Luck of the Draw

by Piers Anthony

  Arsenal came out. He drew his sword and stabbed at Bryce before he could move. Bryce suffered a momentary heart seizure, then realized that the thrust had not scored. The audience reacted similarly, thinking they had seen a murder onstage before realizing it was part of the act.

  Bryce clapped a hand to his gut where he had not been stabbed. “Thank you for your restraint,” he said to Arsenal. “I know my presentation leaves something to be desired, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

  The audience burst into relieved laughter. Bryce, almost without trying to, had made a public joke.

  Arsenal swung the sword at Bryce’s neck. Again, it seemed like death, but again there was no contact. The man had excellent control. There was another gasp from the audience.

  “I’m going to need my head to finish this act,” Bryce said. “Don’t forget.”

  There was another burst of laughter.

  Thereafter Arsenal attacked Bryce with every kind of stab and cut, never touching his skin. Then he sheathed the sword and drew out a knife. He flipped it in the air, and caught it. Then he drew a second knife, and a third, juggling them impressively while Bryce continued with spot humor. He was a stand-up comedian, something he had never anticipated. It seemed to have been brought out by his nervousness about the attacks.

  Finally Arsenal brought out what looked like a small bomb. He dropped it on the floor. It detonated with a loud pop and exploded into a puff of black smoke. Bryce stepped back in mock alarm. “Thank you,” Bryce said, fanning smoke away from himself. “I’m glad I caught you in a good mood!”

  More laughter. The military exhibit was done, and the audience had evidently enjoyed it.

  “Next we have an exhibition of dancing,” Bryce said. “Girls?”

  Anna and Mindy emerged from the curtains, looking almost like twins in their matching costumes.

  “Piper?” Bryce said.

  Piper started to play from behind the curtain. The girls danced. It was every bit as impressive as before. More so, because this time they did some brief leg lifts toward the audience, gaining intense attention from the males, though Bryce knew that they were not seeing nearly as much as they thought, because of the obscuring petticoats. Bryce saw that the females were paying as much attention as the males, perhaps for different reason: studying the costumes, the dance, and the effect of the masked leg lifts.

  The dance concluded with a deep bow by both women, and Bryce realized that there was a petticoat effect masking their bosoms so that their breasts did not actually show. But the audience thought they showed, and applauded appreciatively.

  “Thank you,” Bryce said. “You’ve been a great audience! Perhaps we’ll meet again soon.”

  They retreated behind the curtains to prolonged applause. Their first show had been a rousing success.

  Even the truculent troll conceded as much as he guided them back to their chamber. “Good job. Your next performance will be before another audience in an hour.”

  Back alone, they more or less collapsed. “That was wonderful!” Anna exclaimed. “Never in my dreams did I ever perform like that for anyone, let alone before an audience. That magic piping made it possible.” She half flung herself on Piper and kissed him on the cheek. He looked startled but appreciative.

  “Your ad libs helped enliven it,” Arsenal said. “The more you talked, the more they liked me.”

  “We make a good troupe,” Piper said.

  But they had hardly relaxed before the troll was back. “Something has occurred.” He looked at Piper. “You are evidently a skilled musician. Can you do a dirge?”

  “Maybe,” Piper said. “What’s the occasion?”

  “There is a contingent of Gnobody Gnomes aboard. They are on their way to make a connection with the Soul Train, which is for ailing souls, because one of their number recently died. They are in mourning, and would like to have a dirge. We would like to oblige them if we can. Can you accommodate them? We would be most appreciative.”

  “They are thinking of the ‘Gnobody Gnows the Trouble I’ve Seen Dirge.’ That’s an especially challenging one.”

  “They are, and it is,” the troll agreed. “They doubt that any non-gnome can play it effectively, but I told them I would ask.”

  Piper glanced at Bryce. “I’ll need your help.”

  “Of course,” Bryce said, uncertain where this was going.

  Piper addressed the troll. “You have a sound system on this train? So that I could play in one car and be heard in another?”

  “Of course.”

  “Because for such serious music I will need to be by myself, with only Bryce to assist. We’ll do it in a freight car, if there is space.”

  “There is space in the leading freight car, where your trikes are stored.”

  “Good enough. Tell the gnomes I will play their dirge in half an hour.”

  “I will. Thank you.” It was amazing how courteous a troll could be when he wanted something. He departed.

  “We will return after the dirge,” Piper told the others. “I recommend that you not listen to it.”

  “What’s so bad about a sad song?” Arsenal demanded.

  “Evidently you haven’t heard this one,” Pose said, who evidently had.

  “That’s right, I haven’t. And I’ll bleeping well listen if I choose to.”

  Bryce and Piper left them in their dialogue as they made their way to the leading freight car. Their trikes were neatly parked there, but there was a fair amount of empty space remaining. “This will do,” Piper said.

  “What’s going on?” Bryce asked.

  “This particular dirge requires full organ music. I can’t do that on my little piccolo, but can on my big pipes. I want you to stand guard at the entry to make sure no one intrudes. Make sure there’s fresh air there for you to breathe. When I am ready, you can announce the dirge.”

  “But—”

  Then Piper started melting into his monster form. Oh.

  The monster was considerably larger than the man, as Bryce had seen before. It spread out across the floor in a seemingly eyeless, earless black mass. Bryce barely had room to stand at the entry. At least now he understood why Piper had insisted on privacy. He was protecting his hidden identity, so as not to freak out the girls and perhaps the trolls. That was surely a sensible precaution.

  The mass of the monster solidified. Tubes appeared within his substance. Gas hissed through the tubes, thick and dank smelling. That explained why he needed fresh air.

  “TURN OFF SOUND,” a tube hissed.

  Bryce checked the control panel by the entry, and found a switch marked SOUND. He pushed it to the OFF position.

  Piper warmed up. First one tube would hiss a note, then another, a different note. The notes became clearer and more melodic. Then there came a tune, played by an assortment of tubes. Bryce realized with surprise that it was a four-part harmony, soprano, alto, tenor, and bass. Some of the notes were piercingly high, others reverberatingly low. This really was an organ!

  “READY,” the tube said.

  Bryce turned the sound back on. “The Musician Piper is about to play the ‘Gnobody Gnows the Trouble I’ve Seen Dirge’ for the Gnobody Gnomes,” he announced. “This is a somber occasion. Please take your places and do not interrupt the music.”

  Then Piper started playing the Dirge. It was not unduly loud, but there was amazing power in it. The high notes were penetrating, the low notes authoritative. Overall it was lovely, compelling, and overwhelmingly sad. Bryce felt his eyes sting, not from the gases, but from evoked emotion despite his ignorance of the deceased gnome for whom this was being rendered. The song picked him up emotionally, wafted him through the soft air, ran him through an ill-tempered meat grinder, and finally buried him about two miles and six feet underground.

  Bryce slowly came to his senses. The monster was coalescing back into the man. The Dirge was done. “Thank you for your consideration,” Bryce said to the unseen audience. “Now the regular programming wi
ll resume.” He turned off the sound.

  “You did well,” Piper said as his head molded into shape.

  “Me? You were phenomenal! I never heard such power in music of any kind. You say you’re Xanth’s second-best musician? I find that hard to believe.”

  “You underestimate the walking skeleton, as I did. He also may be Xanth’s finest person.”

  Bryce did not argue the case, still bemused by the astonishing experience of the Dirge. They exited the freight car and returned to the passenger car where the others were.

  Arsenal, Anna, and Mindy were sitting with their heads hanging, their faces tear-streaked. They had listened.

  The troll was there too, as forebodingly dark as ever. “The gnomes are impressed and appreciative,” he said. “So are we, because we value their business. Each member of your party is hereby granted a lifetime pass to use our facilities free of further charge. We have just one request.”

  It seemed that trolls could also be generous when pleased. “What is it?” Bryce asked.

  “The Dirge was so well rendered that it has put the entire passenger list into nearly catatonic depression. We ask that you play a more cheering melody to bring them out of it.”

  Piper smiled. He put his piccolo to his lips. He piped a wonderfully uplifting merry little tune. Bryce’s depression lifted, and he was sure the effect was similar throughout the train.

  The remaining trip was routine. They did more spot shows for audiences that warmly reacted to them, and between times rested and feasted in their chamber. The Autotroll intersected what turned out to be the Soul Train, for ailing souls, running underground, jealously guarded by demons. The party of gnomes transferred to it and were gone. Their naturally dour expressions remained; evidently they had not listened to the upbeat melody, preferring to remain depressed in honor of their lost comrade.

  In due course the train drew to a halt at its last stop: the Panhandle. This was of course like a huge pan with an immensely long handle. They debarked with their trikes at the very tip of that handle. The Autotroll chugged around a wide loop of track and moved back the way it had come. The easy part of their journey was over.

  Just beyond the end of the track, at the foot of a mountain, was a small pavilion with a table. On the table was a sign: RING OF POWER: DEMONSTRATOR MODEL.

  “Just like that?” Anna asked skeptically.

  “The Quests have been set up for us,” Arsenal reminded her. “The Demons evidently saw no reason to leave us in doubt. Now who is interested in this one?”

  “What does it do?” Bryce asked.

  “Try it and find out,” Pose suggested. He sat down on the big toe of the foot of the mountain. The others sat on the other toes.

  Bryce shrugged and picked up the ring. It seemed quite ordinary. It seemed to be made of brass, without decoration. He slipped it on his middle finger. Nothing happened. “How do I invoke it?” he asked.

  Pose shrugged. He was improving on his human mannerisms. “Rings differ. Maybe the challenge is to discover the key to its operation.”

  “Try saying the words ‘I invoke you,’” Anna suggested.

  “I invoke you, Ring of Power,” Bryce said formally. Still nothing happened.

  “You may need to figure out exactly what power this ring relates to,” Piper said. “Physical, mental, emotional, magic—there surely is something. The Demons would not place a dud.”

  “And how the bleep am I to know something like that?” Bryce demanded, frustrated. “Do I wish for a mountain to move six inches to the left?”

  There was a rumble that shook the ground. The others exclaimed, jumping up.

  The mountain foot had moved six inches to the left.

  Bryce privately enjoyed their discomfort. They had left him to figure out the Ring, and had gotten jolted because of it. “Well, now. Let’s see the mountain rise up a foot.”

  The mountain foot lifted a foot. Nothing on it changed; the rocks and trees on the slope remained undisturbed. But they were now on a mountain that floated in the air.

  The Ring of Power really could move mountains.

  “Let’s have the mountain settle slowly back to the ground,” Bryce said. “Exactly where it was before.”

  The mountain settled gently down to the ground.

  It occurred to Bryce that this Ring could be dangerous if carelessly or improperly used. That made him nervous. It was simply too much power, capable of being exerted too casually. “I think we have a notion of the nature of the Ring of Power,” he said, sliding it off his finger. “Who wants to take it? That person can experiment with it on the way to the Good Magician’s Castle.”

  “Weapons are my thing,” Arsenal said. “Moving mountains aren’t.”

  “Music is my thing,” Piper said.

  “Anomalies are mine,” Anna said. “I’d prefer to get something that will help me to control them better.”

  “That leaves it to me,” Pose said. “I appreciate power, and believe the princess will too. I’ll take it.”

  The Ring sailed out of Bryce’s hand. It flew in an arc to the mountain and landed on it. The mountain puffed into a cloud of smoke. This thinned and dissipated, revealing a wonderland of brass rings. There were stacks of rings forming trees, others forming round houses, others forming paths leading past ring-shaped pools, fields, and hills. It was a nice enough scene, fashioned entirely of rings. The whole was enclosed in one big circle, outside of which the terrain was normal.

  “And I think our challenge is to find it,” Arsenal said. “At least we know where to look.”

  “One of those rings must be the one,” Piper agreed. “But which one?”

  “And it probably can be any size,” Anna said.

  “Needle in a haystack,” Bryce said.

  “There must be thousands of rings,” Pose said, dismayed. “It could take years to check them all. And how do we know that any one ring is THE ring?”

  “I wonder,” Bryce said. “This whole scene formed instantly. That suggests it’s less solid than it seems.” He stepped into the circle and touched a ring-tree.

  His hand passed through it.

  “Illusion!” Anna said. “Just like the zombie graveyard!”

  “Illusion,” Bryce agreed. “Cheap magic. That simplifies things somewhat; the ring we need to find will be the one solid one.” He swept his hand through another tree.

  “That will still take a lot of searching,” Pose said. “I could cover more territory by dissipating into smoke myself, but then I wouldn’t be able to feel something solid. I’m stuck with man-limitations.”

  “But it can be done,” Arsenal said. “Let’s all get on it. We can divide it into sections for each of us to focus on.” He waded in, swinging his hands.

  The others joined him, taking different sections. Bryce had one with several houses. That was weird, because when he entered one, swinging his hands through its walls, he encountered illusion residents: people made of rings. Before he knew it he was feeling through a young ring woman. She screamed soundlessly and slapped him, but her ringed hand passed through his face.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he said, embarrassed. “But I have to check everything here by touching it, or trying to.”

  She considered. Evidently she could hear him. She turned away and pulled up her ringed skirt to flash her copper-ring panties. She could smite him that way. Fortunately he was warned by his left eye, and closed his right eye. He spanked her on the bottom, and touched nothing. She had the grace to laugh, soundlessly.

  After an hour, discovering nothing solid, Bryce paused to reconsider. Could he find a more efficient way to check things? This way would take days that they surely didn’t have.

  He walked back to the outer rim. Mindy was sitting on it, watching without participating. She was still wearing her dress from the Autotroll, without petticoats, and her knees were carelessly separated. “Um, Mindy, you may want to sit differently,” he said, approaching her.

  Then he froze.

 
; “I’m sorry; I wasn’t thinking,” she said, clapping her knees together.

  “It’s not that,” he said. “I didn’t see anything. I just realized something. You’re sitting on a ring.”

  “Yes, there are no chairs out here. This lets me watch without participating.”

  “So that’s a solid ring.”

  “A big one,” she agreed, smiling. Then she paused. “The Ring of Power may be any size.”

  “That’s my thought.”

  “Pick it up and find out.”

  “No. That’s for Pose.” Bryce walked back into the circled area, searching out the demon.

  He found him in a region with a fancy rock garden made out of rings, with statues of rings, methodically sweeping hands through them all. “Yo,” Pose said, spying him. “You finish your territory?”

  “Not exactly. Mindy is sitting on the outer rim.”

  “Yes, I saw her. Almost freaked out, except that demons don’t freak the way men do. Someone should tell her.”

  “I did,” Bryce said, and waited.

  “So what’s your point?” Then the demon did an almost human double take. “She. Is. Sitting. On. A. Ring.”

  “A big ring,” Bryce agreed. “I thought you might want to check it out.”

  “Why didn’t you take it?”

  “I believe we agreed that this one is yours to take.”

  “So you came to tell me.”

  “Yes.”

  Pose shook his head. “If this is it, I’ll lose your association just when I’m getting to like you.”

  “That’s the irony of our situation.”

  They arrived at the rim where Mindy still sat, her knees demurely together. “Let’s see what we have,” Pose said. He bent down, put his hands on the big ring, and heaved it up.

  It shrank in an instant back to the size the demonstrator model had been. Mindy fell on the ground, her support abruptly gone. “Oh!”

  Bryce went quickly to help her get back to her feet as the illusion setting faded out. The prior mountain was back, with its big foot. “We really owe this discovery to you. If you hadn’t been sitting on it, it never would have occurred to me that it was solid.”

  “And here I was trying to stay out of your Quest,” she said. “But you’re the one who figured it out.”