Free For Love of Evil by Piers Anthony Page A

were not apt; they merely went where directed, with the dogs confinning what scent there was, and inquired. Thus Parry had escaped, narrowly, twice.
     
    What could he do, against determination like that? They really wanted him dead!
     
    He knew what he had to do. He had to hide, long and well. To do that, his first step was to do no more magic. The magic he had used to help the villain woman had cost her life. Future magic would surely cost him his own life.
     
    How, then, would he survive? He had no money, no assets. He would soon enough starve, unless he found some gainful employment-and if there were a price on his head, how could he risk mat?
     
    Then he heard faint music. Someone was singing. The sound was strangely evocative. Parry paused to listen, though he feared that any delay was foolish. Then he walked toward the sound.
     
    It was a friar, a singing friar, with an alms bowl. He was begging musically for his breakfast. But his voice was strangely good; it was a pleasure to listen.
     
    Then it burst upon him: he. Parry, had an excellent voice! He could sing for his sustenance! Who would suspect a poor singing friar of being a sorcerer?
     
    He approached the friar. "Oh, holy man, I have heard your singing and admire it. What denomination are you?"
     
    "No denomination, my son," the man replied. "I am not a holy man, merely a member of the Brotherhood."
     
    Such a brotherhood might be easy to join. "Do you accept converts?"
     
    "We welcome them! Can you sing?"
     
    "Very well, Brother."
     
    "Let me hear you, then."
     
    Parry sang the refrain the friar had just rendered. He was apt at music, and could repeat anything he heard. He sang it well; indeed, surely better than the friar had heard it done before.
     
    "Come with me!" the friar exclaimed, excited.
     
    As they moved, they exchanged introductions. The friar was Brother Humble; he explained how they adopted appropriate names at the time they joined the group, to exemplify their intentions.
     
    "Then I think I would be Grief," Parry said without feeling any cleverness or delight.
     
    "As you wish. We do not inquire into our backgrounds; the name signifies the devotion."
     
    They went to the local Brotherhood headquarters, which was merely a stone and wood house of the type becoming common in towns: more permanent than the country cottages   but just as dirty. Another friar was there, introduced as Brother Lowly.
     
    "I would like to be called Grief," Parry said.
     
    Brother Lowly looked at him, nodding. "The mark of it is on you. Brother Grief."
     
    "Here we each contribute what little we have to the group, and take what little we need," Brother Humble explained.
     
    Parry took the hint. "I have this loaf of bread. I give it to the group."
     
    "Bless you. Brother," the man at the house said gratefully. "We knew the Lord would provide."
     
    Other friars appeared as if by magic. They shared the loaf, and soon it was gone.
     
    "Brother Grief has the finest voice I have heard," Brother Humble said. "I believe we should work as a group today, to show him our way, and to benefit from his ability."
     
    The others were agreeable, and so was Parry; this would be the perfect concealment.
     
    Then they found a bowl for Parry, and a hooded cloak, marking him as a lay friar. They went out into the town for the day's work.
     
    The routine was simple. Wherever there was a reasonable group of people, such as at a shopping mart, the monks would start singing, forming an impromptu chorus. Parry picked up their melodies quickly, and developed appropriate counter- points that amplified the effect.
     
    The result was dramatic. Parry had always had the ability to project his music, making it seem to the listener as if there were an accompaniment. Now, for the first time, he was using his talent for other than selfish purpose. Whether it was because of this, or because of the added feeling his grief lent to it, or because he was singing in company with others,