just a minor point—‘ Albert leaned dose to the stunned monarch. ‘If anyone was
thinking about making a mistake, you know, like maybe sending the guards down here
tomorrow, tipping the old man out of his hovel, chuckin’ him in prison, anything like that
… werrl l … that’s the kind of mistake he ought to treasure on account of it being the
last mistake he’l ever make. A word to the wise men, right?’ He tapped the side of his
nose conspiratorial y. ‘Happy Hogswatch.
Then he hurried back into the hovel
The feast had vanished. The old man was looking blearily at the bare table
HALF-EATEN LEAVINGS, said Death. WE COULD CERTAINLY DO BETTER
THAN THIS. He reached into the sack
Albert grabbed his arm before he could withdraw his hand
‘Mind taking a bit of advice, master? I was brung up in a place like this.
DOES IT BRING TEARS TO YOUR EYES
‘A box of matches to me hand, more like. Liste
The old man was only dimly aware of some whispering. He sat hunched up, staring
at nothing
WELL, IF YOU ARE SURE ..
‘Been there, done that, chewed the bones,’ said Albert. ‘Charity ain’t giving people
what you wants to give, it’s giving people what they need to get.
VERY WELL
Death reached into the sack again
HAPPY HOGSWATCH. HO. HO. HO
There was a string of sausages. There was a side of bacon. And a smal tub of salt
pork. And a mass of chitterlings wrapped up in greased paper. There was a black
pudding. There were several other tubs of disgusting yet savoury porkadjacent items
highly prized in any pig-based economy. And, laid on the table with a soft thump, there
wa’A pig’s head,’ breathed the old man. ‘A whole one! Ain’t had brawn in years! And a
basin of pig knuckles! And a bowl of pork dripping!
HO. HO. HO
‘Amazing,’ said Albert. ‘How did you get the head’s expression to look like the king?
I THINK THAT’s ACCIDENTAL
Albert patted the old man on the back
‘Have yourself a bal ,’ he said. ‘In fact, have two. Now I think we ought to be going,
master.
They left the old man staring at the laden board
WASN’T THAT NICE? said Death, as the hogs accelerated
‘Oh, yes,’ said Albert, shaking his head. ‘Poor old devil. Beans at Hogswatch?
Unlucky, that. Not a night for a man to find a bean in his bowl.
I FEEL I WAS CUT OUT FOR THIS SORT OF THING, YOU KNOW
‘Real y, master?
IT’S NICE TO DO A JOB WHERE PEOPLE LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOU
‘Ah,’ said Albert glumly
THEY DON’T NORMALLY LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING ME
‘Yes, I expect so.
EXCEPT IN SPECIAL AND RATHER UNFORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCES
‘Right, right.
AND THEY SELDOM LEAVE A GLASS OF SHERRY OUT
‘I expect they don’t, no.
I COULD GET INTO THE HABIT OF DOING THIS, IN FACT
‘But you won’t need to, wil you, master?’ said Albert hurriedly, with the horrible
prospect of being a permanent Pixie Albert looming in his mind again. ‘Because we’l
get the Hogfather back.. right? That’s what you said we were going to do, right? And
young Susan’s probably bustling around ..
YES. OF COURSE
‘Not that you asked her to, of course.
Albert’s jittery ears didn’t detect any enthusiasm
Oh dear, he thought
I HAVE ALWAYS CHOSEN THE PATH OF DUTY
‘Right, master.
The sleigh sped on
I AM THOROUGHLY IN CONTROL AND FIRM OF PURPOSE
‘No problem there, then, master.’ said Albert
NO NEED TO WORRY AT ALL
‘Pleased to hear it, master.
IF I HAD A FIRST NAME, ‘DUTY’ WOULD BE MY MIDDLE NAME
‘Good.
NEVERTHELESS ..
Albert strained his ears and thought he heard, just on the edge of hearing, a voice
whisper sadly
HO. HO. HO
There was a party going on. It seemed to occupy the entire building
‘Certainly very energetic young men,’ said the oh god careful y, stepping over a wet
towel. ‘Are women al owed in here?
‘No,’ said Susan. She stepped through a wal into the superintendent’s office
A group of young men went past, manhandling a barrel of beer
‘You’l feel bad about it in the morning,’ said Bilious. ‘Strong drink is a mocker, you
know.
They set it up on a table and knocked out the bung
‘Someone’s going to have to be sick after al that,’ he said, raising his voice above
the hubbub. ‘I hope you realize that. You think it’s clever, do you, reducing yourself to
the level of the beasts of the field … er … or the level they’d sink to if they drank, I
mean.
They moved away, leaving one mug of beer by the barrel
The oh god glanced at it, and picked it up and sniffed at it
‘Ugh.
Susan stepped out of the wal
‘He hasn’t been back for- What’re you doing?
‘I thought Id see what beer tastes like,’ said the oh god guiltily
‘You don’t know what beer tastes like?
‘Not on the way down, no. It’s … quite different by the time it gets to me,’ he said
sourly. He took another sip, and then a longer one. ‘I can’t see what al the fuss is
about,’ he added
He tipped up the empty pot
‘I suppose it comes out of this tap here,’ he said. ‘You know, for once in my existence
I’d like to get drunk.
‘Aren’t you always?’ said Susan, who wasn’t real y paying attention
‘No. I’ve always been drunk. I’m sure I explained.
‘He’s been gone a couple of days,’ said Susan. ‘That’s odd. And he didn’t say where
he was going. The last night he was here was the night he was on Violet’s list. But he
paid for his room for the week, and I’ve got the number.
‘And the key?’ said the oh god
‘What a strange idea.
Mr Lilywhite’s room was smal . That wasn’t surprising. What was surprising was how
neat it was, how careful y the little bed had been made, how wel the floor had been
swept. It was hard to imagine anyone living in it, but there were
few signs. On the simple table by the bed was a smal , rather crude portrait of a
bul dog in a wig, although on closer inspection it might have been a woman. This
tentative hypothesis was borne out by the inscription ‘To a Good Boy, from his Mother’
on the back
A book lay next to it. Susan wondered what kind of reading someone with Mr Banjo’s
background would buy
It turned out to be a book of six pages, one of those that were supposed to enthral
children with the magic of the printed word by pointing out that they could See Spot
Run
There were no more than ten words on each page and yet, careful y placed between
pages four and five, was a bookmark
She turned back to the cover. The book was cal ed Happy Tales. There was a blue
sky and trees and a couple of impossibly pink children playing with a jol ylooking dog
It looked as though it had been read frequently, if slowly
And that was it
A dead end
No. Perhaps not ..
On the floor by the bed, as if it had been accidental y dropped, was a smal , silvery
halfdol ar piece
Susan picked it up and tossed it idly. She looked the oh god up and down. He was
swil ing a mouthful of beer from cheek to cheek and looking thoughtful y at the ceiling
She wondered about his likelihood of survival incarnate in Ankh-Morpork at
Hogswatch, especial y if the cure wore off. After al , the only purpose of his existence
was to have a headache and throw up. There were not a great many postgraduate
jobs for which these were the main qualifications
‘Tel me,’ she said. ‘Have you ever ridden a horse?
‘I don’t know. What’s a horse?
In the depths of the library of Death, a squeaking noise
It was not loud, but it appeared louder than mere decibels would suggest in the
furtive, scribbling hush of the books
Everyone, it is said, has a book inside them. In this library, everyone was inside a
book
The squeaking got louder. It had a rhythmical, circular quality
Book on book, shelf on shelf … and in every one, at the page of the ever-moving
now, a scribble of handwriting fol owing the narrative of every life ..
The squeaking came round the corner
It was issuing from what looked like a very rickety edifice, several storeys high. It
looked rather like a siege tower, open at the sides. At the base, between the wheels,
was a pair of geared treadles which moved the whole thing
Susan dung to the railing of the topmost platform
‘Can’t you hurry up?’ she said. ‘We’re only at the Bi’s at the moment.