Heaven Cent by Piers Anthony Page B

could not even speak, because her teeth were locked onto his shinbone that made the bar across the boat. If she let go, she would be washed away. Fortunately, she was aware of this and kept her teeth clamped tight.
    The savage winds continued to howl, and the waves did their best to smash the craft to bits. If they succeeded, both skeletons would be lost, for they could not survive dismemberment. Not in a situation like this. If it occurred on land, friends could collect the bones and put them back together, but here in the sea there were no friends and the bones would be completely scattered.
    “We are in trouble,” he called over the roar and splash. “Don't let go, Grace’l, until I figure out what to do. Maybe we can ride out the storm!”
    But that seemed less likely with every moment that passed. Mean Fracto was concentrating on the craft, trying to buffet it apart. Fracto loved to destroy things; his reputation was notorious. Whenever rain was not wanted, Fracto would float over to bring a deluge, and whenever calm weather was needed, Fracto would be there to disturb it. Now the mean cloud had a helpless victim, and intended to demolish it completely.
    In addition, the waves were washing the craft farther out to sea. Fracto intended to see that no bone got back to shore!
    Neither Marrow nor Grace’l could change form until some other party booted them apart. The action of the waves wouldn't do it; it had to be a swift kick in the tailbone. If one recovered the natural form, he or she could kick the other—but how could either of them change now? There had to be someone else—and how could there be, here on the heaving surface of the ocean, here in the heart of the storm?
    “You're a terrible person, Fracto!” Marrow cried in frustration. But the winds only laughed. Fracto was really enjoying himself.
    Then Marrow thought of a way. His arm bones were part of the bracing of the sides of the boat, and his hand bones gripped the ends of it together, and his finger bones formed the topmost rim. If he could just raise his hollow finger—
    It was a struggle, because he was not in his natural form, but he managed to lift that finger so that it stood at right angles to the rest of the rim. Now to get Fracto to do his part.
    “Hey, you fuzzy cloud!” he called with his jawbones. “I am contemptuous of you! I present my finger to you!”
    There were many types of magic in Xanth, and few in Mundania, but some aspects of it were so universal and fundamental that they were to be found everywhere. One of these was insult magic, especially of the simplest variety. A single elevated finger represented one of the most potent of all; anyone who saw it was immediately insulted and driven to fury. There was no practical reason for this; it was just the nature of the spell.
    Fracto saw the finger and of course reacted. He blew the most horrendous gust at it, trying to destroy it. The wind was so strong that the air passed right through the finger and activated its whistle.
    The sound was piercing. It struck right through the dull roar of the waves and the mixed swish of the air. It was Marrow's cry for help. He had succeeded in sounding it!
    “Now all we have to do is survive until help comes.” he called to Grace’l. “Just hang on.”
    They hung on. The angry winds continued, but were unable to do more than shove the craft farther out to sea. Fracto's rage was impressive, but inevitably it blew over; the cloud just did not have much staying power.
    Then a form loomed in the air. Marrow could see only its fleeting, vague shadow, but he knew what it was. “Chex!” he cried. “Here!”
    Too late he realized that Chex would have little way to help. She was a winged centaur, and could not land on the water, and her hands could not reach to the ground. She would not be able to pick up the craft and carry it out of the storm. Had he summoned her for nothing?
    Then a net slapped the water beside him. The edge of it sank, and