there’s a Tooth Fairy, ain’ there? You might as wel wonder why we have a God of
Wine and not a God of Hangovers—‘
He stopped.
‘Anyone else hear that noise just then?’ he said.
‘Sorry, Archchancel or?’
‘Sort of glingleglingleglingle? Like little tinkly bel s?’
‘Didn’t hear anything like that, sir.’
‘Oh.’ Ridcul y shrugged. ‘Anyway … what was I saying … yes … no one’s ever heard
of a Verruca Gnome until tonight.’
‘That’s right,’ said the gnome. ‘Even I’ve never heard of me until tonight, and I’m me.’
‘We’l see what we can find out, Archchancel or,’ said Ponder diplomatical y.
‘Good man.’ Ridcul y put the gnome back in his pocket and looked up at Hex.
‘Amazin’,’ he said again. ‘He just looks as though he’s thinking, right?’
‘Er … yes.’
‘But he’s not actual y thinking?’
‘Er … no.’
‘So … he just gives the impression of thinking but real y it’s just a show?’
‘Er … yes.’
‘Just like everyone else, then, real y,’ said Ridcul y.
something,’ he added. ‘This here chappie is the Verruca Gnome-‘
‘Hel o,’ said the Verruca Gnome shyly.
‘ -who seems to have popped into existence to be with us here tonight. And, you
know, I thought: this is a bit odd. Of course, there’s always something a bit unreal
about Hogswatchnight,’ said Ridcul y. ‘Last night of the year and so on. The Hogfather
whizzin’ around and so forth. Time of the darkest shadows and so on. Al the old year’s
occult rubbish pilin’ up. Anythin’ could happen. I just thought you fel ows might check
up on this. Probably nothing to worry about.’
‘A Verruca Gnome?’ said Ponder.
The gnome clutched his sack protectively.
‘Makes about as much sense as a lot of things, I suppose,’ said Ridcul y. ‘After al ,
there’s a Tooth Fairy, ain’ there? You might as wel wonder why we have a God of
Wine and not a God of Hangovers—‘
He stopped.
‘Anyone else hear that noise just then?’ he said.
‘Sorry, Archchancel or?’
‘Sort of glingleglingleglingle? Like little tinkly bel s?’
‘Didn’t hear anything like that, sir.’
‘Oh.’ Ridcul y shrugged. ‘Anyway … what was I saying … yes … no one’s ever heard
of a Verruca Gnome until tonight.’
‘That’s right,’ said the gnome. ‘Even I’ve never heard of me until tonight, and I’m me.’
‘We’l see what we can find out, Archchancel or,’ said Ponder diplomatical y.
‘Good man.’ Ridcul y put the gnome back in his pocket and looked up at Hex.
‘Amazin’,’ he said again. ‘He just looks as though he’s thinking, right?’
‘Er … yes.’
‘But he’s not actual y thinking?’
‘Er … no.’
‘So … he just gives the impression of thinking but real y it’s just a show?’
‘Er … yes.’
‘Just like everyone else, then, real y,’ said Ridcul y.
The boy gave the Hogfather an appraising stare as he sat down on the official knee.
‘Let’s be absolutely clear. I know you’re just someone dressed up,’ he said. ‘The
Hogfather is a biological and temporal impossibility. I hope we understand one
another.’
AH. SO I DON’T EXIST?
‘Correct. This is just a bit of seasonal frippery and, I may say, rampantly commercial.
My mother’s already bought my presents. I instructed her as to the right ones, of
course. She often gets things wrong.’
The Hogfather glanced briefly at the smiling, worried image of maternal
ineffectiveness hovering nearby.
HOW OLD ARE YOU, BOY?
The child rol ed his eyes. ‘You’re not supposed to say that,’ he said. ‘I have done this
before, you know. You have to start by asking me my name.’
AARON FIDGET, ‘THE PINES’, EDGEWAY ROAD, ANKHMORPORK.
‘I expect someone told you,’ said Aaron. ‘I expect these people dressed up as pixies
get the information from the mothers.’
AND YOU ARE EIGHT, GOING ON … OH, ABOUT FORTY-FIVE, said the
Hogfather.
‘There’s forms to fil in when they pay, expect,’ said Aaron.
AND YOU WANT WALNUT’S INOFFENSIVE REPTILES OF THE STO PLAINS, A
DISPLAY CABINET, A COLLECTOR’S ALBUM, A KILLING JAR AND A LIZARD
PRESS. WHAT IS A LIZARD PRESS?
‘You can’t glue them in when they’re stil fat, or didn’t you know that? I expect she
told you about them when I was momentarily distracted by the display of pencils. Look,
shal we end this charade? just give me my orange and we’l say no more about it.’
I CAN GIVE FAR MORE THAN ORANGES.
‘Yes, yes, I saw al that. Probably done in col usion with accomplices to attract
gul ible customers. Oh dear, you’ve even got a false beard. By the way, old chap, did
you know that your pig—-‘
YES.
‘Al done by mirrors and string and pipes, I expect. It al looked very artificial to me.’
The Hogfather snapped his fingers.
‘That’s probably a signal, I expect,’ said the boy, getting down. ‘Thank you very
much.’
HAPPY HOGSWATCH, said the Hogfather as the boy walked away.
Uncle Heavy patted him on the shoulder.
‘Wel done, master,’ he said. ‘Very patient. I’d have given him a clonk athwart the
earhole, myself.’
OH, I’M SURE HE’LL SEE THE ERROR OF HIS WAYS. The red hood turned so that
only Albert could see into its depths. RIGHT AROUND THE TIME
HE OPENS THOSE BOXES HIS MOTHER WAS CARRYING …
HO. HO. HO.
‘Don’t tie it so tight! Don’t tie it so tight!’
SQUEAK.
There was a bickering behind Susan as she sought along the shelves in the canyons
of Death’s huge library, which was so big that clouds would form in it if they dared.
‘Right, right,’ said the voice she was trying to ignore. ‘That’s about right. I’ve got to be
able to move my wings, right?’
SQUEAK.
‘Ah,’ said Susan, under her breath. ‘The Hogfather. . .’
He had several shelves, not just one book. The first volume seemed to be written on
a rol of animal skin. The Hogfather was old.
ÒK, OK. How does it look?’
SQUEAK.
‘Miss?’ said the raven, seeking a second opinion.
Susan looked up. The raven bounced past, its breast bright red.
‘Twit, twit,’ it said. ‘Bobbly bobbly bob. Hop hop hopping along . . .’
‘You’re fooling no one but yourself,’ said Susan. ‘I can see the string.’
She unrol ed the scrol .
‘Maybe I should sit on a snowy log,’ mumbled the raven behind her. ‘Thats probably
the trick, right enough.’
‘I can’t read this!’ said Susan. ‘The letters are al … odd. . .’
‘Ethereal runes,’ said the raven. ‘The Hogfather ain’t human, after al .’
Susan ran her hands over the thin leather. The … shapes flowed around her fingers.
She couldn’t read them but she could feel them. There was the sharp smel of snow,
so vivid that her breath condensed in the air. There were sounds, hooves, the snap of
branches in a freezing forest
A bright shining bal . . .
Susan jerked awake and thrust the scrol aside. She unrol ed the next one, which
looked as though it was made of strips of bark. Characters hovered over the surface.
Whatever they were, they had never been designed to be read by the eye; you could
believe they were a Brail e for the touching mind. Images ribboned across her senses –
wet fur, sweat, pine, soot, iced air, the tang of damp ash, pig … manure, her governess
mind hastily corrected. There was blood … and the taste of . . ..beans? It was al
images without words. Almost … animal.
‘But none of this is right! Everyone knows he’s a jol y old fat man who hands out
presents to kids!’ she said aloud.
‘ Is. Is. Not was. You know how it is,’ said the raven.
‘Do I?’
‘It’s like, you know, industrial re-training,’ said the bird. ‘Even gods have to move with
the times, am I right? He was probably quite different thousands of years ago. Stands
to reason. No one wore stockings, for one thing.’ He. scratched at his beak.
‘Yersss,’ he continued expansively, ‘he was probably just your basic winter demi-
urge. You know … blood on the snow, making the sun come up. Starts off with animal
sacrifice, y’know, hunt some big hairy animal to death, that kind of stuff. You know
there’s some people up on the Ramtops who kil a wren at Hogswatch and walk
around from house to house singing about it? With a whack-fol-oh-diddle-dildo. Very
folkloric, very myffic.’
‘A wren? Why?’
‘I dunno. Maybe someone said, hey, how’d you like to hunt this evil bastard of an
eagle with his big sharp beak and great ripping talons, sort of thing, or how about
instead you hunt this wren, which is basical y about the size of a pea and goes “twit”?
Go on, you choose. Anyway, then later on it sinks to the level of religion and then they
start this business where some poor bugger finds a special bean in his tucker, oho,