Pixel Mozart has a head so full of tunes that they keep spilling out faster than he can write them down. This evening, while the sun sinks behind the fortress on the hill, the little walnut harpsichord in his music room has finally had enough of waiting. It has grown a pair of white feathered wings, and every time he presses a key it gives a happy flap and lifts him a little higher over the green copper domes and twin spires of Salzburg, in what can only be called a Harpsichord Hover. Down below, the river glitters, the lamps come on one by one and the whole old town seems to hum along.
The town is getting ready for a grand evening concert, and pixel Mozart has promised a brand-new tune that does not exist on paper yet. The only way to finish it in time is to catch the golden quills drifting over the rooftops, each one carrying a few fresh notes, and scribble the melody before the candles in the hall are lit. But the sky is crowded with candle-lit bell towers, marble columns from the concert hall and heavy red theatre curtains. One clumsy flap and the music stops. How far can he fly before the first bow?
