Free Soul Music by Terry Pratchett

fall off, a saddle wouldn’t be any help. And reins would be about as much use as a rudder on a rock.
    She opened the door to the loose-box. Most horses won’t walk backwards voluntarily, because what they can’t see doesn’t exist. But Binky shuffled out by himself and walked over to the mounting block, where he turned and watched her expectantly.
    Susan climbed on to his back. It was like sitting on a table.
    â€˜All right,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t have to believe any of this, mind you.’
    Binky lowered his head and whinnied. Then he trotted out into the yard and headed for the field. At the gate he broke into a canter, and turned towards the fence.
    Susan shut her eyes.
    She felt muscles bunch under the velvet skin and then the horse was rising, over the fence, over the field.
    Behind it, in the turf, two fiery hoofprints burned for a second or two.
    As she passed above the school she saw a light flicker in a window. Miss Butts was on her rounds.
    There’s going to be trouble over this, Susan told herself.
    And then she thought: I’m on the back of a horse a hundred feet up in the air, being taken somewhere mysterious that’s a bit like a magic land with goblins and talking animals. There’s only so much more trouble I could get into . . .
    Besides, is riding a flying horse against school rules? I bet it’s not written down anywhere.
    Quirm vanished behind her, and the world opened up in a pattern of darkness and moonlight silver. A chequer-board pattern of fields strobed by in the moonlight, with the occasional light of an isolated farm. Ragged clouds whipped past and away.
    Away on her left the Ramtop Mountains were a cold white wall. On her right, the Rim Ocean carried a pathway to the moon. There was no wind, or even a great sensation of speed – just the land flashing by, and the long slow strides of Binky.
    And then someone spilled gold on the night. Clouds parted in front of her and there, spread below, was Ankh-Morpork – a city containing more Peril than even Miss Butts could imagine.
    Torchlight outlined a pattern of streets in which Quirm would have not only been lost, but mugged and pushed into the river as well.
    Binky cantered easily over the rooftops. Susan could hear the sounds of the streets, even individual voices, but there was also the great roar of the city, like some kind of insect hive. Upper windows drifted by, each one a glow of candlelight.
    The horse dropped through the smoky air and landed neatly and at the trot in an alley which was otherwise empty except for a closed door and a sign with a torch over it.
    Susan read:
    CURRY GARDENS
    Kitchren Entlance – Keep Out. Ris Means You.
    Binky seemed to be waiting for something.
    Susan had expected a more exotic destination.
    She knew about curry. They had curry at school, under the name of Bogey and Rice. It was yellow. There were soggy raisins and peas in it.
    Binky whinnied, and stamped a hoof.
    A hatch in the door flew open. Susan got a brief impression of a face against the fiery atmosphere of the kitchen.
    â€˜Ooorrh, nooorrrh! Binkorrr! ’
    The hatch slammed shut again.
    Obviously something was meant to happen.
    She stared at a menu nailed to the wall. It was misspelled, of course, because the menu of the folkier kind of restaurant always has to have misspellings in it, so that customers can be lured into a false sense of superiority. She couldn’t recognize the names of most of the dishes, which included:
    Curry with Vegetable 8p
    Curry with Sweat, and Sore Balls of Pig 10p
    Curry with Sweer and Sour, Ball of Fish 10p
    Curry with Meat 10p
    Curry with Named Meat 15p
    Extra Curry 5p
    Porn cracker 4p
    Eat It Here Or,
    Take It Away
    The hatch snapped open again and a large brown bag of allegedly but not really waterproof paper was dumped on the little ledge in front of it. Then the hatch slammed shut again.
    Susan reached out carefully. The smell rising from the