Well-Tempered Clavicle (11 page)

“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.”

“Your what?” Metria asked.

“Worst, awful, mistake, error, miscue—”

“Bad?”

“Whatever!”

Even the demoness had to laugh this time.

“So I suppose now we are stuck with you,” Dawn said.

“I’m not sure,” Metria said thoughtfully. “I can’t tell whether you are pretending to be mad to be sure I’ll stay, or whether you really want me to go, as you said before. You might have known I was still listening.”

“True,” Dawn agreed.

Metria eyed her. “You are being most annoying.”

“It must be awful to have someone else emulate your specialty.”

The demoness puffed into momentary flame. “That does it. I’ll stay until I’m sure I’m wanted.
Then
I’ll go.”

“You will have a long stay, then,” Dawn said.

“Bleep you! You’re as bad as your sister.”

“I am not!” Dawn retorted. “I’m worse than my sister.”

Picka had no idea how much of this was serious. Dawn was no slouch with intellectual fencing. “Why don’t we just ignore her?” he suggested.

“Ignore me?” Metria demanded. “You can’t ignore me!”

Picka ignored her.

She puffed into smoke, then reformed as a skeleton with marvelously nice bones. “Ignore this!” she said, presenting her shapely pelvis for a kick.

Picka tried, but couldn’t keep his eye sockets off that evocative tailbone. She did know how to tempt a skeleton.

“What would you do if he kicked your donkey?” Joy’nt asked. “Fly apart and let him make a baby skeleton out of your smaller bones? Or simply dissolve into smoke like the annoyance you are?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s try it and see.”

Picka gave in to temptation. He kicked her tailbone so hard that she exploded into a blizzard of bones. Then they dissolved into smoke, which coalesced into the fleshly Metria form. “The latter,” she concluded.

But she had given him a wicked thrill in the process. He knew that demonesses liked to tempt mortal men into summoning the stork with them. Now he knew that demonesses could tempt skeletons too.

“You’re pitiful,” Joy’nt said.

Metria glared. “How so?”

“You’re married to a mortal. You have a half-mortal son. But you’re still out tempting other males instead of being a decent wife and mother. How can anyone respect you?”

“Oh, bleep!” Metria said, and faded out.

Dawn shook her head. “And I thought a demoness couldn’t be shamed.”

“I was just mad because she has what we all want, a decent family, yet she treats it like dirt. She deserves to be shamed.”

“I heard that,” Metria’s voice repeated from supposedly empty space. But it did not sound triumphant. The demoness knew she
had
been shamed. There was no more from her.

“Where were we?” Picka asked. “We had something in mind before she distracted us.”

“We were heading north toward the Gap Chasm,” Dawn said. “Following Woofer, who is sniffing out Granola. Whoever she is, whatever her talent is.”

“So we were,” he agreed, remembering. The demoness’s temptation had jogged that information loose from his skull.

They marched on northward. Joy’nt walked beside Picka. “I can’t blame you,” she said. “Temptation is hard to ignore.”

“You suffered it too?”

“Yes. When I had flesh, and Attila looked at me, and put his hand on my borrowed bra, I really wanted to do more with him, even though I didn’t much respect him as a person. That flesh—there was just something about it.”

“You looked horrendous,” Picka said. “Covered in all that bulging meat.”

“I know. I was disgusted—but also intrigued. Attila was so
eager.
He was really turned on. That gave me power over him, but also made me want to … to take it to the next level.”

“The next level?”

“To summon the stork with him.”

“But you’re a skeleton! Skeletons don’t summon storks.”

“True. But in that moment I wanted to, and I think I could have. Using that flesh. Maybe the storks would have ignored it, but I still wanted to make the signal. Just as you wanted to kick Metria’s tail despite knowing she wasn’t your kind.”

It was an apt point. “Our forms of the moment, and the forms of those we interact with, do have impact,” he agreed. “That is surely a useful lesson.”

“Yes.”

“I hope you find a nice male skeleton,” he said. “And that I find a female skeleton who is as nice as you, only who isn’t you.”

“I understand completely. But on this mission, we’re helping Dawn find Pundora’s Box, and maybe her ideal prince.”

“Yes. We’re her friends, and we will help her.”

“Tweet.”

They had forgotten Tweeter, who was now riding on Picka’s shoulder. “And a nice lady bird for you,” Picka added.

“Tweet,” Tweeter agreed.

They made it back to the stop where they had parked the bicycles. “Too bad we can’t use these again,” Joy’nt said.

“Unless Granola is actually north of the Gap Chasm,” Picka said. “Then we can ride them across the invisible bridge and on.”

“No such luck. See where Woofer is pointing?”

The dog was standing at the brink of the gulf, looking down. That meant that Granola was inside the chasm.

“We can use the cycles,” Dawn said. “I happen to know a secret about the Gap. Watch, then follow.” She fetched her bicycle, mounted it, and rode it to the brink of the chasm.

Then she went off the edge.

Picka and Joy’nt both leaped to stop her, but were too late. They peered down into the void.

And there was Dawn, riding down the sheer side of the chasm. It was as if she were cycling on level ground, but she was going down.

Now Picka remembered. “Some folk know routes where gravity changes. Naturally Dawn knows.”

“A fall won’t hurt us the way it would her,” Joy’nt said. “Still, we could break some bones. Let’s try it cautiously.”

They tried it carefully, wheeling their bicycles over the brink by hand. They made the turn and stood facing down, not falling. “It’s working,” Picka called to the pets. “Come join us.”

Tweeter, flying in the chasm, came to a landing on the wall, and did not fall. He tweeted reassuringly. Then Woofer and Midrange tried it. It worked for all of them.

Picka and Joy’nt mounted their bicycles and rode down, while Woofer and Midrange bounded along after them. It was fun, once they were sure of it.

Dawn was waiting for them at the bottom. “Now you know,” she said. “Don’t tell; the Gap Chasm would lose much of its effect if everyone knew about this.”

They agreed not to tell. Then they started cycling across the base of the chasm. Picka expected to see the dread six-legged Gap Dragon steaming toward them, but he must have been patrolling some other section.

The base of the Chap Chasm was actually nice scenery, with assorted bushes and trees growing. Pleasant paths wound through it, and they cycled along these. Woofer led the way, his nose in the air rather than to the ground, oddly.

Dawn slowed and stopped. The others stepped with her. “Is there a problem?” Joy’nt asked.

“Just something odd,” Dawn said. “I have been here a number of times before, and have a fair idea of the layout. We just passed something I don’t recognize. I want to check, just in case it’s important.”

She walked to the nearest bush and touched it. “Oh, all right,” she said, smiling.

“What did the bush tell you?” Picka asked.

“A car pet passed by here. See, there are the marks of its tread.” She indicated a kind of aisle pressed into the ground, leaving it even. “It rolls along, winding up and unwinding as it goes. When it rolls up tight, it looks like a Mundane vehicle. It seems it had a run-in with Stanley Steamer, the Gap Dragon. Stanley tried to steam it, but car pets like steaming; it helps clean them. It rolled right into Stanley, upsetting him. Stanly tried to bite it, but its fabric was impervious. But then it ran into a bog and lost traction. Stanley pulled it out. After that they got along all right. Now it’s Stanley’s pet, and stretches out and turns red when the dragon returns from a hunt.”

“A red car pet,” Skully said.

“So it seems,” Dawn agreed with two-fifths of a smile. “We don’t need to be concerned. Sorry for the interruption, Woofer.”

“Woof!” The dog resumed his dog trot.

He led them to the opposite wall, then along it. They came to a section where there was a large natural ledge, about twenty feet up, beyond which the cliff rose again. “This section isn’t navigable,” Dawn said. “We’ll have to go further along to reach the vertical trail out.”

“After we find Granola,” Picka said.

“Of course. It’s curious that she should choose to live down here. She must have made a deal with Stanley Steamer, because nobody intrudes here without authority.”

“Where
is
the Gap Dragon?” Joy’nt asked.

“I’m not sure. I can whistle for him if you’d like to meet him.”

“Not necessary,” Picka said quickly. The skeletons had little to fear from steam, but the pets could be in trouble.

Woofer paused beside the ledge. He glanced up, but there was nothing to see. The ledge was empty.

“Does Granola live here?” Dawn asked the dog.

Woofer shrugged uncertainly.

“She’s here sometimes, but is away at the moment?”

“Woof.”

“She’s here now?”

“Woof.”

“But we don’t see her,” Dawn said, frustrated.

To that Woofer had no answer.

“Maybe there’s a cave,” Joy’nt said.

“Where?” Picka asked. “The cliff is blank.”

“It might have its entrance covered by illusion,” Dawn said. “But in that case, Woofer could lead us to it.”

Woofer remained where he was, looking up and sniffing. It was odd.

Tweeter had been hovering overhead. Suddenly he tweeted and fell some distance before righting himself. “Tweet!”

“You banged into something,” Dawn said. “Something invisible?”

Tweeter flew back, carefully, then came to a landing and perched on something. Ten feet high. Invisible.

“An invisible perch?” Dawn asked, perplexed. “That’s new.”

“Is it relevant?” Picka asked. “We’re looking for a person, not an invisible perch.”

“Tweet!”

Dawn was taken aback. “What?”

“Tweet!” the bird repeated emphatically.

“Well, I’ll be tweeted,” Dawn said amazed. “Who would have thought it?”

“Thought what?” Picka asked, frustrated.

“That Tweeter is perching on an invisible foot.”

“An invisible foot! But it’s ten feet high!”

“And there’s nothing on the ground,” Joy’nt said.

Dawn nodded. “I believe it must be the foot of an invisible giant. Maybe a sleeping one. Maybe with one leg dangling off the edge of that ledge.”

“An invisible giant,” Picka said, amazed. “No wonder Woofer couldn’t reach it; he couldn’t fly.”

“Woof,” Woofer agreed, evidently glad to be vindicated.

“But is that giant Granola?” Joy’nt asked. “There’s no bad smell. Well, there must be some odor, because Woofer found him, but no stench.”

“True,” Dawn agreed. “An invisible giant is reputed to smell like a hundred fat men sweating in unison.”

A bulb shaped like a glowing little skull flashed over Picka’s head. “For a male giant, yes. But what about a female giant?”

“As far as we know, nobody’s ever encountered a female invisible giant,” Dawn said. “But I suppose they must exist, to propagate the species. The storks prefer to deliver to couples.”

“What kind of stork could deliver a giant?” Joy’nt asked.

“A giant stork,” Picka answered, regretting that he could not smile. He could grin with his bare teeth, but that wasn’t the same.

“Is it really Granola, or is she a captive of the giant?” Joy’nt asked.

“If I could reach that foot, I could find out,” Dawn said.

“There may be a simpler way,” Picka said. “Just make a clamor and wake the giant.”

“And get stepped on?” Joy’nt asked. “That would be awkward for us, and worse for Dawn and the pets.”

“We can stand up against the cliff,” Dawn said. “Where a foot is unlikely to land.”

That seemed to make sense. They lined up against the base of the cliff. Then they set up a clamor, with Dawn, Picka, and Joy’nt yelling, Woofer woofing, Midrange yowling, and Tweeter tweeting.

There was an answering sound, as of some huge stirring. “HUGH?”

“It’s us, down here,” Dawn called. “A party of six assorted creatures. Are you Granola?”

There was more stirring, then a thunk that shook the cliff as a monstrous foot banged into it. “I am Granny Ola, Granola for short. Who are you?”