‘We'll never get away with it, sir. Never.’
In the country of the sky on top, Medium Dave Lilywhite hauled another bag of money down the stairs.
‘There must be thousands here,’ said Chickenwire.
‘Hundreds of thousands,’ said Medium Dave.
‘And what's all this stuff?’ said Catseye, opening a box. ‘'s just paper.’ He tossed it aside.
Medium Dave sighed. He was all for class solidarity, but sometimes Catseye got on his nerves.
‘They're title deeds,’ he said. ‘And they're better than money.’
‘Paper's better'n money?’ said Catseye. ‘Hah, if you can burn it you can't spend it, that's what I say.’
‘Hang on,’ said Chickenwire. ‘I know about them. The Tooth Fairy owns property?’
‘Got to raise money somehow,’ said Medium Dave. ‘All those half-dollars under the pillow.’
‘If we steal them, do they become ours?’
‘Is that a trick question?’ said Catseye, smirking.
‘Yeah, but… ten thousand each doesn't sound such a lot, when you see all this.’
‘He won't miss a—’
‘Gentlemen…’
They turned. Teatime was in the doorway.
‘We were just… we were just piling up the stuff,’ said Chickenwire.
‘Yes. I know. I told you to.’
‘Right. That's right. You did,’ said Chickenwire gratefully.
‘And there's such a lot,’ said Teatime. He gave them a smile. Catseye coughed.
‘'s got to be thousands,’ said Medium Dave. ‘And what about all these deeds and so on? Look, this one's for that pipe shop in Honey Trap Lane! In Ankh-Morpork! I buy my tobacco there! Old Thimble is always moaning about the rent, too!’
‘Ah. So you opened the strongboxes,’ said Teatime pleasantly.
‘Well… yes…’
‘Fine. Fine,’ said Teatime. ‘I didn't ask you to, but… fine, fine. And how did you think the Tooth Fairy made her money? Little gnomes in some mine somewhere? Fairy gold? But that turns to trash in the morning!’
He laughed. Chickenwire laughed. Even Medium Dave laughed. And then Teatime was on him, pushing him irresistibly backwards until he hit the wall.
There was a blur and he tried to blink and his left eyelid was suddenly a rose of pain.
Teatime's good eye was close to him, if you could call it good. The pupil was a dot. Medium Dave could just make out his hand, right by Medium Dave's face.
It was holding a knife. The point of the blade could only be the merest fraction of an inch from Medium Dave's right eye.
‘I know people say I'd kill them as soon as look at them,’ whispered Teatime. ‘And in fact I'd much rather kill you than look at you, Mr Lilywhite. You stand in a castle of gold and plot to steal pennies. Oh, dear. What am I to do with you?’
He relaxed a little, but his hand still held the knife to Medium Dave's unblinking eye.
‘You're thinking that Banjo is going to help you,’ he said. ‘That's how it's always been, isn't it? But Banjo likes me. He really does. Banjo is my friend.’
Medium Dave managed to focus beyond Teatime's ear. His brother was just standing there, with the blank face he had while he waited for another order or a new thought to turn up.
‘If I thought you were feeling bad thoughts about me I would be so downcast,’ said Teatime. ‘I do not have many friends left, Mr Medium Dave.’
He stood back and smiled happily. ‘All friends now?’ he said, as Medium Dave slumped down. ‘Help him, Banjo.’
On cue, Banjo lumbered forward.
‘Banjo has the heart of a little child,’ said Teatime, the knife disappearing somewhere about his clothing. ‘I believe I have, too.’
The others were frozen in place. They hadn't moved since the attack. Medium Dave was a heavy-set man and Teatime was a matchstick model, but he'd lifted Medium Dave off his feet like a feather.
‘As far as the money goes, in fact, I really have no use for it,’ said Teatime, sitting down on a sack of silver. ‘It is small change. You may share it out amongst yourselves, and no doubt you'll squabble and doublecross one another more tiresomely. Oh, dear. It is so awful when friends fall out.’
He kicked the sack. It split. Silver and copper fell in an expensive trickle.
‘And you'll swagger and spend it on drink and women,’ he said, as they watched the coins roll into every corner of the room. ‘The thought of investment will never cross your scarred little minds—’
There was a rumble from Banjo. Even Teatime waited patiently until the huge man had assembled a sentence. The result was:
‘I gotta piggy bank.’
‘And what would you do with a million dollars, Banjo?’ said Teatime.
Another rumble. Banjo's face twisted up.
‘Buy… a… bigger piggy bank?’
‘Well done.’ The Assassin stood up. ‘Let's go and see how our wizard is getting on, shall we?’
He walked out of the room without looking back. After a moment Banjo followed.
The others tried not to look at one another's faces. Then Chickenwire said, ‘Was he saying we could take the money and go?’
‘Don't be bloody stupid, we wouldn't get ten yards,’ said Medium Dave, still clutching his face. ‘Ugh, this hurts. I think he cut the eyelid… he cut the damn eyelid…’
‘Then let's just leave the stuff and go! I never joined up to ride on tigers!’
‘And what'll you do when he comes after you?’
‘Why'd he bother with the likes of us?’
‘He's got time for his friends,’ said Medium Dave bitterly. ‘For gods' sakes, someone get me a clean rag or something…’
‘OK, but… but he can't look everywhere.’
Medium Dave shook his head. He'd been through Ankh-Morpork's very own university of the streets and had graduated with his life and an intelligence made all the keener by constant friction. You only had to look into Teatime's mismatched eyes to know one thing, which was this: that if Teatime wanted to find you he would not look everywhere. He'd look in only one place, which would be the place where you were hiding.
‘How come your brother likes him so much?’
Medium Dave grimaced. Banjo had always done what he was told, simply because Medium Dave had told him. Up to now, anyway.
It must have been that punch in the bar. Medium Dave didn't like to think about it. He'd always promised their mother that he'd look after Banjo,[21] and Banjo had gone back like a falling tree. And when Medium Dave had risen from his seat to punch Teatime's unbalanced lights out he'd suddenly found the Assassin already behind him, holding a knife. In front of everyone. It was humiliating, that's what it was.’
And then Banjo had sat up, looking puzzled, and spat out a tooth.
‘If it wasn't for Banjo going around with him all the time we could gang up on him,’ said Catseye.
Medium Dave looked up, one hand clamping a handkerchief to his eye.
‘Gang up on him?’ he said.
‘Yeah, it's all your fault,’ Chickenwire went on.
‘Oh, yeah? So it wasn't you who said, wow, ten thousand dollars, count me in?’
Chickenwire backed away. ‘I didn't know there was going to be all this creepy stuff! I want to go home!’
Medium Dave hesitated, despite his pain and rage. This wasn't normal talk for Chickenwire, for all that he whined and grumbled. This was a strange place, no lie about that, and all that business with the teeth had been very… odd, but he'd been out with Chickenwire when jobs had gone wrong and both the Watch and the Thieves' Guild had been after them and he'd been as cool as anyone. And if the Guild had been the ones to catch them they'd have nailed their ears to their ankles and thrown them in the river. In Medium Dave's book, which was a simple book and largely written in mental crayon, things didn't get creepier than that.
‘What's up with you?’ he said. ‘All of you you're acting like little kids!’
‘Wo
uld he deliver to apes earlier than humans?’
‘Interesting point, sir. Possibly you're referring to my theory that humans may have in fact descended from apes, of course,’ said Ponder. ‘A bold hypothesis which ought to sweep away the ignorance of centuries if the grants committee could just see their way clear to letting me hire a boat and sail around to the islands of — ’
‘I just thought he might deliver alphabetically,’ said Ridcully.
There was a patter of soot in the cold fireplace.
‘That's presumably him now, do you think?’ Ridcully went on. ‘Oh, well, I thought we should check—’
Something landed in the ashes. The two wizards stood quietly in the darkness while the figure picked itself up. There was a rustle of paper.
LET ME SEE NOW…
There was a click as Ridcully's pipe fell out of his mouth.
‘Who the hell are you?’ he said. ‘Mr Stibbons, light a candle!’
Death backed away.
I'M THE HOGFATHER, OF COURSE. ER. HO. HO. HO. WHO WOULD YOU EXPECT TO COME DOWN A CHIMNEY ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS, MAY I ASK?
‘No, you're not!’
I AM. LOOK, I'VE GOT THE BEARD AND THE PILLOW AND EVERYTHING!
‘You look extremely thin in the face!’
I'M… I… I'M NOT WELL. IT'S ALL… YES, IT'S ALL THIS SHERRY. AND RUSHING AROUND. I AM A BIT ILL.
‘Terminally, I should say.’ Ridcully grabbed the beard. There was a twang as the string gave way.
‘It's a false beard!’
NO IT'S NOT, said Death desperately.
‘Here's the hooks for the ears, which must have given you a bit of trouble, I must say!’
Ridcully flourished the incriminating evidence.
‘What were you doing coming down the chimney?’ he continued. ‘Not in marvellous taste, I think.’
Death waved a small grubby scrap of paper defensively.
OFFICIAL LETTER TO THE HOGFATHER. SAYS HERE… he began, and then looked at the paper again. WELL, QUITE A LOT, IN FACT. IT'S A LONG LIST. LIBRARY STAMPS, REFERENCE BOOKS, PENCILS, BANANAS…
‘The Librarian asked the Hogfather for those things?’ said Ridcully. ‘Why?’
I DON'T KNOW, said Death. This was a diplomatic answer. He kept his finger over a reference to the Archchancellor. The orang-utan for ‘duck's bottom’ was quite an interesting squiggle.
‘I've got plenty in my desk drawer,’ mused Ridcully. ‘I'm quite happy to give them out to any chap provided he can prove he's used up the old one.’
THEY MUST SHOW YOU AN ABSENCE OF PENCIL?
‘Of course. If he needed essential materials he need only have come to me. No man can tell you I'm an unreasonable chap.’
Death checked the list carefully.
THAT IS PRECISELY CORRECT, he confirmed, with anthropological exactitude.
‘Except for the bananas, of course. I wouldn't keep fish in my desk.’
Death looked down at the list and then back up at Ridcully.
GOOD? he said, in the hope that this was the right response.
Wizards know when they are going to die.[22] Ridcully had no such premonitions, and to Ponder's horror prodded Death in the cushion.
‘Why you?’ he said. ‘What's happened to the other fellow?’
I SUPPOSE I MUST TELL YOU.
In the house of Death, a whisper of shifting sand and the faintest chink of moving glass, somewhere in the darkness of the floor…
And, in the dry shadows, the sharp smell of snow and a thud of hooves.
Sideney almost swallowed his tongue when Teatime appeared beside him.
‘Are we making progress?’
‘Gnk—’
‘I'm sorry?’ said Teatime.
Sideney recovered himself. ‘Er… some,’ he said. ‘We think we've worked out… er… one lock.’
Light gleamed off Teatime's eye.
‘I believe there are seven of them?’ said the Assassin.
‘Yes, but… they're half magic and half real and half not there… I mean… there's parts of them that don't exist all the time—’
Mr Brown, who had been working at one of the locks, laid down his pick.
‘'t's no good, mister,’ he said. ‘Can't even get a purchase with a crowbar. Maybe if I went back to the city and got a couple of dragons we could do something. You can melt through steel with them if you twist their necks right and feed 'em carbon.’
‘I was told you were the best locksmith in the city,’ said Teatime.
Behind him, Banjo shifted position.
Mr Brown looked annoyed…
‘Well, yes,’ he said. ‘But locks don't generally alter 'emselves while you're working on 'em, that's what I'm saying.’
‘And I thought you could open any lock anyone ever made,’ said Teatime.
‘Made by humans,’ said Mr Brown sharply. ‘And most dwarfs. I dunno what made these. You never said anything about magic.’
‘That's a shame,’ said Teatime. ‘Then really I have no more need of your services. You may as well go back home.’
‘I won't be sorry.’ Mr Brown started putting things back into his tool bag. ‘What about my money?’
‘Do I owe you any?’
‘I came along with you. I don't see it's my fault that this is all magic business. I should get something.’
‘Ah, yes, I see your point,’ said Teatime. ‘Of course, you should get what you deserve. Banjo?’
Banjo lumbered forward, and then stopped.
Mr Brown's hand had come out of the bag holding a crowbar.
‘You must think I was born yesterday, you slimy little bugger,’ he said. ‘I know your type. You think it's all some kind of game. You make little jokes to yourself and you think no one else notices and you think you're so smart. Well, Mr Teacup, I'm leaving, right? Right now. With what's coming to me. And you ain't stopping me. And Banjo certainly ain't. I knew old Ma Lilywhite back in the good old days. You think you're nasty? You think you're mean? Ma Lilywhite'd tear your ears off and spit 'em in your eye, you cocky little devil. And I worked with her, so you don't scare me and nor does little Banjo, poor sod that he is.’
Mr Brown glared at each of them in turn, flourishing the crowbar. Sideney cowered in front of the doors.
He saw Teatime nod gracefully, as if the man had made a small speech of thanks.
‘I appreciate your point of view,’ said Teatime. ‘And, I have to repeat, it's Teh-ah-tim-eh. Now, please, Banjo.’
Banjo loomed over Mr Brown, reached down and lifted him up by the crowbar so sharply that his feet came out of his boots.
‘Here, you know me, Banjo!’ the locksmith croaked, struggling in mid-air. ‘I remembers you when you was little, I used to sit you on my knees, I often used to work for your ma—’
‘D'you like apples?’ Banjo rumbled.
Brown struggled.
‘You got to say yes,’ Banjo said.
‘Yes!’
‘D'you like pears? You got to say yes.’
‘All right, yes!’
‘D'you like falling down the stairs?’
Medium Dave held up his hands for quiet.
He glared at the gang.
‘This place is getting to you, right? But we've all been in bad places before, right?’
‘Not this bad,’ said Chickenwire. ‘I've never been anywhere where it hurts to look at the sky. It give me the creeps.’
‘Chick's a little baby, nyer nyer nyer,’ sang Catseye.
They looked at him. He coughed nervously.
‘Sorry… don't know why I said that…’
‘If we stick together we'll be fine—’
‘Teeny meeny minty me…’ mumbled Catseye.
‘What? What are you talking about?’
‘Sorry… it just sort of slipped out…’
‘What I'm trying to say,’ said Medium Dave, ‘is that if—’
‘Peachy keeps making faces at me!’
‘I didn't!’
‘Liar, liar, p
ants on fire!’
Two things happened at this point. Medium Dave lost his temper, and Peachy screamed.
A small wisp of smoke was rising from his trousers.
He hopped around, beating desperately at himself.
‘Who did that? Who did that?’ demanded Medium Dave.
‘I didn't see anyone,’ said Chickenwire. ‘I mean, no one was near him. Catseye said “pants on fire” and next minute—’
‘Now he's sucking his thumb!’ Catseye jeered. ‘Nyer nyer nyer! Crying for Mummy! You know what happens to kids who suck their thumbs, there's this big monster with scissors all—’
‘Will you stop talking like that!’ shouted Medium Dave. ‘Blimey, it is like dealing with a bunch of—’
Someone screamed, high above. It went on for a while and seemed to be getting nearer, but then it stopped and was replaced by a rush of thumping and an occasional sound like a coconut being bounced on a stone floor.
Medium Dave got to the door just in time to see the body of Mr Brown the locksmith tumble past, moving quite fast and not at all neatly. A moment later his bag somersaulted around the curve of the stairs. It split as it bounced and there was a jangle as tools and lockpicks bounced out and followed their late owner.
He'd been moving quite fast. He'd probably roll all the way to the bottom.
Medium Dave looked up. Two turns above him, on the opposite side of the huge shaft, Banjo was watching him.
Banjo didn't know right from wrong. He'd always left that sort of thing to his brother.
‘Er… poor guy must've slipped,’ Medium Dave mumbled.
‘Oh, yeah… slipped,’ said Peachy.
He looked up, too.
It was funny. He hadn't noticed them before. The white tower had seemed to glow from within. But now there were shadows, moving across the stone. In the stone.
‘What was that?’ he said. ‘That sound…’
‘What sound?’
‘It sounded… like knives scraping,’ said Peachy. ‘Really close.’
‘There's only us here!’ said Medium Dave. ‘What're you afraid of? Attack by daisies? Come on… let's go and help him…’
She couldn't walk through the door. It simply resisted any such effort. She ended up merely bruised. So Susan turned the doorknob instead.
She heard the oh god gasp. But she was used to the idea of buildings that were bigger on the inside. Her grandfather had never been able to get a handle on dimensions.
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