Well-Tempered Clavicle
“But there wouldn’t be a next-to-last site until there was a first one.
The others tired of singing or playing music, but Dawn insisted that Picka keep practicing regardless. She was happy to explain to the others. “I love Picka, and he loves me.” She made a three-quarter smile. “It took some work in bed to convince him, and some magic, yet I finally persuaded him. But he needs to be worthy. So if he becomes the best musician in Xanth, he’ll be worthy, won’t he?”
The others, seeing the way of her thinking, agreed. So Picka continued to improvise, and had to admit to himself that he was improving. He could feel it. But would he ever be good enough? How could he or anyone else tell?
Granola came to a mountain. She found a route to climb it, carrying them upward. When they reached the top she set down the handbag so they could get out.
They were on a high level plain, a mesa, that dropped off sharply on the sides. “This is Mount Rushmost!” Dawn exclaimed. “The dragons’ retreat.”
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