Well-Tempered Clavicle (17 page)

“How will it help us tonight?”

Doris paused, focusing. “I’m not good at fathoming things directly, only at knowing the truth of anything spoken. You are looking for something. Music will summon it. That exhausts my insight.”

“It is nevertheless some insight,” Dawn said.

They took out their instruments and played several sprightly melodies. Doris was evidently enchanted.

“But it’s hard to see how this relates to our mission,” Dawn said.

Doris shrugged. She must have learned not to argue about truth. “Now I must go home, before the chill of night sets in. Thank you for the music.” She turned about and departed with her empty basket. The odor of horses lingered briefly.

“The chill of night,” Dawn murmured with an anticipatory shiver. “We’re not equipped, and there are no blanket bushes in the neighborhood.”

“We could search for some,” Picka said.

“Did you see any before?”

“No.”

“I have a small blanket in my handbag,” Granola said.

They checked. What was small for the giantess was huge for regular-sized folk. They took it out, and Dawn and the pets wrapped themselves in its folds.

There was a distant roll of thunder.

“Oh, no!” Dawn breathed.

“If rain comes, I can turn over my handbag to serve as a shelter,” Granola said.

“But what about you?” Picka asked. “Won’t you get wet?”

“I’m used to it. I go largely naked, and have considerable body mass; water just runs off me without chilling me unduly.”

Reassured, they settled down. “That was an interesting statement Doris made,” Skully said. “About music bringing the castle.”

“Music will summon Caprice Castle?” Joy’nt asked, amazed. “I had missed the significance.”

“That could be life-changing,” Dawn agreed. Any annoyance about Doris had dissipated. Had she really provided them with the answer to their search? “So let’s make music!”

They went through their limited repertoire as the night progressed, ignoring the cooling and the gusting winds. The scents of day were being replaced by those of night. But too soon they ran out of the ones they had rehearsed, and no castle had appeared. “Will it accept re-used songs?” Dawn asked.

“We are talking about it as if it is a conscious entity,” Skully said. “Does that make sense?”

“If it masked itself as a rocky outcrop to conceal itself from us, then it must be conscious,” Dawn said. “It must have motivation of its own. It may be that we’ll never find it unless it chooses to be found.”

“And music might make it choose,” Joy’nt said. “So music
is
relevant.”

“If we just have good enough offerings,” Picka said.

There was another roll of thunder, closer, and a gust of wind that was verging on cold. Rain seemed increasingly likely.

Dawn focused on him. “Can you improvise?”

He was taken aback. “I don’t know. I have just been playing what I have heard. I don’t think I’m creative.”

“Try it.”

He shrugged, which was tricky without his clavicles on, and tried.

The music flowed. Melodies came to his fingers and resonated from his ribs. He was lost in the marvel of it, transported by the wonder of his own expression.

The others simply sat in a circle around him and listened. They seemed to be entranced. The breaths of Dawn and the pets were fogging, but they did not seem to notice.

The first drops of rain spattered on the ground around them. The living folk would have to take shelter, now. But Picka, caught up in the mood of the music, played on.

Then something happened. Misty walls appeared before Picka’s gaze, like the ethereal strands of Crymea’s bridge. They thickened, becoming opaque.

He kept playing, fearing that if he stopped, so would the manifestation. The walls continued to solidify.

When Picka saw drops of rain splashing against those walls, he knew they had solidified. “It’s here,” he said, pausing his music.

The others looked around. “Oh!” Dawn said, surprised.

The castle was definitely there. It ascended into the darkness, the glass of its windows glinting in the lightning flashes. The storm was inhaling, about to blast them with full force.

Then interior lights came on, illuminating the complete castle. It was magnificent.

“We had better go in, if it lets us,” Dawn said.

“It that wise?” Joy’nt asked. “To let the storm drive us in before we know anything about this castle?”

Dawn paused. “Excellent point.”

There was a horrendous crack of thunder.

“But I’m willing to gamble on its goodwill,” Dawn said.

“But what of Granola?” Skully asked.

“There’s a large sheltered courtyard I can use,” the giantess said.

They hurried to the front gate, which was open. In between one and two moments they were under cover, as the rain sluiced down outside. It was a suspiciously close call.

It occurred to Picka that life-changing could be a euphemism for life-ending, but it did not seem expedient to mention that at the moment.

They were in a high-vaulted passage. Alcoves lined it, containing paintings and statuary. The paintings were of Xanthly scenes: beaches, forest, fields, and some of the Gap Chasm. The sculptures were of ordinary Xanth creatures: dragons, griffins, fauns, nymphs, nickelpedes.

“This castle travels,” Joy’nt said, “and collects pictures of what it sees.”

“As castles go, it’s a competent one,” Dawn agreed.

There were doors along the way but they were closed and locked, so they continued down the hall. It led to a curling stairway, which took them to a similar hall a flight up. There they found three doors open, providing access to bedrooms. All the other doors on this floor were closed.

“Bedrooms?” Dawn asked. “We’re looking for Pundora’s Box.”

“We are evidently guests,” Picka said. “Tonight it wants us to sleep.”

Dawn explored the first bedroom. There was a king-size bed, properly made with the sheets turned down invitingly. There was an attached bathroom, with a tub full of soapy water. “Oh, that is tempting!” Dawn breathed.

They checked the second bedroom. Its bed was without sheets or blankets; it was just a big square pad. There was no bathroom. “Good for two skeletons,” Skully remarked.

“Yes,” Joy’nt agreed, her bones turning pink again.

“Take it,” Dawn said. “I’ll take the bath.”

“I’ll explore elsewhere,” Picka said.

“The bleep you will,” Dawn said. “You’re with me.”

“I am?”

“We’ll talk while I have my bath.”

“Oh.”

The third bedroom was for the pets, complete with old blankets, sandboxes, water, and a perch.

Joy’nt and Skully took the pad. The pets were happy with their room. Dawn led Picka into the other bedroom, closing the door behind them, then into the bathroom. She stepped out of her clothing, dumped it into the available laundry chute, and got into the bath. “Just right,” she said, sinking luxuriously into the water. “Caprice Castle knows how to entertain royalty.”

“Are you sure we can trust it?”

“I can’t be quite sure, because it’s not a living thing. But if it wanted to trap us or hurt us, why would it hide from us, then come to us when you played such excellent music? It has to have some other agenda.”

“What would that agenda be?”

“My guess is that it wants a suitable occupant, like a king or queen. Or someone with an outstanding talent, like you. When we showed it that we had something it might want, it came to us. Now it’s looking us over.”

“What if it doesn’t like us?”

“Then it will depart, leaving us behind. So we had better complete our mission, finding Pundora’s Box, before the castle decides we’re not good enough for it.”

“But you did not let me search at this time.”

“The castle does not want us to search right now. That’s why its doors are closed—except the ones for sleeping. Tomorrow it will surely give us better access. I’m glad to have the chance to clean up, rest, and sleep.”

“But I have no need of these things.”

“You will, Picka, when you invoke your flesh spell.”

“I’m not going to do that!”

She reached out of the tub and caught his wrist bone. “Oh, yes you are! Do it now.”

“But—”

“Must I humiliate myself? Then here it is: I have a sudden crush on you, Picka. It happened when I listened to you improvise. Your music was just so beautiful, so perfect, it captured my heart. So at this moment I like you—in fact, I love you, and I mean to have you.”

“This is nonsensical!” he protested. “I’m not your type. That’s why you associate freely with me.”

“That’s changed. Now I want you, Picka, at least for one hour. Invoke the spell, or I’ll haul you into the tub and soak your bones.”

“But if I invoke it, I’ll see you in a different way.”

“A male way,” she agreed. “That’s the idea.”

“What idea?”

“I want you to become capable of feeling what I feel. So you will understand.”

“I don’t think this is something I want to understand.”

“We princesses are an imperious lot. When Princess Rhythm got a crush on Cyrus Cyborg, he did not take her seriously, because she was only twelve years old. So she invoked a spell that aged her a decade and hauled him into a love spring.
Then
he understood.”

“It’s not a matter of age. You are almost twenty-one. It’s that I’m a walking skeleton.”

“Which is why it is time to invoke the transformation spell,” she said patiently. “Do it.”

She would not yield. He brought the spell out of his cranium and invoked it, fearing he would regret it.

Suddenly he was clothed in living flesh. It spread across all his bones, covering his limbs, ribs, skull, and everything. His skull filled with substance, and so did his pelvis. He had meat in places that hadn’t existed before. It threw him off balance, so that only her grasp on him kept him upright.

“Very good,” she said approvingly. “Now get into the tub with me.”

“But—”

She hauled on his wrist, and he tumbled forward, splashing into the water. She caught his stray limbs and got his clumsy body arranged. He struggled to get out, but she held him and kissed him on his now-meaty mouth.

It was like getting clubbed on the skull. His head seemed to explode into rapture. Nothing existed except that ardent contact of his lips and hers.

After an eternity-long moment she drew back. “Now behave, or I’ll kiss you again.”

“But—”

She kissed him again. This time not only did the new flesh of his head seem to swell, a new organ inside his rib cage started thumping vigorously. What was going on?

She drew back again. “Now will you stay in place?”

“But—”

She caught his now-meaty hand again and put it against her fleshy chest. His new heart muscle beat violently again, seeming to swell in his chest. So did some of the flesh farther down.

“Had enough?” she asked.

“No, I—”

“Then I will give you more.” She wriggled forward, bringing her wet skin up against his. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, so that her sculptured chest pressed tightly against his while her midsection squeezed his most swollen flesh. She wriggled and did something, relieving the lower pressure, though there was no room there. It was almost as though she had taken his flesh into hers. An impossibility, of course, because her flesh was solid throughout, not spaced between bones the way his body normally was. “Now?”

“I don’t—”

“You never learn.” She kissed him on the face, and squeezed him below, rhythmically.

His entire being erupted into incredible rapture. He found himself kissing her while something else gloriously surged into her. It continued for several eternal moments, then subsided blissfully.

“What happened?” he gasped.

She laughed. “Let’s finish our bath, and I will take you through it again, in slow motion.”

The bath turned out to be halfway pleasant, as she washed him and rinsed him. He was beginning to get used to being buried in meat.

Then they got out and dried off, using the big towels the castle provided. There was new clothing laid out, but she demurred. “We have less than an hour, now. We’ll stay bare.”

She took him to the bed, and they lay on top of it. “I know skeletons do it differently,” she said, “but for the moment you are in my realm. Living folk like to make love.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Like this.” She rolled over and came up against him. She was marvelously soft. She kissed him, and it transported him again. Then, step by step, she took him through the process of making love, explaining it along the way.

By the time they completed it a second time, he understood the burgeoning emotion he felt. “I love you!”

“Yes, for now.”

Then the hour expired, and he reverted to his natural state. “Oh, my,” he said, appalled. How could he have done such fleshy stuff?

“But for that time, you did understand what I meant when I said I loved you,” she said. “Because you felt it too. Now you are back to normal, and the living feeling is gone. But I remain as I am, and my feeling has not faded. I just wanted you to understand, even if you don’t feel it yourself at the moment.”

“I understand,” he agreed, fazed. “I think.”

“So now we can talk sensibly, and decide our future.”

“Our future!”

She caught his hand again, making him lie beside her on the bed. “Picka, that can be anything. We may complete my mission and part ways forever, or we may continue our association and possibly even marry.”

“Marry!”

She squeezed his finger bones. “Let me make something clear to you, Picka. I am a princess and a Sorceress and a lovely female living human creature in my own right. I am not accustomed to hearing the word ‘no’ from any man. I will marry whom I choose. We need to determine whether I will choose you.”

“But you’re not my type! You have all that, that—”

“All that disgusting flesh on my bones,” she agreed. “You are perhaps the only kind of humanoid male who would see it that way. I was not romantically interested in you before we discovered your music. In fact, I wanted to be sure that you did not see me as a desirable creature.”