Hogfather

pretty dead to me .”
    “Oh, you die. But not here. You…let’s see…yes…you go somewhere else. Away. You’re just not seen any more. That’s about all you understand when you’re three. Grandfather said it wasn’t like that fifty years ago. He said you often couldn’t see the bed for everyone having a good cry. Now they just tell the child that Grandma’s gone. For three weeks Twyla thought her uncle’d been buried in the sad patch behind the garden shed along with Buster and Meepo and all three Bulgies.”
    “Three Bulgies?”
    “Gerbils. They tend to die a lot,” said Susan. “The trick is to replace them when she’s not looking. You really don’t know anything , do you?”
    “Er…hello?”
    The voice came from the corridor.
    They worked their way round to the next room.
    There, sitting on the floor and tied to the leg of a white display case, was Violet. She looked up in apprehension, and then in bewilderment, and finally in growing recognition.
    “Aren’t you—?”
    “Yes, yes, we see each other sometimes in Biers, and when you came for Twyla’s last tooth you were so shocked that I could see you I had to give you a drink to get your nerves back,” said Susan, fumbling with the ropes. “I don’t think we’ve got a lot of time.”
    “And who’s he?”
    The oh god tried to push his lank hair into place.
    “Oh, he’s just a god,” said Susan. “His name’s Bilious.”
    “Do you drink at all?” said the oh god.
    “What sort of quest—”
    “He needs to know before he decides whether he hates you or not,” said Susan. “It’s a god thing.”
    “No, I don’t,” said Violet. “What an idea. I’ve got the blue ribbon!”
    The oh god raised his eyebrows at Susan.
    “That means she’s a member of Offler’s League of Temperance,” said Susan. “They sign a pledge not to touch alcohol. I can’t think why. Of course, Offler’s a crocodile. They don’t go in bars much. They’re into water.”
    “Not touch alcohol at all?” said the oh god.
    “Never!” said Violet. “My dad’s very strict about that sort of thing!”
    After a moment Susan felt forced to wave a hand across their locked gaze.
    “Can we get on?” she said. “Good. Who brought you here, Violet?”
    “I don’t know! I was doing the collection as usual, and then I thought I heard someone following me, and then it all went dark, and when I came to we were…Have you seen what it’s like outside?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, we were there. The big one was carrying me. The one they call Banjo. He’s not bad, just a bit…odd. Sort of…slow. He just watches me. The others are thugs. Watch out for the one with the glass eye. They’re all afraid of him. Except Banjo.”
    “Glass eye?”
    “He’s dressed like an Assassin. He’s called Teatime. I think they’re trying to steal something…They spent ages carting the teeth out. Little teeth everywhere…It was horrible! Thank you,” she added to the oh god, who had helped her onto her feet.
    “They’ve piled them up in a magic circle downstairs,” said Susan.
    Violet’s eyes and mouth formed three Os. It was like looking at a pink bowling ball.
    “What for?”
    “I think they’re using them to control the children. By magic.”
    Violet’s mouth opened wider.
    “That’s horrid .”
    Horrible, thought Susan. The word is “horrible.” “Horrid” is a childish word selected to impress nearby males with one’s fragility, if I’m any judge. She knew it was unkind and counter-productive of her to think like that. She also knew it was probably an accurate observation, which only made it worse.
    “Yes,” she said.
    “There was a wizard! He’s got a pointy hat!”
    “I think we should get her out of here,” said the oh god, in a tone of voice that Susan considered was altogether too dramatic.
    “Good idea,” she conceded. “Let’s go.”

    Catseye’s boots had snapped their laces. It was as if he’d been pulled upward so fast they simply couldn’t keep up.
    That worried Medium Dave. So did the smell. There was no smell at all in the rest of the tower, but just here there was a lingering odor of mushrooms.
    His forehead wrinkled. Medium Dave was a thief and a murderer and therefore had a highly developed moral sense. He preferred not to steal from poor people, and not only because they never had anything worth stealing. If it was necessary to hurt anyone, he tried to leave wounds that would heal. And when in the course of his