Hogfather

Death helped himself to a biscuit from the tin. There were two full stockings hanging from the mantelpiece. He prodded them with professional satisfaction, and then sat down again and observed the nursery wallpaper. It seemed to be pictures of rabbits in waistcoats, among other fauna.^{95} He was not surprised. Death occasionally turned up in person even for rabbits, simply to see that the whole process was working properly. He’d never seen one wearing a waistcoat. He wouldn’t have expected waistcoats. At least, he wouldn’t have expected waistcoats if he hadn’t had some experience of the way humans portrayed the universe. As it was, it was only a blessing they hadn’t been given gold watches and top hats as well.

Humans liked dancing pigs, too. And lambs in hats. As far as Death was aware, the sole reason for any human association with pigs and lambs was as a prelude to chops and sausages. Quite why they should dress up for children’s wallpaper as well was a mystery. Hello, little folk, this is what you’re going to eat … He felt that if only he could find the key to it, he’d know a lot more about human beings.

His gaze travelled to the door. Susan’s governess coat and hat were hanging on it. The coat was grey, and so was the hat. Grey and round and dull. Death didn’t know many things about the human psyche, but he did know protective coloration when he saw it.

Dullness. Only humans could have invented it. What imaginations they had.

The door opened.

To his horror, Death saw a small child of unidentifiable sex come out of the bedroom, amble sleepily across the floor and unhook the stockings from the mantelpiece. It was halfway back before it noticed him and then it simply stopped and regarded him thoughtfully.

He knew that young children could see him because they hadn’t yet developed that convenient and selective blindness that comes with the intimation of personal mortality. He felt a little embarrassed.

‘Susan’s gotta poker, you know,’ it said, as if anxious to be helpful.

WELL, WELL. INDEED. MY GOODNESS ME.

‘I fort — thought all of you knew that now. Larst — last week she picked a bogey up by its nose.’

Death tried to imagine this. He felt sure he’d heard the sentence wrong, but it didn’t sound a whole lot better however he rearranged the words.

‘I’ll give Gawain his stocking and then I’ll come an’ watch,’ said the child. It padded out.

ER… SUSAN? Death said, calling in reinforcements.

Susan backed out of the kitchen, a black kettle in her hand.

There was a figure behind her. In the half-light the sword gleamed blue along its blade. Its glitter reflected off one glass eye.

‘Well, well,’ said Teatime, quietly, glancing at Death. ‘Now this is unexpected. A family affair?’

The sword hummed back and forth.

‘I wonder,’ said Teatime, ‘is it possible to kill Death? This must be a very special sword and it certainly works here …’ He raised a hand to his mouth for a moment and gave a little chuckle. ‘And of course it might well not be regarded as murder. Possibly it is a civic act. It would be, as they say, The Big One. Stand up, sir. You may have some personal knowledge about your vulnerability but I’m pretty certain that Susan here would quite definitely die, so I’d rather you didn’t try any last-minute stuff.’

I AM LAST-MINUTE STUFF, said Death, standing up.

Teatime circled around carefully, the sword’s tip making little curves in the air.

From the next room came the sound of someone trying to blow a whistle quietly.

Susan glanced at her grandfather.

‘I don’t remember them asking for anything that made a noise,’ she said.

OH, THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING IN THE STOCKING THAT MAKES A NOISE, said Death. OTHERWISE WHAT IS 4.30 A.M. FOR?

‘There are children?’ said Teatime. ‘Oh yes, of course. Call them.’

‘Certainly not!’

‘It will be instructive,’ said Teatime. ‘Educational. And when your adversary is Death, you cannot help but be the good guy.’

He pointed the sword at Susan.

‘I said call them.’

Susan glanced hopefully at her grandfather. He nodded. For a moment she thought she saw the glow in one eye socket flicker off and on, Death’s equivalent of a wink. He’s got a plan. He can stop time. He can do anything. He’s got a plan.

‘Gawain? Twyla?’

The muffled noises stopped in the next room. There was a padding of feet and two solemn faces appeared round the door.

‘Ah, come in, come in, curly-haired tots,’ said Teatime genially.

Gawain gave him a steely stare.

His next mistake, thought Susan. If he’d called them little bastards he’d have them bang on his side. But they know when you’re sending them up.

‘I’ve caught this bogeyman,’ said Teatime. ‘What shall we do with him, eh?’

The two faces turned to Death. Twyla put her thumb in her mouth.

‘It’s only a skeleton,’ said Gawain critically.

Susan opened her mouth, and the sword swung towards her. She shut it again.

‘Yes, a nasty, creepy, horrible skeleton,’ said Teatime. ‘Scary, eh?’