Myth-Gotten Gains

"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.