Well-Tempered Clavicle (27 page)

Before long the two revived, no harm done, because the sand was soft. But it had been a useful object lesson. In future he would practice the magic music with caution.

*   *   *

The next morning they washed again, to scrub off any remaining stink, and resumed their trek to Rap Port. “I hope Tracy and Pirate acclimatize well,” Joy’nt said.

“And that he doesn’t have to defend them with a stink horn,” Skully said. They all laughed, but with wrinkled noses.

They knew when they were approaching Rap Port. Not only was it a port town, with boats sailing close, it had the fast musical beat of its nature. All the inhabitants seemed to be playing musical instruments, or rapping on objects, or talking in fast rhyming patters. It sounded something like, “This is the town that can’t be beat; we are playing on our feet.”

Fortunately the patter faded as they progressed beyond the town limit. The folk there seemed much like others, going about their business. Granola stepped carefully, trying to minimize the sound of her footfalls so that no one was alarmed.

“Now we need to locate GoDemon,” Dawn said. “Woofer?”

“Woof!” The dog poked his head over the edge of the handbag and sniffed enthusiastically. Granola wasn’t good for this, because of the nature of her talent; they didn’t want to have to double back to check the next-to-last place. The natives would surely become aware of something going on as the giantess treaded back and forth.

“Woof!” Woofer had located the scent.

They went in that direction. It led to an extended campus whose entry sign was
R U M
.

“Rum?” Skully asked.

“More likely initials,” Picka said.

“Are You Mad?” Joy’nt asked with the thought of a smile.

“Meow.”

“Midrange says it stands for Rap University of Music,” Dawn said.

Indeed, there was the fast beat of music permeating the region.

They followed Woofer’s nose until they came to a residence at the far edge of the campus. There was a house shaped like a big drum. That was the place.

Dawn got out and went to the door. She knocked. Soon a large gruff human man with some evident demon ancestry answered. “Do you mind?” he demanded. “I’m setting up to teach my next class.”

Dawn smiled and inhaled.

“But perhaps I can spare a moment,” GoDemon said. “Do I know you? You seem somehow familiar.”

“My name is Dawn. I don’t believe we have met before.”

“There is a princess named—”

“I have a friend who needs some musical advice,” Dawn said, continuing her breathing.

“Let him sign up for a class.”

“This is a bit more complicated than that. He may not have much time.”

Go opened his mouth to protest, but she took a deeper breath, fastening him in place. She beckoned Picka forward.

Go saw him. “What mischief is this?” he demanded. “I’m a musician, not an exorcist.”

“Play a tune,” Dawn murmured.

Picka quickly unlimbered his clavicles and played “Ghost of Tom.”

Go’s jaw dropped slightly. “Now, that’s new! His own ribs!”

“He can do it well,” Dawn said.

“I doubt he knows the first thing about real music, let alone the second thing.”

“Play the summoning music,” Dawn said.

Picka played it.

Go nodded. “That’s well beyond the first thing,” he admitted. “Where did he learn that?”

“From Piper the Music Monster,” Dawn said.

“Oh, bleep! We don’t want that creature here.”

“Precisely,” Dawn said. “The monster wants to catch, tame, and marry me. I need you to train Picka Bone here so that he can fend off that attack. Can you do that?”

“Only the finest musician in Xanth could do that. The Music Monster is a legend. An ill one.”

“Then make Picka the best,” Dawn said.

“You have no idea what you’re asking! It would take years, if the skeleton even had the potential.”

“Days,” Dawn said. “We need it in days.”

“Impossible! The very notion—” He paused, because Dawn had taken a really deep breath. “I’ll do what I can.”

Dawn was a Sorceress, but Picka realized that she had drawn on a different type of magic to persuade the musician. She was mistress of the art of being female.

And so, in due course, the four of them were in Go’s house demonstrating their music, while he considered options. He grudgingly acknowledged that Picka had potential, after Picka accurately played all tunes Go tried. Go’s way of making music was interesting: he could evoke it from anything, literally. He could tap the floor, and it resonated musically. He could tap his fingers against the wall, and music emanated. He could tap his own teeth, and they played notes, much in the matter of Picka’s ribs. He could even wave his hands through the air, and sustained notes sounded. He was good at it, very good. He was, in fact, a master musician. But Picka matched anything he produced, after hearing it once.

“I am impressed. But whether it is enough, I doubt,” Go said. “Your opponent is the most formidable creature I know of; he’s had many years to achieve his potential.”

Picka privately agreed with him, but Dawn didn’t. “Why not?” she asked. “Picka learns rapidly.”

“Because I can take him only up to my level, if he is capable of reaching it,” Go said seriously. “But the monster is beyond that level. The monster is Xanth’s finest musician. Neither I nor anyone else here can match him. So the task may be hopeless.”

“It can’t be hopeless,” Dawn said, “because otherwise I will have to marry the monster.”

“Your reasoning is understandable,” Go said, “but not logical.”

Picka agreed with him again. The man was sensible as well as being an excellent musician. Their case was hopeless.

“Teach him what you can,” Dawn said firmly.

“But there is not time to do more than barely acquaint him with the techniques, let alone enable him to practice enough to become proficient with them.”

She leaned forward persuasively. Her blouse was coincidentally loose at the top. “Please.”

“I will do what I can,” Go repeated, his eyeballs sweating.

Picka saw that Dawn knew everything about GoDemon, so understood exactly how to manage him. She was managing Picka similarly, despite not being able to use her knowing magic on him.

*   *   *

That evening, after Go’s class was through, he worked with Picka. The other members of the group were out setting up a suitable place to camp inconspicuously. “You do have significant potential,” he said quietly, “but I would not be doing this if it were not for your friend’s persuasion.”

“I know,” Picka agreed. “It is hard to say no to a princess.”

“So she
is
the princess. I wondered. She certainly has a touch managing people.”

“She does,” Picka agreed.

“First, you need to know chords—that’s several notes played together. You have been playing a single note at a time, and while that is perfectly adequate for most musical purposes, it will not suffice against the Music Monster’s massive chords. He can play any number of notes together.”

“He can,” Picka agreed. “But I have just my two clavicles.”

“However, each clavicle has two ends. You can strike with both ends simultaneously to make chords. Try it.”

Picka tried it. He lost his grip and a clavicle dropped to the floor.

“Like this.” Go took a stick of similar size, held it in the middle, and struck two books simultaneously. They rang with two different notes.

Picka tried again. This time he managed to strike two ribs together without dropping the stick. He could do it, but knew that it would indeed take time to do it well.

“I regret that we have not the time to rehearse you in this aspect,” Go said. “But you can do that on your own. The next thing to practice is parts.”

“Parts?”

“A piece of music normally has four parts, or voices: soprano, alto, tenor, and bass. Your group has done some of that, with a different person taking each part.”

“Oh, yes. It’s a nice effect.”

“You must learn to do the four parts yourself.”

Picka stared at him, knowing that if he had had eyes, they would have been wide. “I don’t think I—”

“Like this.” Go took his two sticks and stood before a row of books. He used the two ends of the two sticks, striking four notes at a time. The sticks almost seemed to whirl in his hands as he played four-part melodies simultaneously. It was beautiful.

Picka was amazed. “And you are
not
Xanth’s finest musician?”

“Not,” Go agreed. “That honor belongs to the Music Monster, as I said before. Now you have demonstrated the ability to play anything after hearing it once. Play this.”

Picka tried. Had he been fleshly he would have been sweating, because this was the most difficult musical challenge he had faced. But to his faint surprise, he managed it. Not nearly as well as Go’s version, but adequate.

Go nodded. “Only my top students can do that, and none of them succeeded on the first attempt. You are remarkable.”

“I wasn’t sure I could,” Picka admitted. “And I didn’t do it well.”

“The fact that you did it at all bodes well for your future as a musician. Again, you must practice on your own time. Learn the individual parts of each song, play them separately, then play them together. Only when you can do any four-part harmony well will you be able to even think of rivaling the monster.” He paused, considering. “But you just might.”

“I will practice,” Picka promised.

“Now the kill-music, as we call it. This is dangerous to others, so you must use it with extreme caution.”

“I know. I practiced it yesterday, and a member of our party fell down.”

“Precisely. The monster doesn’t care whom he harms, but you must care. The best you can do is learn to match the monster’s skill in this respect. That will block his ability but not defeat him. You can defeat him only by becoming a superior musician.”

“I have encountered him. I don’t think I’ll ever be that good.”

“You love the princess?”

“I do,” Picka confessed. “Though she is not my type, nor I hers.”

“Then you will do what is necessary to accomplish your purpose. If it is possible.”

“Yes.”

“She will see that you do.”

“Yes.”

Go drilled him on summoning, pacifying, stunning, and repelling music. Picka had not encountered the last before, but appreciated its advantage. It meant that if any living creature menaced their party, he would be able to drive it away musically. That could be as useful a defense as a stink horn, and less smelly.

“There is also the opposite of negative music,” GoDemon said. “That is healing music. That can be very good, when the need arises.” He taught Picka the healing theme. Picka practiced it, appreciating its value, though at the moment he had no need of it.

“One more thing,” Go said. “There is an aspect that perhaps only I know about, and I do not use it, because it is dangerous. But I suspect you will need it.”

“I need anything I can get,” Picka said.

“Most varieties of kill-music are emotional in nature, generating attraction, fear, avoidance, and so on. They work only on living, feeling creatures, and have no effect on inanimate things. But one type does. This one can weaken the bonds of matter itself, causing collapse. Practice it only well away from ordinary things, and use it only when the need is dire.”

“Why would I want to make anything collapse?”

“I hope you will never want to. But I will teach you the theme. What you do with it will be your own responsibility.”

Go took him out back, into a separate enclosed garden area. He set up a block of stone on a wood table. Then he stroked the wood to evoke an eerie music.

The stone cracked, fractured, and dissolved into sand. The wooden table was unaffected, being organic.

Picka tried it on another stone, copying the theme. It cracked, but did not disintegrate. “I don’t seem to have it, quite,” he said, disappointed.

“You have it, Picka. You simply need practice to build up your proficiency with it. Remember: far from anything you value. This theme is dangerous, because it can bring down a stone house, or theoretically a mountain.”

“I will.” Picka could see that this was a singularly potent type of music. “Thank you.”

“Now I have informed you what you need to accomplish,” Go said. “You will practice on your own, and with luck and application succeed in becoming the best that you can be. You no longer need my advice.”

“But I do!” Picka protested. “You have shown me techniques that I never imagined before.”

“Yes. But you can do it by yourself, in time. And you must do it far from here. I cannot afford to help you further.”

“Why?”

“Because the Princess Dawn is staying close to you, and the monster is stalking her. If your party remains here any length of time, the monster will come. We do not want that. It would be great mischief.”

Ah. “Yes, Piper will come. He travels slower than we do, but he is determined.”

“So you understand why we must be promptly rid of you.”

“I understand,” Picka agreed.

15

B
ATTLE

“So that is why we must depart first thing in the morning,” Picka told the others.

“I will persuade GoDemon to relent,” Dawn said.

“No, he is correct. Piper will come, and it could be great harm for the town. We must not inflict this on it. Go has taught me what I need to know; I can practice it anywhere. We must leave.”

Dawn sighed. “Morning,” she agreed reluctantly.

They were camped in a town park, in a section not normally visited because stench puffers, related to stink horns, grew there. It didn’t smell too bad as long as no one stepped on a puffer. They were careful not to.

They did not practice their music that night, because they were in the invisible handbag and the natives would wonder if music seemed to come from nowhere. Instead Dawn, Granola, and the pets ate their meals, and did their attendant natural functions in another section of the park. The business of constantly eating and eliminating seemed botheringly inconvenient to the skeletons, but that was one of the penalties of life.