and that cheered both of the newcomers.
They heard the beat slow, heard oars being shipped, and realized now that they were drifting with a far different kind of current from that of the Sea of Dreams. There was no mistaking the feeling that the boat was coming in to dock.
They went outside on deck, and Marge in particular was cheered to find it comfortably warm, although the dense fog threatened to soak them through. She walked forward, around the pilothouse, and the two men followed. Neither Joe nor Marge could resist looking in the pilothouse, but there was nothing to be seen. Whoever or whatever the captain of this ghostly ferry was, he, she, or it was definitely not visible in the daylight, although the large wooden wheel moved with a deliberateness that said that something, someone, was there.
"The captain and deck crew are nice folks," Ruddygore told 36 JACK L. CHALKER THE RIVER OF DANCING GODS 37 them, "but rather sensitive about being seen. Among other things, unlike the rowing crew, they can and occasionally do go ashore, and what the passengers don't know about them can't someday be betrayed to an enemy..
Marge took a last look back at the apparently empty wheelhouse and shivered slightly despite the damp warmth. She wondered idly if Ruddygore was being completely honest and straightforward with them. Not that it made any difference right now. They were totally in his hands and at his mercy.
Somewhere aft, a loud bell clanged four times, and again some of the oars came down as the boat performed a steering maneuver. There was a sudden lurch, then a great bump that went the length of the boat, and abruptly the oars shipped again and the boat came to a complete stop.
Page 30 Chalker, Jack L - The River of the Dancing Gods "Well, we're home!" Ruddygore announced cheerfully.
"Follow me." With that he made his way down one of the side stairways.
Joe looked out at the all-encompassing fog and shook his head. "Some home," he muttered to himself, but followed the other two.
They walked across the ribbed metal car deck and saw that there was a smooth area beyond the boat. Ruddygore stepped off onto it unhesitatingly, and after a moment. Marge and Joe did likewise.
The fog began to fade only a few paces from the boat, and before they'd gone fifty yards it had completely vanished, revealing an unexpectedly beautiful scene.
They were in a small wooded area beside a large river, the woods following and hugging the river itself, which seemed to be a thousand yards or more wide and whose other shore was apparently dense forest.
But ahead was cleared land, gently rolling and lushly green with tall, unmowed grasses. Everywhere, too, were wildflowers by the thousands, of countless colors and shapes and varieties, sticking up through the deep green grass. Insects, many very familiar-looking, buzzed and twitted to and fro; here and there small birds circled, dipped, or landed and hopped around in the grass.
Beyond was a hill, not very high, really. Beyond it was a bluff dominating the scene, and on top of the bluff was a castle of the kind both newcomers had seen only in picture books.
"Just like Disneyland," Joe muttered.
"Colder, draftier, but a lot bigger and more useful," Ruddygore responded. "That is Terindell. My home..
"It's beautiful," Marge told him. "Even more beautiful than you described last night..
Ruddygore led the way along a path that seemed well-worn, leading through the lush fields to the castle in an indirect, meandering fashion. It was not paved, but was dry and solid black earth and rock and proved no problem.
"The path is circuitous mostly because of erosion," the sorcerer explained. "As you might guess from the richness of the vegetation, this region gets a lot of rain, and a straight path would have worn its way into a crevass by now..
"I don't mind," Marge assured him. "It's so beautiful here, and I never felt better
They heard the beat slow, heard oars being shipped, and realized now that they were drifting with a far different kind of current from that of the Sea of Dreams. There was no mistaking the feeling that the boat was coming in to dock.
They went outside on deck, and Marge in particular was cheered to find it comfortably warm, although the dense fog threatened to soak them through. She walked forward, around the pilothouse, and the two men followed. Neither Joe nor Marge could resist looking in the pilothouse, but there was nothing to be seen. Whoever or whatever the captain of this ghostly ferry was, he, she, or it was definitely not visible in the daylight, although the large wooden wheel moved with a deliberateness that said that something, someone, was there.
"The captain and deck crew are nice folks," Ruddygore told 36 JACK L. CHALKER THE RIVER OF DANCING GODS 37 them, "but rather sensitive about being seen. Among other things, unlike the rowing crew, they can and occasionally do go ashore, and what the passengers don't know about them can't someday be betrayed to an enemy..
Marge took a last look back at the apparently empty wheelhouse and shivered slightly despite the damp warmth. She wondered idly if Ruddygore was being completely honest and straightforward with them. Not that it made any difference right now. They were totally in his hands and at his mercy.
Somewhere aft, a loud bell clanged four times, and again some of the oars came down as the boat performed a steering maneuver. There was a sudden lurch, then a great bump that went the length of the boat, and abruptly the oars shipped again and the boat came to a complete stop.
Page 30 Chalker, Jack L - The River of the Dancing Gods "Well, we're home!" Ruddygore announced cheerfully.
"Follow me." With that he made his way down one of the side stairways.
Joe looked out at the all-encompassing fog and shook his head. "Some home," he muttered to himself, but followed the other two.
They walked across the ribbed metal car deck and saw that there was a smooth area beyond the boat. Ruddygore stepped off onto it unhesitatingly, and after a moment. Marge and Joe did likewise.
The fog began to fade only a few paces from the boat, and before they'd gone fifty yards it had completely vanished, revealing an unexpectedly beautiful scene.
They were in a small wooded area beside a large river, the woods following and hugging the river itself, which seemed to be a thousand yards or more wide and whose other shore was apparently dense forest.
But ahead was cleared land, gently rolling and lushly green with tall, unmowed grasses. Everywhere, too, were wildflowers by the thousands, of countless colors and shapes and varieties, sticking up through the deep green grass. Insects, many very familiar-looking, buzzed and twitted to and fro; here and there small birds circled, dipped, or landed and hopped around in the grass.
Beyond was a hill, not very high, really. Beyond it was a bluff dominating the scene, and on top of the bluff was a castle of the kind both newcomers had seen only in picture books.
"Just like Disneyland," Joe muttered.
"Colder, draftier, but a lot bigger and more useful," Ruddygore responded. "That is Terindell. My home..
"It's beautiful," Marge told him. "Even more beautiful than you described last night..
Ruddygore led the way along a path that seemed well-worn, leading through the lush fields to the castle in an indirect, meandering fashion. It was not paved, but was dry and solid black earth and rock and proved no problem.
"The path is circuitous mostly because of erosion," the sorcerer explained. "As you might guess from the richness of the vegetation, this region gets a lot of rain, and a straight path would have worn its way into a crevass by now..
"I don't mind," Marge assured him. "It's so beautiful here, and I never felt better
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