Soul Music

expression made Susan back away.
    He advanced slowly toward 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 RESPONSIBLITY 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 onto 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?”
    “It’s bound to work,” said Glod. “It’s like…a coach. The more bits you take off, the faster it goes. Come on.”
    They set out. Buddy tried to look as inconspicuous as a human can look if he is accompanying a dwarf with a big horn, an ape, and a troll carrying a piano in a bag.
    “I’d like a coach,” said Cliff, as they headed for the Drum. “Big black coach with all dat liver on it.”
    “Liver?” said Buddy. He was beginning to get accustomed to the name.
    “Shields and dat.”
    “Oh. Livery.”
    “And dat.”
    “What’d you get if you had a pile of gold, Glod?” said Buddy. In its bag the guitar twanged gently to the sound of his voice.
    Glod hesitated. He wanted to say that for a dwarf the whole point of having a pile of gold was, well, to have a pile of gold. It didn’t have to do anything other than be just as oraceous as gold could be.
    “Dunno,” he said. “Never thought I’d have a pile of gold. What about you?”
    “I swore I’d be the most famous musician in the world.”
    “Dat’s dangerous, dat kinda swear,” said Cliff.
    “Oook.”
    “Isn’t it what every artist wants?” said Buddy.
    “In my experience,” said Glod, “what every true artist wants, really wants , is to be paid.”
    “And famous,” said Buddy.
    “Famous I don’t know about,” said Glod. “It’s hard to be famous and alive. I just want to play music every day and hear someone say, ‘Thanks, that was great, here is some money, same time tomorrow, okay?’”
    “Is that all?”
    “It’s a lot. I’d like people to say ‘we need a good horn man, get Glod Glodsson.’”
    “Sounds a bit dull,” said Buddy.
    “I like dull. It lasts.”
    They reached the side door of the Drum and entered a gloomy room that smelled of rats and second hand beer. There was a distant murmur of voices from the bar.
    “Sounds like there’s a lot of people in,” said Glod.
    Hibiscus bustled in. “You boys ready, then?” he said.
    “Hold on a minute,” said Cliff. “We ain’t discussed our pay.”
    “I said six dollars,” said Hibiscus. “What d’you expect? You aren’t Guild, and the Guild rate is eight dollars.”
    “We wouldn’t ask you for eight dollars,” said Glod.
    “Right!”
    “We’ll take sixteen.”
    “Sixteen? You can’t do that! That’s twice Guild rate!”
    “But there’s a lot of people out there,” said Glod. “I bet you’re renting a lot of beer. We don’t mind going home.”
    “Let’s talk about this,” said Hibiscus. He put his arm around Glod’s head and led him to a corner of the room.
    Buddy watched the Librarian examine the piano. He’d never seen a musician begin by trying to eat his instrument. Then the ape lifted the lid and regarded the keyboard. He tried a few notes, apparently for taste.
    Glod returned, rubbing his hands.
    “That’s sorted him out,” he said. “Hah!”
    “How much?” said Cliff.
    “Six dollars!” said Glod.
    There was some silence.
    “Sorry,” said Buddy. “We were waiting for the ‘-teen’.”
    “I had to be firm,” said Glod. “He got down to two dollars at one point.”

    Some religions say that the universe was started with a word, a song, a dance, a piece of