Myth-Gotten Gains

Chapter 10

THE EXCITEMENT IN the wings of the immense theater was palpable, but I knew we were fighting a hopeless cause. Tananda and I had helped Calypsa go over every song she knew to pick out one that would please the audience and the Flute, who had avoided all contact with us from the moment we'd been ushered out of his dressing room. It didn't help that the opera singer had been as good as she had sounded warming up, but even the bad singers were better than our candidate. The producer, a stout male with a pale coat, kept shushing us. I felt like tearing his head off, but that wouldn't have made Calypsa's singing any better. I don't think anything could have.

"I don't know why we didn't just pick him up and bamf out when we had the chance," I grumbled, not for the first time.

"It is fair for him to set such a contest," Ersatz said. "Why, I mind me of a time when I was rammed into a stone by a wizard, to seek him who should be king of the land."

"Don't tell me — a twelve-year-old boy drew you."

"Nay, of course not," Ersatz said. "It was a great lug of a man with all the brains of a slime-mold, but he had the muscle to overcome the objections of his peers. In the end he was no worse a king than anyone else might have been."

"Shhh!"

At that moment, Buirnie was out on stage with the ever-present spotlight, Klik, shining down on him, showing him off in the best possible light. Petite Elbans with aprons came out and polished him in between acts, dusting off minute motes. The Fife was fussier than any ten divas I had ever met. He certainly looked good in comparison with his hapless contestants. And sounded better. I had cotton stuffed in my ears to protect them, though it didn't block out all the noise.

At intermission, I went out to get a drink — Crom knew I deserved one — and started sidling up to people in the bar and in the lobby. Since it was audience's choice who won, a little persuasion, threat or bribery might help our candidate to the finish line.

"Vote for Calypsa," I told a big Elban with a white mustache in the middle of his light pink face. "She's the best."

"Someone's got to be," the male said, with a grimace that told me he was enjoying the contest about as much as I was.

"Vote for Calypsa," I suggested to a tableful of matronly looking females seated at a table in the back of the bar. "She's an orphan, and she could really use the break."

"Awwww." The women put their heads together. I went after a cluster of young Elbans giggling in front of a poster of Buirnie.

"Vote for Calypsa. She's a personal friend of his, ya know."

"Really?" one of the females asked, her eyes wide. I tapped the side of my nose with my forefinger, and the kids went into a huddle. I cornered a couple of big males by the men's room.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll vote for Calypsa."

They backed away from me. "All right! All right! Take a pill, man!"

After a few more swings as good-will ambassador, I went backstage again. I had done all I could to stuff the ballot box.

In the wings, Calypsa was pacing up and back, fluttering her arms in agitation.

"What are you so nervous about?" I asked her, more than once. "You don't have stage fright. I don't see that you are afraid of much at all. You danced in front of the crowd in the bar. You're good. I've never seen a pip with more pizazz! You stood up to an evil wizard. You've even faced me down. What's the problem?"

"I am not dancing for these people!" she said, her Elban-disguised face long with despair. "I am singing. The Walts do not sing, they dance. You will see. I will fail."

"Nonsense," Ersatz said, as Calypsa handed him off to Tananda. "You will do well. Stout heart! You are of the great clan of Calypso! Never forget your honored heritage."

She gave him a faint smile.

"Calypsa!" A faded, middle-aged Elban bustled up to us and hung a numbered tag around her neck. "You're on." He shoved her out of the wings and into the glowing spotlight.

"Break a leg, kid," I said.

She might have gotten better reviews if she had.

She was terrible. I mean, beyond terrible. She was so scared her whole body trembled visibly.

"Oh, the pretty little flowers, how fair their faces in the sun," she warbled uneasily. "The rain rains down, the clouds are blown, and spring is here for everyone…" Her voice went off key every other word. I winced at the horrible rhymes, but it was the best we were able to do in a hurry to render the lyrics of the folk song from Walt to Elban. You know there are phrases that lose something in translation. This was not only lost, it was beyond retrieval.

The audience had responded to good candidates with whistling and applause. The mediocre ones got a mix of clapping and booing. The awful ones fled the stage to a medley of jeers and derisive laughter. Calypsa's effort was rewarded with total silence. No, not quite total. Far away in the dark a single set of hands was clapping.

A stagehand peeked out through the curtains. "That's old man Dovacek. He's tone deaf. He likes everything."

"She's dying out there," Tananda said, sympathetically.

"Who says Calypsa is dying?" Ersatz exclaimed. "She shall not die alone! Get me to her hand! I will save her."

"Not literally dying, you letter-opener," I snapped. "She's just going to lose. I wonder if it's possible to come in farther back than last. She's just got to relax. There's nothing to it."

"If it's so easy," Asti said, from the pouch under my arm, "then you go out there."

I ignored her. We had bigger problems.

"We're going to lose this round," Tanda whispered to me. "Buirnie said he'd only come along if we won. Wonder if I can find a talking recorder out there T can paint gold."

"No," I said. "A fake won't fool a real wizard. If this Barrik's worth any of his reputation, he'll see through it, and her grandfather will be toast."

"It could with a good enough illusion spell. If we have all the other treasures, maybe he won't pay too close attention."

"It's worth a try," I said, thoughtfully.

"You won't have to do that," Asti said, from the pouch under my arm. "Get out there and win this contest yourself!"

"What?" I yelped. The stagehands all glared at me.

"That child can't succeed. You haven't done a thing to earn your keep today, you worthless sack of scaly skin. Go!"

I looked out at the vast bowl of the theater.

"Not a chance," I said. "Buirnie set her the challenge, not us."

"You said you would help her, and by the Singing Bowls of Aphis, she needs your help now! Go!"

Suddenly, I felt something warm dribble down onto my right foot. It started burning. I hopped onto the other foot and clutched my toes. The liquid stung my hand, too.

"Acid!" I jumped back to avoid it.

I held the case out at arm's length, but she had burned a hole in the leather at the top. A spray narrowly missed me. I dropped her and dodged the next fountain of pain. The next thing I knew, I was under a hot white light.

"Whee-eet!" Buirnie whistled in surprise. "Well, then, this is an unexpected pleasure! Thank you, Calypsa! Welcome our next contestant, Aahz!"

"Now, sing, you ugly lizard!" Asti's voice rang through the arena, louder than the opera singer had been. A titter ran through the audience. I snarled. No one laughs at me!

"Go ahead, Aahz," Buirnie said, encouragingly. "Wow us!"

I couldn't really see the audience past the first few rows, but I knew there were over ten thousand spectators watching me. Well, they were in for a treat. On Perv I was considered to have a pretty decent voice — no, a great voice. All I had to do was decide what I was going to sing. I knew thousands of songs, ranging from drinking songs to lieder to Broadway show tunes, from hundreds of dimensions. I went through my memory for the best one to show off my range.

It was blank. My mind could not recall a single song. I gritted my teeth in frustration. Come on! I chided myself. Me, Aahz, with stage fright?

Somewhere in the darkness, a high voice tittered. A few guffaws joined it. I gritted my teeth. I was going to get my powers back, and I would come back here and knit their fuzzy coats together in a giant afghan.

In the meantime, the show must go on. Finally, a tune came back to me. One that would knock them all out.

"Hail, Perv!" I burst out. "We're green and scaly. We mean business. …"

Before I knew it, I had launched into the national anthem of Perv. Written about three thousand years ago, it describes how we came to be an independent, united dimension, by defeating our enemies. The first verse is the usual bluster, albeit true, how great Pervects are. The second goes on to list our conquests of other dimensions. Subsequent verses are about maiming and torturing our enemies, all in the name of freedom, going into exquisite detail, including how my ancient ancestors had their way with the captured women, to further our chosen way of life. It had eighteen verses, fifteen of which I hadn't sung since school. Once I could remember the first line of the next stanza, it came rolling out like I was back in Miss Grimnatz's primary school class. I started to relax, belting out the high notes, and rumbling the low ones like threats.

After verse two, the members of the audience in the first few rows, which was as far as I could see with the spotlights in my eyes, looked uneasy. After verse four, some of them started to get up and edge toward the doors. The sixth verse, which features a pretty good description of hot irons and whips, made them run for the doors. Wimps, I thought.

I finished the song without blowing a single line. At the end, I held out my arms for applause. Instead of the expected roar of approbation, it was tentative and faint.

"Hey, there," Buirnie said, when I glared out over the footlights at the unseen audience, "sympathy applause is better than no applause at all, eh?"

The drum beat a rim shot.

"Thank you, thank you," Buirnie said, modestly. "Now, the voting! Everyone hand in their ballots." He peered into the darkness of the audience. "Is anyone out there?"

The Trolls lumbered off the stage. They were back in a moment. One of them brandished a sheet of paper. "Here's duh vote," he said.

"One vote?" Buirnie asked, astonished.

"There's only one guy out there." The Troll pretended to count on his fingers. "Yeah."

"Just one," the second Troll confirmed. "Dat old pink guy. Don't hear so good."

"Well, all right," Buirnie said, faintly. "Who won?"

The Troll pointed at me. "He did."

"I did?" I said, doing a double-take. Then I straightened up. "I mean, I won! Yeah. Well, did anyone doubt it for a minute?"

Tananda zoomed in and gave me a passionate kiss of congratulations. "Never, handsome."

"My hero!" Calypsa declared, running out and hanging on my arm.

"You sounded like an alligator gargling ball bearings," Asti said. "But you did it. Well done. The drinks are on me."

"Never mind that," I said, uncharacteristically putting liquor behind duty. I turned to Buirnie. The golden Flute looked up uneasily at me from his cushion. "All right, I won your cockamamie contest. You got a suitcase you want to use?"

The Flute regarded me with some confusion.

"Er, what for?"

"You're coming with us, aren't you?"

"Well, no. I can't."

"No?" I bellowed. "After I stood up and sang? You bet you're coming."

"You made a bargain, Buirnie," Ersatz said severely.

Buirnie turned to his fellow Hoard members. "You know, I never liked any of you. Bringing a Perv…Perv…Pervert into MY theater!"

I couldn't help myself. "That's Per-VECT!"

I reached out to yank his little ferrules off. The Trolls grabbed me and twisted my arms behind my back.

Buirnie gulped. "Not so fast, not so fast, er, Pervect! I was just jerking your chain. I just wanted to see how badly you wanted my help. You would not believe how many untalented fame-seekers come looking for me, hoping to make a fast buck in the troubadour world. Of course I will help you. I am a member of the Golden Hoard, after all! Our job is to fight for right. I'll join you."

"Good." I relaxed, and the Trolls let me go. "Let's pack you up and get out of here. We've got three more treasures to find before we can get Calypsa's grandfather out of hock."

Buirnie tootled a protest.

"Not so fast! I will join you in six months, when my current tour ends."

"Six months!"

Calypsa sank down beside him.

"But I need you now! My grandfather has only a couple of weeks before Barrik will kill him! I do not know how he survives in the terrible dungeons of the evil Barrik, eating perhaps who knows what awful food, and subjected to frightening tortures!"

Buirnie turned large, sympathetic emeralds toward her. "Well, little lady, I am sorry. This program that I'm working on boosts the self-esteem of thousands of would-be performers of many races. The needs of the many, you understand, outweigh the life of one, no matter how devoted, fan. How bad could prison food be? And torture — let me tell you about torture! I have to listen to thousands of untrained singers just to find a few who can get up on stage and belt it out! I have another week here, then I go to Imper, then Zoorik, then Chimer, so, it was nice seeing all of you, but unless you want tickets, there's nothing more I can do for you."

"This is important!"

"So is this, little lady."

"To your ego, perhaps, mighty fife," Ersatz said.

The Flute let out a blast that made my teeth curl. "It's not just my ego! If you knew how many lives were being changed here, you wouldn't be so dismissive. Sure I get some ego-boo out of it. This is a battle for the fine arts, for the souls of these people. There's a harmonic convergence on the way that will join together force lines in six dimensions. Peace will flow among these races. It'll be the greatest thing to happen since…well, since never. Well, it was nice to see you. I hope it never happens again. Maybe by the time my tour ends you'll figure out some other way to rescue Calypsa's grandfather. Bye!"

I shook my head with a sigh. "You know the trouble with you, pal, is that you protest a lot, but you've got one big weakness." "What's that?"

"You're portable." I reached for him.

"No! Don't touch me!" He let out a tremendous shriek. The sound went right through my sensitive ear drums and into my brain, but I couldn't move my hands to protect my ears. Suddenly, the tune changed. One of my feet lifted and set down again. Then, the other one rose and fell. My arms developed their own personality, something they were channeling from an insane disco dancer. They waved and flailed as grace-lessly as drunks at a wedding, but that was nothing compared with what my feet were doing. Hop-hop-hop, slide, hop-hop-hop, slide, kick, kick. The music was irresistible. I couldn't stop moving.

"Aahz!" Tananda shouted, twirling like a Dervish in drag. "Do something!"

"I am," I growled, through gritted teeth. "I'm doing the Spanish Panic."

The obvious solution was to get Buirnie to stop playing. Fighting my disco-infected feet, I struggled to move toward him. I felt as though I was swimming upstream. The harder I fought to control myself, the more frenziedly I danced. Calypsa whirled and pirouetted around us like a ballet dancer caught in the spin cycle of a tumble dryer. I got within a couple of feet of the Flute, but I couldn't force myself any closer.

"Stop the music," I ordered Buirnie.

"No!" he said. The music continued even while he was talking. Evidently he was an expert at multi-tasking. "Not until you agree to go away and leave me alone. I'm happy here."

"Since when," Ersatz asked, jouncing along on Calypsa's back, "were you or any of us meant to be happy?"

"Well, I admit that I came to it late in life, old pal, but it's really nice. You should try it!"

"I have no intention of 'trying it.' My joy lies in service to others. You cannot keep these people dancing forever."

"Don't have to," Buirnie said. "My Trolls will throw you out into the street, and that'll be that."

"They're stuck in your musical spell, too," I pointed out. "If you let them go, we're free, too."

Buirnie looked past me. The two Trolls were slam-dancing. All around us, the stage hands had broken into a boogie. The Flute's personal assistants danced the hora in a circle in the wings.

"Oh," he said. "I forgot. Well, if you promise to go away, I'll stop playing."

"You made me a promise," Calypsa said. "You will come with me now."

"You can't make me, little lady," the Fife said, with smug satisfaction.

"I can!" Calypsa said, throwing back her head easily. Her feet flew. "You do not trifle with the line of Calypso! Music will not stop me!"

With that, she began double-stepping the music, adding flourishes and twists. Her nostrils flared, and her hands rose over her head, fingers clicking together to the drum beat. She twirled from toe to toe, moving ever closer to Buirnie. She was dancing as I had never seen anyone dance before. I was so fascinated I forgot my feet were prisoners. Buirnie upped the tempo, driving her back, but Calypsa wasn't pushed far. She stayed right with him. When he piped staccato, she drummed her heels on the floor. When he whistled a tarantella, she kicked and frolicked along. He tried hot jazz. Her big eyes flashed as she leaped in the air and came down in a split, then bounded up again and rolled over backwards to come up on one foot like an ice skater. The Flute's jeweled eyes followed her, glowing with fascination. I was fascinated, too, but I wasn't about to show it. As far as I was concerned, I wanted him to think this was a walk in the park for Calypsa.

"You can see she can take anything you throw at her," I panted. "You give up yet?"

"Never!" Buirnie said. He switched tempos, going to a broken beat. Calypsa didn't even blink. She added whirls and leaps to her footwork, clicking her fingers together. She fixed her luminous eyes on him. Buirnie's music hesitated. I could tell Calypsa had him now. She circled in on him, slowing. The music slowed down in response. My feet stopped pounding the stage like telegraph keys and settled into a two-step so I could keep an eye on them. She picked up the Flute from his pillow and held it aloft in triumph.

"Will you yield to me now?" she demanded.

"You bet, little lady!"