work. It worked most of the time but not all the time,
particularly when you got way out, where the rest of the
humans were. Suppose all the things needed to make a god
just never got together, or never got together right there? So
they just kept floatin' around, never comin' together. . . .
My god! All the holy wars and all the church singin' and
all the Hallelujahs and monks and missionaries. ... All for
different gods created out of need or out of some visions from
other universes or maybe out of folks' minds 'cause they
knew they ought'a have at least one. All for nothing? And her
mom joining that real fundamentalist sect and even gettin'
divorced from Daddy 'cause he thought they was phonies and
all that. All for nothing? And her science teacher was right
that there was no god, just natural laws, but he was wrong,
too. Most people had gods, but we don't!
WAR OF THE MAELSTROM
307
It was such an emotionally unnerving concept that she said
nothing about it, didn't even want to bring it up to the others.
Maybe it wasn't true—exactly. But, somehow, deep down, she
thought it had to be at least part of the answer. And old
Klittichom had figured it, and he'd spent all that time getting
together all the things needed to make a god of the Akhbreed,
and that was what he was planning to do. . . .
Damn! What sacrilege! What a horrible, horrible thing to
even think. But she couldn't stop thinking it, even though it
made her feel sick and empty inside. Did all Akhbreed lack
one, or just some? Oh, jeez. . . .
She just couldn't be right. Even if she somehow pushed her
own emotions and beliefs aside for the sake of argument, she
knew she had to be wrong. / mean, these people here like
Boolean—Professor Long—are all big brains who been studyin'
this their whole lives. I never even got to graduate from high
school with my C average and I didn't have the brains for
college, anyways. This is crazy thinkin', me pretendin' I got
more brains than I got, that's all.
She wouldn't say nothing to the others; no use in getting
laughed at.
Crim and Boday were back in a little over two hours,
looking frozen to death. The sorcerers risked a bit of magic to
warm them and soothe frostbitten areas, and they were soon
able to talk about what they had seen—and what they had
not-
Boday took the charcoal pencil and paper from her saddle
pack and began to sketch. "You see—on a plateau, like so,
with downward slopes and then high mountains around. It
does not look like much, except for this bulge here in the
center, but we think most of it is underground.''
"There are fortifications along the downward slope into a
V-shaped notch valley before the high mountains begin,"
Crim elaborated. "Hard to tell just what they were, but they
looked dug in and sheltered. There's no question it's the
place, though. There's no snow on top of it. Not a bit. You
can see the warmth coming from it, and there's almost a little
snowstorm where it meets the real cold air, but the stuff that
falls never freezes."
"We think the main entry is down here, below the plateau,
in the sides," Boday continued, as the sketch took on a
308 jack L. Chalker
remarkably detailed look that seemed almost three-dimensional.
*'It appears that there is a bridge that can be extended, so.
making a connection to a fairly wide trail here, which is
snow-covered but passable if you knew it."
"Except for a few rough edges here and there, it looks
kind'a like a flying saucer," Sam commented. "Jeez! How
the hell do we get in there?''
"We know Klittichom has very few Second Rank people
with him," Yobi remarked, obliquely addressing Sam's ques-
tion. "The odds are, unless he has one or two spares, they
would all be needed to focus the mechanism when they begin
their dirty work. I am quite confident that the three of us can
take the operators, Klittichom included, or that we can take
whatever spare people—who would be lesser, more inexperi-
enced types—who would be left to guard and run defenses.
The trouble is, we can not take both. Their combined power
would require at least another three or four as strong as us."
Etanalon nodded. "I agree. From here, even now, I can
sense the power level against us. Klittichorn is strong, but so
are each of us. The others are mere shadows, but together
they are formidable, particularly under their master's direc-
tion. If we are to have a chance, they must first be divided."
Boolean nodded, then looked first at Etanalon, then at
Yobi. "You know what that means? We have nothing we can
draw them out with—they know their strength and time is
running out on them. They could go at any moment, but
certainly no more than a week to ten days. After that, the
child might well be bom. They're not going to split them-
selves up now for any cause at all, or they would have sent
some of them after Sam instead of Zamofir. In fact, if we
wait for them, they'll have gathered in any of the others they
might still have out there and be stronger. We must hit nowf'
Yobi nodded back to him. "Yes, I think we understand
what that means. The only way to have them divided is to
have them divide themselves. That means Klittichom and
probably three of his best directing the war, which, once
started, they dare not break off, lest they have the whole of
the Second Rank up here and on our side regardless of what
they do to the hubs. And, I agree as well, we know not how
many others might be coming here in preparation for the big
attack but surely there are some. We can not wait."
WAR OF THE MAELSTROM 309
"It's agreed then," Etanalon chimed in, "that the best and
only practical method is to provoke them into starting the war
now, pulling their strongest to its commission and allowing us
to enter dealing only with the second rate."
"Yes, but how do we provoke them?" Boolean asked.
"We go in frontatly and they'll know it's only we three—
they can read the power as much as we. They won't panic—
they've been at this too long. They'll just gather together and
meet us head on."
Sam's jaw dropped as she couldn't believe what she was
hearing. "You mean—after all this, you're gonna let it happen?
You're gonna actually make them do it? Start the war? Kill or
transform millions and millions of innocent people? Give him
his crack at godhood?"
"We see no alternative, dear," Etanalon responded gently.
"Hopefully we can prevent it from covering the whole of
Akahlar, depending on how strong his outer defenses prove to
be. But without Klittichom as the will and the glue, it will
fall apart in the end, and those of us with great power can aid
in picking up the pieces and reregulating the system as we've
always done, much as I hate to get back into that end of the
business. It's either this or we must quit and sit here and wait
for him to first win his war and then claim his First Rank
status."
"That's what it's always been about, hasn't it?" Sam said
accusingly. "You—none of you—really care, deep down.
about the lives that will be destroyed, the civilizations and
cultures shattered, the people who will be enslaved and all
that. It's Klittichom you've been after all along. Nothing else
matters. He's the first one you all are convinced really can
make himself a god and you're scared of him. If not you,
then nobody. That's it, isn't it?"
Boolean sighed and looked her straight in the eye. "No,
Sam, that's not it- Or, rather, that wasn't it. I swear it. And it
didn't have to be it, either. It didn't have to come down to
just us on the edge of a frozen world in the middle of
nowhere having to make this decision. There are literally close
to a thousand Second Rank sorcerers in Akahlar. A thousand!
If we had just one percent of them here—just ten—this
wouldn't even be a contest. We could shatter that place and
fry him and that would be the end of it. One percent! But he's
310 Jack L. Chalker
caressed them and cajoled them and fooled them and wined
and dined them and fed their prejudices and when all else
failed put real, genuine fear into them. He's played to greed,
tike Grotag getting an empty promise, he believed that his
own hub and staff would be spared and that he'd increase his
powers and holdings under the new order. He's played to an
ancient, corrupt system that so takes its powers for granted
that it believes itself invulnerable, and played it like a sym-
phony orchestra. And that leaves three of us—one social
pariah, one exile, and one retired researcher—and the three of
you to do it."
"But, surely some of them . . . !"
"In what I think is our common history, give or take a few
years, one fellow went from a laughingstock in a beer hall to
ruler of a large and powerful country that prided itself on its
intellectuals, its culture, and its sophistication. He turned it
into a gangster state that had a relatively weak army and
weaker navy and he scared bigger, more powerful countries,
or buffaloed them, or lied and agreed to everything they
wanted and then did the opposite, in a massive con job that
resulted in the most horrible world war we have known.
Klittichom's turned the same neat trick here. And, like his
predecessor in my own world, when he eventually must go to
war and his power and strength and aims are no longer
possible to hide, then he must go for broke. He has to hit
them hard and fast before they can organize, figure out who's
hitting them and how, and bring down massive concerted
force to stop him. To do that at this stage they will all have to
admit they were stooges, fools, and dupes, and pretty openly
and obviously. That's pretty hard to do when you're used to
being a demigod, and, once he starts, that's the only time
allowance he has. Sure, we wanted to stop it, but we didn't
have the weapon until now and we don't have the allies even
now. This is the best we can do. We can't stop him, we can
only hope to salvage what wreckage he makes and minimize
it."
"But—"
"No buts! The choice has changed from preventing him
from wiping out anybody—to preventing him from wiping
our everybody. Once you're in there, you wrest control from
that Storm Princess! You send those things out where they
WAR OF THE MAELSTROM 311
can't do more damage here, and where they will be tempered
in the outplanes. You get her and take control and save
everybody and everything you can. Now, that's all we can
do. The alternative is to do nothing. Is that what you want?"
She sighed and sank back down on the floor of the cave.
She wished she had an answer, an instant plan that would
solve it all, but there was none. He made too damned good a
case. "No, that's not what I want, damn it. I'm just sick and
tired of every decision, even life and death, bein' made for
me with any choice I got limited to ten seconds or less." She
sighed again. "All right—so how are you gonna get him to
jump the gun?"
"One thing at a time. Let's first make sure we're rested
and well coordinated and know just what we're trying to do."
Crim looked at him. "What about us? Do Boday and I just
hang loose and freeze to death, me making sure she lives long
enough to do battle sketches?"
"Uh-uh. You wanted in, you're coming. You take those
machine guns you got so fond of with you. Now, you stand in
front of a Second Rank sorcerer, even a good adept, and
empty the clip at them, and they'll laugh and freeze the
bullets or turn them to raindrops or something. But if they're
taking on me, or Yobi, or Etanalon, they won't even think
about you. They'll be on magic sight and won't even notice
you. If that happens and you see us engaging, then you don't
hesitate. You blow 'em to Hell."
Crim nodded. "That sounds like my fantasies come true. I
always wanted to nail some sorcerers. And if we get in to
wherever they're doing their thing? We won't be much use in
there, I suspect, and they're bound to have a few folks with
guns of their own."
"Military stuff, probably. You're better than they are—
typically, the average general hasn't shot anything except
maybe clay pigeons in years. Keep 'em off us, and if you see
the Storm Princess, open up. She doesn't have that kind of
magical protection."
"Yeah, but neither do I," Sam noted nervously.
Boolean chuckled. "Uh-huh. Well, you've eavesdropped
or your alter ego in there enough. If you were dressed pretty
much like her, you might even pass for her. Sure, they might
catch on if they put two and two together, but they'll hesitate.
312 ]ack L. Chalker
They may lake no chances at all and divert fire from you—I
would in their shoes. If you can act the part, even for a little,
you may just throw them for a loop."
"I—I don't know. My dialect's more of a peasant sort than
hers, and right now she's fatter, although I suppose with
some clothing choices we could fake that. But her hair, that
sort of thing."
"Perhaps," suggested Etanalon, "we could minimize that
whole confusion. If we knew exactly what she looked like
now—right now—it would be a simple matter to adjust your
looks to hers. The acting we will leave to you, but I suspect
little of it will be required. The presence, as it were. is
enough."
"Yeah, but how're we gonna know what she looks like? I
mean, the last time I tried that mindlink bit she heard me,
screamed, shut me out, and sent a Changewind after me."
Etanalon smiled sweetly. "Ah, but, my dear, you weren't
hypnotized by an expert sorceress, who could subtly guide
that link."
"But she'll know I'm close by. They were able to send a
Changewind after me in Covanti. . . ."
"That's because she was able to turn to Klittichom right
then and there and have him trace the link," Etanalon told
her. "We will go patiently this time, until she is in the right
environment. And we will eventually send her a vision, but
with confirmation that you are not close but far away, since
the child is far away. Tell me, have you ever attended a live
birth?"
"Two. Putie and Quisu. I had nightmares about my own
for a week after that. One part of me didn't want to go
through that at all, the other wanted it over and done with.