Hogfather

     'I  mean, stands to reason, they chuck  out an old spell for  exploding this, and another one for twiddlin' that, and another one for making carrots grow,  they  finish up  interfering with one another, who knows what they'll end  up  doing?' said Ernie. 'Great-grandpa said sometimes they'd wake up in the  morning and the cellar'd be higher than the attic. And that weren't the worst,' he added darkly.

     'Yeah, I heard where it got so bad you could walk  down  the street and meet  yourself coming  the  other way,' someone supplied. 'It  got  so's you didn't know it was bum or breakfast time, I heard.'

     'The  dog  used  to  bring  home  all  kinds  of  stuff,'  said  Ernie. 'Great-grandpa  said half the time they used to dive behind the sofa  if  it came  in  with anything in its mouth. Corroded fire spells startin' to fizz, broken  wands with green smoke  coming out of 'em and I don't know what else ... and if you saw the cat playing with anything, it  was best not to try to find out what it was, I can tell you.'

     He  twitched the reins, his current predicament almost forgotten in the tide of hereditary resentment.

     'I mean, they say all the old spell books and stuff was buried deep and they recycle the used spells now, but that don't seem much comfort when your potatoes started walkin' about,' he  grumbled. 'My great-grandpa went to see the head wizard  about it,  and he said' - he put on a strangled nasal voice which was his idea of how you talked when you'd got an  education -  ' " Oh, there might be some  temp'ry  inconvenience now, my good man, but  just  you come back in fifty thousand years." Bloody wizards.'

     The horse turned a corner.

     This was  a  dead-end street. Half-collapsed  houses, windows  smashed, doors stolen, leaned against one another on either side.

     'I  heard  they  said  they were  going to  clean up this  place,' said someone.

     'Oh, yeah,' said Ernie,  and spat. When it hit the  ground it ran away. 'And  you know what?  You get loonies coming in  all the  time  now,  poking around, pulling things about...'

     'Just at the wall up  ahead,' said  Teatime  conversationally. 'I think you generally go through just where there's a pile of rubble by the old dead tree, although you wouldn't see it unless you looked closely. But I've never seen how you do it ... '

     '' ere, I can't take you lot through,' said Ernie. 'Lifts is one thing, but not taking people through- '

     Teatime sighed. 'And we were  getting on so well. Listen, Ernie ... Ern ... you  will  take us through  or, and  I say  this with  very considerable regret, I will have to kill you. You  seem a nice man. Conscientious. A very serious overcoat and sensible boots.'

     'But if'n I take you through-'

     'What's the  worst that  can happen?' said Teatime.  'You'll lose  your job. Whereas if you don't, you'll die. So if you look at it like that, we're actually doing you a favour. Oh, do say yes.'

     'Er . .  .' Ernie's brain felt twisted up. The lad  was definitely what Ernie thought of  as a toff, and he seemed nice and friendly,  but it didn't all add up. The tone and the content didn't match.

     'Besides,' said Teatime, 'if  you've been coerced, it's not your fault, is it? No one can blame you. No one could blame anyone who'd been coerced at knife point.'

     'Oh, well, I  s'pose, if we're talking coerced:' Ernie muttered.  Going along with things seemed to be the only way.

     The horse stopped and stood waiting  with the patient look of an animal that probably knows the route better than the driver.

     Ernie  fumbled in his overcoat pocket and took out a  small tin, rather like a snuff box. He opened it. There was glowing dust inside.

     'What do you do with that?' said Teatime, all interest.

     'Oh, you just takes a pinch and throws it in the  air and it goes twing and it opens the soft place,' said Ernie.

     'SO ... you don't need any special training or anything?'

     'Er... you just chucks it at the  wall there and it  goes twing,'  said Ernie.

     'Really? May I try?'

     Teatime took  the tin  from his unresisting hand  and threw a pinch  of dust into the air in  front of the horse. It hovered  for  a moment and then produced a narrow, glittering arch in the air. It sparkled and went:

     ... twing.

     'Aw,' said a voice behind them. 'Innat nice, eh, our Davey?'

     'Yeah.'

     'All pretty sparkles...'

     'And then you just drive forward?' said Teatime.

     'That's  right,'  said  Ernie.  'Quick, mind. It only stays  open for a little while.'

     Teatime pocketed the little tin. 'Thank you very much, Ernie. Very much indeed.'

     His  other  hand lashed out.  There was a  glint  of metal.  The carter blinked, and then fell sideways off his seat.

     There was  silence from behind, tinted with horror and possibly  just a little terrible admiration.

     'Wasn't he dull?' said Teatime, picking up the reins.

     Snow began to fall. It fell on the recumbent shape of  Ernie, and it also fell through several hooded grey robes that hung in the air.