watch officer?"

 He looked over at the four. One of them said,

 sourly, "Daran."

 "Put her on."

 Mervyn gestured with the gun and the chief war-

 den came over to the intercom. "She's here," he

 told her.

 "Daran, this would not have been necessary if

 you had not refused to carry the message. These

 people are not criminals, nor are they committing

 sacrilege. How many are there?"

 "Three, Your Worship," the warden said glumly.

 "Two have guns, and the third's pretending to be a

 priestess."

 "She may very well be one," the Sister General

 snapped back. "Now, listen carefully. You are to

 escort these three to my office without delay of

 any kind. Understand? I want no trouble and no

 revenge. If there is any trouble or any action of

 any kind taken against them you will all be exiled

 to Flux immediately. I mean that."

 "But Your Worship—"

 "No buts! Deliver them immediately, healthy,

 and with no problems and I will forgive all. Do

 anything else—anything—and you will all curse

 the day of your birth and the parents who bore

 you. That is all."

 The watch officer sighed. Mervyn smiled at her

 and handed her his rifle. She seemed startled, then

 undecided, suppressing an urge to fire anyway.

 Instead they walked into the other room, where

 Suzl handed over her pistol as well. There ensued

 a great debate among the four in which the watch

 officer had to exercise abnormal control just to

 keep them from tearing the three limb from limb

 or at least working them over with rubber hoses.

 Once the officer had made her decision, though,

 Jack L. Chalker

 268

 she stuck to it. When the warden who had been

 shoved back tried to attack Mervyn anyway, the

 watch officer struck her in the mouth with the

 rifle butt. She looked mad, but finally calmed down,

 as blood from a small cut trickled from the side of

 her mouth.

 "Now, then," sighed the watch officer, "let's all

 go see Her Holiness, shall we?"

 Leaving the guns in the security office and then

 locking up, they all walked back upstairs, into the

 chapel, then back into the sacristy. Cass had a

 feeling of having been here before, but now she

 was with someone who knew the way.

 Ultimately they reached the first of three-secur-

 ity doors. Obviously the Sister General's own area

 had been reinforced since Cass had blundered in.

 Each of the doors could be opened only from the

 inside, by someone who first could look at who-

 ever was out there and take action if necessary.

 The wardens generally expected their way to be

 barred at this point, and action taken, and seemed

 extremely surprised when each door opened for

 them with no hesitation.

 Finally they reached the office of the Sister

 General. It looked much the same as Cass remem-

 bered it, although she'd had a very different view

 the last time. Sister Daji was nowhere in sight, but

 to the left of the Sister General's huge desk the

 falcon perch still stood, and why not? On it was a

 falcon.

 The Sister General looked at the mob, then said,

 "That will be all, wardens. Retire to your posts and

 await my instructions." They bowed, bewildered,

 and exited.

 She looked at the three of them in turn, settling

 on Mervyn. "I don't have to guess which one of

 you is Pericles."

 "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Des?" he re-

 sponded lightly.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 269

 The tone and question startled both Cass and

 Suzl. It was obvious now that, somehow, these

 two actually knew each other!

 She came over and hugged the wizard. "You

 wore that guise just for me, didn't you?"

 He laughed. "I figured if nothing else you'd get a

 photo from the police with a report on my doings."

 She laughed. "You always were the one for di-

 rect actions. But, enough of this^ for now. I'm going

 to have problems with my security staff for a long

 time over you three. What is this really all about?"

 Mervyn looked around. "Is it just us in here?"

 "Yes. I cleared the rest out. Please, all of you,

 have a seat and we'll talk."

 "Not everybody was cleared," Mervyn remarked

 casually. "I see we have a spy over there."

 She laughed. "Oh, Demon. Yes, my secretary

 went roaming in the marketplace while I was away

 on business and bought her as a surprise for me-

 Unfortunately, she seems to like the secretary far

 more than me. She's safe, though."

 Mervyn nodded, and Cass began to wonder if

 she in fact had dreamed the whole thing. Was it

 instead some odd story planted in her mind by

 Haldayne? Was she, in fact, loosed with false infor-

 mation in her mind to contuse and disrupt the

 Nine? She felt suddenly very confused.

 "Haldayne has taken Persellus and means to move

 on the gate," the wizard said simply. "We are

 mounting a massive force to retake it, supported

 by myself and two others of the Nine." Quickly,

 and in a businesslike fashion, he outlined the en-

 tire plot, leaving Cass out of it completely, though,

 as well as Daji and the part Anchor Logh played in

 it. She listened attentively, her face grim. When he

 had finished she asked, "What do you want me to

 do?"

 "How large is your troop force?"

 She thought a minute. "I don't have the exact

 270 Jack L. Chalker

 figures, but not counting the new recruits in train-

 ing after Census, about a thousand,"

 "Let's count the recruits."

 "Then, perhaps a hundred more plus training

 instructors. But we need a minimum of three hun-

 dred to man and guard the borders."

 He nodded. "That's fine. Give me five hundred

 under your best officers and noncoms. Get them in

 Flux and I'll see they don't crack. Once we break

 Haldayne's shield we'll need warm bodies to overrun

 and root out what's left of Persellus. He's very

 strong and has had time to prepare."

 "Do you think you'll catch him this time?" she

 asked, apparently getting caught up in the adven-

 ture of it.

 "We're going to try- That's all we can do, no

 more. There is nothing I would like more, as you

 well know. Half a dozen times I've had him in my

 nets and he's managed to slip away. But, with

 your gracious help, we'll beat him this time, at

 least."

 "You shall have it and welcome," she responded.

 "And what will you do with it—after?"

 He shrugged. "Sister Kasdi has a great deal of

 talent and is now training under me. A church-

 controlled Fluxland in such a strategic position

 would consolidate quite a bit and secure the gate

 for some time."

 She thought about it, and liked the idea. "A

 church-controlled Fluxland. It was the dream of

 the Founding Mothers, but somehow it's never come

 to pass. It would create a church-held domain over

 a hundred and fifty kilometers southwest." She

 turned to Cass. "You must do it! You have the best

 teacher in the world for it. Why, it could be the old

 dream—the training and university ground for the

 Church, as Globbus is for wizards."

 "I will consider it. Your Eminence," Cass re-

 sponded carefully, trying to make sense of all this,

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 271

 The idea of her becoming a Sister General wizard

 to a Fluxland church indoctrination center was

 ludicrous at best. She wondered what the Sister

 General would think if she knew who really sat

 before her in the guise of a tall priestess. Again she

 felt frustrated that she had no idea what games

 were being played here, only that everybody seemed

 to know and understand more than she did-

 It was, in fact, as simple as that insofar as get-

 ting the troops was concerned. The Sister General

 herself would give them the commands and see

 them off, and they would be ready at the western

 gate in three days. They were ready now to leave,

 with a total pass from Her Eminence herself, when

 Mervyn asked, "Where's that secretary of yours?

 I've heard some stories about her."

 She laughed. "Daji? Around someplace, I suspect.

 Absolutely gorgeous body, but rather empty in the

 head, I fear. I have to keep it that way, if only for

 security."

 He nodded. "I understand. But if you could spare

 her for these next three days she'll be most helpful,

 as your secretary, in clearing away bureaucratic

 barriers just by her presence. I can use her, so

 don't worry about what she doesn't know."

 The Sister General laughed. "You're just trying

 to get her away from me so you can have some

 fain. But, all right. Take her. I'm going to be too

 busy for her anyway, it appears, and she only has

 one thing on her mind all the time, bless her." She

 pressed a buzzer and there was a muffled response.

 "Is Daji about?"

 Again a muffled response. She nodded. "Send

 her up. She's going on a little trip with some

 friends of mine."

 17

 SORCERERS

 Sister Daji had seemed quite confused when or-

 dered by the Sister General to go with the three

 nice ladies and do what she was told, but after a

 tittle heart-to-heart talk in the other room she went

 along with it, at least grudgingly. Cass could not

 get over the contrast between the woman she saw

 now and the one she had seen with Haldayne.

 It seemed almost inconceivable that this bubble-

 brained airhead could possibly be a mistress of

 Hell and conniving plotter -

 They went out the door and down the Temple

 steps, Daji clutching a small overnight bag. Some

 birds scattered into the air as they descended the

 stair, but one bird, a particularly large raven, did

 not. Instead, he circled and then settled atop one

 of the lampposts along the sides of the square

 itself and watched the four figures come forward.

 There were few people about, although there was

 some traffic on the streets and a couple of people

 were sitting on one of the benches in the square,

 and two yellow-robed Sisters were walking towards

 the Temple as the quartet walked away.

 Still, Cass had an uneasy feeling she couldn'.t

 shake off. Something seemed very wrong, although

 things had been going well from Mervyn's point of

 view. It had started with the falcon still in the

 272

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 273

 Sister General's office, grown worse at meeting

 Daji, and was now building to the breaking point.

 She looked around nervously, studying everyone

 in the square, her eyes finally reaching the two

 approaching Sisters. There was just something

 about them, something very odd... .

 "Everybody watch it!" she cried suddenly. "Those

 Sisters are wearing boots!"

 "Caw!" screamed the raven almost immediately.

 "Caw! Caw! Caw!"

 The two "Sisters" split from one another, reach-

 ing in and drawing guns at the same instant.

 Mervyn dropped where he was and pulled an auto-

 matic pistol, firing at the closest attacker first. The

 "Sister" fell back with the force of the shots, blood

 soaking the front of the robe while her gun clat-

 tered as it fell. The other, however, dropped and

 rolled, and had time to open fire before Mervyn

 could bring his pistol around. Suzl had dropped at

 Cass's warning and now rolled towards the first

 assailant's fallen weapon, while Cass managed to

 make it behind a post that afforded some protection.

 Birds and people were screaming and panicking

 everywhere.

 Daji, however, had just stopped and stood there,

 looking very confused. As a result, she took the full

 blast of the second assailant's shots and staggered

 back, then collapsed on the paving stones, writh-

 ing and groaning. Mervyn fired at the assassin but

 scored only a grazing blow. Then his gun went

 dead, empty. The woman in yellow, realizing this,

 stopped, raised her own gun, and pointed it di-

 rectly at the wizard, who had nowhere to run. A

 volley of shots rang out, echoing across the square

 and against the Temple walls, and the killer spun

 and fell dead.

 Suzl looked a little surprised that she'd shot so

 well from such a distance, and smugly blew the

 smoke away from the barrel. Mervyn, however,

 Jack L. ChaUcer

 274

 was in no mood for gratitude or theatrics. "Shoot

 the raven!" he cried. "The raven'" He pointed to

 the large bird atop the lamp, but before Suzl real-

 ized what he was saying and could make sense of

 it the bird launched itself into the air and was

 soon lost from sight to the southwest.

 Cass ran over and helped Mervyn up. "Damn!"

 he swore. "It was Haldayne and we almost had

 him!"

 Suzl walked cockily over to them. "He almost

 had you, you mean. Where the hell did you get

 that pistol?"

 "Trick compartment in the cape," he told her.

 "They took the rifle, left the holder, and it was still

 there. Damn you, though! Why didn't you shoot

 the raven while you had the chance? I had a spell

 on you that made you a great marksman. You

 could have had him!"

 "And lost you," she responded, getting a little

 irritated.

 "What do I matter?" he growled. "That raven

 was Haldayne. If we had gotten him we could

 have taken Persellus without any real losses."

 She shrugged. "Sorry. Next time I'll let you die

 and shoot every damned bird in sight." She looked

 around. "Where's Cass?" They both looked, and

 found her kneeling beside the fallen Daji. Aicrowd

 was gathering fast, and police could be heard on

 their way. Mervyn elbowed his way through and

 knelt down beside Cass.

 Daji was mortally wounded, but still alive,

 Gasping, blood running from her mouth, she looked

 for all the world a hurt and confused child. She

 choked once, and then something seemed to grow

 within her, filling her face and particularly her

 eyes. Her whole appearance took on a different

 look, and she coughed and gulped down air. "Damn

 you!" she screamed, in a far different, more self-

 assured voice filled with hatred and fear. "Damn

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 275

 that bastard Haldayne! Always the genius! Always

 the double-dealing genius! I should have known,

 you. . .." She shuddered and went limp, and her

 eyes now held a vacancy that even Daji had never

 known.

 Police and Temple wardens came through, pull-

 ing them away. Cass stepped back and shook her

 head sadly. "It's crazy," she said, not particularly

 to Suzl although that was who was there. "I actu-

 ally feel sorry for her. I don't know how I can pity

 her, but I do."

 Suzl shrugged. "Well, she certainly was what

 you said, that's for sure. Man! That was weird,

 seeing her change like that."

 Cass nodded. At least she was vindicated in her

 own mind about it all- Daji had certainly been

 with Haldayne, and that meant the rest of it was

 almost certainly true as well. She looked up for

 Mervyn, and saw him with the authorities inspect-

 ing the body of the first killer. Both assassins were

 dead, and when the robes were opened they all

 saw that under those robes were two hard-looking

 women dressed in farm clothes.

 They spent the next several hours with the police,

 giving statements of the events. The pass from the

 Sister General was absolute, and avoided many

 embarrassing questions about why they were there,

 but there were still the statements, which had to

 be checked, typed, and signed, and the individual

 interrogation of each as to the exact sequence of

 events. The administrative chief of the Temple

 showed up to clear the way for them not to have to

 reveal any more than they chose, and to carry

 back copies of everything for the Sister General,

 but it was still a mess- Neither killer was on the

 registry, nor had they any record of entering An-

 chor Logh. This bothered them all more than the

 killings themselves, as unprecedented as they were,

 because it meant that either there was a leak in

 Jack L. Chalker

 276

 the wall guard or else these two had come from

 the only place where the unregistered could possi-

 bly come from—the Temple itself.

 That was not the problem of the trio from the

 Flux, however. "You know this Anchor pretty well.

 Can we take different indirect routes back to the

 gate?" Mervyn asked them.

 They thought about it. "There are lots of back

 roads, so long as you don't mind camping out in

 fields," Cass told him. "But there's really no place

 to hide from somebody who knows them as well as

 you and also knows what you look like."

 He nodded. "I thought as much. I'm going to

 pull rank with the church, then, and get us a full

 police guard all the way back. I want no more

 lopsided ambushes."

 They returned inside the police station and

 Mervyn composed a long note to the Sister General,

 sending it back with the admin chief. They waited

 a good hour or more, until a lower ranking priest-

 ess in admin gray returned with instructions for

 the police, and they had their escort and more.

 There were no further attempts on them, and

 Mervyn wasn't surprised. "The object of the exer-

 cise was to kill Daji first, then me if they could.

 You two were totally optional."

 "Thanks a lot," Suzl grumped. "But—why Daji?

 Because we had her number and maybe could

 have learned a lot from her?"

 "That, of course," the wizard agreed. "I knew

 we were in trouble when I saw that falcon there. It

 was meant to confuse, but all it did was signal

 that they knew something was wrong."

 "It sure confused me," Cass told him- "I thought

 for a while that the whole thing had been a

 Haldayne-inspired hallucination."

 "Which was exactly the intent. But when it failed,

 and we arranged to have Daji come with us, they

 knew their subtlety had not paid off and took direct

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 277

 action. They could not afford one of their chiefs in

 my hands. She would know vital things far beyond

 this immediate crisis."

 "Then the plot is really foiled, huh?" Suzl put

 in. "I mean, their agent's dead."

 "One agent. Someone saw us taking Daji out,

 and someone received orders to kill her. Haldayne

 might have started the killers, but he couldn't pos-

 sibly have been inside the Temple. I'm afraid that

 all this shows is that Anchor Logh is already as

 conquered as Persellus, and woefully ignorant of

 the fact. We shall not know it all until we have

 dealt with all our problems, and perhaps not even

 then." He turned to Cass. "First things first. We

 must go into Flux and prepare you."

 "Huh? Prepare me for what?"

 "Your ordination and conference, of course. It

 will be done by the Sister General herself in front

 of the troops at the west gate just before we march."

 "My what and my what? Hey! Wait a minute!"

 "It is necessary for a priestess to lead the forces

 of Anchor into Flux. They are terrified enough now,

 as you would have been not so long ago. They need

 what is called in scripture an Adjutant to lead and

 protect them—-a high-ranking priestess who is able

 to stand and use the Flux and protect herself and

 them. Don't worry—it's the required part of the

 Holy Books for all in Anchor Logh to read right

 now, although it's so obscure and in one of the

 codices that is rarely paid attention to. In short,

 we need a wizard-priestess. The Adjutant, when

 created, is second in rank only to the Sister Gen-

 eral herself."

 "But, wait a minute! Don't / have any say in

 this? I mean, I'm not even sure I believe in that

 stuff any more, at least not the way it's taught,

 and I sure don't want to give up sex and the Flux

 power now that I've found them."

 Jack L. Chalker

 278

 Suzl gave a raised eyebrow at that but said

 nothing.

 "Obviously it's too obscure for you, as well,"

 Mervyn responded patiently. "The Adjutant is con-'

 sidered a somewhat supernatural figure. She comes

 from Flux and returns to it, although she is, of

 course, able to travel to Anchor. It exists for the

 very reason that a lot of the rest exists—it is conve-

 nient when the rules have to be bent. In this case,

 men raised to be terrified of the Flux are being

 asked to go into it and do battle. Think of how you

 felt when you first went in. It's not so bad. You'll

 be a High Priestess in Anchor and a wizard yi

 Flux, and you'll need more training as a wizard

 than this job requires."

 She thought it over. "How long has it been since

 the last—Adjutant—was appointed?"

 He thought it over. "Three, maybe four hundred

 years, I think. They all run together after a while.

 But now there will be two, each accompanied by a

 Flux warrior."

 "Huh?"

 "A Flux warrior, it is said, is the reincarnation

 of one of the greatest warrior angels corrupted and

 exiled to World after the Rebellion. Because they

 were of the highest rank then, they are cursed to

 live their lives in Flux, and to be known because

 they differ from humans only in one specific

 attribute. That attribute is not defined, but that

 only makes it convenient for our candidates."

 Suzl grinned. "Like me, you mean?"

 He nodded. "Like you. And like Dar."

 Cass gasped. "So that's why you split them up!

 You had this in mind all along!"

 He nodded. "But your vanishing act nearly

 spoiled it. I was determined to take a dugger or

 whatever, but, fortunately, I didn't have to."

 Suzl giggled. "Just think—only weeks ago we

 four were stripped of it all and cast out of Anchor.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 279

 Now two of us are gonna be High Priestesses and

 the other two are angels' This is crazy but I love

 it!"

 Cass nodded, not sharing the mirth. "Yes, lucky—

 if we survive all this. Not like the rest of them

 marched out with us. Not like the ones in Arden's

 train."

 "Oh, let the dead be cremated and their ashes

 returned to the life of the soil," Suzl quoted from

 the holy books. "Now is now and I am me, and I'm

 having a ball."

 The void, which had been so terrifying before,

 now seemed like a welcome friend to them, offer-

 ing peace and quiet and relative security. Mervyn

 wasted no time becoming his favorite old man's

 character once again, but after a short session with

 Suzl to brief her on just what her part in this was,

 he sent her back to Anchor, to the apron area, with

 an eye to getting as much information and rumor

 from the resident duggers as possible. Mervyn

 wanted to know how the wall leaked so easily, and

 it was also a way to have Cass alone for a while.

 "I know you're wondering about all this," he

 began, "and that will never stop, I'm afraid, for

 none of us knows the answers. We, and our forebears,

 however, do know much more of the history and

 geography of World than the church permits to be

 taught, simply because part of our mission was to

 save the books and records of the past. Not all

 survived, alas, particularly from the earliest days,

 but much did."

 Humanity, he told her, had once been far greater

 and more numerous than now. There was once, as

 near as they could understand it, a great empire of

 humankind, which included but was not restricted

 to World. "This is only one world of men, perhaps

 the only one left now. Once, however, there was

 the concept of empire."

 In this great time in the far past—fully thou-

 Jack L. Chalker

 280

 sands of years before—man had had a great civili-

 zation, an ideal community where all were free and

 had—if not directly then through machines—the

 powers and wonders of wizards. The forces of Hell;

 rose up to attempt to destroy this civilization, and

 there was a great war, such as none today could

 even imagine. In the end, humans defeated the

 forces of Hell and pushed them back into a place

 outside our very universe. But the battle had not

 been without great cost, and the empire was shat-

 tered and destroyed and with it most of the race

 and most of its worlds.

 "It was here on World that the final battle took;'

 place," he said, "and it was here, at last, that Hell

 was pushed out of all we know and the gates to

 Hell were sealed."

 "Then the machines I saw at the gate were those

 of that lost empire," she responded, understanding

 it better. "They were the means by which all was

 sealed."

 He nodded. "However, all did not go well here,

 either. The church, originally set up to guard against

 those gates being opened or tampered with, as

 well as to guard all the old knowledge, became

 corrupted, as new generations saw it as an avenue

 of power. Still, the system, even with what we

 have lost, has held for all this time. There were

 those who disagreed with the system, however,

 and sought to preserve what could be preserved.

 Nine people, all great men and women of their time

 and all great wizards, copied, begged, borrowed,

 or stole all that they could and moved into Flux.

 They did not desert the church, but rather felt the

 church had deserted them, become too large,

 political, and bureaucratic. These Nine hand-picked

 their successors, so that when it finally came their

 time there was always someone ready to step in."

 "And those are the Nine Who Guard?"

 He nodded. "We guard not only against the forces

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 281

 of Hell but against the follies of humanity as well.

 None of us are saints, but we have somehow man-

 aged to do our jobs and keep the faith.Besides, it's

 not bad being a wizard of such tremendous power

 here in Flux. We also keep our hands in with the

 church, as it were. No one can become a Sister

 General or higher without spending time with us

 in Flux, if only to totally understand the nature

 and threat that Flux presents, and, of course, to

 read and leam the literature forbidden or destroyed

 in Anchor."

 "So that explains why you knew Sister General

 Diastephanos!"

 Again he nodded, "Yes, she trained with me long

 ago. Twenty years or more, I'd say."

 "She sure didn't take all the moral lessons."

 Mervyn grinned. "Oh, it's not that terrible. The

 fact is, the holy books are quite a bit less strict

 than the rules the church now imposes. That par-

 ticular section, which you'll not read in the Tem-

 ple libraries, actually specifies that none will engage-

 in sins of the flesh with any man after ordination.

 In the early days, for example, it was rare but not

 unheard of for priestesses to be widows with

 children,, and in the early days many a 'scarlet

 woman' or one with family problems or pregnant

 with a child born out of wedlock joined to regain

 status and respectability. The church had such a

 potential to be a unifying force for World. Instead,

 it became the dictator of it."

 This was a far different picture than the one

 she'd had growing up, and, indeed, the one she'd

 formed since leaving Anchor. She began to realize

 both the potential and the loss to World of its

 corruption, and it made her feel more than slightly

 angry. In a sense, the church had become to An-

 chor what each ruling wizard was to a Fluxland.

 Corrupted by power, each had inevitably exercised

 that power to the fullest. It was a strong vision it

 282 Jack L. Chalker

 presented, of a church keeping knowledge alive,

 and providing a moral and cultural unity to World,

 while government, as a separate entity elected by

 Anchor, would rule subject to the voters, not'.'the

 church.

 "And Haldayne, Daji, and the rest? What are

 they?"

 "Wizards, just tike the Nine and the other pow-

 ers of Flux. Their organization is, in a sense, a

 mirror image of the Nine. In their own minds they

 have a noble purpose in which the ends justify any

 means. They believe that humanity can never're-

 gain its former greatness but will remain in pri^ni-

 tive stagnancy until, believe it or not, an accom-

 modation with Hell is reached."

 She was shocked. "An accommodation with HeU?"

 "That's right. You see, even though the gates are

 sealed and guarded, some slight leakage gets

 through. It was designed that way. It may seem

 strange, but our basic power source seems to be

 those machines in the gates, which generate excess

 energy from the seal as they maintain it and then

 transfer this excess to the generators in the Temples.

 Without them we would have no electricity at all,

 since we really don't know how to generate it on a

 massive scale. We keep everything working by re-

 moving parts that go bad and giving them to wiz-

 ards in Flux who are good at making exact copies

 of things. Since the art of being a good wizard is

 mathematical, they can look at a part that they

 have never seen before and have no idea what it is

 or how it works, and make a copy that does work.

 They don't know how they do it, but the only

 explanation is that the math is wrong on the bro-

 ken one, and they can figure out where it's wrong

 and make the equation balance."

 "So we depend on these Hellgates for a lot, and

 Anchors really depend on Flux."

 "Interdependence. Flux is a cruel place, subject

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 283

 to the whims of the powerful and power-mad. It is

 by its very nature impossible for more than a hand-

 ful of people to be free or independent in Flux, or

 even remain human. It is nice if you're a wizard,

 but no great discoveries arise in Flux. It simply

 devours a larger number of people than it can

 possibly replace. Hence, the trade of people for

 what Anchors need. Ideally, Anchors should be the

 seats of learning, where great things are produced

 by a free and unified people, while Flux produces

 what is needed. Unfortunately, deep down, it is

 difficult to tell them apart."

 "And the Seven believe that Hell is the only way

 out?"

 "That's about it," he agreed. "You see, in some

 of the gates, because of that leakage I mentioned,

 it is possible for Hell to communicate with one in

 the tunnel. The demons of Hell are cut off from

 our world, but are immortal, and know how the

 machines work and the nature of Flux and Anchor.

 To early wizards frustrated by having godlike pow-

 ers that were very limited over a finite piece of

 ground, the lure of ruling all World, as one great

 Fluxland under their total domination, is irresist-

 ible. And if it means selling one's soul to Hell, it

 seems to them a small price to pay. They are the

 ultimate corruption power brings, and they delude

 themselves that they will be partners with Hell

 and not make us all its last victims so that Hell

 will finally attain its goal to rule the universe—

 alone."

 They went on like this for more than two days,

 and in that time Cass believed she gained a true

 picture of what was going on. Much, as Mervyn

 had warned, was unknown—the nature of the Soul

 Riders, for example. To her, there did seem to be a

 divine plan for the rescue of humanity and its

 restoration to greatness, a plan subverted by the

 weaknesses humans had. Those who now ruled the

 284 Jack L. Chalker

 church had all been shown this path, but all, in

 the end, had been corrupted by their own power

 or deluded themselves that they were making small

 changes or reforms and that any major changes

 would take generations. The forces of Hell were

 real, and on the march, but it only reinforced the

 church's resolve to keep things the way they were,

 thereby substituting the total evil of Hell with a

 more banal evil done by humans-

 Finally, Cass was briefed and prompted on the

 ceremony to come, and felt she was finally ready,

 although it still seemed like a'lot of foolishness to

 her. She felt a little guilty, being used as a lucky

 icon for a lot of scared and possibly doomed

 troopers.

 The ceremony itself was quite impressive and

 flashy. A platform had been set up just inside, the

 gate, and Cass, her horse changed to snow white

 for the occasion, was led in by Suzl on her black

 mount, Cass had made several decisions herself on

 this, one of which was to use her own normal form

 and make no more pretenses about her identity.

 She felt any threat to her individually was over as

 much as it ever would be. The reasons were no

 longer there.

 She entered dressed only in a plain robe of white,

 as a novice. It was important that she be ordained

 in front of them, even though the Sister General

 already assumed it. And the troops were all lined

 up, as well as a great mass of common people, to

 see the show.

 Diastephanos, who had understood Cass's role

 in this from the start, made it a long service, with

 lots of ceremony, all of the sacraments, and lots of

 scripture reading. It was all necessary not for its

 own sake, but to show the people of Anchor Logh,

 long taught to fear the Flux and have no truck with

 it, that in this case only it was the right thing to do.

 Cass participated fully, finding the whole thing

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 285

 oddly moving to her. And. once all vows were

 exchanged and she was fully ordained, it was then

 time to accept the job, exchanging her whites for

 robes of lavender satin trimmed with ancient de-

 signs m gold thread, and to accept a septre only

 slightly smaller and less ornate than the Sister

 General's own. It was then concluded, and she

 turned and looked out at the crowd for the first

 time. All eyes were on her, and, for the first time,

 she realized that they had accepted all of it. In

 every sense of the word, even legally, she was to

 them and in fact a high priestess of the church.

 She stepped down from the platform and went

 to the troops who would go with them, standing at

 attention next to their horses. As she passed each,

 she could see in their eyes the absolute confidence

 they placed in her. It shook her a bit, to realize the

 full responsibility she had been forced to take on.

 And when she stood before them, they all knelt

 and bowed their heads, and she gave them the

 blessing they expected, meaning it more than she

 intended-

 "Soldiers of Anchor Logh," she said at last, hop-

 ing her voice would carry and not tremble. "We

 set out now on the most important mission in our

 - long history. Hell is out there, almost at our gates,

 invading our land at will, killing our citizens and

 threatening us all- Do not fear the wizardry of the

 Flux, only respect it, for we have the strpngest

 wizardry, the righteousness of our cause, and the

 support of the Nine Who Guard. The divine will is

 not known, except that victory is assured if we

 prove worthy of it. The creatures you will fight

 will be of flesh and blood. Some of you may die,

 but you will do so in a cause so noble that you will

 be reborn with greatness- Others will live, to enjoy

 the great honor that awaits. We cannot know our

 fate, for only Heaven knows that, but we can know

 and fulfill our destiny. Will you ride with us now?"

 286 Jack L. Chalker

 "We will!" came a chorus of responses that moved

 her even more.

 She walked to her horse and mounted it, then

 held the septre high. "Then mount and follow mei'^

 In groups, they passed through the west gate

 and out onto the apron. A way had been cleared

 from the dugger shantytown to the Flux, and they

 again formed up. Suzl and Mervyn, still in his old

 man's role, rode out of Flux to meet her, then

 turned to form a threesome leading the way. Suzl

 leaned over and whispered, "Wowl You really look

 great!" Cass smiled and winked, although she was

 aware of the enormous weight she was now carrying,

 and held the septre up, then angled it forward. The

 troopers, she'd been assured, had been briefed by

 Suzl and Mervyn as to how to ride the void. She

 hoped so, for they were off.

 Mervyn dropped back to the rear as the entire

 column entered the Flux, just to make sure there

 were no stragglers or unexpected surprises. Cass

 did not need him to lead. She felt the power of the

 Flux instantly, and the glowing strings of energy

 came crystal clear. She decided to ride as far non-

 stop as prudence said the horses could take, so

 that there could be no last-minute defections. Suzl,

 still dressed in stringer fashion, checked out the

 formation and felt every bit a stringer with a very

 strange train. She wished, however, she had a dozen

 or so duggers to help out.

 They finally stopped at a water pocket, a small

 area undistinguished from the rest of the void ex-

 cept for a wizard-created pool of clear water large

 enough for people and horses. Mervyn, who was well

 practiced in elaborate magic, created the spartan

 food for them all. They were quite impressed, but

 many of them had already lost a good deal of their

 fear in the boredom of the void. The terrible Flux

 was proving only a wasteland, and the only wiz-

 ardry so far was entirely on their side. By the end

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 287

 of the second day, Cass guessed, they would be

 getting both cocky and itchy from too little threat

 and too much boredom.

 Sentries were posted and they bedded down for

 the night, with Mervyn agreeing to sleep first and

 then take over from Cass. She readily agreed, and

 just sat there by the pool for quite a while, looking

 at her reflection in the water and absorbed in

 thought. Suzl, acting the old hand, checked out

 the rest and then came over to her. "You seem

 pretty quiet," she noted. "Problems, or does it

 - come magically from putting on the robe?"

 Cass smiled. "Thanks. I need you, Suzl, to re-

 mind me just who I am and where I've come from.

 Any problems?"

 "Nope. Not really. A couple of 'em made passes

 at me and I had a good deal of fun letting them

 discover why I was along and what was so different.

 Now they're scared silly of me. It's fun giving

 orders to guys the smallest of whom are a head taller

 than me."

 She looked at Suzl. "You know, when.that curse

 backfired I figured you were out of luck, but the

 more I look at the way this whole thing is turning

 out I think you got the best of the deal in many

 ways."

 Suzl suddenly looked at her seriously. "What's

 wrong with you? Only weeks ago we were two

 naive farm girls scared of getting sold as slaves,

 who knew that if we didn't we'd be pressured into

 marrying some ignorant farm boy, stuck having a

 mess of kids and stuck in a boring job for life to

 boot—or joining the priesthood and having our

 brains mashed and everything worthwhile a no-no.

 You know deep down that you would never have

 accepted it. It would've killed you. Me, too, which

 is why they decided my number would come up.

 'Psychologically unfit for normal socialization' they

 once called me- I snuck in and read the teacher's

 288 Jack L. Chatker

 report. I'm eighteen and a half and I've already

 lived more than I would have in ninety years of

 Anchor Logh."

 Cass nodded. "What you say is true, and I don't

 deny it. I'm not longing for what was. I simply

 said that you have the best of the deal. You're free,

 independent, and tough. You'll roam all over World

 and see everything and have a ball. I envy that."

 "Well, why can't you? Hell, you're a wizard. You

 don't even need a stringer."

 "Partly because I am a wizard," she replied,

 then added, "and partly because I am a priestess."

 Suzl looked at her oddly. "Now aren't you tak-

 ing the show just a little bit too seriously? Me, I'm

 stuck as I am. Lucky for me I don't mind a bit. But

 you—you can be anything, do anything you want

 to do."

 Cass sighed, knowing that she could not explain

 it, particularly to one such as Suzl. Still, she said,

 "No, Suzl, I'm trapped just like these poor soldiers

 and all the rest who got thrown out of Anchor. I'm

 just beginning to realize how trapped I am. You

 remember us talking about little people becoming

 important by accident? Well, I'm discovering (hat

 when you become important you get trapped as

 well. That's okay for now, let's drop it. I'm being

 forced by Mervyn and the rest to make a decision,

 a big one, and I'm not ready to make it. I'll have to

 settle it within myself."

 Suzl just shrugged and shook her head. Finally

 she said, "I wonder what a battle in Flux is like?"

 18

 BATTLE

 It was understood by the officers and men that the

 Adjutant would not lead them into battle, but would

 direct it instead from a command post. They didn't

 mind, since harm to her was the worst thing they

 feared. She did visit with them, though, informally.

 She really felt like they were her people, after

 getting to know some on the trail. It was now a

 major duty of hers to hear their confessions,

 because, as battle neared, they began once again

 thinking of this less as a new game. Unconsciously,

 perhaps, she wove a spell, finding that she could

 remember all the details of each of them.

 This was far different than playing priestess back

 in Anchor Logh. For her, too, this was no game,

 and they needed her desperately. She left the strat-

 egy and tactics to others, leaving her troops only

 when she had to consult Mervyn on a particular

 spell to ease a young boy's problems. She found no

 trouble on an individual basis; they seemed to

 believe and accept everything she told them, in-

 cluding cautions against prejudice towards those

 not quite human and of Flux.

 And many of them were strange indeed- The Flux

 wizards had strange tastes and bizarre imaginations,

 it appeared. And they kept coming down the road

 from Globbus and from the direction of Anchor

 289

 Jack L. Chalker

 290

 Bakha, and from trails that came to the far side

 of Persellus as well. A mighty army had been

 assembled, the mightiest, perhaps, ever seen on

 World since Hell was sealed. A mighty army to

 meet an unprecedented challenge to the failure of

 World, the one thing all of the forces, no matter

 how strange or inhuman, had in common.

 Suzl went off for a while to see if Nadya and Dar

 had returned yet. Cass didn't know how long she

 was away, for time had lost all meaning to her in

 her single-minded devotion to what she saw as her"

 duty, but one day, as Cass was walking back from

 another full round of counseling and confessionals',

 she spotted the familiar figure on the hill near the

 local command post.

 Suzl waved and ran to her, and they hugged.

 "Did you find them?" Cass asked.

 "Oh, yeah. You ought to see Nadya—decked out

 just like you and acting just as crazy. Dar's even

 crazier—says he's gonna lead the attack from his

 side. He's going to get his fool head blown off."

 She paused a moment. "Guess who I came up

 with? Matson!"

 Matson' The name was like a cold bucket of

 water in Cass's face. Suddenly that became the

 most important thing in the world to her. "Where

 is he?"

 Suzl jerked a thumb towards the tent- "Up there.

 He and some of his duggers who volunteered are

 leading in a Fluxland crew." She shivered slightly -

 "One that's really weird. The people are the ani-

 mals there, I think."

 She brushed by Suzl and walked over to the

 tent, then paused as she saw him, sitting on ,a

 folding chair, cigar clenched in his teeth. He was

 apparently waiting for someone, and glanced up

 at her, then away, not recognizing her at first. He

 looked back again, frowned, and got up. "That

 you, Cass, in that church getup?"

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 291

 She laughed. "Yes, I'm afraid it is. Mervyn stuck

 me good."

 "We heard how you got snatched and then

 escaped, more or less," he told her, not referring to

 SuzFs comment that he went nearly crazy at the

 abduction. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to

 dock your pay for the period."

 "You would, too, wouldn't you? You stringers

 are a tight lot."

 He got up and walked up to her. "Is it allowed

 to kiss a priestess?"

 "My feet and my hand," she responded jokingly.

 "Yeah, and my ass, too," he came back in the

 same vein. He grabbed her and kissed her, very

 long and very hard. Finally he broke away and

 said. "I want you back with the company when

 this is through. Look, I've got to talk some things

 over with the old boy and the^midget, but we'll

 meet in Persellus, you hear?"

 She nodded, her head spinning. "Yes. In Persellus."

 After she left him, she still felt in some kind of a.

 daze. She had been, she knew, at war with herself

 these past few days, and she now knew which side

 had won. She was a wizard, and, therefore, she

 could have him, and he was everything that mat-

 tered most.

 Before Persellus could be invaded, the three

 top wizards had to first break what they called

 Haldayne's shield. This was not a barrier in the

 physical sense, but more a mental zone of control.

 Each Fluxland was the product of the unrestrained

 mind of the controlling wizard, and it was as large

 and as stable as that wizard's will. To invade be-

 fore that control was broken would only mean

 that the attackers would come under the will and

 control of the defender. There was not much profit

 in that.

 However, breaking the shield was not the end of

 Jack L. ChaSker

 292

 it. Haldayne had first broken the goddess's shield,

 then faced her down physically, and only then was

 he able to impose himself on the land. With his

 shield broken, the land would still remain his and in

 his vision. To remake the land, and make it stick, the

 wizards would have to progress to a point within

 the Fluxland where their own powers and wil^s

 could reach the farthest corners of Persellus- That

 ground, which might be all the way to the capital,

 would have to be won the hard way.

 Watches had been synchronized, and the three

 top wizards positioned at the three decided-upon

 points of entry. Like most Fluxlands, Persellus was

 basically circular, although with jagged edges. At

 the appointed time, with only a small company of

 carefully selected junior wizards for any direct

 protection, all three of the chief wizards stepped

 into the land of Persellus, and began walking for-

 ward until they met resistance. Haldayne had -to

 keep them out, or surrender control. Haldayne was

 not the type to surrender anything easily.

 Behind the wizards, a good three hundred me-

 ters behind, came the leading edge of the troops.

 Cass had been ordered to remain behind, but. as

 time wore on and things seemed stalled, she impa-

 tiently saddled her horse and rode toward Persellus,

 passing backed up troops, light artillery, and sup-

 ply wagons. After all this, she decided she was not

 going to miss at least seeing what was going on.

 What was going on was awesome and spectacular.

 The countryside had changed so much she would

 not have recognized it as Persellus. Dark, rum-

 bling mountains spitting smoke and fire were all

 around, and the countryside was covered with a

 fine gray ash. She finally determined where the

 river was, but it was mud and ash-swollen and

 choked with debris. Although the landscape was

 lit with an eerie glow that made it possible to see

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 293

 great distances, the sky was black as pitch, with

 no stars, no Heaven, nothing to break it.

 Ahead, far in the distance but so enormous that

 it dominated all else, was a tremendous figure

 illuminated in lines of energy. It had the rough

 shape of a man, rising up from the ground, but its

 head was horribly demonic. It was no projection,

 despite the fact that it was seen only by the out-

 line of the blazing energy, for it moved and roared

 a terrible, hateful sound that went through the

 very ground and made it tremble. It was battling

 something—three strong, solid, straight lines of

 force directed at it from the ground. One struck it

 from behind, one from its left side, and one came

 from the small, wizened figure of a man seated in

 a folding chair in the middle of what passed for

 the road directly ahead of them. -

 The great energy beast was strong, and it would

 occasionally reach out and grasp one of the energy

 beams as if it were a rope, fight with it, then force

 it away, but it could not deal effectively With three

 such attacks from three different directions. Each

 time it concentrated on one, the other two took

 advantage to attempt to coil themselves around its

 ghostly body. Still, it had been fighting this way

 for hours.

 Cass was enthralled with .the display, and at a

 loss to understand why most of the soldiers in

 back acted bored and uncomfortable and were not

 watching at all. She suddenly realized that what

 she was watching and hearing was on a different

 frequency than normal, like the stringer's strings.

 The soldiers were not interested because they could

 neither see nor hear it.

 The great beast was clearly tiring, and the en-

 ergy beams were having more and more success.

 One from the side finally reached the creature's

 neck and began coiling itself around that hideous

 face. The demon reached up to tear the beam away,

 294 Jack L. Chalker

 but now Mervyn shot out at the thing's legs, while

 the one behind—that would be Tatalane—grasped

 at its arms and tried to pull them away from the

 neck.

 Mervyn pulled, and the beast roared and rocked,

 then bent over, barely keeping on its "feet." A

 second beam now went for its neck, and then a

 third. The creature screamed in agony, and there

 was a sudden great, blinding flare of light in the

 distance and, a bit later, a tremendous thunder-

 clap rolled down the valley that all could hear.'

 When Cass could see again, the far horizon was

 clear.

 Two junior wizards helped the old wizard to

 walk back to a wagon. They lifted him in, gently,

 then took the reins. There was the sound of horns

 all about, echoed in the distance. The shield was

 down. Haldayne retained his control over what

 he'd had, but could no longer exercise control

 beyond it. If he tried, he'd send the land back to

 Flux, and have nothing to defend.

 The troops advanced perhaps a kilometer when

 they met resistance. Well dug-in defenders of

 Persellus opened up on them with massive ma-

 chine gun fire, and the air all around them went

 chill and was filled with terrible shapes from Hell

 itself.

 The initial advance was cut to shreds by the fire,

 and frustrated by its inability to see the enemy

 positions past the illusory phantoms. The defender's

 task now was simple- They far outnumbered the

 attackers, and while they had few decent wizards,

 neither did the attacking forces for a whue. The

 effort of breaking the shield was great, and it would

 be hours, perhaps more, before any of the three

 chief sorcerers could be in any condition to help.

 Haldayne, too, was in much the same shape, but

 he would also regain strength the more time went

 on, perhaps enough to reestablish and extend his

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 295

 shield. Because of their inferior numbers, the at-

 tackers had to advance well into the country be-

 fore this could happen, or the scenario just played

 out would happen again, with Haldayne able to

 redeploy and even by spell resupply and reform

 his defenders so that the next round would be just

 as costly. If the attackers stalled for any great

 length of time, each and every time, they would be

 wiped out.

 Cass watched from her original position, well

 back of the fighting, but she could see everything

 clearly. More and more troops were filing past her

 and marching towards those deadly gun emplace-

 ments, then dropping and trying to dig in. Artil-

 lery was set up near her, and soon the boom of

 cannon fire was added to the din, as the gunners

 attempted to line up on the machine guns. She

 watched the carnage with mounting horror, saw

 the field littered with the dead, and was revolted

 as she had never been in her life. Never in her

 most terrible nightmares could she imagine the

 reality of this massacre.

 She glanced over and was startled to see Matson,

 cigar and all, sitting high on his horse and direct-

 ing some—creatures—who were hauling up some

 very odd-looking things. They appeared to be a

 large number of parallel metal pipes .all lashed

 together. When they were in range, he gave a se-

 ries of signals and smaller shapes moved up be-

 hind the tubes. In less than a minute a hundred

 tubes, almost at the same time, erupted with a

 roar and flashing smoke and fire, and ahead the

 gunnery positions were pounded with an entire

 line, perhaps three hundred meters across, of mas-

 sive explosions. The roar was deafening.

 The small creatures behind the tubes, whatever

 they were, were fast and professional and moved

 to Matson's barked orders. A second salvo went

 off, and, after the last explosion had discharged,

 296 Jack L. Chalker

 there was a roar and cheer from troops up ahead.

 They moved forward. Matson's guns had pushed

 back or wiped out the machine gun nests, and the

 columns moved forward once more.

 Another kilometer, and suddenly the ground

 opened up ahead of the advancing troops, like a

 giant mouth. They fell in, and it swallowed them

 and closed again. From behind came more wither-

 ing machine gun and rifle fire, pushing the attack-

 ers back.

 Less than a hundred meters from Cass's new

 position, Matson frowned, barked more orders to

 the creatures hauling the tubes forward, and rode

 up to the forward command group where the jun-

 ior wizards were conferring with the field com-

 manders on how to overcome this obstacle.

 The stringer shouted something at them, and

 they nodded, and two of the junior wizards went

 back with him to his launchers. She waited, as

 they all did, to see what was up.

 To her surprise, the troops were now ordered

 forward, and they went slowly, nervously, to the

 area of the trap. All defending fire stopped suddenly.

 When enough soldiers were on the area of the trap,

 it opened again, swallowing them, but at the same

 time Matson's tubes opened up, concentrating their

 rounds on the opening. This time there were no

 explosions, for the tubes shot not explosive rounds

 but huge balls of some gooey substance. The mass

 filled in the mouth before it could close, and as it

 tried it just compacted the new material, which

 seemed to quickly harden. Cannons opened up on the

 gun emplacements beyond the "mouth" at almost

 the same time, and again troops moved forward-

 The "mouth" shimmered and shook and tried to free

 itself, but it was hopeless. Matson had effectively

 filled it and paved it over.

 It went like that for some time, although time be-

 came blurred into the sameness of death- Haldayne

 had a huge population to call upon, but he couldn't

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 297

 use them. His own volcanos had filled in enough of

 the valley to make any massive deployment of

 forces from behind very slow and difficult. The

 geographic strategy he had laid out to keep the

 attackers on a single, predictable line of march

 worked against him as well, and he had three

 sides to defend.

 Mervyn, however, was still unconscious, and bird

 messengers brought news that Krupe, too, was

 still out, while tiny Tatalane was conscious but

 very, very weak. Still, there was no sign at all of

 any attempt to raise another shield, which told

 them that Haldayne was in at least as bad shape

 himself.                        k

 In what turned out to be more than nine hours

 of continuous fighting, Mervyn's force had gained

 almost fifteen kilometers,, Krupe's twelve, and

 Tatalane's sixteen, but that last was the most

 important. She was coming in from the side, which

 had a couple of nasty volcanos in the way but was

 also the least defended, there being no natural

 road in from that point. Terrain had been her

 biggest enemy, but now that she had somehow

 cleared the mountains she was on a plain heading

 directly for the capital.

 Cass rode back to a field kitchen and got a can-

 teen filled not with water but with beer, then

 headed for Matson. He was surprised to see her,

 but he looked very, very tired and suddenly very

 old, and his shirt was soaked with perspiration.

 Still, he managed a smile. "I thought you weren't

 supposed to be up here with the common folk," he

 managed to joke-

 She threw him the canteen. "Here. Drink your

 damned religion."

 He caught it, opened it, and swallowed, then

 looked surprised and pleased. "I'll be damned! It's

 beer!" He said that last like it was the most

 wonderous and beautiful word in the language.

 Jack L. Chalker

 298

 He put it down and sighed, then looked out at

 the fighting not far away. They were bogged down

 again, this time by a very large number of v/ell

 dug-in troops. "Sure is a bitch, ain't it?" he Said

 wearily. "You better get back a little, though, Sis-

 ter Cass. Stray bullets are carrying back farther

 than this."

 "I'm a whole lot more bullet proof than you,"

 she told him, "and you don't look too worried.'"'

 He turned and looked out at the battle. "Well,

 I—" he began, then he was apparently hit by an

 invisible fist that knocked him off his horse, the

 canteen flying out of his hand.

 "Matson!" she screamed, and jumped off her horse

 and ran to him. The entire front of his shirt had

 been ripped away by whatever it was that had hit

 him, and it seemed as if his chest were one huge

 bloody wound. He was still, his mouth open, blood

 trickling from it. She took his hand, squeezed it,

 and screamed at him, "Matson! Come on, you good-

 for-nothing stringer! You beat the odds! You always

 beat the odds! You can't do this to me! Not now!".

 But there was no response. She felt a presence

 near her and whirled, seeing Jomo. "Jomo!" she

 cried desperately. "Get a healing wizard here!

 Hurry! He's been hit!"

 The enormous tears in the huge blob of a man

 looked very strange, but the dugger shook his head,

 then knelt down and checked out Matson's body.

 "No use, Missy Cass," he said, voice trembling. "He

 gone to see Missy Arden."

 "No! Oh, Holy Mother above, please! Not now!

 Not him! Not yet!" she sobbed. Jomo got up and

 tried to pry her gently away from the body. For a

 while he could not budge her, nor could she do

 anything but sob and stare at Matson's lifeless

 body. Suddenly she shook off the giant dugger/got

 up, and turned facing the battle, a strange expres-

 sion on her face. She seemed to radiate power, the

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 299

 kind only powerful wizards do, and the dugger

 stepped back nervously and just watched.

 She looked out at the bodies. Everywhere there

 were bodies, everywhere there was blood and ter-

 ror and death. In that moment something snapped

 within her, snapped for good. Now she understood,

 at last, that what she had been telling Suzl was

 only part of the truth. She was not any victim of

 chance, but the one chosen. Everything that had

 happened said that she was the agent of divine

 will. She had wavered and fallen, as the church

 had fallen, because of human frailty and weakness,

 ,and because oflhis Matson had to pe taken from

 her. She knew that now, understood that it had to

 be this way. Every step she had taken, every new

 experience, from the point at which she'd first

 entered the forbidden sacristy, had been directed

 to this one destiny.

 "No more," she muttered under her breath, look-

 ing at the fallen bodies stretched out as far as the

 eye could see. "No more," she said again, louder

 now, the tremendous power rising within her. It

 was will that brought it up, but emotion that trig-

 gered it. She stuck out her arms, palms out, as if

 to stop something coming down on her, but it was

 something different she wanted to stop. All sounds

 of battle, of people yelling and guns firing, van-

 ished in a roar in her ears. There was only a single

 will now, and it was directed forward. She felt the

 power as she had never felt it.

 And the Soul Rider provided the required math-

 ematics.

 Far off, in the capital, a weak Gifford Haldayne

 was taking a drink and waiting it out, trying to

 regain what strength he could. He felt it at once,

 and knew it for what it was, and cursed himself

 for it. Damn their eyes! They had a fourth World

 class wizard in reserve!

 He frowned, then staggered, suddenly, from the

 300 Jack L. Chalker

 force of a psychic blow. "What the hell is this?" he

 asked aloud, amazed- Never in his entire life had

 he felt such power, such force, such single-minded

 direction of will. This was something totally new,

 and totally frightening. This was no doing of the

 Nine, or Seven, or any combination of Fluxlords.

 This was something new, and terrible, and beyond

 even his ancient comprehension. He had a sudden,

 queer thought. What have I unleashed? he wondered,

 but he did not dwell on it now. He knew wha,£ he

 had to do, and he knew he had only seconds to do

 it.

 He released control to the new force, changed to

 a raven, and was out of there like a shot. He was

 fifty kilometers into the void before he even al-

 lowed himself enough time to realize just how

 close it had been.

 On the battlefield, Mervyn awoke with a strange

 sensation inside him. He got up weakly and made

 it forward to the seat so that he could see out and

 ahead of him. The sight that he saw was as unprece-

 dented to him as it had been to Haldayne.

 Cass, in lavender robes stained with Matson's

 blood, walked forward towards the battle. As she

 did, the firing stopped on both sides, and the face

 of the land and sky trembled and changed. All

 around her the darkened and blood-stained vol-

 canic ash changed into life itself, into fresh, green

 grass and flowers. It spread continuously out, touch-

 ing the front lines and causing soldiers on both

 sides to stop, turn, and stare. The sky above light-

 ened until it attained the dark blue of Anchor, and

 the landscape rippled as in Anchor as the great

 orb of Heaven filled the sky, sending its multicol-

 ored light down on the scene.

 The wizard was awed by the power coming from

 her, and the total mastery of the Flux and its

 complex mathematics and physics despite her al-

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 301

 most complete lack of training. He had, indeed, set

 the conditions up and put it all in motion, but he

 had never expected anything like this. In fact, he

 had to admit, he hadn't in the end expected any-

 thing at all.

 The zone of Fluxland influence now extended

 from horizon to horizon, the volcanos becoming

 green rolling hills, the river crystal clear and run-

 ning its normal course.

 The soldiers of Flux and Anchor on both sides of

 the battle could not, in the main, sense any of the

 magic, yet it radiated from her frail form and

 touched them all. They threw down their weapons

 as she passed, and fell in behind her as she contin-

 ued her walk.

 She drew strength from the Flux, not only for

 herself but for them, and she walked without stop

 all the way to the capital, with those of both sides

 following silently. From the rear and from the side

 others streamed in from the other two attacking

 forces, and their enemies.

 The town itself had been transformed. No longer

 was there a goddess's tower or Haldayne's great

 black castle, but in the center was a huge Temple,

 the largest ever seen, radiating from its perfect

 surface the colors of Heaven. As she entered the

 city limits, the townspeople lined the routes ten

 deep, throwing flowers at her and at all the soldiers.

 All fell in as the parade passed, and moved to the

 central Temple area, where they filed in before

 the great steps and back as far as the eye could

 see- All stopped at the base of the Temple steps,

 but Cass kept walking until she was at the top.

 Only then did she turn and face the crowd, which

 was suddenly silent.

 "People of Flux and Anchor, hear me," she said,

 and her voice somehow carried clearly throughout

 the boundaries of the land. "I am the Adjutant not

 of Anchor but of Heaven itself. Corruption has,

 302 Jack L. ChaUcer

 strangled humanity long enough. There is the cor-

 ruption of the church in Anchor, and the corrup-

 tion of wizardry in Flux. Both have held humanity

 too long in their grip. You have just endured a

 great battle, but to what end? Hell is but the

 ultimate corruption of the human soul, and it flour-

 ishes and grows and feeds upon that corruption.

 Thousands of brave, good people have just died,

 mixed their blood with this land, and for what? To

 make things better? No! To keep things the same."

 She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and

 continued.

 "To keep things the same," she repeated, saying.

 it bitterly. "So what choice did we have? We were

 offered only our choice of Hells! To this I say, no

 more. No more. It is evil! I renounce such evil. I

 rebel at such a choice. The Holy Mother cries out

 to me, 'No more! No more!' I reclaim this land in

 Her name, and with Her power, and I rename it

 Hope. I do not bind you to my will, for then I

 would be as guilty as those who now run World.

 Instead I offer you a partnership, and hope, and no

 more. It will be no easy road, to reform our ways,

 to rebuild our corrupted church, to make for our-

 selves a world of free men and women who will

 not fear Hell because it will have no way to gain a

 foothold inside us. You, all of you here, can be the

 vanguard that will revolutionize World. We may

 be weak at times, we may stumble occasionally,

 we might even suffer failures and disappointments,

 but we will try."

 Again she paused, allowing the message to sink

 in. "Now go," she told them. "Go free of mind and

 free of entanglements so long as you are in Hope.

 Let all who live in this land open up their hearts

 and homes to those who do not. Those who wish to

 join in the mission, whether wizard, soldier, slave,

 dugger, half-human or inhuman, may meet me in

 this square tomorrow, either physically or in your

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 303

 hearts. I will know, and reach you. I was ordained

 by the church as Sister Kasdi, so that will be my

 name henceforth. Hell cannot stand against me.

 Only you can." And she blessed them, turned, and

 walked into the Temple.

 She walked straight back to the chapel and then

 to the altar, and knelt and prayed and performed

 the sacraments that only a priestess could, and

 reaffirmed her vows. Only then did she turn and

 see that there were others in the chapel. They were

 people that she knew. There was Mervyn, looking

 very spry and pleased with himself, and Suzl, and

 , Nadya, too, in robes just like her own.

 Nadya smiled and came forward, then took and

 kissed her hand. "They ordained me as Sister

 Tamara. I, too, will keep that name and proudly."

 They embraced and kissed, and there were tears in

 both their eyes. Finally Nadya said, "I knew,

 somehow, from that very start, that we were

 destined for something different, something new-1

 would never, however, have guessed this."

 Cass smiled. "I know." She sighed. "I guess we'll

 have to postpone our adventurous tour of World."

 "Only until the next life," Nadya replied.

 Cass smiled and turned to Suzl next. "And what

 about you?"

 "I think you're a powerful wizard and a stark

 raving lunatic," she told them. "However, this

 sounds interesting. As long as you can stand some-

 body who's psychologically unfit for society hang-

 ing around, and a cynic at that, I might just stick

 until I see how it all comes out. If nothing else,

 you're gonna need somebody around with the guts

 to tell you what lunatics you are, just to keep from

 vanishing into your own little worlds. I may not

 be one of the faithful, but revolution kind of ap-

 peals to my nature. Besides that, I'm unemployed.

 I have to sponge off somebody and it might as well

 be somebody important."

 Jack L. Chatker

 304

 Cass and Nadya both laughed, and Cass stepped

 forward and took her hands. "All right, 'psycho-

 logically unfit.' As much as I think you might be

 dangerous to have around, considering the real

 wording of that chastity clause, I'm glad to do it."

 She paused a moment. "Have you seen Dar?"

 Suzl's face grew serious. "He's dead, Cass. He

 died bravely, from what I hear, saving a couple of

 people's lives in the process."

 She had no more tears to give to grief, but she

 felt it anyway. She let go of Suzl's hands and

 turned to Mervyn. "Now, don't tell me you planned

 all this or I'll make an exception of my love rule in

 your case."

 "I primed the pump," he admitted, "but I was

 still surprised to find water at all, and least of all a

 fountain." He sighed. "What will you do with it all

 now?"

 "What I said. if anybody returns, that is. Even if

 nobody returns."

 "And what of the unfinished business?"

 "I haven't forgotten it, but it must wait until

 we're organized here. I don't think anything will

 be tried right away. They will be far too interested

 in me to think about anything else."

 "I agree," he responded. "I'll talk it over with

 Tatalane and Krupe, but I'm sure we'll all help. It

 must be done. It is long overdue. Otherwise we'll

 be stuck here like this forever and eventually

 Haldayne's bunch will win."

 She hesitated a moment. "You know who is be-

 hind this, don't you?"

 "I think I do, and my joy at this outcome cannot

 quite balance my grief. Still, humanity lives again.

 Empire is reborn as a concept, and, perhaps, as a

 reality. The Empire of Flux and Anchor. The con-

 cept itself is staggering."

 "Come," said Sister Kasdi. "We have much to

 plan and work out between now and tomorrow."

 19

 ANSWERS

 Five hundred and fourteen border troopers had

 ridden out from Anchor Logh, and only two hun-

 dred and twenty-seven had returned, although,

 thanks to Flux magic, their wounds were healed

 and they felt pretty tough and proud of themselves.

 They were also the objects of awe among the local

 population and their fellow troopers, and told their

 battle stories time and again to enthralled audiences.

 Ultimately, though, even heroes have to go back to

 work, and they were all returned to duty.

 Because they were more than a quarter of all the

 • remaining guards, it was inevitable that, in many

 cases, long stretches of the border wall and the

 drains through it were guarded by these returning

 soldiers. Because of this, the invading army had

 little problem in breaching the wall along a more

 than two kilometer stretch halfway up, without, in

 fact, the rest of the guard force even knowing that

 such an invasion had taken place. They continued

 to guard the wall against attack from outside long

 after the enemy had a fully established force and

 was marching in strength on the capital.

 There was little resistance because it was so

 obviously futile, and while whole families wept as

 the conquerors marched by they could not resist

 these battle-hardened veterans with anything but

 305

 306 Jack L. Chalker

 insults and more tears. Without guns, which were

 outlawed in Anchor, there was no chance of even

 inflicting a minor blow. Most of the population

 seemed dazed by it all, in fact, for this sort;-of

 thing simply did not and never had happened as

 far as they knew. The compact between Flux and

 Anchor upon which the church and its people de-

 pended was suddenly in ruins, and it was a simply

 inconceivable event. Anchor's own children, cast

 into Flux as a part of that compact, now returned

 to it-

 The Temple was the one trouble spot, and not

 easy to take. It was built like a fortress of materi-

 als so hard that diamonds could not scratch it, and

 it was guarded from within by a force of armed

 wardens with electronic traps and devices. Bronze

 doors, however, needed far less than diamonds to

 blow apart; they needed only a good, solid shot

 from a single cannon.

 Inside, confused, frightened, and dazed, the Tem-

 ple staff prepared for the inevitable rapid fall. Be-

 hind still-locked doors piles of papers and other

 documents were burned, and the administrative

 section worked feverishly as the invaders conquered

 level after level to rid the Temple of hard evidence

 of its activities and files. They did as best they

 could, but they could not destroy it all.

 One figure slipped through a little-known rear

 passage and went down a long series of old 'and

 dusty metal stairs and through doors that creaked

 and groaned from disuse to the sub-basement. For a

 moment it stood there, looking at the small power

 transformer network buzzing away, then walked

 over to the grid, reached down into a large bag,

 and picked out a small rectangular cube with two

 small buttons on it. The figure then pressed both

 buttons simultaneously and tossed the brick into

 the metal cage hiding the wires and transformers.

 Quickly now she went up to the section of wall

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 307

 that seemed boarded, pressed on two spots, and

 the boards swung away on hinges to reveal a door.

 She did not wait for a key, but took a pistol and

 shot out the lock, then kicked the door in, then

 flipped on the light switch, climbed over the rub-

 ble of crumbled concrete and masonry to a spot in

 the rear of the room with chalk marks on the floor.

 She looked down at them, pistol still in hand, and

 mentally traced the strange and incomprehensible

 design. In an instant she was standing not in the

 room, but in front of the great machine that guarded

 the gate to Hell.

 She paused to stare at it all for a while, now

 feeling no great hurry. She had never been here

 before, and the sight was awesome. There was

 something almost suicidally hypnotic about that

 swirling mass at the tunnel's end, giving one the

 same feeling as she might get standing on an in-

 credibly tall spot. She turned, though, and walked

 up the tunnel, each section lighting as she passed,

 until she reached the wire grid to climb up and

 out. She realized how badly out of condition she'd

 become in climbing up and out, but she made it to

 the bottom of the saucer-shaped depression, then

 walked up the slope to the metal ladder there.

 "There is no way out for you," said a voice from

 above, at the top of the ladder, echoing across the

 depression and sounding ghostly and almost in-

 human. She stopped, and instead of trying the

 ladder stepped back from it, pistol still in hand,

 and looked up.

 "Who's there?" she called. "Show yourself!"

 A somewhat familiar figure moved to the edge of

 the ladder and looked down at her sadly. "You

 have been in Anchor too long. That pistol cannot

 harm me here."

 She fired anyway, emptying the entire clip. The

 figure at the top of the ladder just stood there,

 unmarked and unmoved. In disgust, she tossed the

 308 Jack L. Chalker

 pistol away, and it fell with a clatter and rolled

 back down the depression.                   :

 "I know you!" she shouted, frustration buildipg

 within her. "Who are you?"                 .;

 "You ordained me Sister Kasdi," came the reply.

 "What do you want with me now?" called back

 Sister General Diastephanos.

 "I want to know why. You weren't like Sister

 Daji, a professional undercover agent. Nobody shot

 you full of drugs and gave you orders to turn.

 You're the same woman who left Pericles full of

 commitment and dreams."

 The Sister General looked up at her in disgust.

 "You're barely nineteen, I think. What can you

 possibly know? Your ordination was a political

 show for the benefit of the masses. You have no

 background in theology, let alone management.

 What gives you the right to judge me?"     '.

 Cass sighed. "The same right Haldayne had to

 murder and rape and destroy- The same right you,

 in the end, used to. pervert the scripture and rule

 Anchor Logh. / have the power, and that gives me

 the right."

 That stopped the Sister General cold for a

 moment. Finally she said, "You ask me why. Why

 are you doing this? Because you see a church cor-

 rupted and a people forever stuck in one place.

 You can't change it. They make you so accountable,

 send wardens from Holy Anchor to keep tabs on

 you, to eliminate you if need be. You play the

 Queen of Heaven's game, and send her her dues, or

 you don't play at all. So you settle back and enjoy

 being dictator of your own little world, becoming

 fat and corrupt like the whole rotten church, or

 you do something. Anyone who is for the over-

 throw of the church is on the side of the frustrated.

 There is less difference between the Seven and the

 Nine than you realize."

 "There is less difference between the Seven and

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 309

 the church than you seem to realize," Cass came

 back.

 "You are so young," the Sister General sighed.

 "You may win your little revolution. It's happened

 before—oh, yes. But each time a better wizard

 comes along, or age and all those people you de-

 pend on to keep your revolution going begin to

 enjoy their own power, and become corrupted by

 it. You can't keep tabs on it all, nor can you live

 forever. The church, however, has had two thou-

 sand years of practice. It will entice and corrupt

 those it can, ultimately conquer the rest with its

 power to unify, and, if it cannot conquer you, it

 can wait you out. You can't win, but Haldayne

 can. When you are finally old enough and frus-

 trated enough to realize this, you will see that the

 Seven is the only hope humanity has."

 "You might be right," Cass admitted, "but I

 have seen the Seven at their worst, and there is no

 hope at all if you are. I choose to believe that you

 are not right, not so much because I deny your view

 of human nature, which is so well proved out in

 both Anchor and Flux, but because the alterna-

 tives are too terrible to bear. If, in fact, we cannot

 win, then maybe the human race deserves what it

 gets, whether it's the church, or Haldayne, or Hell

 itself. But if we don't try to win, then we most

 certainly deserve it all."

 "You speak the beautiful dreams of youth, but,

 in the end, you will become me."

 "Perhaps you need to have some of those beauti-

 ful dreams of youth restored yourself. Come up to

 me, and surrender yourself to my visions. We can

 use your vast knowledge and experience to avoid

 the same mistakes." She put out her hand over the

 top of the ladder.

 Sister Diastephanos shook her head sadly. "I am

 too old, and it is too late, for me to join a fool's

 parade. But, tell me, please—how did you know?

 310 Jack L. Chalker

 Even poor Daji had no idea she was doing my

 work."

 "She knew, I think, as she died. She understock!

 the depths and layers of Haldayne's tricky mind,

 although the full plot only came to her when he so

 coldly allowed her to be sacrificed on his orders.

 There are no windows in the Temple. The order

 had to be given by intercom from inside by some-

 one who knew exactly who and what Daji really

 was, fast enough for a messenger to signal out the

 front doors before we got there. But, clearly, noth-

 ing on the scope or scale of the excavations in the

 basement, the vanishing of novices, the addition .of

 new personnel smuggled in through the drainage

 pipes in the waif, could have remained hidden

 from the wardens and the Temple at large without

 your knowledge. Your own spies, and the spies of

 the Queen of Heaven, would have betrayed it."

 She sighed. "When I saw Pericles I knew that

 she would eventually figure it out. That was why I

 gave the order to hit her first, then Daji. But

 Haldayne was outside, and he reversed the orders.

 I knew there would be only one chance to get

 Pericles, but Daji was far more of a threat to

 Haldayne." She paused a moment, took a deep

 breath, then said, "I believe my time is past now. I

 could not bear to witness your childlike innocence

 destroyed." With that she turned and walked back

 to the black, gaping hole.

 Cass gasped and cried, "No! Come with us! We

 will forgive all! This need not happen!"

 The Sister General paused a moment, then shook

 her head sadly, and descended the mesh to the

 floor of the tunnel. Cass scrambled down the ladder,

 but had barely reached the bottom when there

 was a sudden flare of bright energy from the hole,

 and a single, agonized scream, and then silence

 and darkness once more.

 She resisted the impulse to run to the tunnel,

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 311

 knowing that the Guardians would not harm her

 but she decided not to. There would be nothing

 there. Instead she turned and started back up the

 ladder, but as she did she began to do something

 that Sister General Diastephanos would never have

 understood.

 She wept, and repeated prayers for the newly

 dead.                                   - -

 20

 QUESTIONS

 We are the spirits of Flux arfd Anchor ....

 "You'll have to excuse the candlelight," Cass

 apologized. "We're trying to get a whole network

 of oil lamps set up so we can at least function."

 The wizard Mervyn nodded and took a chair.

 "Perfectly all right. Still, it's times like these when

 one appreciates the ease of Flux. Just snap a finger

 and, poof, all the light you need. I often think that

 our ancestors must have taken electric power for

 granted. Otherwise, why have such a building with

 no windows and no manual air ducts?" It did smell

 stale and musty, but maintenance personnel as-

 sured them that enough air was moving due to

 pressure differentials to pose no major health

 hazards, although they had closed down the least

 ventilated parts of the Temple.

 "We'll have it again some day," she told him.

 "Already we are scouring the land for experts who

 can rebuild the system, and there are enough Flux

 wizards to duplicate the damaged parts once we

 have them sorted out. Some of your people have

 already taken a look at it and told me that it is

 theoretically possible to have far larger storage of

 this energy and even transfer it by wire to smaller

 storage and distribution points. If possible, I would

 312

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 313

 like to one day see the whole of Anchor Loeh wired

 11

 up.

 "I told you that energy physics was one of my

 hobbies. I'll take a good look at everything before I

 leave and then research it in Pericles. We can copy

 the books well enough, if only we can find a few

 good trained technicians to translate them into

 fact. In the meantime, how's it going on your front?"

 "I've never seen so many people so eager to

 change sides. It's amazing the level of cooperation

 we're getting."

 "Human nature, that's all. Already the sermons

 are going out telling how Haldayne and the Seven

 had corrupted the Sister General herself, and how

 you are here to restore normalcy. They know you

 are an ordained high priestess, and things have

 been getting back to normal, so they'll buy it. No,

 I'm talking about the long run."

 "Well, Sister Tamara will be installed as the

 new Sister General. It will be a popular choice,

 since she's from the Anchor, and we can count on

 everyone to minimize the age factor. The first thing

 we'll start doing is short transfers of Temple per-

 sonnel in small groups from here to the Temple in

 Hope, where we'll sort the had, the good, and the

 reclaimable. Once we do the Temple, we'll do the

 parishes one by one."

 "They won't all be easy to convert. Not deep

 down. Not voluntarily, anyway."

 "I know that- But I and a number of others have

 been reading every single bit of scripture bit by

 bit, and there is a scholarly team compiling in-

 formation. Although the whole project will take

 years, I've already directed them to specific areas

 and found some very fine and useful things. Vows/

 for example. In order to come back to Anchor as a

 priestess, all will be required to undergo the sacra-

 ments of ordination and conferrence once again in

 Hope, but this time with the knowledge that a

 314 Jack L. Chalker

 binding spell will be cast at the same time. This

 spell will simply render them incapable of violat-

 ing their vows for any reason, nor any added vow

 they may be required to take in the future. I don't'

 think it will be long before we have a purified"

 church here, no matter what their intent."

 He chuckled. "Clever, and effective. And you?"

 "I am going to be quite busy working with oth-

 ers on the restructuring of this society. Barbarities

 like the Paring Rite must be replaced by more

 humane practices, and we must remove this deep

 prejudice against Flux and its people on the part

 of Anchor-folk. The worst offenders we can help in

 Flux itself; for the rest, it will be slow, but I am

 leaning towards a required trip by all schoolchildren

 of certain ages from here through the void to Hope.

 Rooting it out in the young is the best hope for a

 true breakdown of fear and prejudice. We're just

 beginning to set up our own training system in

 Hope, and we will need far more instructors of

 wizard caliber. Of course, any priestesses who show

 talent in that direction will be redirected there.

 I'm going to be very, very busy."

 "That may be true, but the Holy Anchor isn't

 going to be too pleased about all this. You will get

 inquisitors first, then demands, and finally the

 whole region will be excommunicated and a holy

 war against it declared."

 "They have to come through Flux and through

 areas of our control to do anything, and then they

 will have to break my shield. Militarily and magi-

 cally I believe we are well defended. The next trick

 will be to spread it out, bit by bit, until we are too

 much of a movement to stop by any thought of dir-

 ect action. It will be busy, but exciting."

 He nodded and grew very serious- "Cass, much

 of this will depend on you for a long, long time.

 You realize that. The rest of us can help, but you

 will have to carry the load or it will fall apart."

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 315

 She nodded. "I understand that."

 "What I must know is if you are really ready for

 this type of lifelong commitment. You're human,

 and you have all the weaknesses that brings with

 it. Heaven knows, I understand that. And you're a

 powerful wizard. Later on, when I spend much

 time with you in Hope, I will show you how to

 perfect that power, possibly the strongest on World,

 although that's by no means certain. It has been

 my experience that no matter how strong you are,

 eventually you find someone stronger."

 "You mean, will I turn into the goddess or worse?

 I'm going to try hard not to. I'm no puritan, and

 power for its own sake doesn't interest me. I do

 not want to be worshipped."

 "No, it's more than that. Look, let me hypothe-

 size something. It's just for the sake of argument,

 no more, but it serves its purpose."

 "Go ahead."

 "Suppose, right now, a live and healthy Matson

 should walk through that door- What would you

 do?"

 She thought of his battered and torn body there

 on the battlefield. "It is a meaningless question."

 He paused a moment. "Suppose f were to tell

 you that Matson was in fact still alive?"

 Her heart leaped into her throat- -"Are you

 serious?"

 He nodded. "I'm serious."

 She seemed to shrink back into her chair and

 become, all at once, very small and very young

 once more. Her emotions grew jumbled again, and

 she faced the problem square for a while. Finally

 she remembered that Mervyn still sat there, and

 that he expected an answer.

 "I will always love him," she said sincerely. "I

 won't disguise or mask that. But I realize that it's

 too late now to do anything else but what I am

 doing. I feel that I was chosen for this. I have

 316 Jack L. Chalker

 already resolved to apply all vows, without ex-

 ception, to myself. In fact, if there was a way to

 bind myself to my own spells I would do it. I must

 be an example in all things."

 The wizard nodded approvingly, "There is such

 a spell, or at least a method. We of the Nine must

 use it to fully become one of the trust. But it is a

 terrible spell, and not one to ever take lightly, for

 it cannot be reversed by anyone, including yourself,

 under any circumstances, but it will do nothing to

 ease the mental pain and anguish it might cause."

 "Then you must show me how to do it. I cannot

 possibly ask anyone to obey what I myself am

 above, and it will provide the example and also

 prevent my abusing this power."

 He sighed. "That is its primary purpose when

 we apply it to ourselves—that we may never be-

 come our enemy. But you propose a far more com-

 plex one, one that you may often regret."

 "No, you don't understand. I regret this situa-

 tion I find myself in. I regret the responsibility. I

 regret the lack of freedom. I most of all regret the

 self-sacrifices I must make. But I understood, finally,

 out there on the battlefield, that I really have no

 choice in the matter. It was cemented by my con-

 frontation with the late Sister General. We are

 losing our best to the enemy, and we are murder-

 ing our future and our hopes. What I said to her I

 was really saying to myself. Only once in many

 generations, I think, does somebody come along

 with the right combination of luck and will to get

 into a spot where they can revolutionize things,

 change things for the better. When it does come

 about, you can turn your back on it, in which case

 you are guilty of the most terrible of sins, putting

 yourself before the future not of others but of the

 race. Or, you can try without total commitment,

 without any willingness to sacrifice yourself and

 what you love, and wind up like Diastephanos or

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 317

 Haldayne. Or you can accept it and devote your all

 to it. Those were my choices, and I know which

 one I now have to make."

 She paused a moment, and then added, "You

 know, the more I have thought about this, the

 more I'm convinced that I'm not unique. In fact, I

 suspect that somebody has this sort of opportunity

 fall into their hands in some way quite often. Maybe

 it's just somebody on a local level who says, 'this

 is stupid, or cruel—let's find another way' or some-

 thing like that. They just don't have the nerve to

 make a total commitment, and so evil prevails as

 usual."

 "You're probably right," he agreed, "but you are

 unusual, you know. Very few make such a total

 commitment." He sighed. "Would'it help if I told

 you that I have no idea if Matson is dead or alive?"

 She gasped. "But you said—"

 "I said, 'Suppose I were to tell you'."

 "That's—cruel."

 "I had to know. And, I think, you did, too."

 She sighed. "You're right, of course."

 "The stringers attempted to recover all of their

 own. Matson's body was not among those logged

 with us. It's barely possible, but not likely, that he

 lives. I just thought you should face that fact, not

 only for the obvious reason but for the other."

 "I know, and I thank you for it. Uh—what other

 reason?"

 "Cass—you're pregnant."

 That hit her with more of a shock than the

 idea that Matson somehow survived. "That's im-

 possible!"

 "You're still a virgin?"

 She coughed. "Uh, no, but it was only once, witli

 Matson, out on the trail. My first and only time. I

 thought the odds were against you getting preg-

 nant anyway, and certainly not on the first try!"

 He shrugged. "That's a young girl's self-delusion,

 318 Jack L. Chalker

 common as long as there has been a first time.

 Yes, the odds are way against it, but so long as

 there are odds they hit somebody. I suspect that

 your own power, which has a mind of its own,

 might have been operating there as well. Sub-

 consciously, at least, you wanted his baby, and in

 Flux, for a few of us, wishes can come true."

 "But—after all this? The transformations, every-

 thing ... It isn't possible!"

 "It is and you are and that's that. There's noth-

 ing improper about it. It was before any vows

 were taken."

 She nodded. "But—it's impossible! How can I

 manage it? And how do I explain it? The new

 Sister General of the Reformed Church has a child."

 "You should leam by now that heads of churches

 can sell any rationalization they want to the devout,

 particularly when it doesn't violate true scripture.

 It would be a tough thing to explain to the old

 church, whose general practices forbade any but

 virgins becoming priestesses, but we are returning

 to basics here."

 She sank back in the chair once again. "Damn!"

 "High priestesses don't curse in front of others,"

 he cracked. "But, seriously, you will be in Flux

 most of the time. It is not necessary to have it."

 "But it is\ Don't you see—it's the only thing left

 of him. He wanted one, and it was supposed to be

 Arden's, but she was killed. No, somehow I will

 manage." She sighed. "I need to be alone for a

 little while with this. Then I have to start getting

 things ready for Sister Tamara's installation."

 "I understand," he told her. "Don't worry. I'll be

 around if you need me."

 The candles blew out when he closed the door

 on his way out, but she did not get up and relight

 them. For quite a while she just sat there, being,

 for a moment, little Cassie, alone in the peace of

 the darkness.

 SOUL RIDER: SPIRITS OF FLUX AND ANCHOR 319

 We are the spirits of Flux and Anchor, and some

 call us demons... .

 She had the spell memorized. It was incredibly

 complex, and she did not understand it. but she

 understood its meaning. Now she knelt at the altar

 in the Temple at Hope, completely alone, and per-

 formed the full sacramental service. In the midst of it,

 she paused, and without hesitation executed the spell.

 "I am a priestess of the Holy Mother of Uni-

 verses and an instrument of Her Holy Church and

 will," she said softly. "I vow that I shall always be

 a priestess in all things and in all ways, and that I

 shall never violate my sacred trust nor deviate

 from my cause.

 "I vow that I shall devote my life-and my power

 to the'uplifting of humanity and the reformation

 of the Holy Church. I vow that I will never use that

 great power for selfish gain, but only to further the

 sacred causes and the divine will.

 "I reaffirm my vows before thee, that I shall in

 all things obey scripture as regards myself and

 others; that I shall live as the humblest of my

 priestesses, owning nothing; that I shall keep and

 never violate the sacraments; that I shall go beyond

 thy vows and be in all ways forever after chaste.

 "I further vow that I shall never ask of another

 anything which I myself am not willing to do, nor

 be false to myself, my flock, or my faith in any

 way. To these things I bind myself, willingly, now

 and forever."

 She continued with the service, but there was a

 new, strange light in her eyes, for she could see the

 future in her mind's eye.

 We are the spirits of Flux and Anchor and some

 call us demons, ft is possible that we are such, for

 certainly we know not our nature or our origins... .

 In the great golden palace at Holy Anchor, Her

 Perfect Highness, The Queen of Heaven, was look-

 320            Jack L. Chalker

 ing over the account books and scowling. There

 was a sudden fluttering in the window nearby,

 and she looked up, irritated, to see a large, fat

 raven perched there. She stared at it and frowned.

 "Be off, bird!" she snapped. "Shool I have too

 many headaches right now to fool with the likes of

 you!"

 "You haven't begun to know what a headache

 really is," the raven squawked back. "We, my dear

 sister, are in deep, deep shit.. .."

 Slowly, sparing no details, he explained the new

 situation. She listened attentively, nodding now

 and then and asking an occasional question, but

 otherwise letting him tell it. Finally, he was finished,

 and she sighed wearily.

 "I suppose you have a grand new design for

 dealing with this?"

 "Of course. But I'm willing to hear alternatives."

 She thought a moment, then said, "With much

 patience, and a great deal of pressure, this might

 be yet turned to our advantage. An uprising will

 panic the Fluxwizards and Anchorfolk alike all

 over World- A holy crusade could cement our

 control."

 "You mean to contain it, then? I thought of

 turning it instead."

 "We will try containment first. If that doesn't

 work, then we will try your more devious ways.

 Do not worry, my brother. I know exactly what to

 do.. .."

 The Soul Rider saga continues with

 Empires of Flux and Anchor

 coming soon from Tor Books