Hogfather

     NO. YOU NEED TO  BELIEVE IN THINGS THAT AREN'T  TRUE. HOW ELSE CAN THEY BECOME? said Death, helping her up on to Binky.

     'These  mountains,'  said Susan,  as  the horse  rose. 'Are  they  real mountains, or some sort of shadows?'

YES.

     Susan knew that was all she was going to get.

     'Er... I lost the sword. It's somewhere in the Tooth Fairy's country.'

     Death shrugged. I CAN MAKE ANOTHER.

     'Can you?'

     OH, YES. IT WILL GIVE ME SOMETHING TO DO. DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT.

     The  Senior  Wrangler  hummed  cheerfully  to himself as he  ran a comb through his beard for the second time  and  liberally sprinkled it with what would turn out  to  be  a preparation  of  weasel  extract for demon removal rather than,  as he had  assumed, a  pleasant masculine Scent.[23]  Then  he stepped out into his study.

     'Sorry for the delay, but...' he began.

     There  was  no one there.  Only,  very  far off,  the sound of  someone blowing their nose mingling with the glingleglingleglingle of fading magic.

     The fight  was already gilding the top of  the Tower of  Art when Binky trotted to a standstill on the air beside the nursery balcony. Susan climbed down onto  the fresh  snow and  stood uncertainly for a moment. When someone has  gone out of their  way to drop you home it's only courteous to ask them in. On the other hand...

     WOULD YOU LIKE TO VISIT  FOR HOGSWATCH DINNER?  said  Death. He sounded hopeful. ALBERT IS FRYING A PUDDING.

     'Frying a pudding?'

     ALBERT UNDERSTANDS FRYING. AND I BELIEVE  HE'S MAKING JAM. HE CERTAINLY KEPT TALKING ABOUT IT.

     'I... er... they're really expecting me here,' said Susan. 'The Gaiters do  a lot of entertaining. His business friends. Probably the whole day will be... I'll more or less have to look after the children...'

SOMEONE SHOULD.

     'Er... would you like a drink before you go?' said Susan, giving in.

A CUP OF COCOA WOULD BE APPROPRIATE IN THE CIRCUMSTANCES.

     'Right. There's biscuits in the tin on the mantelpiece.'

     Susan headed with relief into the tiny kitchen.

     Death sat down in the creaking wicker chair, buried his feet in the rug and  looked around with interest. He  heard the clatter of  cups, and then a sound like indrawn breath, and then silence.

     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.  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 gender 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.