Terry Pratchett: Soul Music

Susan stared at him.

The blue glow in Death's eyes gradually faded, and as the light died it sucked at her gaze so that it was dragged into the eye sockets and the darkness beyond ...

... which went on and on, for ever. There was no word for it. Even eternity was a human idea. Giving it a name gave it a length; admittedly, a very long one. But this darkness was what was left when eternity had given up. It was where Death lived. Alone.

She reached up and pulled his head down and kissed the top of his skull. It was smooth and ivory white, like a billiard ball.

She turned and stared at the shadowy buildings in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

" I just hope I remembered to leave a window open." Oh, well, nothing for it. She had to know, even if she felt angry with herself for asking. "Look, the... er, the people I met... do you know if I ever see–'

When she turned back, there was nothing there. There were only a couple of hoofprints, fading on the cobbles.

There was no open window. She went around to the door and climbed the stairs in the darkness.

" Susan!"

Susan felt herself fading protectively, out of habit. She stopped it. There was no need for that. There had never been a need for that.

A figure stood at the end of the passage, in a circle of lamplight.

" Yes, Miss Butts?"

The headmistress peered at her, as if waiting for her to do something.

" Are you all right, Miss Butts?"

The teacher rallied. "Do you know it's gone midnight? For shame! And you're out of bed! And that is certainly not the school uniform!"

Susan looked down. It was always hard to get every little detail right. She was still wearing the black dress with the lace.

" Yes," she said, "that's right." She gave Miss Butts a bright friendly smile.

" Well, there are school rules, you know," said Miss Butts, but her tone was hesitant.

Susan patted her on the arm. "I think they're probably more like guidelines, don't you? Eulalie?"

Miss Butts's mouth opened and shut. And Susan realized that the woman was actually quite short. She had a tall bearing and a tall voice and a tall manner, and was tall in every respect except height. Amazingly, she'd apparently been able to keep this a secret from people.

" But I'd better be off to bed," said Susan, her mind dancing on adrenalin. "And you, too. It's far too late to be wandering around draughty corridors at your age, don't you think? Last day tomorrow, too. You don't want to look tired when the parents arrive."

" Er... Yes. Yes. Thank you, Susan."

Susan gave the forlorn teacher another warm smile and headed for the dormitory, where she undressed in the dark and got between the sheets.

The room was silent except for the sound of nine girls breathing quietly and the rhythmic muffled avalanche that was Princess Jade asleep.

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 rose 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 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 stopped in front of one particular tree, and stared at it for some time. Eventually he said:

LOOKS PERFECTLY LOGICAL TO ME.

Binky turned obediently away and trotted into the world.

The lands and cities of it lay before him. Blue light flamed along the blade of the scythe.

Death felt attention on him. He looked up at the universe, which was watching him with puzzled interest.

A voice which only he heard said: So you're a rebel, little Death? Against what?

Death thought about it. If there was a snappy answer, he couldn't think of one.

So he ignored it, and rode towards the lives of humanity.