Selecting the Instruments pt. 2


Apologies for the shortness of the chapter. The next one may, in fact, be even shorter. Sorry.


-Susan-


Susan's black button boots clicked on the cobbles as she hurried across Pon's Bridge. She walked quickly down Sheer Street, right into Morphic Street, and left to Barking Will Gravy's shop in Sensible Alley. Madam Frout's Academy was closer to more reputable shops, but Barking Will's were cheaper, and Madam Frout still refused give her a raise, no matter how many times Susan used the Voice.

She swung the door open, and saw Will, who cringed visibly. 'What?' he snapped.

Susan immediately recognized the signs of a Will who had been accosted with mention of weasels or things that went bloop. Poor man, she thought.

'Are you alright, Will?'

'Fine!' he said with manic brightness. Though this was clearly not the case, Susan let it pass. 'How can I, hmm, help you, Miss Susan?'

'I want a guitar. Six strings, sort of like a lute?'

'I know, hmm, exactly what you're after, Miss. I have a fine one right, hmm, here, if you'd care to take a look?' He indicated an instrument in the corner. Susan picked it up and turned it over in her hands, inspecting it. She brushed her fingers across the strings. The sound, though discordant, was pleasing. She really would have to investigate those 'chord' things.

'Do you have anything that tells you how to play it?' she asked.

'Well, Miss, we have a few, hmm, books, or of course I have a fine, hmm, imp with instructions and handy iconographs…'

'No, no, a book will be fine,' said Susan hurriedly. She'd had some unfortunate incidents with imps.

Will went into the back room. There were rustling noises. Glass smashed. There was a crash, a bang, and a loud screeching noise. Susan was faintly alarmed.

After a minute or two of absolute silence, Will emerged, panting, clutching a large, thin book. 'Here, Miss,' he said, struggling for breath. 'The best, hmm, book I have.'

'Thank you,' she said doubtfully. She flipped through it, noting the diagrams and simple instructions. She closed it.

'How much exactly do these come to, Will?' Susan took out her purse and shook the dust off it.

(To say that Susan was tight with a dollar would be an understatement. One comparable to saying that the Klu Klux Klan weren't particularly fond of black people, or that the Spanish Inquisition were a little bit unpleasant. It wasn't hugely unexpected. She was, after all, a teacher.)

'Eight dollars for the, hmm, guitar, and two for the, hmm, book, if you please, Miss,' Will stuttered. He cringed involuntarily. He was surprised to say the least when Miss Susan, usually tighter than a dwarf, money-wise, removed ten dollars from her small black purse and handed it over. She adjusted the guitar so it was under her arm and picked up the book with her other hand.

'Thank you, Will. If I need anything else I'll be certain to come back.' Susan pushed the door open and stepped out into the cold Ankh-Morpork night.

'Mad as a hatter,' muttered Susan under her breath, walking home quickly.