Thud!

six,” Sybil said, calmly soaping Young Sam with a sponge shaped like a teddy bear. “The very last second. You wait and see.”

H e wanted to sleep. He’d never felt this tired before. Vimes slumped to his knees, and then fell sideways onto the sand.
    When he forced his eyes open, he saw pale stars above him, and had, once again, the sensation that there was someone else present.
    He turned his head, wincing at the stab of pain, and saw a small but brightly lit folding chair on the sand. A robed figure was reclining in it, reading a book. A scythe was stuck in the sand beside it.
    A white, skeletal hand turned a page.
    “You’ll be Death, then?” said Vimes, after a while.
    A H , MISTER V IMES , ASTUTE AS EVER . G OT IT IN ONE , said Death, shutting the book on his finger to keep the place.
    “I’ve seen you before.”
    I HAVE WALKED WITH YOU MANY TIMES , M ISTER V IMES .
    “And this is it , is it?”
    H AS IT NEVER STRUCK YOU THAT THE CONCEPT OF A WRIT - TEN NARRATIVE IS SOMEWHAT STRANGE ? said Death.
    Vimes could tell when people were trying to avoid something they really didn’t want to say, and it was happening here.
    “Is it?” he insisted. “Is this it? This time I die?”
    C OULD BE .
    “Could be? What sort of answer is that?” said Vimes.
    A VERY ACCURATE ONE . Y OU SEE , YOU ARE HAVING A NEAR - DEATH EXPERIENCE , WHICH INESCAPABLY MEANS THAT I MUST UNDERGO A NEAR - V IMES EXPERIENCE . D ON ’ T MINDME . C ARRY ON WITH WHATEVER YOU WERE DOING . I HAVE A BOOK .
    Vimes rolled over onto his stomach, gritted his teeth, and pushed himself onto his hands and knees again. He managed a few yards before slumping back down.
    He heard the sound of a chair being moved.
    “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?” he said.
    I AM , said Death, sitting down again.
    “But you’re here!”
    A S WELL . Death turned a page and, for a person without breath, managed a pretty good sigh. I T APPEARS THAT THE BUTLER DID IT .
    “Did what?”
    I TISAMADE - UP STORY . V ERY STRANGE . A LL ONE NEED DO IS TURN TO THE LAST PAGE AND THE ANSWER IS THERE . W HAT , THEREFORE , IS THE POINT OF DELIBERATELY NOT KNOWING ?
    It sounded like gibberish to Vimes, so he ignored it. Some of the aches were gone, although his head still hammered. There was an empty feeling everywhere. He just wanted to sleep.

“I s that clock right?”
    “I’m afraid it is, Sybil.”
    “I’ll just go outside and wait for him, then. I’ll have the book ready,” said Lady Sybil. “He won’t let anything stop him, you know.” “I’m sure he won’t,” said Bunty.
    “Although things can be very treacherous in the lower valley at this time of—” her husband began, and was fried into silence by his wife’s stare.
    It was six minutes to six.

“O b oggle oog soggle!”
    It was a very little, watery sound, and it came from somewhere in Vimes’s trousers. After a few moments, enough time to recollect that he had both hand and trousers, he reached down and, after a struggle, freed the Gooseberry from his pocket. The case was battered, and the imp, when Vimes had got the flap open, was quite pale.
    “Ob ogle soggle!”
    Vimes stared at it. It was a talking box. It meant something.
    “Woggle soggle lob!”
    Slowly, Vimes tipped the box up. Water poured out of it.
    “You weren’t listening! I was shouting and you weren’t listening!” the imp whined. “It’s five minutes to six! Read to Young Sam!”
    Vimes dropped the protesting box on his chest and stared up at the pale stars.
    “Mus’ read to Young Sam,” he murmured, and shut his eyes.
    They snapped open again.
    “Got t’read to Young Sam!”
    The stars were moving. It wasn’t the sky! How could it be the sky? This was a bloody cave, wasn’t it?
    He rolled over and got to his feet in one movement. There were more stars now, drifting along the walls. The vurms were moving with a purpose. Overhead, they had become a glowing river.
    Although they were flickering a little, the lights were also coming back on in Vimes’s head. He peered into what was now no longer blackness but merely gloom, and gloom was like daylight after the darkness that had gone before.
    “…got to read to Young Sam…” he whispered, to a cavern of giant stalactites and stalagmites, all gleaming with water, “…to read to Young Sam…”
    Stumbling and sliding through shallow pools, running across the occasional patch of white sand, Vimes followed the lights.

S ybil tried not to look at the worried