Thief of Time

idea what this is , Mrs. Ogg?” she said, opening her hand to reveal the little glass bulbs.
    “Yes, it’s an egg timer that don’t work!” Mrs. Ogg sat down hard in her overstuffed chair, so that her little legs rose off the floor for a moment.
    “It looks to me like a day, Mrs. Ogg. A day’s worth of time.”
    Mrs. Ogg glanced at Susan, and then at the little hourglass in her hand.
    “I reckoned there was something odd about it,” she said. “The sand don’t go through when you tip it up, see?”
    “That’s because you don’t need it to yet, Mrs. Ogg.”
    Nanny Ogg appeared to relax. Once again Susan reminded herself that she was dealing with a witch. They tended to keep up.
    “I kept it ’cos it was a gift,” said the old lady. “And it looks so pretty, too. What do them letters around the edge say?”
    Susan read the words etched on the metal base of the lifetimer: Tempus Redux . “‘Time Returned,’” she said.
    “Ah, that’d be it,” said Mrs. Ogg. “The man did say I’d be repaid for my time.”
    “The man…?” said Susan gently.
    Nanny Ogg glanced up, her eyes ablaze.
    “Don’t you try to take advantage of me just ’cos I’m momentr’y a bit flustered,” she snapped. “There’s no way around Nanny Ogg!”
    Susan looked at the woman, and this time not with the lazy eye. And there was, indeed, no way around Mrs. Ogg. But there was another way, with Mrs. Ogg. It went straight through the heart.
    “A child needs to know his parents, Mrs. Ogg,” she said. “Now more than ever. He needs to know who he really is. It’s going to be hard for him, and I want to help him.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I wish someone had helped me,” said Susan.
    “Yes, but there’s rules to midwifery,” said Nanny Ogg. “You don’t say what was said or what you saw. Not if the lady don’t want you to.”
    The witch wriggled awkwardly in her chair, her face going red. She wants to tell me, Susan knew. She’s desperate to. But I’ve got to play it right, so she can square it with herself.
    “I’m not asking for names, Mrs. Ogg, because I expect you don’t know them,” she went on.
    “That’s true.”
    “But the child—”
    “Look, miss, I’m not supposed to tell a living soul about—”
    “If it helps, I’m not entirely certain that I am one,” said Susan. She watched Mrs. Ogg for a while. “But I understand. There have to be rules, don’t there? Thank you for your time.”
    Susan stood up and put the preserved day back on the mantelpiece. Then she walked out of the cottage, shutting the door behind her. Binky was still waiting by the gate. She mounted up, and it wasn’t until then that she heard the door open behind her.
    “That’s what he said,” said Mrs. Ogg. “When he gave me the egg timer. ‘Thank you for your time, Mrs. Ogg,’ he said. You’d better come back in, my girl.”
    Tick
    Death found Pestilence in a hospice in Llamedos. Pestilence liked hospitals. There was always something for him to do.
    Currently he was trying to remove the “Now Wash Your Hands” sign over a cracked basin. He looked up.
    “Oh, it’s you,” he said. “Soap? I’ll give ’em soap!”
    I SENT OUT THE CALL, said Death.
    “Oh. Yes. Right. Yes,” said Pestilence, clearly embarrassed.
    Y OU’VE STILL GOT YOUR HORSE?
    “Of course, but…”
    Y OU HAD A FINE HORSE.
    “Look, Death…it’s…look, it’s not that I don’t see your point, but—excuse me…” Pestilence stepped aside as a white-robed nun, completely oblivious of the two Horsemen, passed between them. But he took the opportunity to breathe in her face.
    “Just a mild flu,” he said, catching Death’s expression.
    S O WE CAN COUNT ON YOU, CAN WE?
    “To ride out…”
    Y ES.
    “For the Big One….”
    I T’S EXPECTED OF US.
    “How many of the others have you got?”
    Y OU ARE THE FIRST.
    “Er…”
    Death sighed. Of course, there had been plenty of diseases, long before humans had been around. But humans had definitely created Pestilence. They had a genius for crowding together, for poking around in jungles, for setting the midden so handily next to the well. Pestilence was, therefore, part human, with all that this entailed. He was frightened.
    I SEE , Death said.
    “The way you put it—”
    Y OU ARE AFRAID?
    “I’ll…think about it.”
    Y ES. I AM SURE YOU WILL.
    Tick
    Quite a lot of brandy splashed into Mrs. Ogg’s mug. She waved the bottle vaguely at Susan, with an inquiring look.
    “No, thank