He was certainly efficient. But Picka knew these puns would keep, while Pundora’s Box would be constantly on the move. They needed to get a fix on it. But how would they get Attila’s attention, let alone his cooperation?
“There’s another,” Attila said, advancing on a jacket hanging from a branch.
“That’s just a coat,” Picka said. “Useful for a living person.”
“The bleep it is! That’s a turn coat. Wear it and you switch loyalties until you take it off.” He slashed through it, and the coat dissolved into smoke. It had indeed been a pun.
“How may we persuade you to help us?” Dawn asked.
“I don’t care about you,” Attila said, hacking at a flight of stairs that were chained down to prevent them from flying away. In half a moment they did fly, in the form of fading smoke. “Just stay out of my way.”
“Maybe he needs a woman,” Joy’nt murmured. “Apart from his girlfriend.”
“Oh, no!” Dawn muttered, appalled. “He can’t be my perfect man!”
“I was thinking maybe me,” Joy’nt said.
“But you’re not his type.”
“I have the transformation spell.”
Dawn paused. “You would do this?”
“The spell lasts only an hour. I can stand it that long, I think.”
Dawn nodded. “Give it a try, then.”
Picka, Dawn, and the pets faded into a pun-expired section and left Joy’nt to make the effort. Joy’nt invoked her spell, and the transformation began. Flesh formed around her bones, thickening until it entirely covered them, and thickening further. Finally there were no bones remaining in view.
Joy’nt was a fully fleshy bare woman. “She’s lovely!” Dawn whispered.
It was just as well that she clarified that, because to Picka she was hideous. Her nice white clean bones fouled by so much jiggling meat! How could she stand it?
Meanwhile Attila was busy destroying puns. He was chasing down a clucking sound, but every time he swept his sword through the spot it seemed to come from, there was nothing, and the clucking came from a bit beyond. He was getting frustrated. “Where are you?” he demanded.
“Cluck!”
He dived for the spot, but again there was nothing. He turned angrily to Dawn. “What’s going on here?”
Midrange meowed. Dawn nodded, understanding. “It’s a poultrygeist, a noisy ghost chicken.”
“That’s the fowlest pun yet!” This time he not only swept his sword through the spot, he charged on beyond, slicing back and forth. There was a squawk and a puff of smoke. “Got you, you dumb cluck!” He had caught up to the chicken’s next roost, and taken her out.
“Attract his attention, Joy’nt,” Dawn murmured.
“Ahem,” the skeleton said.
Attila looked, expecting another pun. What he saw made him pause appreciatively. “Hello, nymph. Are you looking for a faun?”
“I am no nymph,” she replied. “I am Joy’nt, the walking skeleton.”
“The bleep you are! I know a nymph when I see one. So get a run on, because if I catch you I’ll make exactly like a celebrating faun.”
“Two things,” she said firmly. Her firmness was emphasized by the breath she took to speak. “I may look like a nymph, but I am not. I invoked a spell to put meat on my bare bones for one hour. So if you want to do anything with me, you will have to do it within that time.”
“No problem!” He advanced on her.
Meanwhile Picka noticed that Dawn was contorting herself under her clothing. Did she have a bad fleshly itch?
“The second thing is that I won’t do what you want unless you do what I want,” Joy’nt said. “Which is to locate Caprice Castle. We can do that by zeroing in on Pundora’s Box within it. Do we have a deal?”
Attila sheathed his sword and grabbed her by an arm. “Bleep no! Now I’ve got you and I will do what I bleeping well please with you.”
“I doubt it.”
He drew her in to him, trying to plant a bushy kiss on her face. She used her free arm to straight-arm that face. He tried to knock her arm away, but she was too strong for him. She did not depend on soft weak flesh to move her limbs; her bones were magically animated, and the flesh was mostly decorative.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “You’re way too strong for a nymph. I can’t use you.”
“You can’t use me unless I let you,” Joy’nt said. “And I won’t let you unless you lead me to Caprice Castle.”
He let go of her arm and turned away. “I’ll find a real nymph instead. Anyway my girlfriend will soon be returning.”
“Joy’nt,” Dawn called. “Put these on.” She tossed her two items of clothing.
Joy’nt caught them and looked at them with perplexity. “What are they?”
“My bra and panties.”
So that was what Dawn had been doing: removing her underwear without taking off her outer clothing. But what was the point?
Joy’nt considered for a good three-quarters of a moment. Then she smiled. She quickly stepped into the panties, then snapped the bra around her chest. “Attila!” she called.
The man turned. “What? Are you ready to do it my way?”
Joy’nt also turned, showing the backside of her panties. They were meatily full, and so was the bra. Picka was disgusted.
Attila said nothing more. In fact he wasn’t moving. What had happened to him?
“He has freaked out,” Dawn murmured.
Oh. He was a living man. That meant that undergarments made him freak. Joy’nt had used the oldest weapon in the book to subdue him. But what else could she make of it? A freaked-out man couldn’t help them any more than a defiant one.
“Now face him and snap your fingers,” Dawn called.
Joy’nt did so. Suddenly the man snapped out of it. “What happened?” he asked dazedly.
“I made you freak,” Joy’nt said. “And I’ll do it again if you don’t cooperate.” She seemed to be enjoying this exchange despite the clumsy overload of flesh.
“You’re bluffing. All I have to do is shut my eyes.” He demonstrated by closing them tightly.
Joy’nt approached him. “And I will open them,” she said. She put her fleshy hand to his face and brushed upward on his eyelids.
He stared at her bra. “I’m not freaking out!” he exclaimed. “You can’t affect me partway. That means I have control.” He grabbed her arm again.
“Inhale,” Dawn said.
Joy’nt inhaled. Attila’s eyes started to crystallize. “Okay, okay! You’ve got power! What do you want?”
“I want your cooperation,” Joy’nt repeated patiently. “You must come with us, orienting on the Box and Caprice Castle, and I will make it worth your while.”
“But there are gazillions of puns remaining to be destroyed here.”
“They will keep. Once we recover the Box we won’t need you anymore. Then you can return here and abolish them all.”
Attila considered. “Okay. Let me at you.”
“Nuh-uh,” Dawn said. “Her favors will be parceled out in limited manner, so that you can’t take them all and then renege on the deal.”
“Bleep!” he swore. Dawn had, of course, fathomed his intention and acted to prevent it. “How much for a kiss?”
“Just your agreement to locate the castle,” Dawn said.
“Okay! I agree.”
“Uh, I don’t know how to do a fleshly kiss,” Joy’nt said to Dawn.
“Just stand here and hold your lips firm,” Dawn said. “He’ll do the rest.”
“I sure will!” Attila grabbed her and jammed his face against hers.
Joy’nt seemed uncertain, but gradually she gained confidence and kissed him back. Picka could tell by the attitude of her body. It was almost as if she liked it. That was of course unimaginable. She had to be acting the repulsive part, for the good of the mission.
At last it broke. Joy’nt smiled, a facial maneuver she was getting better at. “You see? You can’t ta
ke it by force, but you can have it if you play by the rules.”
He nodded eagerly. “How much for a feel?”
Joy’nt looked at Dawn. “Get a good bearing on Caprice Castle.”
Attila turned Joy’nt loose and turned around, concentrating. “I usually focus on close puns. That Box is far away. Lots of other puns between me and it, running interference. I don’t know if I can.”
Joy’nt took his hand. She shaped it so that only his forefinger projected. She touched that to her bra.
Attila stiffened. “But I’ll sure as bleep try!”
“I’m sure you will,” Dawn agreed. Picka realized that Joy’nt was an expert at managing men. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful; it was the way she rationed out her favors for maximum effect. Her technique was marvelous.
Attila focused, and slowly oriented northward. “It’s that way.”
“True,” Dawn agreed. Picka knew that it was not that she knew the castle’s location, but that she could tell that the man was being honest. Her talent was truly Sorceress level in its power and nuances. “One hand, outside,” she said to Joy’nt.
Joy’nt moved his hand and held it so that it lay flat against the outside of her bra-ed breast. A wisp of steam rose from the contact; it was clearly potent. Attila froze in place, on the very verge of freaking out. He was plainly in a subdivision of male heaven.
“That’s enough,” Dawn said after an indecent interval. “Now we shall start traveling toward the castle. There will be further limited feels along the way.”
Joy’nt removed the hand. There was a faint imprint on the bra where the heat had seared it. Obviously it had not been painful to either party, however.
Attila offered no further objection. But Joy’nt did. “I think about half my time has been used, maybe more. The spell expires after an hour. Then I won’t be able to do it. But the journey will take maybe several days.”
“That’s right,” Dawn said. “Bleep. We’ll have to make sure he understands.” She turned to Attila, who was coming out of his fond daze. “Joy’nt can be like this for only an hour at a time. Then she will revert to her natural skeletal form. Tomorrow she can flesh out for another hour. Can you accept that?”
“One hour a day, and all I get is feels? Let me have the whole thing.”
“No. The moment you get the whole thing, you’ll buzz off in search of a nymph. You don’t get it until we’re standing inside Caprice Castle.”
“That’s not good enough. I demand satisfaction within the hour. Bare bones are no use to me.”
Dawn considered. “Feels vary in strength. A panty feel can leave you floating for several hours.”
“And then I’m back with a skeleton,” he retorted. “It might be worth it if she were a real nymph, or a woman who could commit. Like my difficult girlfriend. But a skeleton? I don’t think so.”
Evidently he did not take his girlfriend too seriously, as Joy’nt had surmised. He wanted all he could get. Picka understood that some living men were like that.
“It’s all we have to offer,” Dawn said.
He gazed at her cannily. “Not necessarily. You’re not a skeleton.”
“No way!” Dawn snapped. “I wouldn’t settle for a—” She broke off.
“For a what?” Attila demanded.
“Never mind. I suppose I could let you look at me without touching, during Joy’nt’s off-hours.”
“Just peeks? It’s not worth it. Considering that it’s only one pun to be destroyed.”
“No. You can’t destroy Pundora’s Box. We need it.”
“It’s a pun,” he repeated. “I exist to destroy puns, especially that one. You want me to settle for one hour a day, and then not get to destroy one of Xanth’s biggest puns? You’re crazy.”
“You’re mighty choosy, considering.”
“There you go again. Considering what?”
Dawn was clearly nettled. She said something she shouldn’t. “Considering that you’re a pun yourself. Attila the Pun.”
Attila paused, working it out. “Somehow I never thought of it that way. I am a pun. Therefore I must be destroyed.” He drew his sword.
“No!” Joy’nt cried.
But Attila lifted his sword, then stabbed it through his own body. Immediately that body went up in smoke. The smoke floated away, dissolving. Even the sword puffed into vapor.
True to his nature, Attila had destroyed the Pun.
Picka, Dawn, and Joy’nt shared a glance of pure chagrin, with maybe a small admixture of guilt. They had ruined their chance to pursue their mission.
“I think I could have liked him, for an hour a day,” Joy’nt said. “He was so appreciative.” Then her flesh puffed away, leaving her skeleton. The bra and panties, suddenly without fleshly support, dropped to the ground.
That seemed appropriate. Their mission had abruptly become a mere skeleton of itself.
6
GRANOLA
The three human-style folk sank into a mottled purple funk, which was one of the worst types. They might have remained in it indefinitely, but the pets lost patience and took action.
Tweeter sat on Picka’s skull and tweeted mercilessly. He would not shut up. Midrange went to Joy’nt and prowled all over her bones. Woofer went to Dawn, nosing her butt. “Woof!” he said imperatively.
“Can’t you see we’re in a funk?” Dawn demanded. “Go sniff out some food or something, and leave us alone.”
“Woof!” he repeated insistently.
“What is bothering you?” she asked, annoyed.
“Woof!”
“Oh, you have something to tell me? What is it?”
“Woof!”
Her eyes widened. “You think you are developing a magic talent? Let me check.” She touched his back. “You’re right. You can sniff out any living thing, or will be able to when your talent matures. We thought it was Attila’s acrid smell you tracked, but it was the beginning of your talent.” She shook her head. “Too bad we can’t just have you sniff out Pundora’s Box.”
“Woof!”
“But maybe you can sniff out the one who will find it for us? If only we knew who that is.”
“Woof.” He nosed her pocket.
“But there’s nothing in there except—” She broke off, a dim bulb flashing. “The list of names! I had quite forgotten.”
“The names!” Picka said.
Dawn pulled out the paper. “The second name is Granola.” She looked up. “But isn’t that a breakfast food?”
“Woof.”
“But also a name,” Dawn agreed. “And you can sniff that person out?”
“Woof!”
She leaned forward and hugged him. “We’re back in business, Woofer, thanks to you.”
“Which way is this Granola?” Picka asked.
Woofer sniffed the air, then pointed his nose north.
“But that’s where the Gap Chasm is.”
“Woof.”
She nodded. “The Gap Chasm it is. We’ll go back to where the enchanted path crosses it, because that’s where I know a way down into it. I’ll have to clear it with Stanley Steamer, the Gap Dragon, so he doesn’t steam any of us.”
Picka knew that was a good precaution, because though fire dragons were impressive, Stanley’s steam could quickly cook a living person.
They organized, then headed northwest toward the crossing. Soon they encountered a small furry creature heaving rocks around. It ignored them, and didn’t seem to be dangerous. “What is it?” Joy’nt asked.
“I can’t tell,” Dawn said. “It’s not alive. But it’s acting like a woodchuck.”
“Don’t woodchucks chuck wood?”
“Yes. So this must be a rockchuck.”
The creature glanced at her and nodded. Then it returned to chucking rocks.
“How much rock could a rockchuck chuck, if a rockchuck could chuck stone?” The voice came from one of the chucked rocks.
“Could chuck what?” Dawn asked.
; “Boulder, pebble, gravel, sand—”
“Rock?”
“Whatever,” the rock agreed irritably.
“So nice to meet you again, Metria,” Dawn said with feigned niceness.
The rock expanded into a cloud of swirling smoke, which in turn formed into a sultry, shapely female demon form. “How did you know it was me?”
“It was a lucky guess.”
Metria frowned. “People get suspiciously lucky around me.” She glanced around. “Who are your friends, and what are you up to?”
“These are Picka and Joy’nt Bone, and the erstwhile Baldwin Family pets Woofer, Tweeter, and Midrange. We’re on a quest for Pundora’s Box.”
“Oh, the Good Magician stuck you with that chore? Lotsa luck, Princess.”
“We may need it,” Dawn agreed. “I don’t suppose you would like to help?”
“Me? I’m almost never helpful. It’s against my principles.”
“You won’t make an exception? We’re having a real problem.”
“No exception.” Metria puffed into bad-smelling smoke and dissipated like a used pun.
“I have heard of Metria,” Picka said. “She’s always mischief. Why were you so polite to her?”
“Because she prefers to do the opposite of what you want. It’s called reverse psychology.”
“So you really wanted her to go away?”
“I did. We’re going to have enough trouble locating and recruiting Granola, without Metria putting in her three cents.”
“How many cents?” he asked.
“Four, five, six, seven, eight—”
“Two?” Joy’nt asked.
“Whatever,” Dawn said crossly. Then they all laughed.
“I heard that,” Metria said, reappearing. “You are up to something interesting, after all.”
“Oh, bleep!” Dawn swore. “I forget that you can never be sure a demoness is really gone. My worse.”
Well-Tempered Clavicle Page 8
