“True,” Eve agreed, dabbing at her face. Was there a tear there? But she didn’t have any reason not to be happy, did she?
“I’ll make sure all of you get safely back to Xanth,” Dawn said. “Then I’ll go on to see the Good Magician.”
“I will go with you,” Picka said. “Maybe I can help in some way.”
“So will I,” Joy’nt said. “There’s bound to be adventure there.”
“Woof!”
Dawn glanced at Woofer. “What, you too?” Then she nodded, because they were living creatures and she knew all about anything alive. “All three of you! That’s wonderful.”
“It’s nice to have friends,” Eve murmured, dabbing her face once more.
Picka saw it again. Princess Eve had everything, yet was sad because she lacked friends and adventure. She was a prisoner of her royal life. He never would have expected it.
“Well, the ferryman awaits,” Dawn said. “This time I may have to give him a feel.”
“Charon is making demands?” Eve asked sharply. “I’ll speak to Pluto.”
“Don’t bother,” Dawn said. “I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can,” Eve agreed. Then the sisters hugged and separated, tearfully.
It was time to move on. Picka realized belatedly that they hadn’t even seen Eve’s son, Plato. They had all forgotten.
3
MISSION
The Good Magician’s Castle was suitably impressive, with its moat, wall, turrets, and flags.
“It’s never the same twice,” Princess Dawn murmured. “Humfrey keeps magically renovating it. He always knows who is coming, and is prepared.”
“But we decided to come here only yesterday,” Joy’nt said. “How could he know in time to set things up?”
“He’s the Magician of Information,” Picka reminded her. “It’s his business to know.”
“Also, he sets up magical fields to nullify the talents of querents,” Dawn said, “so they have to use their wits to get through. That means I won’t be able to learn instantly about living things, and the two of you won’t be able to reformulate your bones or play music.”
“What about the pets?” Joy’nt asked.
Dawn glanced at the three animals. “They’re really Mundanes, without magic, though they may develop talents some day. I don’t think they’ll be affected.” She pondered half a moment. “Are you three sure you want to tackle this with us? Challenges can be frustrating and scary, and you really don’t need to—”
“Woof!”
“Tweet!”
“Mew.”
“Thanks, folks. I’m touched.”
Picka realized that even though she was a princess and a Sorceress, not to mention being outstandingly beautiful for her species, Dawn was nervous about what she faced, and appreciated the moral support. It might come in the form of skeletons and animals, but they were friends, and that was what counted.
Dawn glanced at him. “I can’t tell much about you, Picka, because you’re not alive, but I have the feeling you understand more than you let on.”
“I do get bone-headed ideas,” he agreed.
“They are surely good ones.” She kissed his skull. The effect was oddly pleasant, despite the meatiness of her lips. There was something about a beautiful young princess Sorceress. Maybe in time he would figure out what it was.
“Let’s get on with it,” Joy’nt said, a trifle tersely. It was almost as if something was bothering her.
“Indeed,” Dawn agreed. She faced the castle, took a deep breath that momentarily accented the burdensome flesh on her chest, and marched toward the drawbridge.
The others followed. “Things should get interesting soon,” Picka murmured to Joy’nt.
“Woof!” Woofer responded, wagging his tail.
There was a noisy babbling, as if a small crowd of human folk were walking and talking just ahead of them, but there were no people in sight.
Then Dawn halted. “There’s a wall here,” she said. “An invisible wall.”
Picka stepped up beside her and extended a bone finger. It encountered some kind of panel. He tapped, and the babbling increased. “The wall is talking,” he said, surprised.
“It is also blocking our way,” Joy’nt said, feeling high and low. The three pets were also exploring the unseen surface: Woofer was sniffing the base, Tweeter was flying up to the top, and Midrange was clawing the surface. None of them seemed to be making much progress.
“If I were an ogre, I would simply crash through it,” Dawn said. “But of course there would be a different Challenge for an ogre. There must be a less violent way past. We have but to find it.”
“Walk around it,” Joy’nt suggested.
“I doubt it’s that simple, but let’s see,” Dawn said.
Dawn and Joy’nt walked to the left, while Picka and the three pets went right. The invisible wall continued, merrily babbling unintelligibly. They kept on, and it kept on.
Until they encountered another party. There were Dawn and Joy’nt, coming from the opposite direction. The wall had curved, closing a circle. There was no way around it.
“Or maybe not,” Joy’nt said as they met.
“I wonder whether it’s glass,” Dawn said. “If so, we might be able to fracture it.”
They checked around. There were bushes, trees, and rocks all around. Picka suspected that if rocks would crack it, there would have been no rocks here. But he picked up a stone, and bashed it against the wall.
The babble increased, sounding vaguely disapproving. But there was no crack. He struck it several more times, just to be sure, but it was impervious.
“So what’s your idea, Picka?” Dawn asked. He had the impression she was suppressing exasperation.
He pondered, thoughts caroming across the interior hollow of his skull. Every idea seemed stupider than the prior one. In desperation he fixed on the stupidest of them all. “It’s a sound barrier. A kind of invisible wall. Maybe there’s a door through it.”
They checked for a door. The invisible wall was smooth throughout—until Tweeter discovered a little hole, no bigger than a fingertip. “As doors go, that isn’t much,” Dawn remarked.
Then Joy’nt got a notion. “It’s a keyhole!”
“A keyhole!” Dawn repeated. “Of course. Now all we need is the key.”
And of course there was none.
Woofer went out amidst the trees, sniffing. He stopped by a small tree with greenish yellow fruit. “Woof!”
Dawn glanced across. “That’s just a lime tree, Woofer. The fruit is bitter. You need sugar to make it into sweet pies, like—” She stopped, a bright bulb flashing over her head. “Keylime pie! There’s the key! Woofer, you’re a genius!”
Woofer wagged his tail.
They harvested a keylime fruit. Dawn brought it to the invisible keyhole. The wall’s babbling increased, almost like a protest. It touched the indentation. There was a click. Then the invisible door swung open.
They piled through. They had navigated the first Challenge. It had been a joint effort, with Picka thinking of the door, Tweeter finding the hole, Joy’nt realizing it was a keyhole, Woofer finding the pun for the key, and Dawn putting it all into a notion. They had worked well together.
But there would be two more Challenges remaining. They might be more complicated.
The way to the drawbridge was now clear. They walked to it. Picka half expected it to lift clear of the moat before they got there, but it remained in place.
“I don’t trust this,” Dawn muttered. She set one foot on the nearest wood plank of the bridge.
“Boo!” a funny-faced man’s head yelled, startling them all. It was a cartoon figure, all wires and hinges, with a head on a bouncy spring.
“Jack in the Box,” Dawn said, disgusted. “Well, it’s done; we’ll go on.”
But when she took another step, another head shot out of another box on the bridge. “Boo!”
“Oh, go away!” Dawn snapped, trying t
o brush by him.
But the figure flung his arms about her, trying to feel and kiss her. Doubly disgusted, Dawn lurched back, escaping him. “Bleep!” she muttered in a singularly unprincessly expletive that scorched the nearest planks.
“Let me try it,” Joy’nt said. “There’s nothing on me to kiss or feel.” She stepped on the drawbridge.
Nothing happened.
Picka tried it, with no different result. It seemed it was Dawn alone who was barred. And of course she was the one who had to make it through.
So the second challenge was for Dawn to pass an obnoxious Jack in the Box. How was she to do it?
They considered. There had to be a way, because this was an arranged Challenge with an arranged solution. But what was that solution?
“There must be something nearby that will do it,” Picka said, “just as the keylime tree was near the sound barrier. We just need to see it and understand it and use it.”
They looked, but there was next to nothing in the immediate vicinity—only the planks of the drawbridge, nailed together, the heavy rope that hauled it up and let it down—the end of which was badly frayed beyond its terminal knot and would soon need replacement—and the assorted boxes, from any of which Jack could obnoxiously pop up.
Midrange sat beside the end of the rope, batting its loose fibers. Then he got an idea; they saw the bulb flash over his head. “Meow!” he said.
Dawn understood him. “The knot?” she asked. “That’s the answer? I don’t understand.”
“Meow.”
“Yes, the end is frayed. But how will that stop Jack?”
“Meow. Meow,” Midrange said carefully.
“Frayed. Knot,” Dawn repeated. “I still don’t see—”
“Tweet!” Tweeter tweeted urgently.
“Put them together? Frayed Knot? I still don’t see—”
“I’m afraid not!” Joy’nt exclaimed. “That’s the phrase. Try it on Jack.”
“Afraid not,” Dawn repeated thoughtfully. “Could that actually be it? It’s such an abysmal pun.”
“Puns have power in Xanth,” Picka reminded her.
“Well, let’s see.” Dawn put her foot on the plank. Jack popped out at her, leering. “I’m afraid not,” she told him firmly.
Jack flung his ramshackle arms about her and drew her close for a smooch. She jerked back just in time to avoid it.
“Maybe it’s not just the words,” Joy’nt said. “Maybe you need the knot itself.”
Dawn nodded. She reached for the knot and pulled on it. It came away in her hands, separating from the frayed rope.
She tried again. This time when Jack popped up, she thrust the frayed knot at him. “’Fraid not!” she said.
Jack recoiled. Some of his own wiring started fraying. The destruction was contagious!
“Well, now,” Dawn said. She marched along the drawbridge, carrying the knot before her like a shield. The assorted Jacks shied away. They had found the solution to the second Challenge, thanks to Midrange and Tweeter.
The others followed her. The team had scored again.
Beyond the drawbridge stood an ugly tree. Its gnarly branches reached out like tentacles ready to grab a victim. It wasn’t a tangle tree, however; the wood could not move.
“This is a bad idea,” Dawn said abruptly. “We’d better go back.”
What? The others stared at her.
“Let’s go.” Dawn started back across the drawbridge.
“Dawn!” Joy’nt protested. “We can’t quit now!”
“What’s the point?” Dawn asked. “There’s probably no good prince for me anyway.”
“But—” Then Joy’nt’s attitude changed. “You’re right. Why serve a whole year’s Service for nothing?”
Dawn looked confused. “I didn’t say that! I just—” Her features changed. “Yes, I did. I have better things to do with my life than waste it on drudgery for a year.”
“This is ridiculous!” Picka protested. “How can either of you even think of quitting now?” But at that point he changed his mind. “Actually, it is a lot of trouble the Good Magician puts folk through, for obscure Answers. We shouldn’t play his game.”
“No!” Dawn and Joy’nt said almost together.
“That isn’t—” Joy’nt continued.
“Yes, it is,” Dawn said.
“This is crazy!” Picka said. “We’re saying things we don’t mean.” But then he changed his mind. “Unless…”
“One at a time,” Dawn said. “Bad thoughts are coming to us singly. Something is affecting our thoughts.”
“What could that be?” Picka asked.
The three pets turned almost together to face the ugly tree.
“The Devil Tree! Why didn’t I think of that?” Dawn asked. “I should have divined its nature immediately.”
“Two reasons,” Picka said. “First, your talent of knowing all about any living thing is nullified for these Challenges. Second, if you happened to think of it independently, the Tree would have changed your thought so you lost it.”
“True deviltry,” Joy’nt agreed.
Dawn focused on Picka. “Have I remarked that there seems to be more in your empty head than shows?”
“I believe you have,” Picka said. “My skull is not clogged with meat, so my thoughts are free to rattle around freely.”
“You’re no meat head,” she agreed.
“So why isn’t the Tree changing both of your thoughts now?” Joy’nt asked.
“Because it’s focusing at the moment on the pets,” Picka said. “See, they are giving it a hard time.”
Indeed, first one pet was turning away from the tree, then another, while the first one turned back toward it. The Tree was trying to turn all three away, but two were always focusing on it. The Tree’s foliage was rustling with annoyance; it couldn’t handle three simultaneously. That left Dawn and the skeletons to converse on their own.
“I am getting to appreciate that trio,” Dawn said. “So now we know the Challenge: the Tree keeps changing our minds. How do we handle it?”
“Maybe if all six of us focus on passing it, it won’t be able to balk us,” Picka suggested.
“Let’s try it,” Dawn agreed.
They got together and concentrated on a single thought: PASS THE TREE. They started walking.
But Dawn broke ranks. “I can’t do it!” she said, pained.
“Oh, fractures!” Joy’nt swore. “She’s the one who has to do it; the rest of us are only Companions who don’t matter.”
“You matter,” Dawn said. “But it is true that for this particular Challenge, I’m the one who has to pass.”
“So we need another way,” Picka said.
“There must be something to counter the Tree,” Dawn said. “If we can fathom it, without the Tree diverting us.”
“Maybe the pets can balk it again,” Joy’nt said, “acting as a trio.”
The pets got moving. They found a nook in the castle wall nearby, where there was a dining table and a place setting with plate, glass, silverware, and chopsticks. Evidently it was set up to accommodate any preference. Except for animals. Still, the three paused there expectantly.
“Chopsticks,” Joy’nt said. “Maybe you can play a tune, Picka.”
“No, my music talent is stifled here,” Picka said.
“But you know, that could be a pun,” Dawn said. Then she changed her mind. “No, of course not.”
Picka exchanged a hollow eye-holed glance with Joy’nt. Dawn’s mind had been messed with. That suggested that her original thought was apt, and the Tree did not want her to have it. What was there about the chopsticks?
Picka went to the nook and picked up the two little sticks. Immediately they jerked in his fingers, seeming to possess animation of their own. They rapped down on the table, chipping splinters from it.
“They like to chop!” Joy’nt said. “Well, maybe not.”
So now Joy’nt’s thought was being stifled. That confirmed it.
Picka took the chopsticks and carried them to the Devil Tree. He held them beside its trunk. They started chopping vigorously, chipping the bark.
GO AWAY! The thought was so strong that Picka stumbled backward. The Tree had evidently been so annoyed by the attack of the chop sticks that it forgot to make the thought seem like his own. But it did stop him from keeping the little sticks close.
“No problem!” Dawn called. “We’re past it, thanks to your distraction.”
Oh. Picka returned the sticks to the dining nook, then walked across to join the others. It seemed they had navigated the third Challenge.
A formerly hidden door in the castle wall opened. “Welcome, visitors!” a woman called. “Come on in.”
“Hello, Wira,” Dawn said. “It’s so nice to see you again.” The two women hugged. “And these are Picka and Joy’nt Bone, and the three former Baldwin Family pets, Woofer, Tweeter, and Midrange.”
“Of course,” Wira agreed. She petted Woofer, stroked Midrange, and proffered her shoulder as a perch for Tweeter. “Dara has treats for all of you.”
“Dara?” Joy’nt asked.
“Magician Humfrey’s Designated Wife of the Month,” Wira explained. “She was his first, and doesn’t mind returning one month in six, though she says that’s about all she can take of him.”
“A demoness?”
“He was young then,” Wira confided. “She tempted him, but then became impatient, so he moved on to the Maiden Taiwan. It’s a long story that we don’t speak of much today.”
“In Xanth a man is supposed to have only one wife at a time,” Dawn said. “But in the course of a century or so Humfrey had five and a half different wives. So now they take turns. Ah, here we are.”
They had arrived at the main reception hall. There was Dara, resplendent in a royal gown. But as they approached it shifted to an ordinary housedress, then to bra and panties, and on to a business suit.
“Oh, bleep!” Dara swore. “I forgot your friend is a skeleton. Illicit flashes won’t freak him.”
“True,” Dawn agreed cheerfully. “He doesn’t even like meaty panties.”
Well-Tempered Clavicle Page 4