Well-Tempered Clavicle

  “It may not be such a bad curse,” Dawn said. “I think you were right not to get involved with him. He might have trapped you on that planet and made you do nothing but signal the stork twelve times a day.”

  “It would not be a curse at all, if I could only use it,” Granola said. “But I never find anything I look for, because it’s always in the place I looked at just before I stop looking.”

  “Can’t you go back to the prior place?” Joy’nt asked.

  “No, because then that becomes the last place I look at, and it’s no longer there. I know I’m close, but I can never actually find it.”

  “That’s why Litho did it,” Joy’nt said. “He got very close to you, and wanted you, but he couldn’t quite get you. So he cursed you similarly.”

  “I suppose so,” Granola agreed. “But why don’t you think it so bad?”

  “Because I think we can get around it and make it useful. You were trying to use it alone, but if you had company, you might be able to locate things.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Maybe we can demonstrate. Picka, why don’t you hide something somewhere around here? Joy’nt, you can help Granola look for it.”

  “I will hide this blue pebble I just found,” Picka said, picking it up.

  “Don’t look,” Dawn told Granola. “Nobody look.”

  Picka walked in a general circle beyond the cliff, passing behind several trees. He tucked the pebble into a knothole in a branch on a snowshoe tree. The snowshoes were melting before they matured, in this warm weather. He walked on, completing his circle, then rejoined the others. “I have hidden it.”

  “Now look for it,” Dawn told Granola.

  The giantess got up carefully, but the ground still shuddered with her movements. “I will carry this branch, so you know where I am going,” she said. A branch rose from the ground and hovered.

  First she looked along the cliff. “Not here,” she said.

  “I will mark this spot,” Dawn said. “First place looked.”

  Then Granola walked around a tree. “Not here.”

  “I will mark the spot,” Dawn repeated, going there. “Second place looked.”

  Granola tapped the ledge she had been sleeping on. “Not here. I give up; I can’t find it.” She got back down on the ground, rejoining their level.

  “Then this is the next-to-last spot you looked,” Dawn said, going to the snowshoe tree. “And now I see it! In a knothole in a branch. I can’t think why I didn’t see it before.”

  “Because if you could see it,” Picka said, “you would have found it before she looked in the next place. The curse prevented you, even if it was in plain sight, which it was.”

  “Which it was,” Dawn agreed. “But once she gave up looking, and I remained here, I could see it. Because while the curse may prevent Granola from seeing it, it lacks staying power with me. It got spread too thin and lost focus.”

  “Amazing,” Granola said. “You are the first person to have been able to make use of my talent.”

  “So you can help us,” Dawn said. “Will you?”

  “Yes!” They were almost blown over with the force of her exhalation.

  “What would you like in return for your help?”

  “Just participating is more than enough. I’m an old giantess who has lived her life and don’t have many material needs. All I ever lacked was a mission and excitement. You have shown me how to finally use my talent! That’s a greater reward than I ever anticipated. So please, don’t change your mind. Let’s just get on with the search.”

  Dawn glanced at the others, including the pets. “Is this okay with the rest of you?”

  All of them nodded agreement.

  “Then I think we have a deal,” Dawn said, satisfied.

  7

  MUSIC

  “Tell me what you are looking for,” Granola said.

  “Pundora’s Box,” Dawn reminded her.

  “Oh, yes, of course. That’s in our recent fables.” There was a pause. “I don’t know where it is, but I have an idea where to look. But it’s not close to here.”

  “So we’ll travel there.” Now Dawn paused. “But we won’t be able to keep up with you even if you take very small steps. Would you be willing to carry us?”

  “Certainly. I’ll put you in my handbag.”

  “All right. Where is it?”

  “Right here.” There was a thunk on the ground before them.

  “It’s invisible too!” Joy’nt exclaimed. “Of course.”

  “I made it from my own hair. Our skin, nails, and hair are all invisible. When we eat, the food is visible until it enters our bodies; then our skin hides it. So we don’t waste our hair, so we can carry things without being seen by visible folk.”

  “That makes sense,” Dan agreed. “But how do we find it?”

  “Woof!”

  They laughed. Of course Woofer could sniff it out.

  Picka went to it first. He discovered a massive bag taller than he was. It did seem to be made of hanks of hair. He felt the side, which was loosely braided. He caught hold with his finger bones and toe bones and climbed up. Soon he was able to peer into it from the edge.

  There was an assortment of visible things inside. Fruit, giant hairpins, a huge hankie, a similarly enormous comb, a bottle of perfume, a monstrous pair of sandals, gloves. Even a tremendous bra and panty. She was a woman, all right. There was only one thing he couldn’t identify: a sort of hexagonal bellows with handles on the ends.

  Picka climbed over the top and dropped inside.

  “Hey!” Joy’nt exclaimed. “He vanished!”

  “He is in the bag,” Granola explained reassuringly. “It conceals whatever is inside.”

  But Picka could see them clearly. “I’m inside,” he agreed loudly, “but I can see you, Joy’nt.”

  Soon Joy’nt and Dawn joined him. “Your underwear is not invisible,” Dawn called up to the giantess.

  “That’s my original underclothing,” Granola said. “Later I wove replacements out of my hair, and those are invisible. But I didn’t throw away the old ones, in case I should ever need them again.”

  “That does make sense,” Dawn agreed.

  “My early, visible clothing I got from a helpful wear-wolf,” Granola continued. “She was a bitch who could conjure clothing.”

  “She was a what?” Joy’nt asked, startled.

  “A female wolf is a bitch,” Dawn explained. “She would be affronted if you called her a girl.”

  “She would indeed,” Granola agreed. “Her brother was a where wolf; he could tell where anyone was at the moment. I envied him, because my own talent is so clumsy in comparison.”

  “What is the bellows?” Picka asked.

  “That’s my concertina. I like music in my private time. I won’t play it if it bothers you.”

  “Not at all,” Picka said, gratified. “We like music too. Dawn has an ocarina, and I … well, I have my bones.”

  “Bones?”

  “I discovered recently that I can play notes on my ribs,” Picka explained, hoping she wouldn’t laugh. “Any tune I hear, I can play. I haven’t done it much.”

  “But do you like music?” Granola asked.

  “Actually, I find I do,” Picka said, embarrassed. “Now that I have discovered I can play a tune.”

  “And you, Princess?”

  “I love it,” Dawn said. “I’m not great at it, but my sister and I really enjoyed our sessions together.”

  “And you, Joy’nt?”

  “I know nothing about music, alas,” Joy’nt said.

  “Long ago I found a pair of maracas. They are way too small for me to use, but I didn’t want to waste them, so I saved them. Would you like to have them?”

  “I don’t know,” Joy’nt said, taken aback. “What are they?”

  “Small gourd-shaped rattles on sticks. You shake them, and they make a sound. They can keep a beat. That can enhance the music made by other instruments. They
are in my handbag somewhere, if you delve for them.”

  Joy’nt delved, and in no more than a moment and a quarter found them. She shook them experimentally. They made a pleasant dry-seed sound. “I like it,” she said.

  “Then let’s make music,” Granola said, pleased.

  Picka saw Dawn consider. He knew she wanted to get on with the mission. But it was getting late in the day, and they still hardly knew the giantess. This could be a way. “Yes, let’s,” she agreed, bringing out her ocarina.

  They climbed out of the handbag, and Granola reached in to bring out her concertina. She was invisible, but it was visible, so it seemed to be floating in midair and playing itself. Picka realized that this could be a reason she didn’t play it often, or at least not by daylight. They settled in a half circle before the invisible giant and readied their instruments.

  They heard a stirring as Granola sat up so she could play her concertina, and the instrument rose up higher. At least it gave them a better notion exactly where she was. “What song?” she asked.

  “What do we all know?” Dawn asked in return.

  They considered, and found that they did not have any songs in common. What were they to do?

  “What about ‘Ghost of Tom’?” Joy’nt asked. “That’s pretty simple. Picka and I know it, and we could teach it to you. It’s a Mundane song that got picked up by the night mares because it’s useful for bad dreams, but it’s really rather pretty.”

  “How does it go?” Granola asked.

  Picka removed his clavicles and bonged them on his ribs. He knew the tune, so played it perfectly the first time. Joy’nt sang it with him. They weren’t great vocalists, but they were able to do it with the help of his perfect notes.

  Have you seen the ghost of Tom?

  Round white bones with the flesh all gone.

  Oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo!

  Wouldn’t it be chilly with no skin on!

  “I like it!” Granola said. Then she played it on her concertina, perfectly. The concertina fairly danced as it expanded and contracted; she was getting into the feel of the melody.

  “It’s really a round,” Joy’nt said. “One person sings the first line, then the second does the first while the first goes on to the second, and so on. It’s fun.”

  “I’ll start,” Granola said, and played it.

  Dawn started playing her ocarina as Granola moved to the second line. Then Picka started. Finally Joy’nt started, singing it as she shook her maracas. It got confused in the center, with all four parts going, but then it cleared as they finished one after the other. The main sound was the oo-oo, which was the highest part.

  Then Woofer augmented it with his own howling. Oo-oo-oo! Midrange joined in with his own yowl. Tweeter retouched it with tweets.

  They concluded in order, with Granola finishing, then Dawn, then Picka, then Joy’nt, solo at the end, singing and shaking her maracas.

  They paused, mutually impressed. Then Granola spoke, as the concertina settled to the ground. “That was wonderful! You are all musicians!”

  “No, I’m just a dabbler in this respect,” Dawn protested. “It’s an easy tune.”

  “I always liked it,” Picka said. “So it’s easy for me too. You really know how to play that concertina, Granola.”

  “Well, I have had a century or so to practice. But I never played with anyone else before, and am amazed how compatibly it worked.”

  “I’m not a singer,” Joy’nt said. “But all I had to do was keep time with the rattles, and the song is familiar, and the rest of you were so good that it was easy for me to keep the melody.”

  “Well, I’m really not an expert either,” Granola said, “but I know competence when I hear it, and the three of you did very well. You too, pets. That helped me. I think we make a nice foursome. Or sevensome, with the pets. Who would have expected it?”

  “A princess, two walking skeletons, and an invisible giantess,” Picka said. “Plus three expressive animals. That does seem hard to believe.”

  “Let’s try another,” Granola said. “We might even be able to get into parts.”

  They consulted again, and managed to come up with melodies all of them could play. Picka really enjoyed it, because he knew each new tune forever the moment he heard it. He had half feared that others would laugh at the way he bonged on his own ribs, but Granola was all admiration. It did seem that music was their common ground with the giantess. It no longer seemed odd to be with her.

  They played together, developing a four- or five-part harmony of sorts. Joy’nt sang soprano with increasing confidence, also shaking the maracas. Dawn played alto on her ocarina, reveling in the music. Granola played tenor on her concertina with verve. Picka bonged on his ribs, feeling more at home with this mode; they did have nice ringing tones that filled out the bass range. And the three pets added their harmony, fleshing out the whole.

  As they played, they became louder, singing, blowing, and striking their notes more proficiently. It was such delight! Picka had never before realized how transporting music could be, especially when he was making it himself. It seemed to make him become more than he had been before, a creature of artistry.

  They completed another piece, finishing together with a flourish. Then Dawn saw something. “Well, now,” she murmured.

  The others looked. There was the dread Gap Dragon, green, six legged, breathing wisps of steam. He had been listening to the music.

  “I think it is time for introductions,” Dawn said. “Folks, this is Stanley Steamer, the terror of the Gap Chasm. Stanley, these are Picka and Joy’nt Bone, and the invisible giant Granola.”

  “We know each other, of course,” Granola said. “He gave me the ledge to sleep on in peace.”

  “And we know of him,” Picka said.

  “And the three Baldin Family pets, Woofer, Tweeter, and Midrange,” Dawn concluded, “who are helping me on my mission for the Good Magician.”

  Stanley blew out a nonthreatening waft of steam, acknowledging.

  “What brings you here, Stanley?” Dawn asked. “Were we making too much noise?”

  The dragon blew out a steam ring.

  “Oh, you like the music!”

  He liked the music.

  “So you don’t mind if we camp here tonight?”

  He didn’t mind. That was just as well, because darkness was closing in.

  The pets foraged for food, not threatened by the dragon. So did Dawn, harvesting a pie from a pie plant. So did Granola, harvesting another pie. It was interesting to see it disappear into the air where her mouth was, becoming invisible.

  “Don’t you need more than that?” Joy’nt asked. “You’re so big.”

  “I hardly eat more than a normal person does,” Granola explained. “I think most of the food energy goes into making ordinary folk visible. I don’t need that, so eat less, proportionately.”

  “I suppose that’s no more unusual than the way we skeletons don’t have to eat at all,” Joy’nt said.

  “Anything is possible, with magic,” Dawn reminded them.

  Except, Picka thought, for a skeleton to make it with a fleshly woman, as Dawn had ascertained with him. Why did that bother him?

  Then they settled down for the night. Dawn and the three pets chose Granola’s handbag, because it was protected and comfortable. Picka and Joy’nt had no need of safety or comfort, so simply collapsed at the base of the cliff.

  “Picka,” Joy’nt murmured.

  “That’s me,” he agreed.

  “Stanley’s still here.”

  Picka peered into the darkness and discovered it was true. He hadn’t thought to look before; he has simply assumed that the dragon had departed when the music finished. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. He can’t be hungry for our dry bones.”

  “Maybe we can ask him,” he suggested.

  “I’ll try.” She faced the dragon. “Stanley, why are you still here?”

  The dragon looked at her, then puffed a
jet of steam that curled into a question mark. He was unable to speak Human, and without Dawn to translate, they could not understand him.

  “Bring out your magic marker,” Picka suggested.

  Joy’nt brought it out. She got up and approached the dragon. “If you put a foot on this paper, it will print your thought,” she said.

  Stanley put a front foot on the panel. MUSIC.

  “You liked our music,” Picka said. “We picked up on that. It seems that music soothes the savage beast as well as the savage breast. But we’re not playing music now.”

  Stanley touched the panel again. WANT A SONG.

  “We can surely play it, if we know it,” Picka said. “When the others get up in the morning. What song?”

  POOF THE MAGIC DRAGON.

  “Oh, one about a dragon! Of course. But Joy’nt and I don’t know it. We know one about spooks and skeletons.”

  Stanley looked disappointed.

  “Can you tell us how it goes?” Joy’nt asked.

  Stanley touched the panel again. This time a series of notes and words appeared.

  “I can read the words,” Joy’nt said. “‘Poof the Magic Dragon lived by the ocean.’ But not the notes.”

  “I can read them,” Picka said, surprised.

  “I didn’t know you could read music.”

  “I didn’t know either,” he said, excited, “but I discover I can. I can play this melody.” He took off his clavicles and played on his ribs.

  Stanley perked up, wafting steam. That was the melody.

  “You can pick up the tune from my playing,” Picka told Joy’nt. “Then you can sing it for him.”

  She did, and soon they played and sang the whole song for the dragon. Stanley was so contented he almost floated on a bed of soft steam.

  Dawn poked her head over the end of the invisible handbag. “You’re playing without us?”

  “We didn’t want to disturb you,” Picka said, embarrassed.

  “As if music could do that,” Granola said.

  “So let’s do this right,” Dawn said as they joined the dragon and skeletons. It was dark, but that hardly mattered; they could sing, play, and howl without light.

  They got the words and tune, then did it in style. Again the dragon almost floated. It was a nice song.