Well-Tempered Clavicle (7 page)

But Humfrey had already returned his attention to his tome. He had tuned them out.

They put the spells into their skulls for safekeeping and returned to the downstairs room, bemused. Picka doubted they would ever use the spell. The very idea of living meat on his bones was sickening.

Dawn faced them as they returned. “I think we’re done here,” she said, evidently reconciled to her nonprotagonist status. “Let’s go.”

Picka was happy to agree. He was not entirely comfortable with the revelations they had received.

“There is a spell for Dawn too,” Wira said, bringing out another small ball.

“What’s this?” Down asked, hardly mollified.

“A transport spell. You can invoke it to transport yourself and anyone in physical contact with you instantly to any spot you choose. It is in a manner similar to your Hades pass. Do not invoke it unless it is quite necessary; it is not for casual use, but for emergencies.”

“Only for emergencies,” Dawn agreed, putting away the spell.

“You will want to stay the night,” Dara said. “Fracto Cloud has located you and is waiting to drench you.”

“Skeletons aren’t afraid of water,” Joy’nt said.

“But fleshly creatures don’t always appreciate getting their clothing or fur or feathers soaked.” Dara’s expressive mouth twitched. “And we have tasty treats for each of you.”

The interest of the pets intensified.

“Including some wonderful marble cake the Gorgon made by stoning a flour cake. It has a special edge.”

Dawn threw up her hands in a mortal expression. She, being a princess, naturally loved special cake. “One night,” she said gruffly.

4

T
RAVEL

Princess Dawn was given a room of her own, while Joy’nt shared one with the three pets, who weren’t easy being alone in a strange castle. That left Picka alone in his own room. He didn’t need a room, as he didn’t sleep, but he didn’t want to be a bad guest, so he accepted it.

There was a knock on his door. He opened it, and there was Dawn in her nightie. “We need to talk,” she said, brushing past him.

“If you wish,” he said.

She sat on his unused bed, leaned against the wall, and lifted her knees. Her nightie reached only to her knees, so that her legs showed under it, and a section of her sunny panties. “Sit down,” she said.

He fetched a chair and sat on it, facing her. What was on her mind?

“Closer.”

He hiked the chair closer.

She put her legs down and leaned forward so that her bright bra showed. She caught a chair leg, pulling it closer yet, so that he had to lift his weight to allow it to slide. Now his knees touched hers.

“You really don’t notice, do you,” she said.

“Notice what?”

“I just flashed you with my well-filled panties, and my well-filled bra. You never blinked.”

“I can’t blink. I have no eyelids.”

“I think you know what I mean, Picka. Remember when we were children and we went skinny-dipping?”

“You and Eve floated on the water,” he agreed. “Joy’nt and I sank.” He still did not know what she had in mind.

“We splashed each other, and then you walked on the bottom and held me over your head so that it looked as if I was swimming without moving my arms or legs. Then I dived down and tried to tickle you, but your bare ribs weren’t very ticklish. We wound up in a tangle of bones and limbs. I kissed your bare teeth. We had a ball.”

“I don’t remember the ball.”

“Not a physical ball. I mean we had a lot of fun.”

“Oh. Yes, we did.”

“We were children—Eve and I were ten, you and Joy’nt fourteen. You were more responsible than we were, and made sure we did not get into water too deep.”

“I remember. You wanted to swim too far out, and I had to fetch you back. You tried to make me lose my footing.”

“I wrapped my legs about your skull,” she agreed. “So that you couldn’t see which way to go. It almost worked.”

“Until you started laughing,” he agreed. “Then I knew I was going wrong, and reversed direction and got you out.”

“You were a spoilsport.”

“I am sorry about that.”

“I think I could do it better now,” she said. “Because I wouldn’t laugh.”

“Perhaps.”

“You doubt? I’ll show you. Let me get my legs on your skull.”

“But—”

She pulled him to her on the bed, then lifted her legs and locked them on his skull. His face was caught against the base of her belly. “Can you see anything?” she asked.

“No,” he said into her bottom. “Your flesh is blocking off my eye sockets.”

She relaxed. “So it really is true.”

“Yes, you can hamper my vision.”

She laughed. “That too.”

She was leading up to something. “There is something else?”

“Picka, if I had done what I did with you just now with a living man, he would have freaked out so badly he wouldn’t have recovered for a week! But you never even noticed.”

“I don’t understand. What didn’t I notice?”

“My sister Eve, who is no better endowed than I am, showed the Dwarf Demon Pluto less than I just showed you, and he was so taken he married her. You saw my panties, into my bra, and I pressed my bottom against your face, and you suffered no male reaction at all.”

He was perplexed. “Should I have?”

“When we swam, we were children, so you wouldn’t have been turned on anyway. But now we’re adults. And you still aren’t turned on.”

“I am sorry I disappointed you,” he said contritely. “Maybe if I had known what you wanted, I would have done better. What did you want?”

“You didn’t disappoint me, Picka. You proved that I can trust you.”

“Of course you can trust me. We’re friends.”

“Yes, we are. That is extremely important to me.”

“But why should my failure to appreciate your flesh matter? You know you are not my type. You said yourself, I don’t like meaty panties. Was that intended to be humor?”

“Picka, I am a beautiful princess. When most men see me, they develop notions that make it difficult for us to relate as friends. So I have had very few friends in adult life, and those tended to be not exactly human, like Jumper the Spider. Even so, Eve managed to seduce him, and I could have too, if I had tried. But I couldn’t seduce you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said contritely.

“Don’t be! I need a male friend I can talk candidly with without having to worry that I’ll turn him on and ruin it.”

At last he caught on. “Living men want to summon the stork with you!”

“They do indeed. As you know, I can tell anything about anything alive. But when I’m with a man, and all he can think about is getting into my panties, I can’t relax. His lustful thoughts override all else.”

“You talent means you can’t ignore his notions. I’m sorry I didn’t realize. You do have a problem.”

“But I don’t have that problem with you. You don’t care whether I’m clothed or naked, far or near. You just want to help me because you’re my friend.”

“Yes.”

She kissed his skull. “I value that beyond words, Picka.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Because we’ll be going out into the wilderness, camping out, sharing dangers. You’ll be seeing me clothed and bare, maybe carrying me soaking wet out of deep water. And I’ll never have to worry about what you’re thinking.”

“Well, you can’t tell what I’m thinking anyway, because I’m not alive.”

“Which is why I needed to verify that you truly don’t desire my flesh.”

“I truly don’t,” he agreed. “But I do crave your friendship.”

“And you have it.”

“If that was what you wanted to talk about, now you can return to your room and get some sleep.”

“Actually I had in mind to ask you what the Good Magician talked to you about. But then I realized that this was more important.”

“He just gave us a spell to make us alive for an hour, in case we ever needed it.”

“Why would you want to be alive?”

“To conceal our natures. I hope we never have to use those spells.”

“I hope so too. If you became a live man, it would ruin our friendship.”

Surprised, Picka worked it out. “Because then I might see you as an interesting woman.”

“Not might;
would.
You would desire me.”

“If you say so.”

“Oh Picka, I hope you never have occasion to have your doubt destroyed.”

“I hope so too.” But he remained curious about one thing. “Surely you could get a palace guard, maybe a swordsman, or a swordswoman, to accompany you on your Quest. Why bother with walking skeletons or mundane pets?”

“I want friends, not guards. And if along the way I meet my ideal man, as the Good Magician indicates I will, I want to be with companions who understand and will not interfere.”

“That makes sense.”

“And I want to be with folk who understand me without condemning me.”

“We don’t condemn you! Why would you think that?”

“Because you know I’m jealous of my sister. She nailed her man, she married up, she has a son. I was left behind. We were always even. Now she’s ahead. I hate that.”

“But she does not seem happy.”

“True. I think she misses our relatively carefree days of independence. I don’t think I’d want her type of marriage. But still I’m jealous.”

“But you were also jealous of the Good Magician seeing us instead of you. And of my being the protagonist.”

“Outside I’m a princess. Inside I’m a female bleep. You do understand. Do you condemn me?”

“No, of course not. You’re entitled to your living emotions.”

“There you are. You are a very understanding, even-tempered person, Picka. You know me for a girl with private spites, yet you accept me anyway.”

“Well, skeletons lack the passions of living folk. We don’t have glands.”

“Precisely.”

“Do you still mind my being the protagonist?”

“Oh, it irks me. But if I can’t be it, then I’m satisfied for you to be it, Picka. I’m sure you won’t abuse your position.”

“I hope I don’t. I’ve never been a protagonist before. I’m afraid I might mess it up.”

She laughed, relaxing. “I don’t think it’s possible to mess up something like that. You’re just the observer. Just please don’t leave me out of the story.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Now you really need to sleep, because tomorrow may be arduous.”

“Yes.” She got up and started toward the door. Then she changed her mind. “I’ll sleep here.”

“You are welcome. I don’t need the bed.”

“I know. I want more than your bed. Humor me.”

“Skeletons don’t have much humor either.”

She lay down on the bed. “Lie down beside me. Put your arms about me. I will feel safe in your embrace.”

She did not feel safe? Picka joined her on the bed and put his arms about her. She snuggled against his bones and went to sleep.

It was no burden to hold her, as skeletons did not tire. But he wondered. Why was she nervous about this Quest? Did she know something he and Joy’nt did not? Or was she simply dubious about trying to pin down a traveling castle? Regardless, he and Joy’nt would support her. After all, they were friends.

Picka’s mind drifted. In his futile fancy he and Dawn were more than friends, and the holding was more than comfort. It was the beginning of romance.

He snapped out of it, knowing the notion was ridiculous. And saw a surprised day mare standing there. There was a girl on the mare’s back. He could see them because he derived from their realm.

“What are you doing bringing a daydream to a skeleton?” Picka asked.

“Oh,” the girl said. “My fault. I’m Debbie, and I got to ride a day mare for one day while she delivers daydreams. This one was supposed to go to a living couple. We must have gotten the address confused. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right,” Picka said, relieved. “It was a nice daydream, until I realized that it couldn’t be for me.”

“We’ll get it right next time,” Debbie said. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Picka said as mare and girl vanished.

Dawn stirred. “What was that?” she asked sleepily.

“Nothing,” Picka said. That was true, but there was that in him that regretted it.

Belatedly he realized that the girl and mare had gotten more than the address confused. They had tried to deliver a daydream by night. That was a really curious mistake. True, he had been awake, because he never slept. But what could account for a foul-up like that?

*   *   *

In the morning Dawn woke, went to the pitcher on the table in the corner of the room, poured water into the basin there, stripped, fetched a washcloth, washed her copious flesh, found a towel and dried. Then she looked around. “I forgot my clothing!” she said. “Picka, would you fetch it for me? I don’t dare go out and risk being seen bare.”

“But I’m seeing you bare.”

“You don’t count, any more than my sister did when we were teens.”

Picka suffered another realization: she missed the routine company of her sister. She didn’t like being alone. She liked being with someone who understood her without desiring her body, just as she had told him. Somehow that was more meaningful when he confirmed it with his own understanding.

He went to her room for her clothing, glad to be of help. She had laid out underwear, heavy shirt, jacket, and trousers, evidently planning for travel rather than being princessly. That was probably just as well.

“I had the strangest dream last night,” Dawn said when he returned. “It was that a night mare got lost and brought me a dream of romance that wasn’t mine. Can you imagine that?”

“Maybe it was a premonition,” Picka said. And wondered whether that could be true. Probably not.

“Yet it wasn’t a black mare. More like a bright day mare.” She shrugged, dismissing it. Picka didn’t comment. She had been asleep, but had picked up part of the daydream. It was another indication that magic of any type could have devious aspects.

*   *   *

In due course their party set off in search of Attila the Pun. Woofer sniffed the air and oriented, his nose pointing north.

“North it is,” Dawn said briskly. Picka noticed that she was no longer wearing her little crown, and her long fair hair was braided. She looked a lot like an ordinary lovely girl.