Well-Tempered Clavicle (13 page)

Have you seen the ghost of Tom?

Round white bones with the flesh all gone.

Oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo!

Wouldn’t it be chilly with no skin on!

“I like it!” Granola said. Then she played it on her concertina, perfectly. The concertina fairly danced as it expanded and contracted; she was getting into the feel of the melody.

“It’s really a round,” Joy’nt said. “One person sings the first line, then the second does the first while the first goes on to the second, and so on. It’s fun.”

“I’ll start,” Granola said, and played it.

Dawn started playing her ocarina as Granola moved to the second line. Then Picka started. Finally Joy’nt started, singing it as she shook her maracas. It got confused in the center, with all four parts going, but then it cleared as they finished one after the other. The main sound was the oo-oo, which was the highest part.

Then Woofer augmented it with his own howling. Oo-oo-oo! Midrange joined in with his own yowl. Tweeter retouched it with tweets.

They concluded in order, with Granola finishing, then Dawn, then Picka, then Joy’nt, solo at the end, singing and shaking her maracas.

They paused, mutually impressed. Then Granola spoke, as the concertina settled to the ground. “That was wonderful! You are all musicians!”

“No, I’m just a dabbler in this respect,” Dawn protested. “It’s an easy tune.”

“I always liked it,” Picka said. “So it’s easy for me too. You really know how to play that concertina, Granola.”

“Well, I have had a century or so to practice. But I never played with anyone else before, and am amazed how compatibly it worked.”

“I’m not a singer,” Joy’nt said. “But all I had to do was keep time with the rattles, and the song is familiar, and the rest of you were so good that it was easy for me to keep the melody.”

“Well, I’m really not an expert either,” Granola said, “but I know competence when I hear it, and the three of you did very well. You too, pets. That helped me. I think we make a nice foursome. Or sevensome, with the pets. Who would have expected it?”

“A princess, two walking skeletons, and an invisible giantess,” Picka said. “Plus three expressive animals. That does seem hard to believe.”

“Let’s try another,” Granola said. “We might even be able to get into parts.”

They consulted again, and managed to come up with melodies all of them could play. Picka really enjoyed it, because he knew each new tune forever the moment he heard it. He had half feared that others would laugh at the way he bonged on his own ribs, but Granola was all admiration. It did seem that music was their common ground with the giantess. It no longer seemed odd to be with her.

They played together, developing a four- or five-part harmony of sorts. Joy’nt sang soprano with increasing confidence, also shaking the maracas. Dawn played alto on her ocarina, reveling in the music. Granola played tenor on her concertina with verve. Picka bonged on his ribs, feeling more at home with this mode; they did have nice ringing tones that filled out the bass range. And the three pets added their harmony, fleshing out the whole.

As they played, they became louder, singing, blowing, and striking their notes more proficiently. It was such delight! Picka had never before realized how transporting music could be, especially when he was making it himself. It seemed to make him become more than he had been before, a creature of artistry.

They completed another piece, finishing together with a flourish. Then Dawn saw something. “Well, now,” she murmured.

The others looked. There was the dread Gap Dragon, green, six legged, breathing wisps of steam. He had been listening to the music.

“I think it is time for introductions,” Dawn said. “Folks, this is Stanley Steamer, the terror of the Gap Chasm. Stanley, these are Picka and Joy’nt Bone, and the invisible giant Granola.”

“We know each other, of course,” Granola said. “He gave me the ledge to sleep on in peace.”

“And we know
of
him,” Picka said.

“And the three Baldin Family pets, Woofer, Tweeter, and Midrange,” Dawn concluded, “who are helping me on my mission for the Good Magician.”

Stanley blew out a nonthreatening waft of steam, acknowledging.

“What brings you here, Stanley?” Dawn asked. “Were we making too much noise?”

The dragon blew out a steam ring.

“Oh, you like the music!”

He liked the music.

“So you don’t mind if we camp here tonight?”

He didn’t mind. That was just as well, because darkness was closing in.

The pets foraged for food, not threatened by the dragon. So did Dawn, harvesting a pie from a pie plant. So did Granola, harvesting another pie. It was interesting to see it disappear into the air where her mouth was, becoming invisible.

“Don’t you need more than that?” Joy’nt asked. “You’re so big.”

“I hardly eat more than a normal person does,” Granola explained. “I think most of the food energy goes into making ordinary folk visible. I don’t need that, so eat less, proportionately.”

“I suppose that’s no more unusual than the way we skeletons don’t have to eat at all,” Joy’nt said.

“Anything is possible, with magic,” Dawn reminded them.

Except, Picka thought, for a skeleton to make it with a fleshly woman, as Dawn had ascertained with him. Why did that bother him?

Then they settled down for the night. Dawn and the three pets chose Granola’s handbag, because it was protected and comfortable. Picka and Joy’nt had no need of safety or comfort, so simply collapsed at the base of the cliff.

“Picka,” Joy’nt murmured.

“That’s me,” he agreed.

“Stanley’s still here.”

Picka peered into the darkness and discovered it was true. He hadn’t thought to look before; he has simply assumed that the dragon had departed when the music finished. “Why?”

“I don’t know. He can’t be hungry for our dry bones.”

“Maybe we can ask him,” he suggested.

“I’ll try.” She faced the dragon. “Stanley, why are you still here?”

The dragon looked at her, then puffed a jet of steam that curled into a question mark. He was unable to speak Human, and without Dawn to translate, they could not understand him.

“Bring out your magic marker,” Picka suggested.

Joy’nt brought it out. She got up and approached the dragon. “If you put a foot on this paper, it will print your thought,” she said.

Stanley put a front foot on the panel.
MUSIC
.

“You liked our music,” Picka said. “We picked up on that. It seems that music soothes the savage beast as well as the savage breast. But we’re not playing music now.”

Stanley touched the panel again.
WANT A SONG
.

“We can surely play it, if we know it,” Picka said. “When the others get up in the morning. What song?”

POOF THE MAGIC DRAGON
.

“Oh, one about a dragon! Of course. But Joy’nt and I don’t know it. We know one about spooks and skeletons.”

Stanley looked disappointed.

“Can you tell us how it goes?” Joy’nt asked.

Stanley touched the panel again. This time a series of notes and words appeared.

“I can read the words,” Joy’nt said. “‘Poof the Magic Dragon lived by the ocean.’ But not the notes.”

“I can read them,” Picka said, surprised.

“I didn’t know you could read music.”

“I didn’t know either,” he said, excited, “but I discover I can. I can play this melody.” He took off his clavicles and played on his ribs.

Stanley perked up, wafting steam. That was the melody.

“You can pick up the tune from my playing,” Picka told Joy’nt. “Then you can sing it for him.”

She did, and soon they played and sang the whole song for the dragon. Stanley was so contented he almost floated on a bed of soft steam.

Dawn poked her head over the end of the invisible handbag. “You’re playing without us?”

“We didn’t want to disturb you,” Picka said, embarrassed.

“As if music could do that,” Granola said.

“So let’s do this right,” Dawn said as they joined the dragon and skeletons. It was dark, but that hardly mattered; they could sing, play, and howl without light.

They got the words and tune, then did it in style. Again the dragon almost floated. It was a nice song.

“That was fun,” Dawn said when the finished. “We have another song in our repertoire.” She glanced mischievously at the dragon. “Which of us was best, Stanley?”

The dragon turned his head and wafted out a waft of steam. It found Picka, bathing him in temporary warmth.

“That was supposed to be rhetorical, steam snoot,” Dawn said with mock severity. “Everybody contributes to the joint effort, so no one is best or worst.”

Stanly wafted her with steam, just hot enough to make her step back as it illuminated her. “You are arguing with me, steam-for-brains?” Dawn demanded. “I’ll have you know I’m a princess.”

“But he’s right,” Granola said. “Picka is the best. Without his perfect notes and cadence, the rest of us would be sloppy. He makes all the rest of us better.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Picka protested.

“You don’t need to,” Granola said. “You are the heart of this ensemble.”

“But I hardly know music! I merely repeat what I hear or read. I’ve only been at it a few days.”

“The more credit to you. You will surely be a very fine musician when you achieve your full potential.”

“That’s right,” Dawn said thoughtfully. “We should help you get there, Picka. I am a Sorceress, and it took me time to develop my full powers, and I may not have done so yet. It may be similar with you and music. We owe it to you to help you get there.”

Picka shrugged. “There’s really no need. I just want to help you find Pundora’s Box.”

“You are modest and well-tempered,” she said, “and very musical. So while you’re helping me find the Box, I’ll try to help you find your full talent. We all will.”

Picka shrugged. “Thank you. I do like music, though I never knew how I liked it before Eve identified my talent.”

Dawn found him in the dark and kissed his skull. He wished she wouldn’t do that. He didn’t like direct contact with meat, yet did like her touch, so it mixed up his emotions.

Now Stanley Steamer departed, satisfied. Dawn and the pets returned to the handbag. That left Picka alone with Joy’nt again.

“Am I really good with music?” he asked her, uncertain.

“Yes. When you play, I can sing and shake the maracas better, because you are perfect in key and timing and I can follow that. It’s the same for the others. I don’t know how good you can be, but you are very good now.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, hoping she was correct.

*   *   *

In the morning the living folk aroused and did their ablutions. Then Picka and Joy’nt joined the others in the handbag, and Granola got to her feet and began her search.

Picka and the others peered through the invisible fabric of the handbag as it swayed grandly more than twenty feet above the ground. Picka knew that some invisible giants were so big that their feet flattened whole trees, but Granola was only the height of a typical tree and did not do any such damage. She walked between and around trees, and her tread was light so as not to thud. Thuds would call attention to her, and none of them wanted that.

Granola found a slope she knew and ascended rapidly out of the chasm, passing several clouds on the way. Picka realized that clouds were lazy; some of them floated below normal ground level when they could get away with it.

They sailed up out of the gulf and over normal land, finding a trail and following it north. The giantess had a good stride and made excellent progress on the level.

“Where is she going?” Joy’nt asked.

“Somewhere in the Region of Fire,” Dawn said, fathoming that from her proximity to Granola. “But of course the castle won’t be there.”

“Then why go there?”

“Because she has to look in more than one place in order to have a next-to-last place.”

“Couldn’t she simply look in a likely place, then look at another about ten feet away?”

“That’s tempting,” Dawn said, “but she has tried. The curse can’t be so simply cheated. Every place she looks has to be a likely one. She thinks the castle could hide in the Fire Region before moving on. It might not be there now, but might have been there in the past.”

Joy’nt nodded. That just might make sense.

In due course they saw the firewall delineating the boundary of the Region of Fire.

Granola halted. “I don’t think we can safely pass through that,” she said.

“We skeletons might,” Picka said.

“I’m not sure,” Dawn said. “What heat does it take to cremate bones?”

Picka climbed out of the bag and approached the firewall. He poked a finger at it. The tip of his finger began to char. “That heat,” he said, retreating.

“Yet I understand there are living natives of the Fire Region,” Granola said. “How do they manage?”

“They must be acclimatized,” Joy’nt said.

“And they would be on the other side of the firewall anyway,” Dawn said.

“Woof!”

“Oh, you can find a fire resident on this side!” Dawn exclaimed, pleased, patting his shoulder. “Maybe that will help.”

Woofer set off, sniffing the hot air, and they followed. The dog led them away from the firewall and into more normal terrain, with hooded witch grass, hungry tangle trees, wise sage plants, fresh egg plants, and other routine vegetation.

They came to a house keeper, keeping three young men and two women. They were having a party. The others held back while Dawn went ahead with the dog.

Woofer went up to the woman, who had red hair and looked hot. “Why, here’s a dog!” she exclaimed, wisps of smoke on her breath. “What are you up to?”

Dawn joined them. “This is Woofer, who can sniff out living folk. We are looking for someone who can cross the firewall.”

“That’s me,” the woman agreed. “I am Furn. I can walk on fire. I live in the Region of Fire. I just happen to be out here in the cold visiting my four siblings.” She nodded toward the others.

“I am Dawn,” Dawn said. “I need to check something on the other side of the firewall, but I can’t cross it without getting burned. If you could cross it and check for me, I’d be grateful.”