Read Online Songs of the Dancing Gods by Jack L. Chalker - Free Book Online
Authors: Jack L. Chalker
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eyes blearily. “Don’t you two ever sleep!”
“Sure, and we did,” Tiana told him.’ ‘It’s not morning, love, it’s afternoon, and if we want to make any time at all today we’d better pack up and get started.”
“Huh? No breakfast?”
“We’ll have to get some on the way. We’re cleaned out as it is, but we’ve got a little money now.”
Irv frowned. “You sure it’s safe to go through that town again?”
“Sure, so long as we skirt the riverfront,” Joe answered, still half asleep. He rummaged in his pack and pulled out a small cloth satchel. Opening it, he removed four identical-looking loincloths, picked the one that looked cleanest, and put it on.
Tiana did not mount or prepare her horse. She usually finished up her morning routine with a brisk run of eight to ten kilometers. She wouldn’t have that much this morning, so she was taking what she could get, and at a real run. Those extremely long legs were pure muscle, and she meant to keep them that way. They actually had to urge their horses to a trot to keep up with her.
The port town looked different by daylight, but not improved. It was pretty seedy, really, with buildings of ramshackle wood and well-worn adobe intermixed with no thought or plan. It also smelted of garbage and feces and collective human sweat and was thick with all sorts of bugs, most particularly flies and roaches.
Through it all, the population was about. Away from the port and markets, the hard-packed dirt streets were filled with human traffic; carts going this way and that, donkeys, and lots of bare-chested women in colorful slit skirts, often with one or two small babies strapped to a front halter or carrier on their backs and other naked, dirty-looking toddlers bringing up the rear, carrying huge loads on top of their heads this way and that, trying to avoid the omnipresent horse dung that was always in the streets. The centers of each neighborhood were the communal wells with their pumps and pools held by crumbling adobe masonry. The women there all had kids, and it seemed like every other one was pregnant, even the ones with small crying babies.
It had taken Irving weeks to stop gagging every time he was around places like this. Somehow, all those sword-and-sandal epics on TV had never gotten to what those places smelled like. Now, though, he was almost getting used to it, and, in fact, he was no longer ogling every bare breast he saw, either. Tiana had a point about what was normal one place or another. The amazing thing was that it took so little time to get used to a new normality.
Most of the cafes and bars only opened during normal mealtimes, but they were able to find a small place off one of the squares with a big well that had some leftover stuff from lunch and was willing to let them have it cheap. Without refrigerators, you couldn’t keep much long around here. A trio of girls, the oldest of whom looked to be ten or eleven, seemed to do most things. It had also seemed odd to Irv at first that kids his age and even younger got served beer or wine, but, early on, when he saw a couple of little kids pissing in one of the wells, he understood and didn’t touch regular water again if he could help it.
Of course, when they had come over, Ruddygore had worked some sort of magic that had given him the immunity he’d have if he’d been born and grown up here, and that helped, but there was still a lot of sickness and a lot of young deaths here, and nobody was immune from the galloping runs.
Tiana, at least now, was a total vegetarian; she didn’t even drink milk or eat eggs. If it didn’t grow in the ground, she didn’t touch it. Fortunately, his father had no such problems, and in that, he most certainly decided, like father, like son. He, for one, didn’t know how the hell she got all that energy off cow fodder.
The proprietor was a fat little lady named Esaga who looked a lot older than she probably was. She wore only a rope tied loosely about
“Sure, and we did,” Tiana told him.’ ‘It’s not morning, love, it’s afternoon, and if we want to make any time at all today we’d better pack up and get started.”
“Huh? No breakfast?”
“We’ll have to get some on the way. We’re cleaned out as it is, but we’ve got a little money now.”
Irv frowned. “You sure it’s safe to go through that town again?”
“Sure, so long as we skirt the riverfront,” Joe answered, still half asleep. He rummaged in his pack and pulled out a small cloth satchel. Opening it, he removed four identical-looking loincloths, picked the one that looked cleanest, and put it on.
Tiana did not mount or prepare her horse. She usually finished up her morning routine with a brisk run of eight to ten kilometers. She wouldn’t have that much this morning, so she was taking what she could get, and at a real run. Those extremely long legs were pure muscle, and she meant to keep them that way. They actually had to urge their horses to a trot to keep up with her.
The port town looked different by daylight, but not improved. It was pretty seedy, really, with buildings of ramshackle wood and well-worn adobe intermixed with no thought or plan. It also smelted of garbage and feces and collective human sweat and was thick with all sorts of bugs, most particularly flies and roaches.
Through it all, the population was about. Away from the port and markets, the hard-packed dirt streets were filled with human traffic; carts going this way and that, donkeys, and lots of bare-chested women in colorful slit skirts, often with one or two small babies strapped to a front halter or carrier on their backs and other naked, dirty-looking toddlers bringing up the rear, carrying huge loads on top of their heads this way and that, trying to avoid the omnipresent horse dung that was always in the streets. The centers of each neighborhood were the communal wells with their pumps and pools held by crumbling adobe masonry. The women there all had kids, and it seemed like every other one was pregnant, even the ones with small crying babies.
It had taken Irving weeks to stop gagging every time he was around places like this. Somehow, all those sword-and-sandal epics on TV had never gotten to what those places smelled like. Now, though, he was almost getting used to it, and, in fact, he was no longer ogling every bare breast he saw, either. Tiana had a point about what was normal one place or another. The amazing thing was that it took so little time to get used to a new normality.
Most of the cafes and bars only opened during normal mealtimes, but they were able to find a small place off one of the squares with a big well that had some leftover stuff from lunch and was willing to let them have it cheap. Without refrigerators, you couldn’t keep much long around here. A trio of girls, the oldest of whom looked to be ten or eleven, seemed to do most things. It had also seemed odd to Irv at first that kids his age and even younger got served beer or wine, but, early on, when he saw a couple of little kids pissing in one of the wells, he understood and didn’t touch regular water again if he could help it.
Of course, when they had come over, Ruddygore had worked some sort of magic that had given him the immunity he’d have if he’d been born and grown up here, and that helped, but there was still a lot of sickness and a lot of young deaths here, and nobody was immune from the galloping runs.
Tiana, at least now, was a total vegetarian; she didn’t even drink milk or eat eggs. If it didn’t grow in the ground, she didn’t touch it. Fortunately, his father had no such problems, and in that, he most certainly decided, like father, like son. He, for one, didn’t know how the hell she got all that energy off cow fodder.
The proprietor was a fat little lady named Esaga who looked a lot older than she probably was. She wore only a rope tied loosely about
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