Myth-Gotten Gains

"Can you give her a potion to calm her down?" I asked Asti.

"Oh, no artificial stimulants permitted!" Kelsa shrilled. "She would be disqualified."

"Maybe that would be best," Tananda said. "She's too nervous to compete."

"You stay here," I said to Tananda. "I'll scope out the competition."

Buirnie was right' most of them weren't good. That was our best hope, that whatever peep Calypsa could let out in front of the audience would sound better than the rest of them.

"Aaaahhh hohhhh! Ah hah hah hah! Ah hee hee hee hee hee!"

I narrowed my eyes. That sounded suspiciously like opera, and pretty professional, too. I shoved through the crowd of wa

At the very back of the big dressing room, a huge female Elban was warming up. Her voice was so loud it rang off the rafters and the stone walls. Most of the contestants near her had edged as far away as the crowd permitted. I grabbed a powder puff off the nearest dressing table, tore it in half, and shoved it into my ears. If the Elbans near me noticed a discrepancy between the apparent size of my ears and the amount of fluffy wool I could stuff into them, they were in too much

misery to say so. Not that I would have cared; it was a matter of survival.

The female, a bright pink like I was supposed to be, tipped me a wink, laid a delicate hand across her ample chest, and burst into song. My heart sank. Calypsa was right. We didn't have a chance. I went back to my companions to wait out the inevitable and work on a Plan B.

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!"