Well-Tempered Clavicle (35 page)

“There,” Dawn said when she saw that the job was complete. “Your bees have had a traumatic experience and will need comforting and supervision, but they should be all right now.”

“They’re back!” Emily said. “How—”

“My friends the skeletons are very good workers,” Dawn said. “And not bothered by bees.” She introduced the three of them to Emily, who after seeing what they had done, was not at all afraid of them.

“Thank you so much!” she exclaimed. “I thought all was lost.”

“All has been regained,” Dawn said.

“I must tell my best friend Erin,” Emily exclaimed. “She was so sad she couldn’t help.”

“Erin?” Dawn asked.

“Erin Kitty Litter. She’s a were-kitten, conceived at a love spring. Actually she’s a were-cat now.”

Picka saw Dawn’s sudden interest. “Could I meet her?”

“Certainly. Here she comes.”

A tawny cat was bounding toward them. When she arrived she transformed into a tawny-haired young woman. She was nude, but that didn’t matter to Dawn or the skeletons. “The bees are better!” she exclaimed.

“These kind folk did it,” Emily said. “Dawn wants to meet you, Erin.”

“Sure. Any friend of Emily’s is a friend of mine.”

Dawn had taken her measure immediately, of course. “Erin, you’re single. I’d like you to meet another friend of mine. He’s a talented cat.”

Erin frowned. “I don’t necessarily get along with straight cats. I was banished from the Isle of Cats & Dogs for violating their littering law.”

“They
have
no littering law,” Dawn protested.

“Except against impure crossbreed litters. I’m not a pure enough cat for them.”

Oh. “Midrange won’t care about that. He’s a special feline with a developing talent.”

Erin caught on. “What about my human half?”

“He’s tolerant.”

Erin shrugged. “It won’t hurt to meet him.”

Picka realized that the pets were lonely for girlfriends, and Dawn had just acted to secure one for Midrange. It would surely work out.

“Now we must move on,” Dawn said. She signaled the skeletons and they came to cluster around her. So did Erin. Tweeter remained aloof; he would be searching out other mischief. “Farewell, Emily.”

Then they were back on the island. There were Sara and Brant, the straight talker, standing close together.

“We forgot about Brant!” Dawn said. “He got left behind. He must be furious.”

But as they approached, and Emily and Brant faced them, they saw little kiss marks on their faces. “They’re getting along!” Joy’nt murmured, always quick to pick up on romance.

“He’s tone deaf,” Sara explained breathlessly. “He can’t serenade.”

“I never considered it an advantage before,” Brant said.

“And he is most expressive about … things,” Sara said, blushing.

“I can imagine,” Dawn said. Then she introduced Erin, who reverted to cat form.

They went to their place for musical practice. It felt incomplete because of the absence of Granola and the pets, but the point was to drill Picka, rather than simply to relax.

A smokeball appeared. “Ha! There you queue.”

“Hello, Metria,” Dawn said with resignation.

“You queue?” Skully asked.

“El em en oh pee—”

“Are!” he said. They were letters of the alphabet.

“Whatever. I have another report.”

And the prior one had been valid. “Spit it out,” Dawn said wearily.

“Your cat picked up on it.”

“Midrange is slightly psychic.”

Erin’s ears perked.

“The demon’s retreat has been messed up. It’s a dream realm tailored to their needs, generated by a mortal woman the monster freaked out. Now they’re getting into all sorts of mischief, lacking their place to go.”

“But aren’t
you
a demon?” Joy’nt asked.

“I get into mischief anyway. I specialize in it. I don’t like the competition.”

“One is more than bad enough,” Dawn agreed. “We don’t want hundreds of mischievous demons.” She glanced at Metria. “Who is the mortal woman?”

“Nicola.”

“Then we’ll go to see Nicola.”

The skeletons and Erin closed in on her, and they went to the site. There was the woman, sitting on her doorstep with little planets and squiggles circling her head. Demons were all around doing mischief.

“See?” the demoness said, as before, and faded out.

Midrange was there. “Meow.”

“So it seems,” Dawn agreed. “We’ll do what we can.”

“Mew.” It was Erin.

Midrange reacted as if mentally electrocuted. “Mee-yow!”

“Exactly,” Dawn said. “Midrange, this is Erin Kitty Litter. I’m sure you two will get along.”

Erin arched and purred. Midrange seemed smitten. It was surely the beginning of a marvelous association.

They spread out, studying the situation. “It must have been just the sight of the monster that did it,” Joy’nt said, “because the landscape is not torn up.”

“Nicola,” Dawn said.

The woman didn’t answer. She was sealed in her freakout.

“I know all about her and her talent,” Dawn said, “but I have no experience unfreaking folk. Normally I’m the one doing the freaking, flashing village louts. Eve and I used to do that for amusement.”

A village lout happened to be passing by. Dawn hoisted her skirt just enough to flash half her panty, and the lout went into a half freak, staggering away.

The Demoness’s cloud formed, in the shape of half a panty. “I can do that.”

The lout staggered by the cloud, looked, and freaked out the rest of the way. He crashed into the brush, out of it.

“But can you unfreak a lout?” Joy’nt asked.

“Why would I want to?” The cloud faded.

“Normally a finger snap will do it,” Picka said.

Dawn snapped her fingers. The lout recovered and lumbered away. The woman did not. It was evidently a more serious freak.

“We had better explore the situation,” Dawn said. “Something may offer.”

Now they focused on the surrounding demons. One was making disturbing music. That got Picka’s attention. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Ban D,” the demon said, and continued.

Another demon was generating small clouds that floated away, obscuring and wetting innocent things. “Who are you?” Skully asked.

“Cloud D, of course.”

Another demon was intercepting villagers who were walking along the village path. They looked sober until they reached him; then they looked inebriated. “Who are you?” Joy’nt asked.

“Bran D.”

Dawn approached a sugary, sweet-looking demoness. “And you?”

“Can D.”

“I think I am beginning to appreciate why the villagers are annoyed,” Dawn remarked.

They continued to check out the demons. There was Han D with many hands, Ran D who was sex crazed, Un D with panties, Win D who blew them off, and San D who spread beach sand all about. There was Gau D wearing high-fashion clothes, ID with many eyes, DDT killing mosquitoes, and DUI, who was chronically drunk. All were a nuisance.

“We’re not getting anywhere,” Dawn said morosely. “We need to somehow snap Nicola out of it. Then she can restore the dream setting, and the demons will flock back to it.”

A hollow bone bulb flashed over Joy’nt’s head. “Dreams are from the dream realm. We skeletons are from the dream realm. Disasters and panties freak people out. Walking skeletons freak people out. We should be able to connect to her, in a dream mode, somehow.”

“But
how
?” Dawn demanded.

“Maybe by acting out a bad dream to get her attention, then leading her out of it. Picka’s healing music could help.”

“Healing music,” Dawn said thoughtfully. “That may be worth a try.”

“Maybe a song and dance,” Joy’nt continued. “Skeletons in a graveyard, like the standard opening bad dream.”

“I’m not exactly a skeleton,” Dawn said.

“Oh, but you could be, for long enough. Borrow Picka’s spell, or I’ll lend you mine.”

“I could,” Dawn agreed, seeing it.

They worked out a routine. Then Dawn borrowed Joy’nt’s spell, and became a skeleton. That made two males and two females. They formed two couples and danced. Picka was able to dance, guided by Dawn-skeleton, while playing his healing music.

Midrange gazed on the scene. “Meow,” he said approvingly.

“Nicola!” Dawn called. “Nicola Dreamer! Your dreams are back!”

The woman looked, vaguely startled.

They danced to Picka’s healing music, two synchronized skeletal couples. Picka loved dancing with Dawn in bone mode; she was lovely and flexible, and she was an excellent dancer.

“This can’t be real,” Nicola said, “so I must be dreaming.”

“Or making a new dream become real,” Dawn called. “We know what happened: a monster came by and spooked you. But he’s gone now, and you can return to your normal dreams.”

“Now my dream figures are advising me!” Nicola said in wonder.

“We value your dreams and want them back in order,” Dawn said. “The demons need their retreat.”

“I wonder.” Nicola focused, and a dream setting appeared, replete with all manner of things demons liked.

Immediately the surrounding demons took note. They piled into the dream setting and started entertaining themselves. The crisis was over.

They left Midrange and Erin to search out other mischief, and returned to the island just in time for Dawn to revert to fleshly mode. “That was fun,” she said. “Mind if I keep the spell a while?”

“Welcome,” Picka said. “I don’t want to use it anyway.” For one thing, he feared it was dangerous, because he could not play his music when his ribs were covered with meat. Suppose the monster came when he was in that state?

Brant and Sara were happy to see them back, and happy to leave them alone, having an interest of their own to pursue. So they had a quiet night. That was just as well, as it turned out.

19

R
ULES OF
E
NGAGEMENT

Because Metria was back in the morning. “Weaver found a mess,” she reported.

“Who?” Dawn asked.

“Loomer, clother, spindler, threader, wefter—”

“Woofer!”

“Whatever. You have to get over there pronto.”

“Get there how?” Skully asked.

“It’s the right word, airhead. It means immediately.”

“We’d better go,” Dawn said grimly.

They gathered together and Dawn invoked the spell.

They landed in a crowded area. There was music and food and laughter. No one seemed alarmed by the unexplained appearance of the skeletons. That was odd.

“Oh, my!” Dawn breathed.

None of the skeletons recognized it. “Where are we?” Picka asked.

“The North Village,” Dawn said. “Where Great-grandpa Bink lived as a child. It’s completely unimportant, except historically.”

“These are North Villagers?” Joy’nt asked.

“No. I’m pretty sure most are visitors. You see, in an effort to make this dull village seem more interesting, in recent years they have sponsored a celebration. It’s called the My Lady So Fair, and it is a fair sponsored by the local women, who hope among other things to attract the notice of handsome men from more civilized places. I don’t know how well that works, but certainly many visitors come to compete in the games, win prizes, stuff themselves on pastries, and flirt with the girls. Many wear costumes, which is why our party isn’t attracting attention.”

“They think we’re in costume!” Skully said.

“That’s right. Maybe that’s fortunate.”

“But there’s no disaster here,” Joy’nt said.

“Woofer wouldn’t spoof us,” Picka said.

“But Metria might,” Skully said.

“I did not!” a smokeball said.

“So what is going on?” Dawn asked evenly.

“Woofer tracked the monster to the edge of this village,” the smokeball said. “He knew there was about to be a disaster, so I fetched you in time to avert it.”

“Where is Piper now?”

“Just over the ridge to the north. Better hurry.” The ball faded out.

“We have no choice but to trust her,” Dawn said, obviously ill at ease about it. “We have to warn the people.”

“But we don’t want to generate a stampede,” Picka said. “That would be mischief of its own.”

“True. We’d better tell people individually, and ask them to spread the word, quietly but rapidly.”

They tried. They spread out, bracing individual people. Picka approached a group of grease monkeys hanging out with fuel hogs. They were all in costume, of course; real grease monkeys were made of grease, and fuel hogs of fuel. “Danger is coming!” he told them. “You must get away from here!”

“Wonderful costume,” a monkey responded. “It almost looks real.”

“I’m serious,” Picka said. “There’s an awful monster coming.”

“Great act too,” a girl with a large belt said. On it was written
CONVEY HER BELT
, and she glided as if being transported.

Picka realized that in this context, a costume fair, nothing would be taken seriously.

But he tried again. He approached a friendly-looking man, though he carried a sword. “Hello. I’m Picka and I have a warning.”

“I’m Buddy. My talent is to become your best friend.”

“There’s a deadly monster approaching. You must spread the word and get well away from here.”

“Yeah, sure,” Buddy agreed jovially.

“But it’s true!”

Buddy clapped him on the backbone. “Great act!” He moved on, making other friends.

Picka tried again. He approached a young woman. “I must warn you that there is great danger about to strike.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she agreed, and kissed him on the cheekbone. “Ooo! You even feel real! My compliments on your costume.”

“But—”

“I’m Shadow. My talent is to become a shadow.” She winked. “It’s real, not just a costume. So don’t try to get too fresh. I’ll disappear into darkness.”

What use to continue? No one was listening. He wasn’t sure he could blame them.

“Woof!”

“Woofer!” Picka said as the dog ran to him. “What’s the news?”

“Woof!” he repeated urgently.

Picka took a not-so-wild guess. “The monster is just about to get here?”

“Woof!”

“Right. Bad news. We’ll find Dawn. Maybe she’ll know what to do.”