Well-Tempered Clavicle (31 page)

“Welcome,” Dawn said. “There’s evidently plenty more where that came from. But why would a man want to hack apart growing loaves of bread?”

“A crazy man,” Adora said. “Maybe his mother was scared by a giant loaf, so he hates all loaves.”

“Or his father was a loafer,” Joy’nt suggested.

“Stranger things happen in Xanth,” Dawn agreed. “Let’s move on.”

“I apologize for the miscue,” Granola murmured, lifting the handbag. She carried it a few of her steps, which would have been ten times as many of their steps. “But I’m sure that what we want is somewhere around here. Maybe Woofer will be able to sniff it out.”

“We can try that,” Dawn agreed.

Granola set the bag down again. They looked out again.

There was a cheerful-looking man sitting at a table loaded with pies, milk pods, boot rear, and piles of cookies. It was perhaps not surprising that he was obese.

“I’ll start,” Dawn said. “Maybe with Woofer.”

No one argued. She was the normal one, who wouldn’t spook a stranger. Woofer would be there to guard her if she needed it.

They helped Dawn and Woofer make themselves presentable and scramble out, quietly, behind a beerbarrel tree. They walked around it and approached the table, reacting as if surprised to discover it there.

“Hello,” Dawn said. “Are we intruding?”

“A pretty girl and handsome dog like you two can never intrude,” the man said genially. “I’m Fattila the Fun. Are you hungry? Have some pie, and I may have a dog biscuit here somewhere.”

They joined him at the table. “Thank you. I’m Dawn Human, and this is Woofer Dog. We were looking for someone named Battila. Are you related?”

“Pretty much,” Fattila agreed. “We’re a wide family.” He patted his belly. “Though I’m the widest. I gathered breakfast for the others, who should be along soon. I’m sure they’ll be glad to meet both of you. Try not to be nervous if some stare; we don’t get to see many young women or Mundane dogs as pretty as you.”

Sure enough, a group of others approached the table. They paused when they saw the two visitors, but Fattila waved them in. “We have guests this morning. Dawn and Woofer. I’m sure they have an interesting story to tell. Introduce yourselves.”

The others came on in and settled around the table, taking food. The men did look mostly at Dawn, while the women looked at Woofer. “I’m Gattila the Gun,” one said, showing his formidable weapon. “Don’t worry; I use it only for target practice.”

“I’m Rattila the Run,” the next said. “I’ll be happy to race you anywhere.”

“Don’t do it,” the next said. “It’s a rat race. I’m Nattila the Nun. I’m sure you’d like it in our nunnery.”

“And don’t do that,” the next said. “Once you go there, you’ll never get out of the habit. I’m Sattila the Sun. I can really brighten your day.”

“He means
his
day,” the next said. “Forget about habits; he’ll get you out of your clothing so he can tan your bare flesh. I’m Hattila the Hun. If you need a fancy hat, I have it.” Indeed she wore a very fancy hat.

“And I’m Pattila the Un,” the last one said. “It used to be Pun, but Attila stole my name, leaving me with his vowel. If I ever catch him, I’ll take it back.”

“You can take it back now,” Dawn said. “Attila is no more.”

They all looked at her. “What happened?” Pattila asked.

“He was smiting puns. When he realized he was a pun himself, he smote himself and puffed into nothingness.”

Fattila shook his head. “I always knew he would come to no good end. He was always too serious.”

“We were actually looking for Battila,” Dawn said.

“Battila the Bun,” Gattila said. “He slices bread. He must have found another loaf and been too busy to come here this morning.”

In the handbag, Picka turned to Joy’nt. “Battila the Bun! He’s the one we saw before.”

“The next-to-last place Granola looked,” she agreed.

Dawn stood. “Thank you, all of you. This has been enlightening.”

“We’d be happy to entertain you here,” Rattila said, eyeing her torso.

“No, I think he is the one we want.” Dawn and Woofer returned to the hidden handbag.

“How does Battila deserve such luck?” Sattila asked as they departed.

The others were ready. The moment Dawn and Woofer rejoined them, Granola lifted the bag and headed back the way she had come.

They were in luck. Battila was still finishing off the buns. Now Picka realized that he looked a lot like Attila. Maybe it was the attitude.

“I believe this could work, if we can talk him into it,” Dawn said.

“That means he’ll have to meet the rest of us,” Picka said.

“Yes. let’s give it a try.”

Dawn glanced at Adora. “This could be awkward, possibly even dangerous, and you are not familiar with our maneuvers. You had better remain in the handbag, and Granola can lift you out of the way if there’s an immediate threat.”

“As you wish,” Adora said. “But if I see the need for a Door, I’ll make it.”

“That will be fine,” Down agreed. Picka knew she simply did not want Adora in the way if things got complicated.

They piled out and approached the man as he chopped up the last bun. “Battila?” Dawn called. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Well, now,” he said, gazing at her. “I’m interested.”

“Not me,” Dawn said hastily. “There’s another girl you might like.”

“Ah, but will she like me?” Battila asked. “Girls can be notoriously choosy.”

“They can be,” Dawn agreed with the hint of a quarter smile. “Maybe we can arrange for the two of you to meet.”

“Any time.”

There was a crashing in the brush. “She’s this way,” Pundora’s voice called. “But he’ll be with her. Remember, you have to eliminate him first, or she won’t accept you.”

“They’ve found us already!” Picka said, amazed.

“That magic mirror must have known where we would be before we got here,” Joy’nt said. “So they could travel through the night and intercept us.”

The monster burst into view. “There they are!” Pundora cried from his back. “Get him now! Wipe him out!”

Piper cruised directly toward Picka, making surprising speed, his music revving up. His flesh was almost liquid, flowing across the terrain, the pipes emitting massed musical notes. It was impressive and frightening.

Battila was caught in the middle. He drew his sword and faced the monster. “Get away from here,” he called to Dawn. “I’ll cover your rear, so to speak.”

“No, don’t try to fight the monster!” Dawn cried as she and Picka ran to get there.

But Battila was already striding toward Piper. “Time to face the music, doughboy!” he said. He was clearly no coward.

“No!” Picka and Dawn cried almost together, coming up behind Battila. But it was too late; they could not avoid the monster regardless.

Then Adora appeared right between them as she scrambled out of the handbag. “Here’s your Door!” she cried, gesturing.

A huge Door appeared in the ground before her. It opened downward, and they jumped in.

But Battila avoided it. He ran around the edge toward Adora. “I’ll save you, maiden!” he called. He sheathed his sword, swept her up in his arms and jumped into the pit.

Then Granola jumped too, following them, and the door closed above them just as the monster arrived.

The group of them landed on a flowery hillside, scattered in assorted awkward positions, but unhurt. The giantess had managed not to land on anyone.

Battila was still holding Adora. “That was the bravest thing I ever saw!” she exclaimed. “You swept me up without even knowing me.”

“Well, we were about to be introduced,” Battila said. “I couldn’t let that gooey monster get you before we had a chance to get to know each other.”

Picka exchanged an eyeless glance with Joy’nt. Battila thought Adora was the girl he was supposed to meet!

“Oh, that’s not—” Adora started to protest.

Battila, ever a man of action, stifled her protest by kissing her on the mouth. A little heart flew up.

“Oops,” Joy’nt murmured.

“She was right,” Battila said. “You are another girl I could like. But how do you feel about me?”

“Haven’t you noticed?” Adora said. “I’m a bull head.”

He looked again. “Why so you are. Hoofs, too, and with the cutest body I ever saw. And I guess it was your magic that made the Door that saved us all. What’s your point?”

She looked halfway flustered, but not cowed. She kissed him. This time two little hearts flew up.

Dawn, witnessing this, made a minor gesture of throwing up her hands. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy together,” she said.

Their plan had messed up, but it wasn’t a complete loss. They had found Adora a romance.

17

D
IVERSION

Battila and Adora were happy to remain on the sloping field, where there was plenty of grazing and some buns growing. They were hardly aware of the others. So soon enough Granola was carrying the group back toward the brothers. Because they needed to fetch another one for Pundora.

“Meanwhile, as we travel, practice your music,” Dawn told Picka. “You didn’t have a chance to unlimber your clavicles that last time, but it was close; next time you’ll have to fight the monster off.”

“I know it,” Picka agreed. “But I’m still not at all sure I’ll ever be good enough to—”

She grabbed his clavicle and bonged him over the head with it. It made a surprisingly mellow note. “I won’t listen to that. You are bleeping well going to get good enough.”

“Yes, dear,” Joy’nt said for him, and they all laughed. But it was serious business.

“Work on the chords,” Dawn directed. “That’s one area Piper has you beat.”

Hardly the only area. Picka played chords by using both ends of his clavicles simultaneously. He could play up to four notes that way, rapidly improving.

“We have done some four-part harmonies,” Granola said from above. “Can you do more than one part yourself?”

Picka tried it, and succeeded. It was like playing special chords. “That’s beautiful,” Dawn said appreciatively.

“What about the parts of a round?” Skully asked.

Picka tried to play two voices of “Ghost of Tom,” but got so fouled up that a clavicle flew out of his hand when he started the overlapping second voice. “It seems not,” he said regretfully.

“But suppose the monster can do it?” Dawn asked. “You can’t afford to be inferior in any respect.”

Picka tried again, and again. Chords were one thing, parts another, but this was a single melody done in four overlapping stages. It required a different type of musical coordination. He failed repeatedly, which was not a thing he liked.

“You can do it,” Dawn said.

“But it—”

She kissed him on the skull. “Don’t make me get mushy.”

He tried again. This time he succeeded, at least in part. He managed to overlap the first and second voice for a few beats before losing it. Nevertheless, the others applauded. It was, after all, progress.

After a while they paused for what Dawn called a rest stop. It seemed she was not about to perform certain natural functions while they bounced along in the handbag. Granola set them down, and Dawn climbed out. “You too, Picka,” she said.

He had learned not to try to argue with her. “I need a place that is safely private for five minutes,” she said.

He looked around. This particular section was hilly and sandy without any private spots.

Then a woman walked by. “Hello,” she said. “I am A Sist. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I can’t tell her nature,” Dawn murmured.

Picka did not quite trust this. “I don’t think anyone else can do what she needs at the moment. Why do you want to help?”

“I am a minor demoness,” she replied. I used to be D Sist, interfering with people. Then I interfered with a donkey-headed dragon, and suddenly I was reversed, and now I must help anyone once before moving on.”

“Ah,” Dawn said. “In that case, where is there a private spot for a natural function or two?”

“Over there,” A Sist said, pointing.

Picka looked. There was a ring of bushes that he hadn’t noticed before, providing perfect privacy.

“Thank you,” Dawn said. But A Sist had already moved on, having done her duty.

Before long Dawn was done, and they returned to the handbag. No more was said about the matter.

In the afternoon they reached the area where the Attila siblings lived. Now they could try again to set up their ploy. They decided that limited candor was best.

Fattila the Fun remained at his table. Apparently eating was his main endeavor. Dawn and Woofer approached him and were welcomed, as before.

“We recruited Battila,” Dawn said. “He now has a girlfriend he likes. She has a bovine head, but is a nice person with a nice talent. We would like to recruit another brother, for another woman. Do you think any of your brothers would be interested?”

“Gattila the Gun,” he said immediately. “He’s quite a man for the ladies. Is she pretty?”

“Oh, yes. But her personality can be vicious.”

“So much the better. He likes them lovely and tough.”

“At present she associates with a vicious monster. That monster wants to abduct and marry me, and she encourages him. So I want to get her interested in somebody else, so that she won’t be able to help the monster come after me. That is my personal interest. Do you think Gattila would understand?”

“He doesn’t care about social complications. All he wants is a tough, good-looking creature who likes him back.”

“Then I think he’s our man,” Dawn concluded.

“Here they come now,” Fattila said.

The other siblings appeared, bearing harvested pies and pods. They settled down around the table.

“You will remember this pretty lady and dog,” Fattila said. “She found Battila a girlfriend. Now she’s back.”

“Gattila,” Dawn said. “I know a pretty woman who might like you.”

“Bring her on,” Gattila said.

“She will arrive soon. But she will be with a monster. The monster may not like losing her.”

“Maybe a whiff of grapeshot will make him amenable.” Gattila brought out his gun and a cluster of purple grapes. He loaded a grape into the gun.