Hogfather

Page 10

 

  Nah. Nah. Not teeth, said the gnome, clutching his sack. What, then? The gnome told him. Really? said Jack Frost. I thought they just turned up.

  Well, come to that, I thought frost on the windows just happened all by itself, said the gnome. "ere, you dont half look spiky. I bet You go through a lot of bedsheets.

  I dont sleep, said Frost icily, turning away. And now, if youll excuse me, I have a large number of windows to do. Ferns arent easy. You need a steady hand.

  What do you mean dead? Susan demanded. How can the Hogfather be dead? Hes . . . isnt he what you are? An- ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION. YES. HE HAS BECOME SO. THE SPIRIT OF HOGSWATCH. But . . . how? How can anyone kill the Hogfather? Poisoned sherry? Spikes in the chimney? THERE ARE . . . MORE SUBTLE WAYS. Coff. Coff. Coff. Oh dear, this soot, said Albert loudly. Chokes me up something cruel.

  And youve taken over? said Susan, ignoring him. Thats sick! Death contrived to look hurt. Ill just go and have a look somewhere, said Albert, brushing past her and opening the door. She pushed it shut quickly. And what are you doing here, Albert? she said, clutching at the straw. I thought youd die if you ever came back to the world! AH, BUT WE ARE NOT IN THE WORLD, said Death. WE ARE IN THE SPECIAL CONGRUENT REALITY CREATED FOR THE HOGFATHER. NORMAL RULES HAVE TO BE SUSPENDED. HOW ELSE COULD ANYONE GET AROUND THE ENTIRE WORLD IN ONE NIGHT?

  s right, said Albert, leering. One of the Hogfathers Little Helpers, me. Official. Cot the pointy green hat and everything. He spotted the glass of sherry and couple of turnips that the children had left on the table, and bore down on them. Susan looked shocked. A couple of days earlier shed taken the children to the Hogfathers Grotto in one of the big shops in The Maul. Of course, it wasnt the real one, but it had turned out to be a fairly good actor in a red suit. There had been people dressed up as pixies, and a picket outside the shop by the Campaign for Equal Heights. 13 None of the pixies had looked anything like Albert. If they had, people would have only gone into the grotto armed. Been good, ave yer? said Albert, and spat into the fireplace. Susan stared at him. Death leaned down. She stared up into the blue glow of his eyes. YOU ARE KEEPING WELL? he said. Yes. SELF-RELIANT? MAKING YOUR OWN WAY IN THE WORLD? Yes! GOOD. WELL, COME, ALBERT. WE WILL LOAD THE STOCKINGS AND GET ON WITH THINGS. A couple of letters appeared in Deaths hand. SOMEONE CHRISTENED THE CHILD TWYLA? I m afraid so, but why- AND THE OTHER ONE GAWAIN? 13 The CEH was always ready to fight for the rights of the differently tall, and was not put off by the fact that most pixies and gnomes werent the least interested in dressing up in little pointy hats with bells on when there were other far more interesting things to do. All that tinkly-wee stuff was for the old folks back home in the forest - when a tiny man hit Ankh-Morpork he preferred to get drunk, kick some serious ankle, and search for tiny women. In fact the CEH now had to spend so much time explaining to people that they hadnt got enough rights that they barely had any time left to fight for them.

  Yes. But look, how- WHY GAWAIN? I . . . suppose its a good strong name for a fighter . . . A SELF-FULFILLING PROPHECY, I SUSPECT. I SEE THE GIRL WRITES IN GREEN CRAYON ON PINK PAPER WITH A MOUSE IN THE CORNER. THE MOUSE IS WEARING A DRESS. I ought to point out that she decided to do that so the Hogfather would think she was sweet, said Susan. Including the deliberate bad spelling. But look, why are you- SHE SAYS SHE IS FIVE YEARS OLD. In years, yes. In cynicism, shes about thirtyfive. Why are you doing the- BUT SHE BELIEVES IN THE HOGFATHER? Shed believe in anything if there was a dolly in it for her. But youre not going to leave without telling me--- Death hung the stockings back on the mantelpiece. NOW WE MUST BE GOING. HAPPY HOGSWATCH. ER . . . OH, YES: HO. HO. HO. Nice sherry, said Albert, wiping his mouth. Rage overtook Susans curiosity. It had to travel quite fast. Youve actually been drinking the actual drinks little children leave out for the actual Hogfather? she said. Yeah, why not? He aint drinking em. Not where hes gone.

  And how many have you had, may I ask?

  Dunno, aint counted, said Albert happily. ONE MILLION, EIGHT HUNDRED THOUSAND, SEVEN HUNDRED AND SIX, said Death. AND SIXTY EIGHT THOUSAND, THREE HUNDRED AND NINETEEN PORK PIES. AND ONE TURNIP. It looked pork-pie shaped, said Albert. Everything does, after a while.

  Then why havent you exploded?

  Dunno. Always had a good digestion. TO THE HOGFATHER, ALL PORK PIES ARE AS ONE PORK PIE. EXCEPT THE ONE LIKE A TURNIP. COME, ALBERT. WE HAVE TRESPASSED ON SUSANS TIME. Why are you doing this? Susan screamed. I AM SORRY. I CANNOT TELL YOU. FORGET YOU SAW ME. ITS NOT YOUR BUSINESS. Not my business? How can- AND NOW . . . WE MUST BE GOING. . . Nighty-night, said Albert. The clock struck, twice, for the half-hour. It was still half past six. And they were gone. The sledge hurtled across the sky. Shell try to find out what this is all about, you know, said Albert. OH DEAR. Especially after you told her not to. YOU THINK SO? Yeah, said Albert. DEAR ME. I STILL HAVE A LOT TO LEARN ABOUT HUMANS, DONT I? Oh . . . I dunno. . . said Albert.

  OBVIOUSLY IT WOULD BE QUITE WRONG TO INVOLVE A HUMAN IN ALL THIS. THAT IS WHY, YOU WILL RECALL, I CLEARLY FORBADE HER TO TAKE AN INTEREST. Yeah . . . you did. . BESIDES, ITS AGAINST THE RULES. You said them little grey buggers had already broken the rules. YES, BUT I CANT JUST WAVE A MAGIC WAND AND MAKE IT ALL BETTER. THERE MUST BE PROCEDURES. Death stared ahead for a moment and then shrugged. AND WE HAVE SO MUCH TO DO. WE HAVE PROMISES TO KEEP. Well, the night is young, said Albert, sitting back in the sacks. THE NIGHT IS OLD. THE NIGHT IS ALWAYS OLD. The pigs galloped on. Then, No, it aint. IM SORRY? The night isnt any older than the day, master. It stands to reason. There must have been a day before anyone knew what the night was. YES, BUT ITS MORE DRAMATIC. Oh. Right, then. Susan stood by the fireplace. It wasnt as though she disliked Death. Death considered as an individual rather than lifes final curtain was someone she couldnt help liking, in a strange kind of way. Even so . . . The idea of the Grim Reaper filling the Hogswatch stockings of the world didnt fit well in her head, no matter which way she twisted it. It was like trying to imagine Old Man Trouble as the Tooth Fairy. Oh, yes. Old Man Trouble . . . now there was a nasty one for you. . . But honestly, what kind of sick person went round creeping into little childrens bedrooms all night? Well, the Hogfather, of course, but. . . There was a little tinkling sound from somewhere near the base of the Hogswatch tree. The raven backed away from the shards of one of the glittering balls. Sorry, it mumbled. Bit of a species reaction there. You know . . . round, glittering sometimes you just gotta peck-

  That chocolate money belongs to the children! SQUEAK? said the Death of Rats, backing away from the shiny coins. Whys he doing this? SQUEAK. You dont know either? SQUEAK. Is there some kind of trouble? Did he do something to the real Hogfather? SQUEAK. Why wont he tell me? SQUEAK. Thank you. Youve been very helpful. Something ripped, behind her. She turned and saw the raven carefully removing a strip of red wrapping paper from a package. Stop that this minute! It looked up guiltily. Its only a little bit, it said. No ones going to miss it.

  What do you want it for, anyway?

  Were attracted to bright colours, right? Automatic reaction.

  Thats jackdaws!

  Damn. Is it? The Death of Rats nodded. SQUEAK. Oh, so suddenly youre Mr Ornithologist, are you? snapped the raven. Susan sat down and held out her hand. The Death of Rats leapt onto it. She could feel its claws, like tiny pins. It was just like those scenes where the sweet and pretty heroine sings a little duet with Mr Bluebird. Similar, anyway. In general outline, at least. But with more of a PG rating. Has he gone funny in the head? SQUEAK. The rat shrugged. But it could happen, couldnt it? Hes very old, and I suppose he sees a lot of terrible things. SQUEAK. All the trouble in the world, the raven translated. I understood, said Susan. That was a talent, too. She didnt understand what the rat said. She just understood what it meant. Theres something wrong and he wont tell me? said Susan. That made her even more angry. But Albert is in on it too, she added. She thought: thousands, millions of years in the same job. Not a nice one. It isnt always cheerful old men passing away at
a great age. Sooner or later, it was bound to get anyone down. Someone had to do something. It was like that time when Twylas grandmother had started telling everyone that she was the Empress of Krull and had stopped wearing clothes. And Susan was bright enough to know that the phrase Someone ought to do something was not, by itself, a helpful one. People who used it never added the rider and that someone is me. But someone ought to do something, and right now the whole pool of someones consisted of her, and no one else. Twylas grandmother had ended up in a nursing home overlooking the sea at Quirm. That sort of option probably didnt apply here. Besides, hed be unpopular with the other residents. She concentrated. This was the simplest talent of them all. She was amazed that other people couldnt do it. She shut her eyes, placed her hands palm down in front of her at shoulder height, spread her fingers and lowered her hands. When they were halfway down she heard the clock stop ticking. The last tick was longdrawn-out, like a death rattle. Time stopped. But duration continued. Shed always wondered, when she was small, why visits to her grandfather could go on for days and yet, when they got back, the calendar was still plodding along as if theyd never been away. Now she knew the why, although probably no human being would ever really understand the how. Sometimes, somewhere, somehow, the numbers on the clock did not count. Between every rational moment were a billion irrational ones. Somewhere behind the hours there was a place where the Hogfather rode, the tooth fairies climbed their ladders, jack Frost drew his pictures, the Soul Cake Duck laid her chocolate eggs. In the endless spaces between the clumsy seconds Death moved like a witch dancing through raindrops, never getting wet.

  Humans could liv- No, humans couldnt live here, no, because even when you diluted a glass of wine with a bathful of water you might have more liquid but you still have the same amount of wine. A rubber band was still the same rubber band no matter how far it was stretched. Humans could exist here, though. It was never too cold, although the air did prickle like winter air on a sunny day. But out of human habit Susan got her cloak out of the closet. SQUEAK. Havent you got some mice and rats to see to, then?

  Nah, s pretty quiet just before Hogswatch, said the raven, who was trying to fold the red paper between his claws. You get a lot of gerbils and hamsters and that in a few days, mind. When the kids forget to feed them or try to find out what makes them go. Of course, shed be leaving the children. But it wasnt as if anything could happen to them. There wasnt any time for it to happen to them in. She hurried down the stairs and let herself out of the front door. Snow hung in the air. It was not a poetic description. It hovered like the stars. When flakes touched Susan they melted with little electric flashes. There was a lot of traffic in the street, but it was fossilized in Time. She walked carefully between it until she reached the entrance to the park. The snow had done what even wizards and the Watch couldnt do, which was clean up AnkhMorpork. It hadnt had time to get dirty. In the morning itd probably look as though the city had been covered in coffee meringue, but for now it mounded the bushes and trees in pure white. There was no noise. The curtains of snow shut out the city lights. A few yards into the park and she might as well be in the country. She stuck her fingers into her mouth and whistled. Yknow, that couldve been done with a bit more ceremony, said the raven, whod perched on a snowencrusted twig. Shut up.