Soul Music

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    Glod clamped his hand over the strings and beckoned the other two closer.
    “We’re right by the University here,” he whispered. “Magic leaks out. It’s a well-known fact. Or maybe some wizard pawned it. Don’t look a gift rat in the mouth. Can you play a guitar?”
    Imp went pale.
    “You mean like…follk music?”
    He took the instrument. Folk music was not approved of in Llamedos, and the singing of it was rigorously discouraged; it was felt that anyone espying a fair young maiden one morning in May was entitled to take whatever steps he considered appropriate without someone writing it down. Guitars were frowned upon as being, well…too easy.
    Imp struck a chord. It created a sound quite unlike anything he’d heard before—there were resonances and odd echoes that seemed to run and hide among the instrumental debris and pick up additional harmonics and then bounce back again. It made his spine itch. But you couldn’t be even the worst musician in the world without some kind of instrument…
    “Right,” said Glod. He turned to the old woman.
    “You don’t call this a music instrument, do you?” he demanded. “Look at it, half of it’s not even there.”
    “Glod, I don’t think—” Imp began. Under his hand the strings trembled.
    The old woman looked at the thing.
    “Ten dollars,” she said.
    “Ten dollars? Ten dollars? ” said Glod. “It’s not worth two dollars!”
    “That’s right,” said the old woman. She brightened up a bit in a nasty way, as if looking forward to a battle in which no expense would be spared.
    “And it’s ancient,” said Glod.
    “Antique.”
    “Would you listen to that tone? It’s ruined.”
    “Mellow. You don’t get craftsmanship like that these days.”
    “Only because we’ve learned from experience!”
    Imp looked at the thing again. The strings resonated by themselves. They had a blue tint to them and a slightly fuzzy look, as though they never quite stopped vibrating.
    He lifted it close to his mouth and whispered, “Imp.” The strings hummed.
    Now he noticed the chalk mark. It was almost faded. And all it was, was a mark. Just a stroke of the chalk…
    Glod was in full flow. Dwarfs were said to be keenest of financial negotiators, second only in acumen and effrontery to little old ladies. Imp tried to pay attention to what was going on.
    “Right, then,” Glod was saying. “It’s a deal, yes?”
    “A deal,” said the little old lady. “And don’t go spitting on your hand before we shake, that sort of thing’s unhygienic.”
    Glod turned to Imp. “I think I handled that pretty well,” he said.
    “Good. Listen, this is a very—”
    “Got twelve dollars?”
    “What?”
    “Something of a bargain, I think.”
    There was a thump behind them. Lias appeared, rolling a very large drum and carrying a couple of cymbals under his arm.
    “I said I’d got no money!” hissed Imp.
    “Yes, but…well, everyone says they’ve got no money. That’s sense. You don’t want to go around saying you’ve got money. You mean you’ve really got no money?”
    “No!”
    “Not even twelve dollars?”
    “No!”
    Lias dumped the drum, the cymbals, and a pile of sheet music on the counter.
    “How much for everything?” he said.
    “Fifteen dollars,” said the old woman.
    Lias sighed and straightened up. There was a distant look in his eyes for a moment, and then he hit himself on the jaw. He fumbled around inside his mouth for a moment and then produced—
    Imp stared.
    “Here, let me have a look,” said Glod. He snatched the thing from Lias’s unprotesting fingers and examined it carefully. “Hey! Fifty carats at least!”
    “I’m not taking that ,” said the old woman. “It’s been in a troll’s mouth!”
    “You eat eggs, don’t you?” said Glod. “Anyway, everyone knows troll’s teeth are pure diamond.”
    The old woman took the tooth and examined it by candlelight.
    “If I took it along to one of those jewelers in Nonesuch Street, they’d tell me it’s worth two hundred dollars,” said Glod.
    “Well, I’m telling you it’s worth fifteen right here,” said the old lady. The diamond magically disappeared somewhere about her person. She gave them a bright, fresh smile.
    “ Why couldn’t we just take it off her?” said Glod, when they were outside.
    “Because she’s a poor defenseless old woman,” said Imp.
    “Exactly! My point exactly!”
    Glod looked up at Lias.
    “You got a whole mouthful of them