Actually it was some time, a year or more, before she made the trip to America. She had wanted to go immediately, but had not felt free to desert her mother right after Pace's death, and then there had been requests for her music locally, and one thing led to another, the time frittering away. Then news had come of the Magician's death, and that shocked her into action, so that she completed her commitments in good order and made the trip at last. Perhaps, she thought, she simply hadn't wanted to let go of the last hope that her old life could be restored.
Luna lived in Kilvarough, the town that had imported the famous Irish ghost, Molly Malone. Orb mostly tuned out the journey across the wide sea, trying to focus on the future to avoid focusing on the past, and not succeeding any better than she usually did. Mym, Tinka, Orlene, Niobe, the hamadryad—all of these memories were painful because she knew she could never again know them as she had experienced them before.
But as she drew near, the thought of reuniting with Luna cheered her increasingly. With Luna, she knew, she could truly share, because of their closeness and the mutual spells of protection and immunity to having their futures read. The Magician, Luna's father, had gone to a lot of trouble to cloud their futures; now she wondered why. She also wondered about the news that Luna was dating Thanatos, the Incarnation of Death; that sounded grim indeed, and perhaps was one of the considerations that had contributed to Orb's delay. No, that dating had begun after the Magician's death; she was getting things confused.
Still, she remembered the old prophecy, dating from before their births: that Luna might marry Death, and Orb might marry Evil. Nonsense, of course; surely a Gypsy fortune telling, and though the Gypsies, as she well knew, could prophecy with the best, they tended to slough off when the matter was not important. Probably someone had made up something dramatic for the benefit of what she took to be a gullible tourist, and later the Magician, annoyed by that, had banned any further predictions. Certainly Orb had never had any truck with evil, and never would! Still, if Luna was actually doing it...
Luna met her at the airport. At first Orb didn't recognize her. Then, shocked, she exclaimed: "Luna! What have you done with your hair?" For Luna's clover-honey tresses had changed to chestnut brown, completely transforming her appearance. She was still beautiful, but different.
"Father made me do it," Luna said. "He wouldn't say why. But this is the way it must be for the rest of my life."
"What an odd thing! And is it true that you are—?"
"Taking up with Death?" Luna laughed. She was obviously in excellent health, not likely to die at all soon. "Yes, it is true; you'll meet him soon enough."
They took a taxi carpet to Luna's residence, which was an elegant mini-estate, fenced in, guarded by two lean and hungry griffins. They charged up as the carpet drew close, half-spreading their wings, but relaxed when they recognized Luna. She paid the carpenter, and the two of them entered the iron gate.
Orb was a bit nervous about the griffins, but Luna merely introduced her to them, and that was sufficient. It was evident that they attacked only strangers.
The interior of the house was very nice. "Oh, you are painting again!" Orb exclaimed, recognizing the pictures on the walls.
"It's one way of easing the loneliness since my father died," Luna said.
"How—if I may ask—?"
"He arranged it so that Thanatos would have to collect him personally, and then he offered me to Thanatos."
"He what!"
"He wanted me to be friends with the Incarnation of Death," Luna said, as if this were routine. "I didn't understand at first, but later I did. It seems that I am to have an important role in a confrontation between God and Satan about twenty years hence, so Satan naturally wishes to eliminate me before then, and only Thanatos can protect me."
"But what a cynical—what a horror!"
Luna shook her head. "No. Thanatos is a decent man. I have asked him to visit later today, so you can meet him."
"So you—you are satisfied to associate with Death?" Orb asked, accepting this with difficulty.
"I think I would marry him, if that were feasible. But it seems not to be, so we merely associate."
Orb decided not to question that further. She had known Luna well, but wasn't sure how well she knew her now.
"And you," Luna said warmly. "What have you been up to these past three years?"
Orb told her. She found herself hesitant to mention the baby, but also unable to refrain.
"A baby!" Luna exclaimed. "How wonderful!"
"Illegitimate," Orb reminded her. "Given away for adoption."
"A baby!" Luna repeated, as if this were the greatest possible accomplishment!
"Niobe doesn't know."
"I'll say nothing. But how wonderful to have had the experience!"
Orb realized that Luna faced slight prospect of having a family. Viewed that way, it was indeed a lucky thing to have done. Pressed by Luna, Orb described the baby in detail, and it did seem to make the burden of the loss easier to live with.
They had a meal, still talking, catching up on things, and it was generally wonderful. They had been so close for so many years, almost like twins, and it was good to be close now. Every so often they laughed for inadequate reason, cried for similar reason, and hugged each other, girls again.
Then Thanatos arrived. He was a black-cloaked figure whose face was a skull and whose hands were bones. Orb was awed—but then he laid back his grim hood and manifested as an ordinary young man, quite flesh and blood. "But he really is the Incarnation of Death," Luna reminded her. "He collects souls and guides them to their proper destinations, in the difficult cases."
Orb had no comment to make. Thanatos filled in with a question of his own. "I understand you are musical, Orb. Do you plan to perform here?"
"I'm really looking for the Llano," Orb said, still reticent in the presence of this odd figure. "I suppose I might perform, too."
"Perhaps you could travel with a group, as you did in India," Luna said. "One that goes where you want to go."
"I suppose I should," Orb agreed vaguely.
"I encountered a group that might use a competent addition," he said.
"Oh?" Orb found herself interested. Certainly she had to travel, and certainly she didn't want to do it alone. "What group?"
"They call themselves the Livin' Sludge. They started in Miami, but now they accept engagements elsewhere and seem to want to go on a tour, but have some difficulty obtaining suitable bookings."
"No wonder, with a name like that!" Orb exclaimed.
"Groups run to names like that here," Luna advised her gently.
Orb shrugged. "Are they good musicians?"
"I am not a proper judge," Thanatos said. "But when they did a command performance for me, assisted by a girl from a neighboring choir, it was a considerable production. I suspect they wish to duplicate that experience, but are not sure how. They seem competent as performers, but it is magic they seek, and that is harder to achieve."
"I have magic," Orb said.
"So I understand. It is possible that you could be the element they need for the type of success they seek. I should warn you that they have some problems with drugs, which they are trying to eliminate."
"Through music?"
"Would this piece you mention—I am not familiar with it—would it help them?"
"The Llano? I think it would, if they could find it. The Gypsies call it the universal absolver. But if I knew how to find it, I would do so forthwith."
"Then perhaps you could search for it together."
"Perhaps we could!" Orb agreed, abruptly liking the notion. To be with a group that was searching for the same thing she was—that could be wonderful! "Can you put me in touch with them?"
"I can take you to them, if you wish."
Orb had an abrupt second thought. "You say they are addicts? Of what?"
"What they call 'H,' enchanted for greater potency. It isn't really the same kind of thing that is historically known, but a designer drug that emulates heroin, extraordinarily addictive. They believe that the right music can relieve them of the craving. They do not appear to be bad people, merely ones who have fallen into unfortunate habits."
"But heroin! What real hope for reform can there be?"
Thanatos shrugged. "My own balance of evil approached fifty per cent when I attempted suicide, but my new mission has given me strength. I think reform is possible, given the right motivation and circumstance."
"My own evil threatened to overwhelm me," Luna said. "Yet it seems that I am fated to play a key role in the salvation of mankind. I, too, find it necessary to believe that salvation is possible for anyone who really makes the attempt."
Orb had another thought. "You can judge the amount of evil in a person? I mean, not a dead soul?"
"I can," Thanatos agreed.
"I—" Now she found herself shy. "Could you—would you—?"
"Read your balance?" he finished. "This I can do. But I regard it as a private matter. Are you sure you wish it?"
"I have no secrets from Luna. Can you do it here, now?"
"He can," Luna said.
"I'd really like to know."
"As you wish." Thanatos reached into a fold of his cloak and brought forth two cabochons—polished, half-rounded stones. One was light, the other dark.
He brought the light one near Orb, passing it along her body from head to foot at a distance of a few centimeters. It flickered as it moved. With each flicker it became brighter, until at last it shone like a little moon.
Then he used the dark one in the same manner. It, too, flickered, but it became darker as it did so, until it was completely dull, with no shine at all.
Thanatos set the two stones together, and they merged, forming a ball. The flat planes of their bottom sides seemed to curve, forming a yin-yang shape.
He let the ball go. It floated upward, until it threatened to rise out of reach. He reached up and caught it. "Your balance is positive," he said. "But there is a significant amount of evil on your soul. You have done something you should not have."
Luna was silent, not divulging Orb's secret. But Orb decided to reveal it herself. "I had an affair," she said.
Thanatos nodded. "That is evil, by the current definition."
"And I had a baby. Illegitimate."
"That is greater evil. But I think not enough to account for the amount you show."
"I did not tell my mother."
"That accounts for it," he said.
"Do you condemn me for that?" she asked, somehow wanting his acceptance.
"No. I killed my own mother, and Luna deceived her father. We understand these things. But the definitions of good and evil were set up before our time, and they are the ones that prevail. It is not necessary for Incarnations to agree with the prevailing rules; it is only necessary for us to implement them. By the old definitions, you have sinned grievously, and your soul is weighted accordingly; by my definition you have sinned only if you caused unnecessary pain to an innocent person. Did you do that?"
"I caused my lover pain, because he had to separate from me."
"Were you the agent of that separation?"
"No."
"Then that sin is not yours, by definition. But my definition is meaningless; I do not make the rules."
"Still, I feel reassured."
"It is reassuring to know Thanatos and to understand him," Luna said.
"Yes. I am coming to understand that." For the man who held the office of Death was evidently a decent person, one it could be possible to love—and Luna did love him. That portion of the prophecy seemed to be true: Luna might marry Death. But the other, that Orb might marry Evil—could this be the start of the shifting of her balance toward total evil? She shuddered.
But perhaps if she found the Llano first, she would be able to avert that horror. That made the search more urgent. "Let's go see the Livin' Sludge," she said abruptly.
"Take her," Luna said to Thanatos.
He nodded. "Mortis is outside."
"Who?" Orb asked.
"His steed," Luna explained. "You'll like Mortis." She seemed amused.
"Oh—a horse." Orb was relieved.
She followed Thanatos out. Evidently Luna was not coming along. Maybe the horse could carry double but not triple. What had Luna found so funny?
A pale sedan was parked nearby. The two griffins lay beside it, almost as if guarding it, unless they liked the company of such machines. Thanatos went to this. He opened the door.
"This car? But Luna said—" Orb was confused. "This is Mortis."
"But—"
Thanatos had drawn his cowl back over his head. The skull-face grinned. "Show her, Mortis."
The car changed. Its wheels stretched down, its hood stretched up, and its body reconvoluted. In a moment the vehicle had become a handsome pale horse.
Orb stared. Then she laughed. No wonder Luna had been amused! She had known about this.
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.
"Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling From glen to glen, and down the mountain side. And from the trees, the leaves, the leaves are falling; 'Tis you, 'tis you must go, and I must bide."
There seemed to be an electricity as the song progressed and the magic took hold. The drummer and Lou-Mae were staring at each other as if genuinely loath to part. Mountains seemed to form, and the sound of the pipes that the organist made seemed to echo across them. A breeze stirred the imagined trees, and leaves tumbled down, for it was autumn. The same breeze stirred Lou-Mae's dress and hair, and she was lovely.
As the song ended, something snapped. The drummer stepped forward, and Lou-Mae met him halfway, and they embraced as if drawn together by irresistible magnetism, and kissed, long and deep. Then he hauled himself away, dramatically reluctant, and stumbled down the hill, while she watched, sobbing. They knew they would never be together again.
The music ended, and they came out of it. "Geez," the guitarist said. "I'd a sworn you two was in love!"
"I guess I thought I was, for a moment," the drummer said, reappearing from the next room. He looked at Lou-Mae. "Am, maybe."
She dropped her gaze shyly. "Maybe," she agreed, wiping away her tears. She was evidently shaken.
"I will check her schedule," a new voice said.
Startled, they looked. There stood Luna and an older man. "This is the director of the Kilvarough Arts Center," Luna said. "I asked him to come here to audition you, and we decided not to interrupt."
"We definitely want you," the director said. "I believe there is an open date in two months. We are a public service organization, so we can not afford more than a nominal gratuity, but the exposure is excellent. If your group is amenable—"
"They are amenable," Luna said.
"I shall be in touch shortly," the director said. Luna escorted him out.
"Arts Center?" the organist asked.
"That would be a most prestigious engagement," Orb said. "After a successful performance there, it should be possible to get bookings almost anywhere else."
"That's great!" the organist said. "But all we got is one song! How we gonna do a full show?"
"I think we shall have to work out other pieces," Orb said. "Perhaps some solo renditions, interspersing the group efforts."
"I guess," the organist said. He looked at the drummer for agreement, but the drummer was locked in a gaze with Lou-Mae, oblivious.
"I think we have started something," Orb remarked.
"But we got a gig!" the guitarist said gleefully.
"Let's see to it that we are ready for it."
"But you know, we gotta stay somewhere—I mean, a month—"
"I suspect my cousin will arrange something."
Her confidence was justified. Luna found lodging for them all. They practiced diligently, working out new songs and new skits, fashioning a variety program from parts that had just one thing in common—magic. As they worked together, they came to know each other and to respect one another's qualities. The drummer and Lou-Mae were definitely a couple, but Orb made it plain that however much she might respect the music they were creating, she had no interest in any romantic attachment with any of the boys.
When the time of the performance came, the audience chamber was only a quarter full. "This is typical," the director confided. "There is not any great support for the arts today, alas."
"It's still a damn sight bigger than anything we've seen before," the drummer said. Then, embarrassed: "Delete that; I mean we never had a big crowd."
They started their performance. The audience seemed not particularly impressed—until the first note sounded, and the magic spread out. Then the people were rapt. All coughing ceased, all motion; it was as if statues sat in every chair.
After the intermission, there were substantially more people attending, and more filtered in, until at the end the hall was better than half filled. "That has never happened before," the director confided.
Next morning the reviews appeared. It seemed that several of the city's critics had hastened to the hall and taken in at least part of the performance. Orb read, and felt dizzy. "Can this be us?" she asked.
"It's the wildest praise any local performance has ever had," Luna assured her. "They felt the magic; mere expertise would never have moved them like this."
In the afternoon the offers started coming in. Cities all over the country were asking for the Livin' Sludge, and offering fees that left the boys' mouths hanging open.
The group was on its way.
