Hogfather

at being told by Teatime to kill someone just because he had no further use for them. It wasn’t that it was unprofessional. Only Assassins thought like that. It was just that there were things you did do, and things you didn’t do. And this was one of the things you didn’t do.
    “We thought…well, you never know…”
    “She wasn’t necessary,” said Teatime. “Few people are.”
    Sideney thumbed hurriedly through his notebooks.
    “Anyway, the place is a maze—” Medium Dave said.
    “Sadly, this is so,” said Teatime. “But I am sure they will be able to find us. It’s probably too much to hope that they intend something heroic.”

    Violet and the oh god hurried down the stairs.
    “Do you know how to get back?” said Violet.
    “Don’t you?”
    “I think there’s a…a kind of soft place. If you walk at it knowing it’s there you go through .”
    “You know where it is?”
    “No! I’ve never been here before! They had a bag on my head when we came! All I ever did was take the teeth from under the pillows!” Violet started to sob. “You just get this list and about five minutes’ training and they even dock you ten pence a week for the ladder and I know I made that mistake with little William Rubin but they should of said , you’re supposed to take any teeth you—”
    “Er…mistake?” said Bilious, trying to get her to hurry.
    “Just because he slept with his head under the pillow but they give you the pliers anyway and no one told me that you shouldn’t—”
    She certainly did have a pleasant voice, Bilious told himself. It was just that in a funny way it grated, too. It was like listening to a talking flute.
    “I think we’d just better get outside,” he said. “In case they hear us,” he hinted.
    “What sort of godding do you do?” said Violet.
    “Er…oh, I…this and that…I…er…” Bilious tried to think through the pounding headache. And then he had one of those ideas, the kind that only sound good after a lot of alcohol. Someone else may have drunk the drinks, but he managed to snag the idea.
    “I’m actually self-employed,” he said, as brightly as he could manage.
    “How can you be a self-employed god?”
    “Ah, well, you see, if any other god wants, perhaps, you know, a holiday or something, I cover for them. Yes. That’s what I do.”
    Unwisely, in the circumstances, he let his inventiveness impress him.
    “Oh, yes. I’m very busy. Rushed off my feet. They’re always employing me. You’ve no idea. They don’t think twice about pushing off for a month as a big white bull or a swan or something and it’s always, ‘Oh, Bilious, old chap, just take care of things while I’m away, will you? Answer the prayers and so on.’ I hardly get a minute to myself but of course you can’t turn down work these days.”
    Violet was round-eyed with fascination.
    “And are you covering for anyone right now?” she asked.
    “Um, yes…the God of Hangovers, actually…”
    “A God of Hangovers? How awful!”
    Bilious looked down at his stained and wretched toga.
    “I suppose it is…” he mumbled.
    “You’re not very good at it.”
    “You don’t have to tell me.”
    “You’re more cut out to be one of the important gods,” said Violet, admiringly. “I can just see you as Io or Fate or one of those.”
    Bilious stared at her with his mouth open.
    “I could tell at once you weren’t right,” she went on. “Not for some horrible little god. You could even be Offler with calves like yours.”
    “Could I? I mean…oh, yes. Sometimes. Of course, I have to wear fangs—”
    And then someone was holding a sword to his throat.
    “What’s this?” said Chickenwire. “Lover’s Lane?”
    “You leave him alone, you!” shouted Violet. “He’s a god! You’ll be really sorry!”
    Bilious swallowed, but very gently. It was a sharp sword.
    “A god, eh?” said Chickenwire. “What of?”
    Bilious tried to swallow again.
    “Oh, bit o’ this, bit o’ that,” he mumbled.
    “Cor,” said Chickenwire. “Well, I’m impressed. I can see I’m going to have to be dead careful here, eh? Don’t want you smiting me with thunderbolts, do I? Puts a crimp in the day, that sort of thing—”
    Bilious didn’t dare move his head. But out of the corner of his eye he was sure he could see shadows moving very fast across the walls.
    “Dear me, out of thunderbolts, are we?” Chickenwire sneered. “Well, y’know, I’ve never—”
    There was a