Like all girls and most women, Orb loved horses. She approached the handsome animal, extending her hand so he could sniff it. "Hello, Mortis," she said. "May I pet you?"
Mortis' ears perked forward. That meant a favorable reaction. She reached up slowly and petted him on the neck, on the side away from the mane. Then, unable to restrain herself, she stepped in close and hugged his neck. A horse was almost as wonderful as a baby!
Then Thanatos mounted and extended his skeletal hand to her. She took it, putting her left foot up into the available stirrup, and swung herself into the saddle ahead of him. It was an awkward maneuver, but she had learned it young. His arms came around her, but she trusted Luna to know her man, and knew that there would be no trouble.
Thanatos held her steady and spoke to Mortis. There were no reins. The horse took a step forward, paced by the two now-friendly griffins, and then leaped into the air, again paced by the griffins. The griffins had huge, beautiful wings, and the horse did not—yet all three were flying readily. Rather, the horse was galloping through the air, as if his hooves found purchase in it.
They charged upward into the sky. The griffins cried out in parting and turned to descend back toward the residence. It was evident that they would have loved to travel with the horse forever, but had guard duty to honor. Had Luna come, they could have come, too. Well, perhaps another time.
They moved above the occasional clouds, traveling generally south. Orb saw an airplane passing to the side. The horse seemed to be outdistancing it, yet no wind ruffled Orb's hair.
"How is it that we can travel so high and fast, yet feel no wind or cold?" she asked. "When I ride on my carpet I have to wear warm clothing." Of course her magic cloak took care of that, but the point was valid.
"The magic of the Incarnations is of a different order than that of mortal folk," Thanatos replied.
So it seemed! "And how is it that you are willing to perform such a mundane task as taking a mortal woman to see a mortal musical group?"
"It is not every woman who would love the minion of Death," he said. "Your cousin Luna is one."
And for Luna he would do anything. Perhaps it made sense. She concluded that it was best not to pry into that relationship.
"She says that there is no other like you for music," Thanatos continued after a pause.
"I don't know whether that is true, but I do have a talent," she said.
"I hope you find the group compatible."
"Thank you, Thanatos," she said, touched. Then Mortis started down, and the great city of Miami spread out beneath them. "How is it that no one stares at us?" Orb asked. "Few people care to observe the approach of Death." Answer enough! They dropped down to the streets, and the horse's hooves touched the pavement.
Then, abruptly, the two of them were sitting in the car. Mortis had changed form and was now driving along the street, in traffic.
They drew up at a slummish area of town. Thanatos opened the door and they got out. Orb heard music from a practice hall. Guitar, drum, electric organ—that seemed to be the extent of it, by the sound.
Several shaggy teenagers glanced up as they entered the hall. "Uh-oh," the drummer said. "He's here again!"
"Is your singer recovered?" Thanatos inquired. The drummer shook his head. "She's out of it. And we can't get decent bookings without her." He glanced sidelong at Thanatos. "You comin' for one of us this time?"
"No. I come to bring you a new member, perhaps." The teenagers relaxed. "You know, that black chick she was something! We never did a hymn before, but—" The drummer shook his head. "If you gave us her..."
"No. This is the one I bring." He indicated Orb. They focused on Orb. "Whatcha play?" the drummer asked, noting Orb's container. "A small harp."
"A what?"
Orb turned to Thanatos. "I'm not sure this is right. Maybe that black girl they mentioned would be better for them."
Thanatos considered. "I will inquire. Meanwhile, play for them."
Orb shrugged. She brought out her harp, set it up, settled herself on the floor, and started a song of Ireland. She let the magic spread out, touching them. But she noticed that Thanatos was walking out of the hall on his errand, evidently not touched. Of course he was an Incarnation, not subject to mortal effects; still, she was disappointed.
The members of the Livin' Sludge listened, entranced. When Orb concluded her song, they closed in about her. "Sheesh, woman!" the drummer said. "You're a pro! You want to join us!"
"I want to seek the Llano," she said.
"The what?"
"A magic song," she explained. "It is said to accomplish miraculous things, when properly sung."
"Like what?"
She told them some of the stories of the Llano she had heard. They listened attentively.
"This song," the drummer asked finally. "Do you think it could get a man off the shi—the stuff?"
"The stuff?"
"Spelled H," he said.
"Are you referring to a drug?" Of course Thanatos had explained this, but she felt it was better to get the news directly from them, so that there was no question of a violation of confidence.
"The drug," he agreed.
"I don't know. But I think so."
"Then we want the Llano!" he said.
"I don't know where to find it," Orb said. "I expect to have to travel."
The drummer glanced at the others. "We'll travel!"
"But we ain't in her class," the guitarist said.
Orb suspected that was an accurate assessment. But she did want to search for the song, and if these folk had a similar ambition, she wanted to consider the matter fairly. "Perhaps we should find out how we are together," she suggested.
"Sure, let's try it," the drummer said eagerly. He glanced about again. "You guys pick up on her tune?"
The organist touched his keyboard. The theme Orb had played sprang forth. The guitarist joined in. The drummer settled down to his drums, sounding a beat.
Orb nodded. These kids looked like the sludge they called themselves, but they were apt with their instruments. She began to play and sing herself.
The magic spread out, as before—but this time it touched the hands of the musicians, and amplified, and now it seemed that all of them had it. Just as the harp increased Orb's own magic, the instruments of the Livin' Sludge were providing magic for them. Orb had never noted this effect before—but of course she had never played with other instruments before. She was surprised and gratified.
The song ended. "Geez," the drummer said. "Like it was before!"
"I think we could—how do you put it—make it," Orb said, impressed.
"That's not exactly how we put it," the drummer said. "But for sure, we could be one hot sound!"
Their eyes were attracted to the entrance as Thanatos reappeared. The black girl was with him. She was young, perhaps sixteen, thin and pretty. "This is Lou-Mae," he said. "She sang with you once before."
"She sure did!" the drummer exclaimed, getting up to approach the girl.
"I—" the girl faltered. "I sure would like to—I never sang that kind before, but ever since, all I can remember is how it felt—"
"We know," the drummer said.
"When the preacher saw Death, he told me right off to go with him," the girl continued. "He knew I couldn't stay with the choir no more. But—" She looked at Orb. "You already got a singer?"
"Is there a limit?" Orb asked.
"Naw," the drummer said quickly. "If it flows with her, it flows. Let's give it a try."
They gave it a try. The girl did not know the Irish song, so they found one she did know, which Orb also knew, and tried it as a group.
It worked. The magic embraced the instruments and the voice of Lou-Mae, and an ordinary song became miraculous. Orb's voice had a different tonal quality from that of Lou-Mae, and the two fused in an intense harmony buttressed by the instruments.
It ended, after seeming timelessness. Thanatos nodded. "It seems you integrate," he said.
Lou-
Mae looked toward the door. An old black preacher stood there. "You go with them, girl," he said. "You got the callin'. I know God wants it that way. I'll square it with your folks." He departed.
"I guess we've got a group," the drummer said. "You two chicks want to travel with us, it sure—"
"Chicks?" Orb asked. "Baby birds?"
The three boys and Lou-Mae laughed. "Close enough," the drummer said. "But you know, we've got to get a gig, or it's nothing. We—you know, our rep isn't exactly what you'd call—"
"I will get you a performance," Thanatos said.
"Like before? In the street? That wasn't—"
"A regular engagement. I am sure Luna could arrange it."
"Who?"
"My cousin," Orb said. She and Luna seldom bothered to clarify the precise relationship between them, and "cousin" was a reasonable approximation. She turned to Thanatos. "But why should we impose on her? She isn't obliged to—"
"She asked me to."
So Luna was out to help Orb in a substantial way. Orb nodded to herself. She would have done the same for Luna.
Thanatos addressed the others. "If you will collect your instruments, I have transportation outside."
The drummer was startled. "Transport? Are we going somewhere?"
"To Kilvarough."
"But—"
Thanatos gazed directly at the drummer. The drummer paled. "Yeh, sure. We're going."
They trooped out to the street, where Mortis waited in automobile form. The drums and guitars and electric organ and electronic equipment were stacked in the trunk, which had ample room for them all, even though it hardly seemed large enough. Then the three youths got on the rear seat, and Orb and Lou-Mae took the middle seat, and Thanatos took the driver's seat.
Orb had not realized that the car had three seats, or that it was sized to carry six or more people in comfort. But of course she had not been paying attention to the vehicular aspect of Mortis.
The car moved out into traffic. "Ooops," Thanatos said. "I see I have a collection that should not wait. If you will excuse me, this will not take long."
No one objected. What could he mean by a "collection"?
The view outside the windows blurred. They seemed to be speeding through the countryside at a suicidal rate.
"Geez," one of the Sludge exclaimed. "We're goin' through stuff!"
So it seemed; trees, buildings, even a mountain passed in cutaway section as the car zoomed along on an even keel. Orb and Lou-Mae stared as raptly as did the boys. Orb saw the black girl cross herself.
As abruptly as it had begun, the blurring ended. The car was now proceeding along a country road. The scenery had changed completely.
"Say, where are we?" the guitarist asked, amazed.
"Portland," Thanatos replied.
"Geez! All the way to Maine, just like that?"
"Oregon," Thanatos said, perhaps smiling.
"Must be magic!"
"True."
The vehicle slowed, then stopped. An old woman was slumped over a table in the front yard of an isolated house. Thanatos got out, went to her, and put his hand into her body. He drew something out. It was invisible, but they all knew he was not pantomiming. He put the thing into a small bag he carried. Then he returned to the car.
"Heart attack," Thanatos said. "It wasn't right to let her suffer long."
"You mean she wasn't dead?" Lou-Mae asked.
"Not until I took her soul."
"You mean you have to take every soul of everybody who dies?"
"Only those in balance. Those who can not readily either rise or sink."
"Geez," the drummer said. "Guess we don't need to worry 'bout that. We know where we're goin'. Straight down."
"Not necessarily," Thanatos said.
"He can read your balance of good and evil," Orb said.
"Then he knows," the drummer said flatly.
The car was phasing cross-country again. "No," Thanatos said. "Only if I read you, and I do not do that gratuitously."
"You can tell if we're going to be saved?" Lou-Mae asked.
"No. I can only read the present balance. Your salvation depends on yourself."
"Would—would you read me?" she asked. "I know I've sinned—"
Thanatos turned in his seat, ignoring the driving, but the car seemed to know its own way. He brought out his two stones and passed them near her. The light one flashed often and glowed brightly; the dark one flashed only seldom and hardly darkened at all. "You are about ninety-five per cent good. You would have to sin continuously for some time before being in danger of Hell."
"But I get these real bad thoughts sometimes, and I just know—"
The drummer laughed. "Sister, if thoughts could do it, I'd be a cinder now! It only counts if you do it!"
"True," Thanatos said.
"But—"
"Read me," the drummer said. "I'll show you what black is!"
Thanatos oriented the stones on the drummer. Both the light and dark ones flashed. When he put them together, the ball slowly sank. "Your balance is negative, but not strongly so; right living can rectify it soon enough."
"But I'm into H!" the drummer protested. "Spelled H! We all are! That's damnation right there!"
"There is no absolute damnation," Thanatos said. "You must have redeeming qualities. I believe one of them showed when you helped Lou-Mae to find her place, when she sang with you the first time."
"Well I had to," the drummer protested. "She's a good girl! It wasn't right to mess her up."
"And so you appreciated good, and you did good. Thoughts don't count when they are not acted upon, but motive counts when you do take action. You helped her, from altruistic motive. You want to do right, and you do, do it when you have opportunity. That goes far to mitigate the evil of your lifestyle."
The drummer was amazed. "But I didn't do it because of my balance! I just—I mean, sometimes you just gotta do what's right. There's no choice in it, it's just the way it is."
"That is why it counts," Thanatos said, and turned back to the front.
"I don't get it," the drummer said. "If I had no choice, how can it count?"
"I think he means that another person might see it another way," Orb said. "Another might not choose to do what was right, or perhaps might not even see what was right. Your conscience gave you no choice, and that counted."
"Precisely," Thanatos said.
"Geez," the drummer said thoughtfully.
Now the vehicle was slowing again. It stopped—and there was Luna's estate.
They got out, and the Sludge unloaded their instruments. Orb had kept her harp with her, as she always did.
Then Mortis reverted to equine form and started grazing on the lush lawn.
The Sludge stared. "We were in a horse?" the drummer asked.
"In the rear of the horse," Lou-Mae said, stifling a laugh. Then her face straightened. "Oh, I shouldn't have said that; it's not nice."
"Chalk up one smidgeon of evil to your soul," the drummer said, laughing himself. "At that rate, you'll be damned in only three centuries!"
They trooped into the house, paced by the two griffins.
Luna took over. "I think you will want to clean up," she said. "And perhaps some new clothing. The facilities are that way." In a moment she had bustled the three boys off. The Livin' Sludge had struck Orb as a fairly ornery group, but the combination of Thanatos' office and Luna's certainty and their own desire for great music had rendered them docile. Probably it was their passion for music that accounted for the greater part of the good on their souls; that was sincere.
"And you," Luna said to Lou-Mae. "I believe I can put together a suitable outfit for you. This way." She led the girl away.
Orb was left with Thanatos. "How can she be so sure this will work, when she hasn't even heard us sing as a group?" she asked.
"She told me to bring them back only if it was good," Thanatos said. "She has connections; she will get an audition."
An hour
later the group reassembled. The three boys were clean and in new clothing, their hair combed; they looked amazingly presentable. Lou-Mae was stunning in a bright red dress, and a sparkling ruby in her hair.
"Oh, I forgot you," Luna said to Orb. "You can wear one of mine; we always wear the same size."
"Not any more, I fear," Orb said. She had forgotten to mention the magic cloak and didn't want to do it in public.
Sure enough, Orb's pregnancy had amplified her bosom somewhat. But Luna was ready to do some quick stitching on an elegant green dress, until Orb explained about the cloak, and duplicated it without stitching. Luna gave Orb an emerald for her hair, to match the color. Gems were one thing Luna had in quantity, both enchanted and mundane; she had inherited the Magician's collection. They were enchanted to return to her when their use was over, so she had no concern about loss or theft.
"Now find a suitable piece," Luna said, setting them up in a larger room. "I will see about the audition."
They discussed it, discovering to no one's surprise that they had few if any musical tastes in common. The boys knew modern acid, Lou-Mae knew black spirituals, and Orb knew Old World folk songs. "You mean to say that none of you know "Londonderry Air?" she asked in frustration. She had sung that with Mym, so now it had special meaning for her; she thought everyone in the world knew it.
"Never heard of it," the drummer said. "Maybe if you play a few bars..."
Orb did so. "Oh, 'Danny Boy'!" the drummer said. "I've heard that!"
"So have I," Lou-Mae said.
"Well, then... ?" Orb asked.
So they played with it and worked out an arrangement that suited them all. They practiced it, experimenting with harmonies. Orb sat with her harp, and Lou-Mae stood beside her, their dresses and gems brightly complementing each other.
"You know," the drummer said, "I heard once that it wasn't a chick saying good-bye to her man, but his older father. That sort of changes it."
"It is open to interpretation, of course," Orb said. "I always preferred to think of it as a farewell by a lady friend as Danny went off to war, a conscript. But I believe you are correct. Yet unless we had a male singer—"
"No, 'sokay," he said quickly. "But you know, if we could sort of act it out a little—"
They tried it. The drummer set aside his drums and posed as the young man, and Orb confined herself to her harp, not singing, leaving that to Lou-Mae. The two remaining Sludge and Orb played a preamble; then the drummer and Lou-Mae walked into the center. They paused there, facing each other, and Lou-Mae began to sing.