"Nope." I was firm.

"A truck?"

"No."

"How about a wagon train? Eight carts ought to do it."

I folded my arms. "You get one bag for yourself. If you don't want to share it with anyone, then they'll have to come separately. Calypsa isn't going to carry anything but you."

"Oh, that's no problem," Buirnie said, his embouchure quirking into a smile. "Klik!"

Out of the rafters the light came sailing down toward us. "Zildie!"

The snare drum waddled over to us. I could see that it stood on three feet made of bent wire about half an inch in diameter.

"Let's see...Buffanda, where are you, darling?"

"Coming, Fifie!" a playful voice called from the wings. An animated polishing cloth flew out and curled itself around the Flute's skinny body. "The other girls are folding themselves. Give us a moment. Do you want the brushes, too?"

"Sure!" Buirnie said. "I need to look my best on the road!"

"You are not taking all that with you," Ersatz said.

"Why not?" Buirnie replied. "They're my buds. They help me stay inspired."

'This is not fit. You should be complete in and of yourself."

"Get with the current century, brother! Don't you ever feel like you want a cheering section? Pepping up?"

"Of course not," Ersatz said. "That would look foolish on the battlefield! Should you require 'pepping up,' as you call it, ought you not sing yourself a rousing air and raise your spirits in that fashion?"

"Nope. I prefer applause. There's just something in the sound of hands clapping that I can't resist. It just feels great."

"Dilettante."

"Bore." "Lightweight."

"Tone-deaf!"

"Loudmouth!"

"Unworthy impostor! The Harp had a far greater heart than you will ever have!"

"Oh, so that's it!" the Flute exclaimed. "You still think he should be here, not me! Well, brother, so sorry that I didn't tear myself to pieces on the battlefield! I've saved plenty of lives in my time, as well as enriching the culture of dimensions I've passed through. I doubt you could say the same!"

The other two treasures added their own two cents, until all of them were haranguing one another. The ground started rumbling.

"Aahz," Tananda said, alarmed. "The magik's gathering again."

"Stop it," I ordered them. "Hey! You're going to cause another explosion! STOP IT!!!"

They all looked at me.

"My apologies, good Aahz," Ersatz said. "It has been so long since we were together that even I forget the disasters that we can cause."

"Good," I said. "Let's get out of here. Exit. Stage left."

Chapter 12

"I KNOW THE Book is not far away," Kelsa said, as we came to a crossroads. "I can feel it. But he's hedged himself around with spells. I can't tell you exactly where. He has the wisdom of the ages written in his pages, and his magik would fool all the sages. Oh, I made a rhyme!" She giggled insanely. Buirnie played a flourish, accompanied by a roll from Zildie, the snare drum, to drown her out. He was still sulking about having to share Calypsa with Ersatz, but since he didn't want to scare off a potential apprentice, he was annoying on a minor scale, so to speak.

I let it pass.

I surveyed the terrain. It had plenty of hedges. And bushes. And trees. Not a lot more. We had been walking more than a day already. According to the signpost, we were just outside Pikerel, population 80. Pikini, the dimension we were in, bore no interesting features I could see, except the locals' skill at brewing beer, which we discovered at a series of small roadside hostelries, and the Book, which always seemed to be another few hours' walk away. According to Tananda, few power lines arched overhead, but little technology had evolved in its place. Hence, the dimension's denizens, the Pikinise, got by on muscle power, theirs or their beasts of burden. We were disguised as black-furred Pikinise to avoid trouble.

"Why would a hot magik item hide himself away in a nowhere burg like this?" I asked.

"We all have our tasks, Aahz," Ersatz said, reprovingly. "We do not seek to place ourselves in the midst of excitement. Where we wind up is a matter of fate."

"Fine. Where exactly did fate drop the Book?" I asked.

"Hmm...I don't believe he is between assignments," Kelsa said. Her eyes began to bulge and shrink again. "He is out at the end of the...longest path...nice little place, all modern conve-

niences, four bedrooms, outhouse handy out the back, kitchen, workshop, dining room, properly taxes for the current year thirty-five gold pieces, good school but a very long commute..."

"Where?" I demanded. "I'm getting tired of guessing."

She blinked at me. "Location IS the most important thing, isn't it?"

I tried again. "What kind of workshop?"

"Mixed use," Kelsa said. "I see leather-working tools, carpentry tools, a small forge, some candle molds..."

"Sounds like a boutique in New England," I commented. "Can you steer us toward it?"

"I can't give you a path to follow. I can only tell you if you're going hot or cold."

"Fine," I said, in exasperation. "What about this way?"

"Warm," said Kelsa. I turned to my right. "Hot." I stepped out, opening my stride. The others fell in alongside me. The surface of the road was pitted and torn up by cart tracks, but it was better than walking along the sides, which were knee-deep in mud. We stepped up over a hill and headed toward a solid line of trees.

"Do you mind if I whistle while we walk?" Buirnie asked. "I always feel it helps to pass the time."

"Keep it down, okay? I don't want to annoy the locals."

"How can you say it will annoy them? I know plenty of Pikinise music. They'll LOVE it."

"Well, I would appreciate it if you would not sing, Buirnie," Ersatz said, sounding weary. "We have heard far too much of your voice over the last several hours, and I for one would prefer the sounds of nature."

"All right, I'll take a vote," the Flute said, imperturbably. "All those in favor of lovely, wonderful music, a round of applause, please!"

The drum, which waddled behind us on little metal legs, produced a sharp roll.

"Thank you, thank you! For my first number, I would like to render my version of the Flight of the Bumblebee, with a

jazz variation that I cooked up for the Crown Prince of

Whelven..."

"Be quiet," Asti snapped.

"But I thought you liked my music!"

"For once I agree with Ersatz," she said. "Give us all a rest."

"A quarter rest, a half rest or an eighth rest?" Buirnie asked.

"A whole rest," I said. "And I'll tell you when it's over."

Buirnie let out a breathy sigh. "I should have known you weren't music lovers. Except for Miss Calypsa here. Why are you traveling with such unappreciative characters, little lady, when you could be traveling with someone fascinating like me?"

"La la la! You sure do love the sound of your own voice," Asti said.

"Well, since you sound like a burp in an air pocket," Buirnie began.

"How did the Golden Hoard get started?" Tananda asked, interrupting the eternal argument.

"Oh, it is an interesting story," Buirnie said, pleased to be asked a question. "I wrote a song about it. It has eight thousand verses. Would you like to hear it? It would help to pass the time! You'll like the chorus. It goes, 'Once upon a time there was a Hoard..."'

"No!" I roared.

Birds and small animals erupted out of the bushes and fled in all directions.

"My goodness, big fellah, you sure can project when you have to," Buirnie said. "I could play some instrumental music, so the little lady can dance!" His emerald eyes twinkled up at the Walt. She looked like a shy girl at a dance being annoyed by a couple of nerds. I put my foot down.