‘Isn’t learning fun? Oh, and here’s another one.’
DO NOT FEED THE ELEPHANT.
‘Now that,’ said Susan, ‘is good. You can’t obey it…’
‘… because there’s no elephant,’ said Lobsang. ‘I think I’m getting the hang of this…’
‘It’s an Auditor trap,’ said Susan, peering at a packing case.
‘Here’s another good one,’ said Lobsang.
IGNORE THIS SIGN. By order
‘Nice touch,’ Susan agreed, ‘but I’m wondering… who put up the signs?’
There were voices somewhere behind them. They were low, but then one was suddenly raised.
‘-says Left but points Right! It has no sense!’
‘The fault is yours! We disobeyed the first sign! Woe to them that stray onto the pathway of irregularity!’
‘Don’t you give me that, you organic thing! I raise my voice at you, you-‘
There was a soft sound, a choking noise, and a scream that dopplered into nothing.
‘Are they fighting one another?’ said Lobsang.
‘We can only hope so. Let’s move,’ said Susan. They crept on, weaving through the maze of spaces between the crates, and past a sign saying:
DUCK
‘Ah… now we’re getting metaphysical,’ said Susan.
‘Why duck?’ said Lobsang.
‘Why indeed?’
Somewhere amongst the cases a voice reached the end of its tether.
‘What organic damn elephant? Where is the elephant?’
‘There is no elephant!’
‘How can there be a sign, then?’
It is a-‘
… and once again the little choke, and the vanishing scream. And then… running footsteps.
Susan and Lobsang backed into the shadows, and then Susan said, ‘What have I put my foot in?’
She reached down and picked up the soft, sticky mess. And as she rose, she saw the Auditor come round the corner.
It was wild-eyed and frantic. It focused on the pair of them with difficulty, as if trying to remember who and what they were. But it was holding a sword, and holding it correctly.
A figure rose up behind it. One hand grabbed it by the hair and jerked its head back. The other was thrust over its open mouth.
The Auditor struggled for a moment, and then went rigid. And then disintegrated, tiny particles spinning away and disappearing into nothing.
For a moment the last few handfuls tried to form, in the air, the shape of a small cowled figure. Then it too was dragged apart, with a faint scream that was heard via the hairs on the back of the neck.
Susan glared at the figure in front of her. ‘You’re a… you can’t be a… what are you?’ she demanded.
The figure was silent. This might have been because thick cloth covered its nose and mouth. Heavy gloves encased its hands. And this was odd, because most of the rest of it was wearing a sequinned evening gown. And a mink stole. And a knapsack. And a huge picture hat with enough feathers to make three rare species totally extinct.
The figure rummaged in the knapsack, and then thrust out a piece of dark brown paper, as if proffering holy writ. Lobsang took it with care.
‘It says here “Higgs & Meakins Luxury Assortment”,’ he said. ‘Caramel Crunch, Hazelnut Surprise… They’re chocolates?’
Susan opened her hand and looked at the crushed Strawberry Whirl she had picked up. She gave the figure a careful look.
‘How did you know that would work?’ she said.
‘Please! You have nothing to fear from me,’ said the muffled voice through the bandages. ‘I’m down to the ones with the nuts in now, and they don’t melt very quickly.’
‘Sorry?’ said Lobsang. ‘You just killed an Auditor with a chocolate?’
‘My last Orange Creme, yes. We are exposed here. Come with me.’
‘An Auditor…’ Susan breathed. ‘You’re an Auditor too. Aren’t you? Why should I trust you?’
‘There isn’t anyone else.’
‘But you are one of them,’ said Susan. ‘I can tell, even under all that… that stuff!’
‘I was one of them,’ said Lady LeJean. ‘Now I rather think I’m one of me.’
People were living in the attic. There was a whole family up there. Susan wondered if their presence was official or unofficial or one of those in-between states that were so common in Ankh-Morpork, where there was always a chronic housing shortage. So much of the city’s life took place on the street because there was no room for it inside. Whole families were raised in shifts, so that the bed could be used for twenty-four hours a day. By the look of it, the caretakers and men who knew the way to Caravati’s Three Large Pink Women and One Piece of Gauze had moved their families in to the rambling attics.
The rescuer had simply moved in on top of them. A family, or at least one shift of it, was seated on benches around a table. frozen in timelessness. Lady LeJean removed her hat, hung it on the mother and shook out her hair. Then she unwrapped the heavy bandages from her nose and mouth.
‘We are relatively safe here,’ she said. ‘They are mostly in the main streets. Good… day. My name is Myria LeJean. I know who you are, Susan Sto Helit. I do not know the young man, which surprises me. I take it you are here to destroy the clock?’
‘To stop it,’ said Lobsang.
‘Hold on, hold on,’ said Susan. ‘This makes no sense. Auditors hate everything about life. And you are an Auditor, aren’t you?’
‘I have no idea what I am,’ sighed Lady LeJean. ‘But right now I know that I am everything an Auditor should not be. We… they … we have to be stopped!’
‘With chocolate?’ said Susan.
‘The sense of taste is new to us. Alien. We have no defences.’
‘But… chocolate?’
‘A dry biscuit almost killed me,’ said her ladyship. ‘Susan, can you imagine what it is like to experience taste for the first time? We built our bodies well. Oh, yes. Lots of tastebuds. Water is like wine. But chocolate… Even the mind stops. There is nothing but the taste.’ She sighed. ‘I imagine it is a wonderful way to die.’
‘It doesn’t seem to affect you,’ said Susan suspiciously.
‘The bandages and the gloves,’ said Lady LeJean. ‘Even then it is all I can do not to give in. Oh, where are my manners? Do sit down. Pull up a small child.’
Lobsang and Susan exchanged a glance. Lady LeJean noticed it.
‘I said something wrong?’ she said.
‘We don’t use people as furniture,’ said Susan.
‘But surely they will not be aware of it?’ said her ladyship.
‘We will,’ said Lobsang. ‘That’s the point, really.’
‘Ah. I have so much to learn. There is… there is so much context to being human, I am afraid. You, sir, can you stop the clock?’
‘I don’t know how to,’ said Lobsang. ‘But I… I think I should know. I’ll try.’
‘Would the clockmaker know? He is here.’
‘Where?’ said Susan.
‘Just down the passage,’ said Lady LeJean.
‘You carried him here?’
‘He was barely able to walk. He was hurt badly in the fight.’
‘What?’ said Lobsang. ‘How could he walk at all? We’re outside time!’
Susan took a deep breath. ‘He carries his own time, just like you,’ she said. ‘He’s your brother.’
And it was a lie. But he wasn’t ready for the truth. By the look on his face, he wasn’t even ready for the lie.
‘Twins,’ said Mrs Ogg. She picked up the brandy glass, looked at it, and put it down. ‘There wasn’t one. There was twins. Two boys. But…’
She turned on Susan a glare like a thermic lance. ‘You’ll be thinking, this is an old biddy of a midwife,’ she said. ‘You’ll be thinking, what does she know?’
Susan paid her the courtesy of not lying. ‘Part of me was,’ she admitted.
‘Good answer! Part of us thinks all kinds of things,’ said Mrs Ogg. ‘Part of me is thinking, who’s this haughty little miss who talks to me as if I was a kiddie of five? But most of me is thinking, she’s got a heap of troubles of her own and has seen plenty of things a human shouldn’t have to see. Mind you, part of me says, so have I. Seeing things a human shouldn’t have to see makes us human. Well, miss… if you’ve any sense, part of you is thinking, there’s a witch in front of me who’s seen my granddad many times, when she’s sat by a sickbed that’s suddenly become a deathbed, and if she’s ready to spit in his eye when the time comes then she could probably bother me considerably right now if she puts her mind to it. Understand? Let’s all keep our parts to ourselves,’ and suddenly she gave Susan a wink, ‘as the High Priest said to the actress.’
‘I absolutely agree,’ said Susan. ‘Completely.’
‘Right,’ said Mrs Ogg. ‘So… twins … well, it was her first time, and human wasn’t exactly a familiar shape with her, I mean, you can’t do what comes naturally when you ain’t exactly natural and … twins ain’t quite the right word …’