"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 favorite 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 remembered about the rat, and it hasn't even happ-" 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 BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND IT. SOUL HARMONICS. IT'S RESPONSIBLE FOR SO MANY THINGS. 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, granddad?"

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...GRANDDAD?

"Oh, no. That's can't be right. That's just a figure of speech. And what's wrong with granddad?"

GRANDFATHER I CAN LIVE WITH. GRANDDAD? 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 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- 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. 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 am a human." a human."

I DIDN'T SAY IT WAS GOING TO BE EASY, DID I? DON'T THINK ABOUT IT. DON'T FEEL FEEL.

"You're an expert, are you?" said Susan hotly.

I MAY HAVE ALLOWED MYSELF SOME FLICKER OF EMOTION IN THE RECENT PAST, said Death, BUT I CAN GIVE IT UP ANY TIME I LIKE.

He held up the hourglass again.

IT'S AN INTERESTING FACT THAT MUSIC, BEING OF ITS NATURE IMMORTAL, CAN SOMETIMES PROLONG THE LIFE OF THOSE INTIMATELY ASSOCIATED WITH IT, he said. I'VE NOTICED THAT FAMOUS COMPOSERS IN PARTICULAR HANG ON FOR A LONG TIME. DEAF AS POSTS, MOST OF THEM, WHEN I COME CALLING. I EXPECT SOME GOD SOMEWHERE FINDS THAT VERY VERY AMUSING. Death contrived to look disdainful. IT'S THEIR KIND OF JOKE. AMUSING. Death contrived to look disdainful. IT'S THEIR KIND OF JOKE.*

He set the glass down and twanged it with a bony digit.

It went whauuummmmeeee-chida-chida-chida whauuummmmeeee-chida-chida-chida.

HE HAS NO LIFE. HE HAS MUSIC.

"Music's taken him over?"

YOU COULD PUT IT LIKE THAT.

"Making his life longer?"

LIFE IS EXTENSIBLE. IT HAPPENS ALL THE TIME AMONG HUMANS. NOT OFTEN. USUALLY TRAGICALLY, IN A THEATRICAL KIND OF WAY. BUT THIS ISN'T ANOTHER HUMAN. THIS IS MUSIC.

"He played something, on some sort of stringed instrument like a guitar-"

Death turned.

INDEED? WELL, WELL, WELL...

"Is that important?"

IT IS...INTERESTING."

"Is it something I should know?"

IT IS NOTHING IMPORTANT. A PIECE OF MYTHOLOGICAL DEBRIS. MATTERS WILL RESOLVE THEMSELVES; YOU MAY DEPEND UPON IT.

"What do you mean, resolve themselves?"

HE WILL PROBABLY BE DEAD IN A MATTER OF DAYS.

Susan stared at the lifetimer.

"But that's dreadful!"

ARE YOU ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WITH THE YOUNG MAN?.

"What? No! I've only ever seen him once!"

YOUR EYES DIDN'T MEET ACROSS A CROWDED ROOM OR ANYTHING OF THAT NATURE?

"No! Of course not."

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE, THEN?.

"Because he matt-because he's a human being, that's why," said Susan, surprised at herself. "I don't see why people should be messed around like that," she added lamely. "That's all. Oh, I don't know."

He leaned down again until his skull was on a level with her face.

BUT MOST PEOPLE ARE RATHER STUPID AND WASTE THEIR LIVES. HAVE YOU NOT SEEN THAT? HAVE YOU NOT LOOKED DOWN FROM THE HORSE AT A CITY AND THOUGHT HOW MUCH IT RESEMBLED AN ANT HEAP, FULL OF BLIND CREATURES WHO THINK THEIR MUNDANE LITTLE WORLD IS REAL? YOU SEE THE LIGHTED WINDOWS AND WHAT YOU WANT WANT TO THINK IS THAT THERE MUST BE MANY INTERESTING STORIES BEHIND THEM, BUT WHAT YOU TO THINK IS THAT THERE MUST BE MANY INTERESTING STORIES BEHIND THEM, BUT WHAT YOU KNOW KNOW IS THAT REALLY THERE ARE JUST DULL, DULL SOULS, MERE CONSUMERS OF FOOD, WHO THINK THEIR INSTINCTS ARE EMOTIONS AND THEIR TINY LIVES OF MORE ACCOUNT THAN A WHISPER OF WIND. IS THAT REALLY THERE ARE JUST DULL, DULL SOULS, 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 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." 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 scared to change the world?" to change the world?"

Death turned. The very sight of his expression made Susan back away.

He advanced slowly toward her. His voice, when it came, was a hiss.

YOU SAY THAT TO ME? ME? YOU STAND THERE IN YOUR PRETTY DRESS AND SAY THAT TO YOU STAND THERE IN YOUR PRETTY DRESS AND SAY THAT TO ME? ME? YOU? YOU PRATTLE ON ABOUT CHANGING THE WORLD? COULD YOU FIND THE COURAGE TO ACCEPT IT? TO KNOW WHAT YOU? YOU PRATTLE ON ABOUT CHANGING THE WORLD? COULD YOU FIND THE COURAGE TO ACCEPT IT? TO KNOW WHAT MUST BE DONE MUST BE DONE AND DO IT, WHATEVER THE COST? IS THERE ONE HUMAN ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD WHO KNOWS WHAT DUTY AND DO IT, WHATEVER THE COST? IS THERE ONE HUMAN ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD WHO KNOWS WHAT DUTY MEANS? 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."