Hogfather

     'You know where it is?'

     'No! I've never  been here  before! They had  a bag on my  head when we came!  All I  ever  did was take the teeth from  under the pillows!'  Violet started to sob. 'You just get this list and about five minutes' training and they even dock you ten pence a week for the  ladder and I  know I  made that mistake  with little William  Rubin but they should of said, you're supposed to take any teeth you...'

     'Er... mistake?' said Bilious, trying to get her to hurry.

     'Just because he slept with his head under the pillow but they give you the pliers anyway and no one told me that you shouldn't-'

     She certainly did have a pleasant voice,  Bilious  told himself. It was just that in a funny way it grated, too. It  was like listening to a talking flute.

     'I  think  we'd just better  get outside,' he said.  'In case they hear us,' he hinted.

     'What sort of godding do you do?' said Violet.

     'Er... oh,  I...  this and that... I... er...'  Bilious  tried to think through the pounding headache. And then he had one of those ideas,  the kind that only sound good after a lot of alcohol. Someone else may have drunk the drinks, but he managed to snag the idea.

     'I'm actually self-employed,' he said, as brightly as he could manage.

     'How can you be a self-employed god?'

     'Ah, well,  you see,  if  any  other god wants,  perhaps,  you  know, a holiday or something, I cover for them. Yes. That's what I do.'

     Unwisely, in the circumstances, he let his inventiveness impress him.

     'Oh, yes.  I'm very busy.  Rushed off my feet. They're always employing me. You've no idea. They  don't think twice about pushing off for a month as a big white  bull or a swan or something and it's  always, "Oh, Bilious, old chap, just take care of things while I'm  away, will you? Answer the prayers and so on." I hardly  get a minute to  myself but of course you  can't  turn down work these days.'

     Violet was round-eyed with fascination.

     'And are you covering for anyone right now?' she asked.

     'Um, yes... the God of Hangovers, actually... 'A God  of Hangovers? How awful!'

     Bilious looked down at his stained and wretched toga.

     'I suppose it is...' he mumbled.

     'You're not very good at it.'

     'You don't have to tell me.'

     'You're more cut  out to be one of the  important  gods,' said  Violet, admiringly. 'I can just see you as lo or Fate or one of those.'

     Bilious stared at her with his mouth open.

     'I could tell at once you  weren't right,' she went on.  'Not for  some horrible little god. You could even be Offier with calves like yours.'

     'Could  I?  I  mean...  oh, yes. Sometimes.  Of course, I have to  wear fangs...'

     And then someone was holding a sword to his throat.

     'What's this?' said Chickenwire. 'Lover's Lane?'

     'You leave  him  alone,  you!' shouted Violet. 'He's a  god! You'll  be really sorry!'

     Bilious swallowed, but very gently. It was a sharp sword.

     'A god, eh?' said Chickenwire. 'What of?'

     Bilious tried to swallow again.

     'Oh, bit o' this, bit o' that,' he mumbled.

     'Cor,' said Chickenwire.  'Well, I'm  impressed. I can see I'm going to have  to  be  dead  careful  here,  eh?  Don't  want  you  smiting  me  with thunderbolts, do I? Puts a crimp in the day, that sort of thing...'

     Bilious didn't dare move his head. But out of the corner of his eye  he was sure he could see shadows moving very fast across the walls.

     'Dear me,  out  of thunderbolts, are we?'  Chickenwire  sneered. 'Well, y'know, I've never...'

     There was a creak.

     Chickenwire's face was  a few inches from  Bilious. The oh god saw  his expression change.

     The man's eyes rolled. His lips said '...nur...'

     Bilious risked stepping back. Chickenwire's sword didn't move. He stood there, trembling slightly, like a man who wants  to turn round to see what's behind him but doesn't dare to in case he does.

     As far as Bilious was concerned, it had just been a creak.

     He looked up at the thing on the landing above.

     'Who put that there?' said Violet.

     It was  just a wardrobe. Dark oak, a bit of fancy woodwork glued  on in an effort to  disguise the undisguisable  fact that it  was  just an upright box. It was a wardrobe.

     'You didn't, you know,  try  to  cast  a  thunderbolt  and go  on a few letters too many?' she went on.

     'Huh?' said Bilious, looking from the stricken  man to the wardrobe. It was so ordinary it was ... odd.

     'I mean, thunderbolts begin with T and wardrobes...'

     Violet's lips moved silently. Part of Bilious thought: I'm attracted to a girl who actually has to shut down all other brain  functions in  order to think about  the  order of the letters of the alphabet.  On the  other hand, she's  attracted to  someone who's wearing  a  toga that  looks  as though a family  of weasels have had a  party in it, so  maybe I'll stop this thought right here.

     But the major part of his brain thought:  why's  this man making little bubbling noises? It's just a wardrobe, for my sake!

     'No, no,' mumbled Chickenwire. 'I don't wanna!'

     The sword clanged on the floor.