Hogfather

COMPLETELY KILLED . H E HAS BEEN, SHALL WE SAY, SEVERELY REDUCED .
    “Ye gods!” said Ridcully. “Who’d want to kill off the old boy?”
    H E HAS ENEMIES .
    “What did he do? Miss a chimney?”
    E VERY LIVING THING HAS ENEMIES .
    “What, everything?”
    Y ES . E VERYTHING . P OWERFUL ENEMIES . B UT THEY HAVE GONE TOO FAR THIS TIME . N OW THEY ARE USING PEOPLE .
    “Who are?”
    T HOSE WHO THINK THE UNIVERSE SHOULD BE A LOT OF ROCKS MOVING IN CURVES . H AVE YOU EVER HEARD OF THE A UDITORS ?
    “I suppose the Bursar may have done—”
    N OT AUDITORS OF MONEY . A UDITORS OF REALITY . T HEY THINK OF LIFE AS A STAIN ON THE UNIVERSE . A PESTILENCE . M ESSY . G ETTING IN THE WAY .
    “In the way of what?”
    T HE EFFICIENT RUNNING OF THE UNIVERSE .
    “I thought it was run for us…Well, for the Professor of Applied Anthropics, actually, but we’re allowed to tag along,” said Ridcully. He scratched his chin. “And I could certainly run a marvelous university here if only we didn’t have to have these damn students underfoot all the time.”
    Q UITE SO .
    “They want to get rid of us?”
    T HEY WANT YOU TO BE…LESS…DAMN , I’ VE FORGOTTEN THE WORD . U NTRUTHFUL ? T HE H OGFATHER IS A SYMBOL OF THIS …Death snapped his fingers, causing echoes to bounce off the walls, and added, WISTFUL LYING ?
    “Untruthful?” said Ridcully. “ Me ? I’m as honest as the day is long! Yes, what is it this time?”
    Ponder had tugged at his robe and now he whispered something in his ear. Ridcully cleared his throat.
    “I am reminded that this is in fact the shortest day of the year,” he said. “However, this does not undermine the point that I just made, although I thank my colleague for his invaluable support and constant readiness to correct minor if not downright trivial errors. I am a remarkably truthful man, sir. Things said at University council meetings don’t count.”
    I MEAN HUMANITY IN GENERAL . E R …T HE ACT OF TELLING THE UNIVERSE IT IS OTHER THAN IT IS ?
    “You’ve got me there,” said Ridcully. “Anyway, why’re you doing the job?”
    S OMEONE MUST . I T IS VITALLY IMPORTANT . T HEY MUST BE SEEN, AND BELIEVED . B EFORE DAWN, THERE MUST BE ENOUGH BELIEF IN THE H OGFATHER .
    “Why?” said Ridcully.
    S O THAT THE SUN WILL COME UP .
    The two wizards gawped at him.
    I SELDOM JOKE , said Death.
    At which point there was a scream of horror.
    “That sounded like the Bursar,” said Ridcully. “And he’s been doing so well up to now.”

    The reason for the Bursar’s scream lay on the floor of his bedroom.
    It was a man. He was dead. No one alive had that kind of expression.
    Some of the other wizards had got there first. Ridcully pushed his way through the crowd.
    “Ye gods,” he said. “What a face! He looks as though he died of fright! What happened?”
    “Well,” said the Dean, “as far as I can tell, the Bursar opened his wardrobe and found the man inside.”
    “Really? I wouldn’t have said the poor old Bursar was all that frightening.”
    “ No , Archchancellor. The corpse fell out on him.”
    The Bursar was standing in the corner, wearing his old familiar expression of good-humored concussion.
    “You all right, old fellow?” said Ridcully. “What’s eleven percent of 1,276?”
    “One hundred and forty point three six,” said the Bursar promptly.
    “Ah, right as rain,” said Ridcully cheerfully.
    “I don’t see why,” said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. “Just because he can do things with numbers doesn’t mean everything else is fine.”
    “Doesn’t need to be,” said Ridcully. “Numbers is what he has to do. The poor chap might be slightly yo-yo, but I’ve been reading about it. He’s one of these idiot servants.”
    “Savants,” said the Dean patiently. “The word is savants, Ridcully.”
    “Whatever. Those chaps who can tell you what day of the week the first of Grune was a hundred years ago—”
    “—Tuesday—” said the Bursar.
    “—but can’t tie their boot laces,” said Ridcully. “What was a corpse doing in his wardrobe? And no one is to say ‘Not a lot,’ or anythin’ tasteless like that. Haven’t had a corpse in a wardrobe since that business with Archchancellor Buckleby.”
    “We all warned Buckleby that the lock was too stiff,” said the Dean.
    “Just out of interest, why was the Bursar fiddling with his wardrobe at this time of night?” said Ridcully.
    The wizards looked sheepish.
    “We were…playing Sardines,