Soul Music - Terry Pratchett [127]
And, after a while, the sound of someone sobbing and trying not to be heard. It went on for a long time. There was a lot of catching up to do.
Far above the world, Death nodded. You could choose immortality, or you could choose humanity.
You had to do it for yourself.
It was the last day of the term, and, therefore, chaotic. Some girls were leaving early, there was a stream of parents of various races, and there was no question of there being any teaching. It was generally accepted all round that the rules were relaxed.
Susan, Gloria, and Princess Jade wandered down to the floral clock. It was a quarter to daisy.
Susan felt empty, but also stretched like a string. She was surprised sparks weren’t coming from her fingertips.
Gloria had bought a bag of fried fish from the shop in Three Roses. The smell of hot vinegar and solid cholesterol arose from the paper, without the taint of fried rot that normally gave the shop’s produce its familiar edge.
“My father says I’ve got to go home and marry some troll,” said Jade. “Hey, if there’s any good fish bones in there, I’ll have them.”
“Have you met him?” said Susan.
“No. But my father says he’s got a great big mountain.”
“I wouldn’t put up with that, if I was you,” said Gloria, through a mouthful of fish. “This is the Century of the Fruitbat, after all. I’d put my foot down right now and say no. Eh, Susan?”
“What?” said Susan, who’d been thinking of something else; then, when everything had been repeated, she said, “No. I’d see what he was like first. Perhaps he’s quite nice. And then the mountain is a bonus.”
“Yes. That’s logical. Didn’t your dad send you a picture?” said Gloria.
“Oh, yes,” said Jade.
“Well…?”
“Um…it had some nice crevasses,” said Jade thoughtfully. “And a glacier that my father says is permanent even at midsummer.”
Gloria nodded approvingly.
“He sounds a nice boy.”
“But I’ve always liked Crag from the next valley. Father hates him. But he’s working very hard and saving up and he’s nearly got enough for his own bridge.”
Gloria sighed. “Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman,” she said. She nudged Susan. “Want some fish?”
“I’m not hungry, thanks.”
“It’s really good. Not stale old stuff like it used to be.”
“No, thanks.”
Gloria gave her another nudge.
“Want to go and get your own, then?” she said, leering behind her beard.
“Why should I do that?”
“Oh, quite a few girls have gone down there today,” said the dwarf. She leaned closer. “It’s the new boy working down there,” she said. “I’d swear he’s elvish.”
Something inside Susan was plucked and went twang.
She stood up.
“So that’s what he meant! Things that haven’t happened yet.”
“What? Who?” said Gloria.
“The shop in Three Roses Alley?”
“That’s right.”
The door to the wizard’s house was open. The wizard had put a rocking chair in the doorway and was asleep in the sun.
A raven was perched on his hat. Susan stopped and glared at it.
“And have you got any comment to make?”
“Croak croak,” said the raven, and ruffled its feathers.
“Good,” said Susan.
She walked on, aware that she was blushing. Behind her a voice said, “Hah!” She ignored it.
There was a blur of movement among the debris in the gutter.
Something hidden by a fish wrapper went:
SNH, SNH, SNH.
“Oh yes, very funny,” said Susan.
She walked on.
And then broke into a run.
Death smiled and pushed aside the magnifying lens and turned away from the Discworld to find Albert watching him.
JUST CHECKING, he said.
“That’s right, Master,” said Albert. “I’ve saddled up Binky.”
YOU UNDERSTAND I WAS JUST CHECKING?
“Right you are, Master.”
HOW ARE YOU FEELING NOW?
“Fine, Master.”
STILL GOT YOUR BOTTLE?
Yes, Master.” It was on the shelf in Albert’s bedroom.
He followed Death out into the stable yard, helped him into the saddle, and passed up the scythe.
AND NOW I MUST BE GOING OUT, said Death.
“That’s the ticket, Master.”
SO STOP GRINNING LIKE THAT.
“Yes, Master.”
Death rode out, but found himself guiding the white horse down the track to the orchard.
He