“That sounds great! But why should she come to me?”
“Because you look a lot like your brother Attila, whom she loved. Be like him, act like him, and she should be more than ready to have you in his place.”
“That makes sense,” Gattila agreed. Like most fleshy males, he had an exaggerated notion of his appeal.
Joy’nt turned to Picka, in the handbag. “She can really manage a man.”
“So I have discovered,” he agreed. “She can manage a skeleton too.”
Dawn talked Gattila into separating from his brothers so that they would not be in danger. She brought him around to the handbag to meet the others, who obligingly climbed out.
“Walking skeletons!” Gattila exclaimed.
“Tame ones,” Dawn said quickly. “Here is Picka Bone, my fiancé. He plays music on his ribs.”
“I can play music by bouncing bullets off different rocks,” Gattila said.
“This is similar,” Dawn agreed. “This is his sister, Joy’nt, and her boyfriend, Skully Knucklehead. We also have an invisible giantess in our party, but you can’t see her.”
“Where’s this woman I’m to get?”
“That’s Pundora. She should be along soon. In the interim we will entertain you with some music.”
They did. Gattila was plainly bored but put up with it.
Then there was distant pipes music. Piper was arriving.
“Remember,” Dawn said hastily. “Wave to Pundora. Make sure she sees you. You want her to come to you.”
“I got that,” he agreed.
The music grew louder. The local animals fled. The monster was clearing the area of anything that might interfere. All he wanted was Dawn. And to be rid of any competition for her.
They came into sight. The monster was flowing rapidly across the terrain, with Pundora riding on his back. He was heading straight for Dawn. His music shifted.
Dawn started to walk toward him, compelled.
“Go for Picka first,” Pundora reminded him. “Get him out of the way so he can’t balk you with his music.”
Reluctantly Piper obeyed, knowing she was right. It did not require much of a change, since Picka was standing beside Dawn.
Picka took off his clavicles and started to play. That blocked the summoning music, and Dawn stopped walking. “Call to her,” Dawn said to Gattila. “Now!”
Gattila had been distracted by the sight of the monster. Now he remembered his own mission. “You’re right! She’s beautiful.” He took a breath. “Hey, Pundora!” he called. “Come give me a smooch!”
Pundora looked at him and almost fell off her perch. “Attila!”
“No, I’m his brother. Gattila the Gun.”
“His brother! I didn’t know he had one.”
“He has several. I’m the manliest.”
“You look just like him!”
“Built just like him too,” Gattila said proudly. “Come here and I’ll show you.”
Pundora considered half a moment, no more than two-thirds of a moment. Then she jumped off the monster’s back and ran toward Gattila.
Meanwhile Piper, focusing on Picka, didn’t notice. That was fine. Picka increased the tempo of his music, not only nullifying the monster’s music but causing the fleeing animals to pause. His object was not to beat the monster back so much as to distract him long enough for Pundora to leave him, if she was going to.
Pundora ran right to Gattila. “What’s your talent?” she asked. “It can’t be abolishing puns.”
“It’s my gun,” Gattila said. “I can shoot anything.” He drew his big pistol. “Do you want me to shoot something?”
“Not yet. Let’s see how you kiss.”
“No problem!” He holstered his gun and grabbed her. He pulled her roughly to him, put his hands on her bottom, and smacked her face with a huge sloppy kiss.
“Uh-oh,” Dawn murmured. “No halfway decent girl will go for treatment like that.”
After a moment and a half he drew back. “How’s that?”
“That’s pretty good,” Pundora agreed. Then she put her hands on his bottom and planted an even more slobbery kiss.
“She’s not halfway decent,” Joy’nt said.
“Great!” Gattila said. “Let’s go somewhere else and get serious.”
This time Pundora pondered only a quarter of a moment. “Yes, let’s.”
The two started walking away together. “I counted on her fickleness,” Dawn murmured.
But now the monster caught on that Pundora was no longer with him. He played an angry note.
“Oh, go away,” Pundora said carelessly. “I have found another man, so I don’t need revenge for Attila anymore. I never liked you much anyway.”
Picka, Dawn, and the others remained still. Could their ploy be working this well this soon?
The monster played a louder, angrier note.
“Well, that was then,” Pundora said. “This is now. I’m out of here.” She resumed her walk with Gattila.
But Piper wasn’t having it. He needed Pundora to track Dawn. He did not want to let her go before he had completed his own mission. He played loud music, of another variety.
Fire bombs exploded before Gattila and Pundora, barring their escape. Picka recognized the strategy: Piper did not want to hurt Pundora, because he needed her. Once he had Dawn, he would not care at all about Pundora, who had now betrayed him twice. He might destroy her with his kill-music. But at the moment he needed her with him, and unharmed. So he was fencing her rather than attacking her.
Battila, however, was not one to quit either. “So it’s like that, eh, slug bomb?” he asked, drawing his gun. He put in a grape.
“Don’t do it,” Dawn murmured. “You can’t prevail. Just run around the fire and get away before he can react.”
“Good advice,” Pundora said, agreeing with Dawn though it probably annoyed her to do so. “Let’s run.”
“The bleep,” Gattila grated. He aimed the gun.
The monster was evidently not familiar with guns, which were rare in Xanth because most preferred Mundane science. He ignored this one, as he maintained a curtain of fire hemming the two in.
Gattila fired directly at Piper. A spray of grapeshot struck the monster’s flesh.
Suddenly Piper understood about guns. He slid back, smarting. Goo oozed from multiple little holes.
Then the monster blasted Gattila with music. The man staggered and would have fallen, had Pundora not caught him and propped him up. And now Gattila understood about kill-music.
“They need help,” Dawn murmured to Picka.
So they did. This was an odd temporary alliance, but what was needed at the moment. Picka played some notes of his own, and Gattila recovered mobility.
“Now run!” Pundora told him.
“The bleep,” Battila repeated. He put a cherry into his gun.
“You’re so pigheaded,” Pundora told him. “Just like Attila. I love it. But we really must go now.” She pulled on his free arm.
The monster fought off Picka’s interference. Battila stiffened again. But before he fell he pulled the trigger.
A section of the monster was blasted out of the middle. Goo flew up and around. But the splotches that landed flowed back to the main mass, which healed as if it had not been injured.
“Run!” Pundora cried, pulling Gattila along. This time he yielded. He had not yet picked up on the fact that the monster wasn’t dead.
Piper soon disabused him. More fire appeared before the couple, entirely surrounding them.
“I’ll handle this,” Pundora said. She drew her sword, which she had somehow concealed on her body. She sliced at the wall of flames, and the flames were cut off, leaving a gap. The two of them leaped through that gap and fled.
Piper played other music. The flames vanished, but this time both Gattila and Pundora stumbled, half stunned.
Picka played more nullifying music. The two people righted themselves and resumed running—until more flame ap
peared before them.
Gattila whirled, drawing his gun. This time he put in a slice of pineapple.
“No, you can’t—” Pundora cried.
He fired. This time it wasn’t just a section, but most of the monster’s body that sprayed up in a roiling fireball. The fried fragments fell again, and reformed again, but by the time Piper was ready to resume action, the guilty couple was gone. They had made their escape. Gattila had gotten smart, and played for time rather than total destruction.
The monster evidently realized that, and gave up on the fruitless (apart from the pineapple) chase. Now he turned his attention to the true cause of this mischief: Dawn and Picka. His music intensified.
Dawn dropped to the ground, unconscious. Piper slid toward her.
Picka quickly put his clavicles back in place, bent, and picked Dawn up. He ran, carrying her.
The monster didn’t dare hit them with fire, because that would burn Dawn. But by similar token, Picka could not defend them with his music, because his arms were occupied. All he could do was run.
Piper, it turned out, could slide faster than Picka could run. In three moments the forward extensions of goo were licking around Piper’s feet. They curled around his ankle bones, tackling him. He dropped.
But Skully was there. He took Dawn and ran on with her. That freed Picka’s arms. He unlimbered his clavicles and beat on the sides of his ribs. His music speared out, striking the tentacles that clung to his ankles with null magic. They shriveled.
Picka yanked his ankles from the mess and got back to his feet. He concentrated on his music. It blasted at the monster at point-blank range. And fire erupted amidst that flesh.
Piper recoiled as he hastily stifled the flames. Picka had caught him by surprise, and scored. But singed flesh was no worse than blasted flesh and almost immediately he was back on the attack, his music countering Picka’s attack while his body advanced.
However, the break had enabled them to rescue Dawn, and it was clear that she was now beyond recovery by the monster. Skully would carry her to Granola, who would take them both well away from danger.
Piper raged at Picka, focusing his deadly music. The very ground Picka stood on fragmented into sand. But Picka fought back with his own music, and the ground the monster slid on fragmented similarly, unbalancing him. Every time Picka invoked the kill-music, he was better at it, and he was achieving parity.
Evidently realizing this, the monster veered away from Picka and cruised toward the table where Gattila’s siblings remained clustered.
“Run!” Picka called. “Scatter! Don’t let him get near you!”
“But we haven’t finished our meal,” Fattila protested.
“You’ll never finish anything if he gets you,” Picka warned. “He’s mad because Gattila got the girl. He’ll take it out on you.”
“Now aren’t you exaggerating just a little?” Nattila asked calmly as she bit delicately into a slice of angel food cake. None of them moved from the table as the monster bore down on them.
What folly! He would have to try to protect them despite their unrealistic attitude. He ran to the table, racing the monster. He played his ribs, balking Piper’s deadly pacifying theme.
The monster arrived first. He plowed into the table, his juices starting to dissolve the wood. A streamer of goo flung out and looped Nattila’s waist. She screamed, belatedly getting the point.
Sattila concentrated on the streamer. A sunbeam focused, becoming burning hot. The streamer sizzled and fell away, releasing the woman. She scrambled clear.
But now the music changed. Nattila straightened out, then moved toward the monster, compelled.
Did Piper want her for assistance, or eating? Was he looking for a replacement for Pundora? A nun was unlikely to be effective.
Picka countered the summoning music, and Nattila backed away. But Pattila was also approaching, similarly compelled. Picka extended his theme, and she too halted. “Get away!” Picka cried to them all.
Now at last they understood the personal danger. All of them backed away.
Fireballs appeared behind them. They couldn’t retreat. Picka doused one fireball, then another, but new ones appeared faster than he could dissipate them. He had to come up with something more effective.
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.
<
br /> 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.
Well-Tempered Clavicle Page 26
