Well-Tempered Clavicle (33 page)

How did he douse individual fires? He explored the parameters of his own music, and discovered that it was water. He was conjuring splashes of water that struck the fireballs and extinguished their centers. That aspect was adaptable.

He worked on it, adapting his tune to make more water. That didn’t help douse new fires, but did splash the old ones more effectively. He worked harder, locating and clarifying the key themes.

Water flowed. It overflowed. It spilled to the ground and coursed along the slope, soaking the ground. It spread in a minor flood, intersecting the other fireballs and extinguishing them. One by one they hissed angrily into steam. Soon all of them were gone, and the burning grass was also clear.

He had come up with a way to stop any amount of fire! The monster would no longer be able to use that against him.

However, Piper still held the several siblings captive by musical summoning and pacification. They looked uncomfortable, but stood in place, facing the monster. They were about to become slaves and/or food.

Piper held the monster off with his music, but he couldn’t directly help the others while doing so. It was another impasse.

“Picka!”

It was Joy’nt. He had forgotten her in the throes of combat. “Yes?” he called over the dueling music.

“You can’t beat him,” she said. “He’s a better musician than you are. But if you can slow him down long enough, I can carry these poor folk to safety. Woofer is guiding me, and Tweeter is guiding him from above.”

“Do that,” Picka agreed. It was easier to impede the monster than to defeat him.

Joy’nt went to Nattila, whose expression was one of divine horror. She spoke a few reassuring words, then picked the woman up and carried her away from the table. Piper fluted angrily, but his mesmerizing music could not control the skeleton, as it affected only living creatures. He could not stop her physically, because Picka was balking him with distracting music. It was tricky to do different types of things at once, as Picka knew.

Joy’nt walked away, following Woofer. Somehow they knew where safety was.

The monster intensified his music. The other siblings started to move toward him. Picka intensified his own music, playing so hard and fast that his clavicles almost seemed to blur. He was improving, but it was largely because of desperation; without it Piper would wipe him out.

The monster’s music shifted. The ground under Picka’s feet blasted out, leaving a small crater. Picka shifted his own music, and the crater widened until it undermined Piper’s forepart. He was amending rather than excavating, turning part of the monster’s power against him. It was the best he could do.

It worked. Piper backed off slightly, and ceased blasting sand. He returned his attention to the siblings, and they began to walk forward again. Pattila was closest, and a pseudopod wrapped around her thigh and drew her in closer. She opened her mouth to scream, but was unable to get the sound out.

Picka was fully occupied musically, and could not divert any notes to rescue her. So he stepped forward physically. He lifted a foot and kicked the pseudopod repeatedly until it was knocked loose. It tried to connect again, but he kicked it away again, this time pressing it down into the dirt and stomping on it.

Joy’nt returned. She picked Pattila up and carried her away. The monster seethed, but could not prevent it.

In similar manner Joy’nt was able to carry the rest of the siblings to safety. Only when the last was gone did Picka relax, letting his music fade.

The monster faded too. Stage by stage their music subsided, until at last there was silence. Picka did not trust this, but of course he trusted nothing about the monster except his viciousness. Was Piper tired, magically? Certainly Picka was.

There was a minor flash. Picka braced, but it did not seem to be an attack. Where had he seen something like that before?

“Picka Bone,” the monster said.

Picka jumped. Had the thing actually spoken to him? “What?” he asked.

“I invoked the spell I got from Pundora, to make my notes intelligible as human speech, for a limited while. I want to talk with you.”

The communication spell! They had seen it in the Caprice Castle History. “Yes.” It was better to talk than to fight, though Picka did not trust any part of it.

“I give you a choice. Deliver the princess to me. Or else.”

There was no way Picka would turn Dawn over to the monster! “Or else what?”

“Or else I will destroy you and take her anyway.”

“Lotsa luck with that.”

“Will you turn her over?”

“No.”

“Then you must be destroyed.”

There was something about the monster’s attitude that made Picka believe it was not a bluff. Nevertheless, he bluffed it out. “Then do it.”

The music resumed. This was a new and eerie theme. Something about it made Picka’s very marrow uncomfortable. It intensified, and his joints felt strained. It intensified further, and his skull bone felt loose on his neck bone. In fact, his bones were disconnecting!

He played his ribs, trying to counter the theme, but it didn’t work. His tune was wrong, and his limbs were losing cohesion, spoiling his ability.

Much more of this, and his body would be vibrated apart. He had to stop it. But how? This was a new theme, and while he might copy it, that would not nullify it. The monster did not seem to have bones, so would not be vulnerable to a reflected attack. Yet if it didn’t stop soon, Picka would fragment, his bones falling in a loose pile, and the monster would be able to cover them and dissolve them in acid. He would indeed be destroyed.

And if that happened, there would be no one to stop the monster from taking Dawn, because only countering music could do that, and Picka was sure that he was now the only practitioner with the power.

The music became overpowering. His own music collapsed; he could no longer wield the clavicles. He jammed them back on his shoulders, lest he lose them. He seemed to be helpless before the onslaught.

Could he flee while his legs still worked? Maybe, but what would be the point? The monster would follow, and Picka would not be able to outrun it. Not even if his legs worked perfectly.

Then he got an odd notion. He was playing by the monster’s rules, and losing. Could he change the rules?

He bent down to the ground. This was easy to do, as it was a collapse. But he had something else in mind. He put his two hands to the sand around him, pressed his finger bones together, and clutched two handfuls. Then he lifted his hands and flung the sand into the vibrating vents of the monster.

The notes soured as the sand fell in and clogged them. It was not a lot, but it didn’t take much sand in the works to mess up a musical instrument other than Picka’s own bones. The interference made the devastating melody less effective, and Picka was able to move more freely. He scooped up two more handfuls and threw them, fouling more pipes.

The music became grainy. The monster tried to blow out the sand but it was hard to clear, and Picka kept throwing in more. He had found his own attack that could not be used against him, using the same sand the monster had made by fracturing the ground around Picka. It would take Piper many hours alone to get all the sand clear. Even then he would have to beware of future encounters, making sure there was no sand.

Piper, stifled, had to withdraw. He pulled back, then fled. Picka had won this encounter, or at least made it another draw.

Just in time. His weakened joints could no longer sustain him. He sank to the ground.

Joy’nt returned. “Picka!” she cried, alarmed.

“Just get me out of here,” he said, hugely relieved to have her back.

“Immediately,” she agreed, picking him up.

18

C
ARNAGE

Soon enough they were back with the siblings, who were duly grateful for being rescued. “I never thought much about walking skeletons before, and never about dating one,” Fattila said. “But I’d almost consider this one.”

“I’m taken,” Joy’nt said.

“Then all I can say is thank you for rescuing me from the monster,” Fattila said. “We did not take him seriously enough. It was almost too late before we learned better. But you, Picka Bone, held him off, and you, Joy’nt Bone, carried us away. We wish we could repay you.”

“You already have,” Picka said. “Battila took Adora Bull, and Gattila took Pundora. That greatly improves our position with the monster, because he can no longer track Dawn.” He sent an eyeless glance toward her. She smiled.

“However,” Dawn said, “the monster remains dangerous. If you ever see him again, flee immediately.”

“We will,” Fattila said. He shook his head. “Who would ever have thought that such beautiful music could be so ugly!”

Soon they returned to the handbag, and Granola lifted them up, up, and away. She had stayed clear of the action, knowing that the monster could readily bring her down. She had been more useful keeping Dawn safe.

*   *   *

The giantess strode rapidly across Xanth until she came to the coast. She waded across to one of the temporary islands that appeared and faded on their own schedules. “I don’t know what’s here,” she said, “but my feeling is it is where we want to be now.”

They looked out on a nice landscape, girt with flowering trees. There was a lovely little house by a small lake. The handbag came to rest beside it.

A young woman emerged as Dawn climbed out and became visible. “Hello. Do I know you? I’m Sara Nade.”

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Dawn said. “I am Dawn, a member of an unusual party in need of isolation for a while. Are we intruding?”

“That depends. Are there any men in your party?”

“No human men. Why is that important?”

“Because I’m avoiding them. Every man who ever sees me wants to serenade me. At first I thought it was romantic, but since they all do it, it soon became tedious.”

“Is it the music you object to?”

“Not at all. Just being the center of attention, when I know it’s not really me they care for.”

“Then we should get along perfectly.”

“Just how unusual is your party?” Sara asked, not entirely satisfied.

“It consists in part of three formerly Mundane pets who are learning magic talents,” Dawn said. “A dog, a cat, and a bird. They are all nice.”

“I love nice pets!”

“Then you must meet them.” Dawn signaled the invisible handbag, and Picka and Skully lifted up the groundbound pets so they could join Dawn. Tweeter needed no assistance; he simply flew up and across to perch on Dawn’s shoulder. “This is Tweeter Bird,” Dawn said.

“Pleased to meet you, Tweeter,” Sara said.

“Tweet!”

“He returns the sentiment,” Dawn translated. “He also says you’re a pretty girl.”

“Are you making that up?”

“No. It is my talent to know about living things, so I understand him. He understands human speech, and is a sharp observer.”

“Now I don’t want to seem unduly suspicious, but—”

“Tell him to do something unusual,” Dawn suggested.

“Fly to her other shoulder and face the other way.”

Tweeter did so.

“I apologize for doubting,” Sara said.

Woofer arrived. “This is Woofer Dog, who also understands you.”

“Hello, Woofer.”

“Woof.”

Midrange arrived. “And Midrange Cat, ditto.”

“Do you like catnip, Midrange?”

“Mew.”

“He says—”

“I got that. I have a patch of it growing wild behind my house, and not much use for it. You can have any you want.”

Midrange bounded around the house.

“We also have three walking skeletons,” Dawn said.

“Walking skeletons! Are they haunting you?”

“Not exactly.” Dawn signaled the handbag again.

Picka climbed out and approached them, giving Sara time to get used to him. “Hello, Sara,” he said politely.

“Uh, hello.” She was clearly taken aback, as most living folk were.

“This is Picka Bone, my fiancé,” Dawn said.

“Your what?”

“He’s a musician. You might say he serenaded me, and I fell for him.”

Sara considered. “I’ve heard hundreds of serenades. He must be really good.”

“Do you care to demonstrate?” Dawn asked Picka.

Pick took off his clavicles and played an intensely moving love song. Dawn melted visibly. So did Sara. Now he realized that there was an element of Summoning in it, compelling emotion beyond simple appreciation. He had had the ability before he understood its nature.

“That the most moving music I’ve ever heard,” Sara said. “If any of my suitors had been that good, I’d be married.”

“We face a musical monster,” Dawn said. “Picka has to practice hard to get good enough to beat the monster. Otherwise I’ll have to marry the monster. We thought this would be a good place for him to practice.”

“It’s the perfect place,” Sara said. “I could listen to that quality of music forever.”

“Picka’s sister Joy’nt is also with us. And her boyfriend Skully.” Dawn signaled, and the two climbed out and came to join them.

“Are you musical too?” Sara asked.

“We just play along with the others,” Joy’nt said. “Were not musically talented ourselves.”

“And finally we have an invisible giantess, Granola,” Dawn said. “We traveled here in her invisible handbag.”

“She’s welcome too, if she watches where she steps,” Sara said doubtfully.

“I am careful,” Granola said.

“All we need is a place to practice,” Dawn said. “We can go to a far edge of the island if you wish.”

“I wouldn’t think of it! I love music, as I said. I even sing.”

“Then you are welcome to join us,” Dawn said. “We’ll teach you our signature song.” She brought out her ocarina.

Before long they were doing “Ghost of Tom,” and Sara sang one of the parts. She was good; her voice was clear and firm and exactly on key. It was a beautiful rendition.

That was the beginning of a very nice interlude. Sara took an interest in Picka and sang with him while he played, encouraging him to tackle the more difficult themes and effects. He could feel himself improving. Dawn showed no trace of jealousy, knowing that Sara’s interest was purely musical. In fact, Dawn obviously appreciated the assistance. She still had more confidence in Picka’s potential than he did.