Ylith asked the dwarves whether a pair of Harpies had come by recently carrying two frozen people. The dwarves shook their heads irritably. Making and stuffing Christmas presents is precision work, and if people talk to you, it spoils the rhythm. One of them jerked his head toward the back of the workshop. Ylith went that way and saw, at the end of the long room, a door with an inscription on it: SANTA’S OFFICE. She went there, knocked, entered.
Santa was a big, fat man with the sort of face that smiled easily. But looks don’t always tell the story. Santa was frowning, and his face was long and drawn as he talked into a magical seashell.
“Hello, is this Supply? I need to talk to someone.”
The answer came out of a baboon’s head, stuffed and mounted on the wall.
“This is Supply. With whom am I speaking?”
“Claus here. Santa Claus.”
“Yes, Mr. Claus. Are you authorized to speak to us here in Supply?”
“I guess you haven’t heard of me,” Santa Claus said. “I’m the one who brings presents around every December twenty-fifth by the new calendar.”
“Oh, that Santa Claus! When do you start bringing presents for demons?”
“I’m overworked enough bringing presents for humans,” Santa Claus said. “I’ve got this problem-”
“Just a minute,” the voice said. “I will connect you with the problems clerk.”
Santa Claus sighed. He was on hold again. Then he noticed Ylith, who had just entered the room.
He blinked three times rapidly behind his little rectangular spectacles. “Goodness gracious! You’re not a dwarf, are you?”
“No,” Ylith said, “and I’m not a reindeer, either. But I’ll give you a clue. I got here on a broomstick.”
“Then you must be a witch!”
“You’ve got it.”
“Are you going to bewitch me?” Santa asked, slobbering slightly as he perceived Ylith’s charms, which had been brought into prominence by her windblown clothes. “I wouldn’t mind being bewitched, you know. Nobody ever thinks of bewitching Santa Claus. As if I don’t need a little cheering up from time to time, eh? Who brings Santa Claus presents, eh? Ever think of that? It’s give, give, give all the time around here. But what do I get out of it?”
“Satisfaction. You bask in everybody’s love.”
“It’s the presents they love, not me.”
“The giver is part of the given,” Ylith said.
Santa Claus paused and considered. “Do you really think so?”
“How could it be any other way?”
“Well, that’s better, then. Might I inquire what you are doing here? There’s never anyone but dwarves and reindeer around here. And me, of course.”
“I came,” Ylith said, “because I need to pick up some packages that were left for me here.”
“Packages? What kind of packages?”
“One male, one female. Both humans. Both frozen solid. The Harpies brought them here.”
“Oh, those terrible Harpies!” Santa said. “They’ve left the snow yellow for miles around!”
“What about the frozen people?”
“They’re out in back, in the woodshed.”
“I’ll pick them up now,” Ylith said. “Oh, and one thing more. There’s a little girl on Earth named Brigitte Scrivener.”
“Little dirty-faced kid with a saucy manner? ” Santa always remembered the children.
“That’s her. What I’d like you to do is bring her a dollhouse this year. The sort you usually only give to princesses. Filled with moving figures, wallpaper, radios, and other magical things.”
“This kid was real good, eh?”
“Goodness had nothing to do with it,” Ylith said. “She got a promise from a demon and this is part of the payoff.”
“Why isn’t the demon himself here to get it?”
“He had other stuff to do. You know how demons are.”
Santa Claus nodded. “Okay, she’ll get the present. Do you want me to take special care to make sure it gets a bit of good luck in it?”
Ylith thought it over carefully. “No, just give her whatever comes up. The dollhouse is enough. She’ll have to take her chances on the luck it’ll bring her just like anyone else.”
“Sagely put,” Santa said. “Now, before you go, let me give you a present.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This!” Santa cried, tearing at his nether clothing.