Thief of Time

am looking for the one they call Lu-Tze,” said the boy. “Personally, I don’t think he really exists.”
    “I’ve got glaciation,” said Lu-Tze, ignoring this. “At last. See, master? It’s only an inch long, but already it’s carving its own little valley. Magnificent, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, yes, very good,” said the novice, being kind to an underling. “Isn’t this the garden of Lu-Tze?”
    “You mean, Lu-Tze who is famous for his bonsai mountains?”
    The novice looked from the line of plates to the little wrinkled smiling man.
    “ You are Lu-Tze? But you’re just a sweeper! I’ve seen you cleaning out the dormitories! I’ve seen people kick you!”
    Lu-Tze, apparently not hearing this, picked up a plate about a foot across on which a small cinder cone was smoking.
    “What do you think of this, master?” he said. “Volcanic. And it is bloody hard to do, excuse my Klatchian.”
    The novice took a step forward, and leaned down and looked directly into the sweeper’s eyes.
    Lu-Tze was not often disconcerted, but he was now.
    “You are Lu-Tze?”
    “Yes, lad. I am Lu-Tze.”
    The novice took a deep breath and thrust out a skinny arm. It was holding a small scroll.
    “From the abbot…er, venerable one!”
    The scroll wobbled in the nervous hand.
    “Most people call me Lu-Tze, lad. Or Sweeper. Until they get to know me better, some call me ‘get out the way,’” said Lu-Tze, carefully wrapping up his tools. “I’ve never been very venerable, except in cases of bad spelling.”
    He looked around the saucers for the miniature shovel he used for glacial work, and couldn’t see it anywhere. Surely he’d put it down just a moment ago?
    The acolyte was watching him with an expression of awe mixed with residual suspicion. A reputation like Lu-Tze’s got around. This was the man who had—well, who had done practically everything , if you listened to all the rumors. But he didn’t look as though he had. He was just a little bald man with a wispy beard and a faint, amiable smile.
    Lu-Tze patted the young man on the shoulder in an effort to put him at his ease.
    “Let us see what the abbot wants,” he said, unrolling the rice paper. “Oh. You are to take me to see him, it says here.”
    A look of panic froze the novice’s face. “What? How can I do that? Novices aren’t allowed inside the Inner Temple!”
    “Really? In that case, let me take you , to take me , to see him ,” said Lu-Tze.
    “You are allowed into the Inner Temple?” said the novice, and then put his hand over his mouth. “But you’re just a swe—oh…”
    “That’s right! Not even a proper monk, let alone a dong ,” said the sweeper cheerfully. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
    “But people talk about you as if you were as high as the abbot!”
    “Oh, dear me, no,” said Lu-Tze. “I’m nothing like as holy. Never really got a grip on the cosmic harmony.”
    “But you’ve done all those incredible—”
    “Oh, I didn’t say I’m not good at what I do,” said Lu-Tze, as he ambled with his broom over his shoulder. “Just not holy. Shall we go?”
    “Er…Lu-Tze?” said the novice, following him along the ancient brick path.
    “Yes?”
    “Why is this called Garden of Five Surprises?”
    “What was your name back in the world, hasty young man?” said Lu-Tze.
    “Newgate. Newgate Ludd, ven—”
    Lu-Tze held up a warning finger. “Ah?”
    “Sweeper, I mean.”
    “Ludd, eh? Ankh-Morpork lad?”
    “Yes, Sweeper,” said the boy. The sudden dejected tones suggested he knew what was coming next.
    “Raised by the Thieves’ Guild? One of ‘Ludd’s Lads’?”
    The boy formerly known as Newgate looked the old man in the eye and, when he replied, it was in the singsong voice of someone who’d answered the question too many times. “Yes, Sweeper. Yes, I was a foundling. Yes, we get called Ludd’s Lads and Lasses after one of the founders of the guild. Yes, that’s my adopted surname. Yes, it was a good life and sometimes I wish I still had it.”
    Lu-Tze appeared not to hear this. “Who sent you here?”
    “A monk called Soto discovered me. He said I had talent.”
    “Marco? The one with all the hair?”
    “That’s right. Only I thought the rule was that all monks were shaved.”
    “Oh, Soto says he is bald under the hair,” said Lu-Tze. “He says the hair is a separate creature that just happens to live on him. They gave him a field posting really quickly after he came up with that one.