Hogfather

     'Yeah, but you might at least have thought about the people whose  grub you pinched.'

THEY HAVE BEEN PROVIDED FOR, OF  COURSE. I AM NOT COMPLETELY HEARTLESS. IN A METAPHORICAL SENSE. AND NOW - ONWARDS AND UPWARDS.

     'We're heading down, master.'

ONWARDS AND DOWNWARDS, THEN.

     There were...  swirls. Binky  galloped easily through them, except that he did not seem to move. He might have been hanging in the air.

     'Oh, me,' said the oh god weakly.

     'What?' said Susan.

     'Try shutting your eyes ...'

     Susan shut her eyes. Then she reached up to touch her face.

     'I'm still seeing. .

     'I thought it was just me. It's usually just me.' The swirls vanished.

     There was greenery below.

     And that was odd.  It was  greenery.  Susan had flown a few  times over countryside, even swamps and jungles,  and there had never been a  green  as green as this. If green could be a primary colour, this was it.

     And that wiggly thing

     'That's not a river!' she said.

     'Isn't it?'

     'It's blue!'

     The oh god risked a look down.

     'Water's blue,' he said.

     'Of course it's not!'

     'Grass is green, water's blue... I can  remember that. It's some of the stuff I just know.'

     'Well, in a way...' Susan hesitated. Everyone  knew grass was green and water was blue. Quite often it wasn't  true, but everyone knew it  in the same  way they knew the sky was blue, too.

     She made the mistake of looking up as she thought that.

     There was the sky.  It  was, indeed, blue. And down there was the land. It was green.

     And in between was  nothing. Not white space. Not black night.  Just... nothing, all round the edges of the world. Where the brain said there should be, well,  sky and land, meeting neatly at  the horizon, there was  simply a void that sucked at the eyeball like a loose tooth.

     And there was the sun.

     It was under the sky, floating above the land.

     And it was yellow.

     Buttercup yellow.

     Binky landed on the grass beside the river.  Or at  least on the green. It felt more like sponge, or moss. He nuzzled it.

     Susan slid off, trying to keep her gaze low. That meant she was looking at the vivid blue of the water.

     There  were  orange fish  in it. They didn't look quite  right,  as  if they'd been created by  someone who  really  did think a fish was two curved lines  and  a dot and a triangular  tail. They reminded her  of the skeletal fish  in  Death's  quiet  pool.  Fish  that  were...  appropriate  to  their surroundings. And she could see them, even though the water was just a block of colour which part of her insisted ought to be opaque...

     She knelt down and dipped her hand in. It felt like water, but what poured through her fingers was liquid blue.

     And now she knew where she  was. The last piece clicked  into place and the  knowledge bloomed inside her. She knew if she  saw a house just how its windows  would  be  placed, and  just how  the smoke  would come out of  the chimney.

     There would almost certainly be apples  on the trees. And they would be red, because everyone knew that apples were red. And the sun was yellow. And the sky was blue. And the grass was green.

     But there was another world, called the real world  by  the  people who believed in it, where the sky could be anything from off-white to sunset red to thunderstorm yellow. And the trees would be anything from bare  branches, mere scribbles against the sky, to  red flames before the frost. And the sun was white or yellow or orange. And water was brown and grey and green...

     The colours here were springtime colours, and not the springtime of the world. They were the colours of the springtime of the eye.

     'This is a child's painting,' she said.

     The oh god slumped onto the green.

     'Every time  I  look  at  the  gap my eyes water,' he  mumbled. 'I feel awful.'

     'I said this is a child's painting,' said Susan.

     'Oh, me... I think the wizards' potion is wearing off...'

     'I've seen dozens of pictures of it,' said Susan, ignoring him. 'You put the sky overhead because the sky's above you and when you are a  couple of feet high there's not a lot of sideways to the sky in any case.  And everyone tells you grass is green and  water is blue. This is the  landscape you paint. Twyla paints like  that. I painted  like  that. Grandfather saved some of...'

     She stopped.

     'All  children do it, anyway,' she muttered.  'Come  on, let's find the house.'

     'What house?' the oh god moaned. 'And can you speak quieter, please?'

     'There'll  be  a house,'  said  Susan, standing  up.  'There's always a house. With four windows. And the smoke coming  out of the chimney all curly like a spring. Look,  this is  a place like  gr... Death's country. It's not really geography.'

     The oh god walked over to the nearest tree and banged his head on it as if he hoped it was going to hurt.

     'Feels like geo'fy,' he muttered.

     'But have  you ever seen  a tree like that? A big green blob on a brown stick? It looks like a lollipop!' said Susan, pulling him along.

     'Dunno.  Firs' time I  ever  saw a tree.  Arrgh.  Somethin' dropped  on m'head.' He blinked owlishly at the ground. ' 's red.'