“But you don’t want to marry him? I should think he’d be a catch worthy of a princess.”
“Here is the thing,” Dawn said seriously. “If I married Charon, I’d be associating with an inferior Demon, at least compared to Eve with Pluto. Eve and I have always been equal. Call it princessly foolishness, but I can’t abide the thought of settling for less than she got.”
“How could you match her?”
“Oh, a mortal prince would do, or some similarly spectacular man. If one exists.”
“That’s a problem,” Joy’nt agreed. “I’d like to find a nice male skeleton, but I don’t want to go live in the dream realm and become unreal.”
Dawn nodded. “That’s roughly parallel to my disinclination to enter the realm of Hades. It’s too limiting.” She sighed. “Sometimes I envy Jumper.”
“Who?”
“Jumper Spider. He was swept into Xanth proper by a narrative hook, was put into manform, and wound up marrying the Demoness Eris, who is devoting herself to making him sublimely happy for the next few millennia. It’s a complicated story. She’s parallel to, and I think slightly ahead of Pluto, and not associated with Hades. If there were some other male Demon…” She shrugged. “Not much chance. They like mortal princesses, all right, but not on terms I’d settle for. So I’ll have to look elsewhere.”
It was a revelation to Picka that a princess and Sorceress could have the same sort of romantic problem as a walking skeleton: insufficient prospects. He had supposed that royal figures led charmed lives.
Meanwhile the path was winding through the desolate forest, skirting bleak rocks and ugly puddles. Picka could readily appreciate why Dawn would not want to live here. But that evoked the question: why did Princess Eve evidently like it? Or was she trapped here?
A figure appeared beside the path. It was a female skeleton! Picka was so surprised he stopped walking, staring at her lovely bones.
“Come to me, handsome male,” the creature said. “I am Skimpy Skeleton. I’ll bet you can really kick tail!”
This was a reference to the way walking skeletons reproduced: the male kicked the female in the posterior, who flew apart and her bones scattered across the near landscape. This was known as knocking her up. Then he selected a number of her smaller bones and fit them together into a baby skeleton. It was the way Marrow Bones and Grace’l had made him and Joy’nt. Such interaction was a truly exciting prospect.
“I am Picka Bone,” he said, unable to think of anything else at the moment.
“Well, Picka, come kick me.” Skimpy faced away and bent over, presenting her shapely pelvis.
He was sorely tempted, but cautious. “But we don’t even know each other.”
“We will in a moment,” she said. “Come to me, lover.”
Picka stepped forward, enthralled.
“No!” Dawn cried, tackling him. They fell together at the edge of the path in a tangle of bone and flesh.
“But—” he protested.
“She’s not real,” Dawn said. “She’s just a figment crafted to tempt you off the path. Once you cross the line, she’ll vanish and you’ll be stuck in Hades.”
“Oh, can it, you liar,” Skimpy said. “Don’t believe her, Picka. I will give you such a good time!”
Picka was still tempted, but knew that Dawn had no reason to deceive him. They had been friends for years. He untangled his limbs from hers and both of them stood on the path. “Forget it, spook,” he said.
“Oh!” Skimpy exclaimed, furious. “I boned up on you for this? That really heats me.” She burst into flame and vanished.
“Now I understand, I think,” he said to Dawn. “You did warn us, but she was so … so…”
“I know. You should see the handsome male princes who try to get me to cross the line.”
“I know better now,” Picka said. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
“We’re friends,” she reminded him. “I mean to see you safely through. Besides, it’s a nice pretext to visit my sister.”
They went on, catching up to the others. There was already mischief. A male walking skeleton with powerful bones was tempting Joy’nt, making suggestive kicking motions. “Don’t do it!” Picka called to her.
Joy’nt came out of her daze. “Oh, I knew better,” she said. “I think.”
“Well, I’ll just go find a more amenable skeleton,” the male said grumpily. He stalked off. And there was Skimpy beckoning him again, moving her pelvis suggestively. That made both Joy’nt and Picka wince, as it was supposed to.
Then came a female dog, woofing fetchingly at Woofer. “Get out of here, you bitch!” Joy’nt cried. That jolted Woofer out of his momentary trance.
A lovely furred female cat appeared, mewing enticingly at Midrange. But the others were on it, and shooed her away before she could do much damage.
Finally a brilliantly plumed bird addressed Tweeter, tweeting seductively at him. But he, having seen the temptations of the others, knew better, and ignored her.
The castle came into view. It was a forbidding edifice, massively squatting on a bleak mountain, overlooking a phenomenally ugly lake. Surly clouds roiled overhead, as if angry that the castle even existed. Picka could take or leave living scenery, but he was surprised that a human princess would choose to live in such a mean-spirited place.
Dawn made a quarter smile. “It’s better inside,” she said.
They approached the grim front gate. An armored guard glowered down at them. “Begone, intruders,” he called. “This is forbidden; you don’t have permission to access this castle.”
Dawn brought out a small device. “My ocarina,” she explained. “Eve and I have taken to music in the past two years. We each have our instrument. It’s amazing what music can accomplish.”
“What does music have to do with this awful place?” Joy’nt asked.
Dawn lifted the instrument to her mouth and blew into it as her fingers moved across a number of little holes in it. Sweet music emerged, a pleasant tune.
“Ooof!” the guard cried, covering his ears. “Stop it!”
Dawn paused, looking at him.
Defeated, he looked away. “Oh, go ahead and pass,” he grumped.
“You’re sweet,” Dawn said. And to the others: “See? Music really does sooth the savage breast.” She marched ahead, and the others followed. They had gained admission to the dread castle in a way Picka had not anticipated. But maybe it made sense that ugly spooks of Hades could not stand beauty.
Once they were inside, things changed. It took Picka a good moment and a half to realize what the change was: the environment had become nice. The grimness was completely gone. The hall was softly lighted with muted colors, and pleasant pictures of Xanthly scenes were hung on the walls. Notable among them were Castle Roogna, where Princess Eve had grown up, and the Good Magician’s Castle.
“What a difference!” Joy’nt murmured.
“Eve isn’t like the other denizens of Hades,” Dawn said. “But it’s not politic to advertise that.”
They reached the main hall. There was music there, and dancing. In fact Princess Eve was conducting a dancing class, playing the music for it on an odd instrument.
“Panpipes,” Dawn explained. “A series of pipes of different lengths, so they make different notes, bound together. The denizens of Hades like that music; it reminds them of satyrs, who are great players.” She made a small frown/smile. “And not just with musical instruments.”
They waited while the lesson proceeded. There were eight couples dancing in unison, stepping and turning in a set order. Picka was surprised by how handsome the men were, in living terms, and how lovely the women. They were garbed in suits and flaring dresses of pastel colors, each perfectly formed. They were smiling. That surprised him most.
“Hades is not a region of torment,” Dawn said, again divining his thought. “It is more of a staging area for souls that have not yet decided where to go. Here they learn useful skills. My sister is helping with the
song-and-dance aspect.”
The dance ended. Only then did Eve turn to them, smiling. She hurried across to hug her sister. “So nice to see you again, Morning Sun!”
“Ditto, Evening Shade,” Dawn agreed. “I’m here on business. Our friend Picka Bone needs to know his magic talent. I’m sure he has one. I can’t help him, but you can.”
Eve glanced at Picka. “Let’s play for another dance. Two instruments are better than one.”
Picka was perplexed. Why wasn’t Eve answering?
Dawn brought out her ocarina. The two played a lively melody and the couples danced. It was very pretty, both music and dance. Picka almost wished he were alive, knowing that the way the women’s skirts flared as they twirled, almost (but not quite) showing their panties would have thrilled him. But he wasn’t, so they didn’t. He was also impressed by how similar the two sisters were, other than one being bright and the other dark. They were of the same height and fleshly girth, with hair of similar length, and well-formed features. Stripped of the ponderous flesh, their bones would have been almost identical.
“She’s right,” Joy’nt murmured. “Two musicians do make for a better dance.”
Even the three animals seemed impressed. They were all listening and watching.
The dance ended. Eve faced Picka. “Why don’t you join us for the next one?” she asked.
Join them? “I’m not musical,” he reminded her.
“That’s what you think. Music is your talent.”
He laughed, thinking she was making a funny. “What, clanking my bones?”
“Yes.”
This was becoming less funny. “It’s not nice to tease folk,” he said.
Eve walked to him. “This way. First remove your shoulder bones.”
“My clavicles? I need them to move my shoulders.” He shrugged, demonstrating.
“No, you are special, Picka. You can spare those particular bones. Like this.” She put her hand on his right shoulder, grasped his clavicle, and lifted it away from his body.
Picka was so surprised he just stood there. He had had no idea that the bone could come off.
“And then you use it to play a melody on your own ribs,” she continued. “They are musical too.” She demonstrated, tapping a rib with the bone. It made a fine clear note.
Again, he was too surprised to react.
“You have more than an octave,” she continued, tapping all his ribs in turn to produce eight or nine different notes. “And the half tone on the other side. Your other clavicle has a different quality, and each end differs, so you can play different types of melodies. You can surely do overtones too. Try it.” She handed him his clavicle.
Picka took it and tapped one of his ribs. It made a clear ringing sound. He was amazed anew.
“Try a melody,” Eve said.
He tried to play a simple tune. Instead he got a series of wrong notes. Dawn put her hands over her ears.
“It may take a little practice,” Eve said.
“A lot of practice,” Joy’nt said, wincing.
“But we can get you started with something simple,” Eve said. “Like maybe ‘Chopsticks’.” She lifted off his left clavicle and took back his right one. Then she used them together, striking two notes at a time in rapid order, repeatedly. From this series emerged a certain awkward melody. “Perfect that, then move on to more advanced pieces,” she advised, handing him his clavicles. “You’ll get there, in time.”
“A long time,” Joy’nt muttered.
Picka tried it. To his amazement he was able to duplicate the tune, and it sounded all right.
“See?” Eve said. “You catch on quickly. It’s your talent. You can probably play any melody you hear. Try the one I just used for the dance.”
Picka was dubious, but he tried. And the melody came out perfectly. The couples started dancing again.
In a moment Eve joined in with her panpipes. Then Dawn played her ocarina. Suddenly they had a three-instrument melody, and it was absolutely beautiful. The dancers danced brilliantly, with more verve than before. The twirls were more vigorous, and the skirts flared up so high that eight panties flashed in perfect unison. Picka was not a panty-gazing male, because panties only emphasized those lugubrious mounds of flesh, but the motions were such that the outlines of the underlying pelvis bones were clear, and that made him stare.
The melody came to an end, all three players synchronized. The dancers applauded. It had been a fine melody and a fine dance.
“And there you are,” Eve said. “You have the potential to be a fine musician, Picka, rather than being a duffer like Dawn and me. Your magic not only enables you to play the notes, it enables you to memorize any tune you hear so you can play it yourself. You merely need to make an effort to hear a lot of music. I’m sure there will be other effects I haven’t thought of that will make you better yet. You just need to apply yourself.”
“I will!” he promised gladly.
“Now let me give you folk the tour of the castle. It was built to my specifications, but we receive few visitors from Xanth, for some reason.” Eve made a cute moue. Then she glanced at the three pets. “We have an indoor garden with catnip, dog fennel, and bird branches. Right this way.”
The three animals were immediately interested. They formed a cluster right behind Eve. Dawn, Joy’nt, and Picka followed.
It was a marvelous tour. The castle had everything, and there was no sign of the bleakness outside. Eve had made an enclave of pleasantness in an otherwise unpleasant region.
“And how is Pluto?” Dawn inquired as they walked.
“He’s a great lover and a fair companion,” Eve replied candidly. “He gives me anything I want, except maybe love. I’m not sure he’s capable of that. But that’s the nature of political marriages. They are for status and heirs and not much else.”
“Heirs?”
“Oh, did I forget to mention that? I’ll show you our one-year-old son Plato next.”
She had forgotten to mention her baby son? Picka was not well-versed in living family relations, but that suggested that there was indeed a certain lack of something. They must have signaled the stork many, many times, because that was what living men and D/demon males liked to do when they got hold of lovely princesses, and the stork had responded. But ordinarily that would have been the very first thing a mother mentioned.
“Oh, Eve, I’m so jealous!” Dawn said.
“Well, you know what you can do about it, sister dear.”
“Find a prince and let him signal the stork all he wants,” Dawn agreed. “But is there a suitable prince?”
“One that matches a Dwarf Demon? I doubt it. But why don’t you ask the Good Magician?”
“Maybe I should,” Dawn agreed thoughtfully. “My nose is out of joint because you’re suitably married while I’m a spinster.”
A spinster at age almost-twenty-one? Picka trusted this was mortal humor.
“Isn’t it awful,” Eve said smugly. “We are victims of the Demon’s spell.”
“Demon’s spell?” Joy’nt asked.
“When Great-grandpa Bink helped the Demon Xanth, way back when,” Dawn said, “the Demon did Bink the favor of making all his descendants have Magician-caliber magic talents. But there seems to have been a glitch, because most of them are female. Apart from Grandpa Dor and Father Dolph, they’ve all been girls, and it’s getting worse. So we have the two of us, and then the three little princesses.”
“And all those girls really have to scratch,” Eve said. “Poor Dawn may be left out.”
“That does it,” Dawn snapped. “I’ll do it, even if I do have to pay a year’s service or do an equivalent mission.”
“That’s the girl. Now let’s have that banquet my staff has prepared for you.” Eve glanced at the pets. “All of you; you haven’t eaten until you have feasted on what the chefs of Hades prepare.”
That proved to be the case. It was a sumptuous meal for all except the two skeletons. However, they were used
to that. Picka amused himself by lightly tapping his ribs with his clavicles, zeroing in on their nuances. Dawn had spoken truly: he had one and a half octaves, and the two ends of his two clavicles made different sounds as they struck the ribs: ringing, muted, firm, dull, so that he could achieve different effects with the same notes. It wasn’t just his ribs; his thighs, shins, and knees had their own inflections, and his hollow skull made a drumlike sound.
“It really is a good talent,” Joy’nt said approvingly. “I could never make music like that.”
“I wonder.” He tapped one of her ribs with a clavicle. It made a dull thud. So it was true: her bones were not musical.
The others returned from the banquet. Even the pets were impressed; it showed in their demeanors.
“I have decided,” Princess Dawn said. “I am going from here to the Good Magician’s Castle, to seek an Answer to the Question, Where is there a suitable Prince or equivalent for me? But first we’ll get the rest of you back to Xanth so you won’t be trapped here.”
“Trapped?” Eve asked, frowning prettily.
“It’s the abode of the dead!” Dawn said.
“True, but that’s not their fault,” Eve said. “There are some really nice souls here. You saw the dancers.”
“Maybe when I’m dead I’ll have a change of heart,” Dawn said.
“And this castle is an enclave. Living folk can exist here.” Eve glanced at the pets. “Which reminds me: we are short of nice living animals. How would you three like to remain here, as my guests? My servants would love the privilege of catering to you endlessly.”
The three animals exchanged about five glances, obviously tempted. But then they shook their heads. They preferred to return to Xanth.
“What about you skeletons?” Eve asked. “You remind me of my childhood, when we used to play together. Dawn and I would try to tempt Picka into human masculinity, without much success. Would you like to stay?”
Picka realized that despite the opulence, Eve was lonely. She had a castle in Xanth to which she could go at any time, yet she missed her friends. It seemed there was more to life than status.
Joy’nt answered for them. “We seek adventure to enhance our dull existences. Your castle is lovely, but there’s no adventure in it. Xanth in contrast is full of challenging things. We are more likely to find adventure there.”
Well-Tempered Clavicle Page 3