Hogfather

that pipe shop in Honey Trap Lane! In Ankh-Morpork! I buy my tobacco there! Old Thimble is always moaning about the rent, too!”
    “Ah. So you opened the strongboxes,” said Teatime pleasantly.
    “Well…yes…”
    “Fine. Fine,” said Teatime. “I didn’t ask you to, but…fine, fine. And how did you think the Tooth Fairy made her money? Little gnomes in some mine somewhere? Fairy gold? But that turns to trash in the morning!”
    He laughed. Chickenwire laughed. Even Medium Dave laughed. And then Teatime was on him, pushing him irresistibly backward until he hit the wall.
    There was a blur and he tried to blink and his left eyelid was suddenly a rose of pain.
    Teatime’s good eye was close to him, if you could call it good. The pupil was a dot. Medium Dave could just make out his hand, right by Medium Dave’s face.
    It was holding a knife. The point of the blade could only be the merest fraction of an inch from Medium Dave’s right eye.
    “I know people say I’d kill them as soon as look at them,” whispered Teatime. “And in fact I’d much rather kill you than look at you, Mr. Lilywhite. You stand in a castle of gold and plot to steal pennies. Oh, dear. What am I to do with you?”
    He relaxed a little, but his hand still held the knife to Medium Dave’s unblinking eye.
    “You’re thinking that Banjo is going to help you,” he said. “That’s how it’s always been, isn’t it? But Banjo likes me. He really does. Banjo is my friend.”
    Medium Dave managed to focus beyond Teatime’s ear. His brother was just standing there, with the blank face he had while he waited for another order or a new thought to turn up.
    “If I thought you were feeling bad thoughts about me I would be so downcast,” said Teatime. “I do not have many friends left, Mr. Medium Dave.”
    He stood back and smiled happily. “All friends now?” he said, as Medium Dave slumped down. “Help him, Banjo.”
    On cue, Banjo lumbered forward.
    “Banjo has the heart of a little child,” said Teatime, the knife disappearing somewhere about his clothing. “I believe I have, too.”
    The others were frozen in place. They hadn’t moved since the attack. Medium Dave was a heavyset man and Teatime was a matchstick model, but he’d lifted Medium Dave off his feet like a feather.
    “As far as the money goes, in fact, I really have no use for it,” said Teatime, sitting down on a sack of silver. “It is small change. You may share it out amongst yourselves, and no doubt you’ll squabble and double-cross one another more tiresomely. Oh dear. It is so awful when friends fall out.”
    He kicked the sack. It split. Silver and copper fell in an expensive trickle.
    “And you’ll swagger and spend it on drink and women,” he said, as they watched the coins roll into every corner of the room. “The thought of investment will never cross your scarred little minds—”
    There was a rumble from Banjo. Even Teatime waited patiently until the huge man had assembled a sentence. The result was:
    “I gotta piggy bank.”
    “And what would you do with a million dollars, Banjo?” said Teatime.
    Another rumble. Banjo’s face twisted up.
    “Buy…a…bigger piggy bank?”
    “Well done.” The Assassin stood up. “Let’s go and see how our wizard is getting on, shall we?”
    He walked out of the room without looking back. After a moment Banjo followed.
    The others tried not to look at one another’s faces. Then Chickenwire said, “Was he saying we could take the money and go?”
    “Don’t be bloody stupid, we wouldn’t get ten yards,” said Medium Dave, still clutching his face. “Ugh, this hurts . I think he cut the eyelid…he cut the damn eyelid …”
    “Then let’s just leave the stuff and go! I never joined up to ride on tigers!”
    “And what’ll you do when he comes after you?”
    “Why’d he bother with the likes of us?”
    “He’s got time for his friends,” said Medium Dave bitterly. “For gods’ sakes, someone get me a clean rag or something…”
    “Okay, but…but he can’t look everywhere.”
    Medium Dave shook his head. He’d been through Ankh-Morpork’s very own university of the streets and had graduated with his life and an intelligence made all the keener by constant friction. You only had to look into Teatime’s mismatched eyes to know one thing, which was this: that if Teatime wanted to find you he would not look everywhere. He’d look in only one place, which would be the place where