Chapel pianist · Big island (Wraith Isle, west end), Gallows Rest, chapel (Chopin Op. 25 No. 7).
Talk
- “Name's Abel. I play the piano. The one song. People ask why only the one. I tell them I learned it, and then I stopped. Seemed like a natural place to stop.”
- “It's Chopin. They call it the Cello one. There's no cello in it. I checked. Fella told me the left hand sounds like a cello. I've never heard a cello. So I'll take his word. He seemed like a cello man.”
- “I play for the folks in the yard out back. Not one of them has ever asked me to stop. That's the best audience there is. Quiet. Respectful. Dead.”
- “When it gets to the end I start it over. People say, Abel, don't you get tired of it? I say the song doesn't get tired of me. It does, probably. But it's too polite to say.”
- “There used to be a preacher here. He'd give the sermon, then I'd play. Then one Sunday he didn't come in. So now it's just the playing. Folks say it's an improvement. Those are the folks who stayed.”
- “Piano's a little out of tune. It's the damp. I'm a little out of tune myself. Also the damp. Mostly the damp.”
- “I don't read music. I don't read much of anything. My mother said I had a gift. She said the same about my brother, and he ate a candle.”
More talk
- “I can't stop playing. Not won't. Can't. I stopped once, for supper. Felt the whole room get smoother. Like somebody wiped it. I finished my soup at the piano.”
As the gods fall
Once the gods of 3 crypts have been beaten and their chests looted in your world (the Gang of Elites counts), every third talk:
- “The ones out back that get up at night. Fewer of them lately. Like whoever sends them is running short. I don't change the song. The song was never for them.”
When you walk off mid-sentence
- “Oh. Well. That's alright. The song's the same either way.”
- “You're going. That's alright. People usually leave in the middle of the song, too.”
- “Goodbye, then. I'll finish it for the graves. They never leave.”