Hogfather

YOU ARE A MACHINE . T HINGS HAVE NO DESIRES . A DOORKNOB WANTS NOTHING, EVEN THOUGH IT IS A COMPLEX MACHINE .
    +++ All Things Strive +++
    Y OU HAVE A POINT , said Death. He thought of tiny red petals in the black depths, and read to the end of the list.
    I DON’T KNOW WHAT MOST OF THESE THINGS ARE . I DON’T THINK THE SACK WILL, EITHER .
    +++ I Regret This +++
    B UT WE WILL DO THE BEST WE CAN , Said Death. F RANKLY , I SHALL BE GLAD WHEN TONIGHT’S OVER . I T’S MUCH HARDER TO GIVE THAN TO RECEIVE . He rummaged in his sack. L ET ME SEE …H OW OLD ARE YOU ?

    Susan crept up the stairs, one hand on the hilt of the sword.
    Ponder Stibbons had been worried to find himself, as a wizard, awaiting the arrival of the Hogfather. It’s amazing how people define roles for themselves and put handcuffs on their experience and are constantly surprised by the things a roulette universe spins at them. Here am I, they say, a mere wholesale fish monger, at the controls of a giant airliner because as it turns out all the crew had the Coronation Chicken. Who’d have thought it? Here am I, a housewife who merely went out this morning to bank the proceeds of the Playgroup Association’s Car Boot Sale, on the run with one million in stolen cash and a rather handsome man from the Battery Chickens’ Liberation Organization. Amazing! Here am I, a perfectly ordinary hockey player, suddenly realizing I’m the Son of God with five hundred devoted followers in a nice little commune in Empowerment, Southern California. Who’d have thought it?
    Here am I, thought Susan, a very practically minded governess who can add up faster upside down than most people can the right way up, climbing up a tooth-shaped tower belonging to the Tooth Fairy and armed with a sword belonging to Death…
    Again! I wish one month, just one damn month , could go by without something like this happening to me.
    She could hear voices above her. Someone said something about a lock.
    She peered over the edge of the stairwell.
    It looked as though people had been camping out up here. There were boxes and sleeping rolls strewn around. A couple of men were sitting on boxes watching a third man who was working on a door in one curved wall. One of the men was the biggest Susan had ever seen, one of those huge fat men who contrive to indicate that a lot of the fat under their shapeless clothes is muscle. The other—
    “Hello,” said a cheerful voice by her ear. “What’s your name?”
    She made herself turn her head slowly.
    First she saw the gray, glinting eye. Then the yellow-white one with the tiny dot of a pupil came into view.
    Around them was a friendly pink and white face topped by curly hair. It was actually quite pretty, in a boyish sort of way, except that those mismatched eyes staring out of it suggested that it had been stolen from someone else.
    She started to move her hand but the boy was there first, dragging the sword scabbard out of her belt.
    “Ah, ah!” he chided, turning and fending her off as she tried to grab it. “Well, well, well. My word. White bone handle, rather tasteless skull and bone decoration…Death himself’s second favorite weapon, am I right? Oh, my! This must be Hogswatch! And this must mean that you are Susan Sto-Helit. Nobility. I’d bow,” he added, dancing back, “but I’m afraid you’d do something dreadful—”
    There was a click, and a little gasp of excitement from the wizard working on the door.
    “Yes! Yes! Left-handed using a wooden pick! That’s simple !”
    He saw that even Susan was looking at him, and coughed nervously.
    “Er, I’ve got the fifth lock open, Mister Teatime! Not a problem! They’re just based on Woddeley’s Occult Sequence! Any fool could do it if they knew that!”
    “ I know it,” said Teatime, without taking his eyes off Susan.
    “Ah…”
    It was not technically audible, but nevertheless Susan could almost hear the wizard’s mind back-pedaling. Up ahead was the conclusion that Teatime had no time for people he didn’t need.
    “…with…inter…est…ing subtleties,” he said slowly. “Yes. Very tricky. I’ll, er, just have a look at number six…”
    “How do you know who I am?” said Susan.
    “Oh, easy ,” said Teatime. “ Twurp’s Peerage . Family motto Non temetis messor . We have to read it, you know, in class. Hah, old Mericet calls it the Guide to the Turf. No one laughs except him, of course. Oh, yes, I know about you. Quite a lot. Your father was well known.