Soul Music (Page 17)
'That's right,' said Glod. 'The boy with the guitar.'
'Eeek.' The Librarian did a back somersault. 'Oookoook-ooka-ooka-OOOka-OOK!'
. . . not just a flicker. It seemed a rather dismissive way of travelling nearly seventeen years. The cornfields had gone, but the garden was pretty much the same. There was the strange topiary and the pond with the skeletal fish. There were, pushing jolly wheelbarrows and carrying tiny scythes, what might have been garden gnomes in a mortal garden but here were cheery little skeletons in black robes. Things tended not to change. The stables were a little different, though. Binky was in them, for a start. He whinnied quietly as Susan led him into an empty stall next to himself. 'I'm sure you two know each other,' she said. She'd never expected it to work, but it had to, didn't it? Time was something that happened to other people, wasn't it? She slipped into the house. NO. I CANNOT BE BIDDEN. I CANNOT BE FORCED. I WILL ONLY DO THAT WHICH I KNOW TO BE RIGHT . . . Susan crept along behind the shelves of lifetimers. No-one noticed her. When you are watching Death fight, you don't notice shadows in the background. They'd never told her about this. Parents never do. Your father could be Death's apprentice and your mother Death's adopted daughter, but that's just fine detail when they become Parents. Parents were never young. They were merely waiting to become Parents. Susan reached the end of the shelves. Death was standing over her father . . . she corrected herself, the boy who would be her father. Three red marks burned on his cheek where Death had struck him. Susan raised a hand to the pale marks on her own face. But that's not how heredity works. At least . . . the normal kind . . . Her mother . . . the girl who would become her mother . . . was pressed against a pillar. She had actually improved with age, Susan thought. Her dress sense certainly had. And she mentally shook herself. Fashion comments? Now? Death stood over Mort, sword in one hand and Mort's own lifetimer in the other. YOU DON'T KNOW HOW SORRY THIS MAKES ME, he said. 'I might,' said Mort. Death looked up, and looked straight at Susan. His eye sockets flared blue for a moment. Susan tried to press herself into the shadows. He looked back down at Mort for a moment, and then at Ysabell, and then back at Susan, and then back down at Mort. And laughed. And turned the hourglass over. And snapped his fingers. Mort vanished, with a small 'pop' of imploding air. So did Ysabell and the others. It was, suddenly, very quiet. Death put the hourglass down, very carefully, on the table and looked at the ceiling for a while. Then he said: ALBERT? Albert appeared from behind a pillar. WOULD YOU BE SO GOOD AS TO MAKE ME A CUP OF TEA, PLEASE. 'Yes, Master. Hehe, you sorted him out right enough-' THANK YOU. Albert scurried off in the direction of the kitchen. Once again there was the closest thing there could ever be to silence in the room of lifetimers. YOU'D BETTER COME OUT. Susan did so, and stood before the Ultimate Reality.
'I think Albert knows something, but he changes the subject.' Albert reappeared, carrying another cup and saucer. He plonked it down pointedly on Death's desk, with the air of one who is being put upon. 'That'll be all, will it, Master?' he said. THANK YOU, ALBERT. YES. Albert left again, more slowly than normal. He kept looking over his shoulder. 'He doesn't change, does he?' said Susan. 'Of course, that's the point about this place-' WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT CATS? 'Sorry?' CATS. DO YOU LIKE 'EM? 'They're . . .' Susan hesitated, 'all right. But a cat's just a cat.' CHOCOLATE, said Death. DO YOU LIKE CHOCOLATE? 'I think it's possible to have too much,' said Susan. YOU CERTAINLY DON'T TAKE AFTER YSABELL. Susan nodded. Her mother's favourite dish had been Genocide by Chocolate. AND YOUR MEMORY? YOU HAVE A GOOD MEMORY? 'Oh, yes. I . . . remember things. About how to be Death. About how it's all supposed to work. Look, just then you said you remembered about the rat, and it hasn't even happ-' Death stood up and strode across to the model of the Discworld. MORPHIC RESONANCE, he said, not looking at Susan. DAMN. PEOPLE DON'T BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND IT. SOUL HARMONICS. IT'S RESPONSIBLE FOR SO MANY THINGS. Susan pulled out Imp's lifetimer. Blue smoke was still pouring through the pinch. 'Can you help me with this?' she said. Death spun around. I SHOULD NEVER HAVE ADOPTED YOUR MOTHER. 'Why did you?' Death shrugged. WHAT'S THAT YOU'VE GOT THERE? He took Buddy's lifetimer from her and held it up. AH. INTERESTING. 'Do you know what it means, Grandad?' I'VE NOT COME ACROSS IT BEFORE, BUT I SUPPOSE IT'S POSSIBLE. IN CERTAIN CIRCUMSTANCES. IT MEANS . . . SOMEHOW . . . THAT HE HAS RHYTHM IN HIS SOUL . . . GRANDAD? 'Oh, no. That can't be right. That's just a figure of speech. And what's wrong with grandad?' GRANDFATHER I CAN LIVE WITH. GRANDAD? ONE STEP AWAY FROM GRAMPS, IN MY OPINION. ANYWAY, I THOUGHT YOU BELIEVED IN LOGIC. CALLING SOMETHING A FIGURE OF SPEECH DOESN'T MEAN IT'S NOT TRUE. Death waved the hourglass vaguely. FOR EXAMPLE, he said, MANY THINGS ARE BETTER THAN A POKE IN THE EYE WITH A BLUNT STICK. I'VE NEVER UNDERSTOOD THE PHRASE. SURELY A SHARP STICK WOULD BE EVEN WORSE- Death stopped. I'M DOING IT AGAIN! WHY SHOULD I CARE WHAT THE WRETCHED PHRASE MEANS? OR WHAT YOU CALL ME? UNIMPORTANT! GETTING ENTANGLED WITH HUMANS CLOUDS THE THINKING. TAKE IT FROM ME. DON'T GET INVOLVED. 'But I am a human.' I DIDN'T SAY IT WAS GOING TO BE EASY, DID I? DON'T THINK ABOUT IT. DON'T
MERE CONSUMERS OF FOOD, WHO THINK THEIR INSTINCTS ARE EMOTIONS AND THEIR TINY LIVES OF MORE ACCOUNT THAN A WHISPER OF WIND. The blue glow was bottomless. It seemed to be sucking her own thoughts out of her mind. 'No,' whispered Susan, 'no, I've never thought like that.' Death stood up abruptly and turned away. YOU MAY FIND THAT IT HELPS, he said. 'But it's all just chaos,' said Susan. 'There's no sense to the way people die. There's no justice!' HAH. 'You take a hand,' she persisted. 'You just saved my father.' I WAS FOOLISH. TO CHANGE THE FATE OF ONE INDIVIDUAL IS TO CHANGE THE WORLD. I REMEMBER THAT. SO SHOULD YOU. Death still hadn't turned to face her. 'I don't see why we shouldn't change things if it makes the world better,' said Susan. HAH. 'Are you too scared to change the world?' Death turned. The very sight of his expression made Susan back away. He advanced slowly towards her. His voice, when it came, was a hiss. YOU SAY THAT TO ME? YOU STAND THERE IN YOUR PRETTY DRESS AND SAY THAT TO ME? YOU? YOU PRATTLE ON ABOUT CHANGING THE WORLD? COULD YOU FIND THE COURAGE TO ACCEPT IT? TO KNOW WHAT MUST BE DONE AND DO IT, WHATEVER THE COST? IS THERE ONE HUMAN ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD WHO KNOWS WHAT DUTY MEANS? His hands opened and shut convulsively. I SAID YOU MUST REMEMBER . . . FOR US, TIME IS ONLY A PLACE. IT'S ALL SPREAD OUT. THERE IS WHAT IS, AND WHAT WILL BE. IF YOU CHANGE THAT, YOU CARRY THE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE CHANGE. AND THAT IS TOO HEAVY TO BEAR. 'That's just an excuse!' Susan glared at the tall figure. Then she turned and marched out of the room. SUSAN? She stopped halfway across the floor, but didn't turn around. 'Yes?' REALLY . . . BONY KNEES? 'Yes!' It was probably the first piano case that'd ever been made, and made out of a carpet at that. Cliff swung it easily on to his shoulder and picked up his sack of rocks in the other hand. 'Is it heavy?' said Buddy. Cliff held the piano up on one hand and weighed it reflectively. 'A bit,' he said. The floorboards creaked underneath him. ' Do you think we should've took all dem bits out?'