Thief of Time

were in different places, but a blue-white circle occupied the center.
    “There,” said Lu-Tze. “That was less than ten days before the clock struck.”
    There was silence from the monks. Lu-Tze smiled grimly.
    “And ten days later—”
    “Time stopped,” said Lobsang.
    “That’s one way of putting it,” said Lu-Tze. He’d gone red in the face.
    One of the monks put a hand on his shoulder.
    “It’s all right , Sweeper,” he said soothingly. “We know you couldn’t have got there in time.”
    “Being in time is supposed to be what we do ,” said Lu-Tze. “I was nearly at the damn door , Charlie. Too many castles, not enough time…”
    Behind him, the Mandala returned to its slow metering of the present.
    “It wasn’t your fault,” said the monk.
    Lu-Tze shook the hand free, and turned to face the abbot over the shoulder of the chief acolyte.
    “I want permission to track this one down right now, Reverend Sir!” he said. He tapped his nose. “I’ve got the smell of it! I’ve been waiting for this all these years! You won’t find me wanting this time!”
    In the silence, the abbot blew a bubble.
    “It’ll be in Uberwald again,” said Lu-Tze, a hint of pleading in his voice. “That’s where they mess around with the electrick. I know every inch of that place! Give me a couple of men and we can nip this right in the bud!”
    “ Bababababa …this needs discussion, Lu-Tze, but we thank you for your offer babababa ,” said the abbot. “Rinpo, I want all bdumbdumbdum senior field monks in the Room of Silence within five bababa minutes! Are the spinners working bdumbdum harmoniously?”
    One of the monks looked up from a scroll he’d been handed.
    “It appears so, Your Reverence.”
    “My congratulations to the board master BIKKIT! ”
    “But Shoblang is dead,” murmured Lu-Tze.
    The abbot stopped blowing bubbles.
    “That is sad news. And he was a friend of yours, I understand.”
    “Shouldn’t’ve happened like that,” the sweeper muttered. “Shouldn’t’ve happened like that.”
    “Compose yourself, Lu-Tze. I will talk to you shortly. Bikkit! ” The chief acolyte, spurred on by a blow across the ear with a rubber monkey, hurried away.
    The press of monks began to thin out as they went about their duties. Lu-Tze and Lobsang were left on the balcony, looking down at the rippling Mandala.
    Lu-Tze cleared his throat.
    “See them spinners at the end?” he said. “The little one records the patterns for a day, and then anything interesting is stored in the big ones.”
    “I just premembered you were going to say that.”
    “Good word. Good word. The lad has talent.” Lu-Tze lowered his voice. “Anyone watching us?”
    Lobsang looked around.
    “There’s a few people still here.”
    Lu-Tze raised his voice again.
    “You been taught anything about the Big Crash?”
    “Only rumors, Sweeper.”
    “Yeah, there were a lot of rumors. ‘The day time stood still,’ all that sort of thing.” Lu-Tze sighed. “Y’know, most of what you get taught is lies. It has to be. Sometimes if you get the truth all at once, you can’t understand it. You knew Ankh-Morpork pretty well, did you? Ever go to the opera house?”
    “Only for pickpocket practice, Sweeper.”
    “Ever wonder about it? Ever look at that little theater just over the road? Called The Dysk, I think.”
    “Oh, yes! We got penny tickets and sat on the ground and threw nuts at the stage.”
    “And it didn’t make you think ? Big opera house, all plush and gilt and big orchestras, and then there’s this little thatched theater, all bare wood and no seats, and one bloke playing a crumhorn for musical accompaniment?”
    Lobsang shrugged. “Well, no. That’s just how things are.”
    Lu-Tze almost smiled.
    “Very flexible things, human minds,” he said. “It’s amazing what they can stretch to fit. We did a fine job there—”
    “Lu-Tze?”
    One of the lesser acolytes was waiting respectfully.
    “The abbot will see you now,” he said.
    “Ah, right,” said the sweeper. He nudged Lobsang and whispered, “We’re going to Ankh-Morpork, lad.”
    “What? But you said you wanted to be sent to—”
    Lu-Tze winkled. “’Cos it is written ‘Them as asks, don’t get,’ see. There’s more than one way of choking a dangdang than stuffing it with pling , lad.”
    “Is there?”
    “Oh yes, if you’ve got enough pling . Now let’s see the abbot, shall we? It’ll be time for his feed now. Solids, thank