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