Soul Music: A Novel of Discworld

Soul Music: A Novel of Discworld

Terry Pratchett

Language: English

Pages: 432

ISBN: 0062237411

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


When her dear old Granddad— the Grim Reaper himself—goes missing, Susan takes over the family business. The progeny of Death's adopted daughter and his apprentice, she shows real talent for the trade. That is, until a little string in her heart goes "twang."

With a head full of dreams and a pocketful of lint, Imp the Bard lands in Ankh-Morpork, yearning to become a rock star. Determined to devote his life to music, the unlucky fellow soon finds that all his dreams are coming true. Well almost.

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exist,” she said. “You’re just a piece of cheese.” SQUEAK? When the creature was sure it had got her full attention, it pulled out a tiny hourglass on a silver chain and pointed at it urgently. Against all rational considerations, Susan reached down and opened her hand. The thing climbed onto it—its feet felt like pins—and looked at her expectantly. Susan lifted it up to eye level. All right, perhaps it was a figment of her imagination. She ought to take it seriously. “You’re not going to

measure of infinity, it hardly existed at all. On average, considered over the lifetime of the multiverse, most things didn’t. She stepped forward. The heavy oak door offered as much resistance as a shadow. Grieving relatives were clustered around the bed where, almost lost in the pillows, was a wrinkled old man. At the foot of the bed, paying no attention whatsoever to the keening around it, was a large, very fat, ginger cat. SQUEAK. Susan looked at the hourglass. The last few grains tumbled

as they sat down. “What’s three times seventy-five dollars?” “Many dollars,” said Lias. “More than two hundred dollllars,” said Imp. “I don’t think I’ve even seen two hundred dollars,” said Glod. “Not while I’ve been awake.” “We raise money?” said Lias. “We can’t raise money by being musicians,” said Imp. “It’s the Guild law. If they catch you they take your instrument and shove—” He stopped. “Let’s just say it’s not much fun for the piccollo pllayer,” he added from memory. “I shouldn’t

LIFE. I CAN ONLY GRANT … EXTENSION. CHANGELESSNESS. ONLY HUMANS CAN GIVE LIFE. AND THEY WANTED TO BE HUMAN, NOT IMMORTAL. IF IT HELPS YOU, THEY DIED INSTANTLY. INSTANTLY. I’ve got to ask, Susan thought. I’ve got to say it. Or I’m not human. “I could go back and save them …?” Only the faintest tremor suggested that the statement was a question. SAVE? FOR WHAT? A LIFE THAT HAS RUN OUT? SOME THINGS END. I KNOW THIS. SOMETIMES I HAVE THOUGHT OTHERWISE. BUT … WITHOUT DUTY, WHAT AM I? THERE HAS TO

Caroc card,” said Hibiscus indisctinctly. “That’s Death!” “That’s right. He’s the one on the white horse. You can’t miss him. Only he wouldn’t look like that in here, I expect.” “Let me get this straight,” said the landlord, trying desperately to wriggle out of the iron grip. “You want me to tell you if I’ve seen someone who doesn’t look like that?” “He’d have been odd. Odder than most.” Albert thought for a moment. “And he’d have drunk a lot, if I know him. He always does.” “This is

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