Hogfather

     YES.  I  KNOW. THE CONTROL OF  BELIEF,  said Death, as  the horse moved forward again.  ONLY A VERY SIMPLE  MIND  COULD THINK OF THAT.  MAGIC SO OLD IT'S HARDLY MAGIC. WHAT A SIMPLE WAY TO MAKE MILLIONS  OF CHILDREN CEASE  TO BELIEVE IN THE HOGFATHER.

     'And what were you doing?' Susan demanded.

I TOO HAVE DONE WHAT I SET  OUT TO DO. I HAVE  KEPT A  SPACE. A MILLION CARPETS  WITH SOOTY BOOTMARKS, MILLIONS OF FILLED STOCKINGS, ALL THOSE ROOFS WITH RUNNER MARKS ON THEM... DISBELIEF WILL FIND IT HARD GOING IN THE FACE OF THAT.  ALBERT SAYS HE NEVER WANTS TO DRINK ANOTHER SHERRY FOR  DAYS. THE HOGFATHER WILL HAVE SOMETHING TO COME BACK TO, AT LEAST.

     'What have I got to do now?'

YOU MUST BRING THE HOGFATHER BACK.

     'Oh, must  I? For peace and goodwill and  the tinkling  of fairy bells? Who  cares. He's just  some  fat old  clown  who makes people  feel smug  at Hogswatch!  I've been through all  this  for some old man  who prowls around kids' bedrooms?'

NO. SO THAT THE SUN WILL RISE.

     'What has astronomy got to do with the Hogfather?'

OLD GODS DO NEW JOBS.

     The Senior Wrangler wasn't attending the Feast. He got one of the maids to bring a tray  up  to his rooms, where he  was Entertaining and doing  all those things a man  does when he finds himself unexpectedly tкte-а-tкte with the opposite sex,  like  trying to shine his boots on his trousers and clean his fingernails with his other fingernails.

     'A  little more  wine, Gwendoline? It's  hardly  alcoholic,'  he  said, leaning over her.

     'I don't mind if I do, Mr Wrangler.'

     'Oh, call me  Horace, please. And perhaps a little  something  for your chic-ken?'

     'I'm  afraid  she  seems  to  have  wandered off somewhere,'  said  the Cheerful Fairy. 'I'm  afraid I'm, I'm I'm rather  dull  company...' She blew her nose noisily.

     'Oh,  I  certainly  wouldn't say that,'  said the  Senior Wrangler.  He wished he'd had time to tidy up his rooms a bit, or at least get some of the more embarrassing bits of laundry off the stuffed rhinoceros.

     'Everyone's been  so  kind,'  said the  Cheerful Fairy, dabbing at  her streaming eyes. 'Who was the skinny one that kept making the funny faces for me?'

     'That was the Bursar. Why don't you...'

     'He seemed very cheerful, anyway.'

     'It's the  dried  frog pills, he eats them  by  the handful,'  said the Senior Wrangler dismissively. 'I say, why don't...'

     'Oh dear. I hope they're not addictive.'

     'I'm sure he wouldn't keep on eating them if they were addictive,' said the Senior Wrangler.  'Now, why  don't you have another glass of  wine,  and then... and then...'  a  happy thought struck him  '... and then... and then perhaps  I  could  show you Archchancellor  Bowell's  Remembrance?  It's got a-a-a-a very interesting ceiling. My word, yes.'

     'That would be very nice,' said  the Cheerful Fairy. 'Would it cheer me up, do you think?'

     'Oh,  it would, it would,' said the Senior Wrangler. 'Definitely! Good! So I'll, er, I'll just go and... just go and... I'll... ' He pointed vaguely in the direction of his  dressing room, while hopping  from one foot  to the other. 'I'll just go and, er... go... just...'

     He fled into the dressing room and slammed the door behind him. His wild eyes scanned the shelves and hangers.

     'Clean robe,' he mumbled. 'Comb  face, wash socks, fresh hair,  where's that Insteadofshave lotion...'

     From the other side of the door came the adorable sound of the Cheerful Fairy  blowing her  nose.  From  this side  came the  sound  of  the  Senior Wrangler's muffled scream as, made careless  by haste and a very poor  sense of  smell, he mistakenly  splashed his face with the  turpentine he used for treating his feet.

     Somewhere overhead a  very small  plump child with  a bow and arrow and ridiculously  unaerodynamic wings buzzed ineffectually against a shut window on which the frost was tracing the outline  of  a rather handsome  Auriental lady. The other window already had an icy picture of a vase of sunflowers.

     In  the Great Hall one  of the tables had already collapsed. It was one of  the  customs of the Feast that  although  there  were many  courses each wizard went at  his  own speed, a tradition instituted to  prevent  the slow ones  holding everyone else  up.  And they  could also have seconds  if they wished, so that if  a wizard was particularly attracted to soup  he could go round and round for an hour before starting on the preliminary stages of the fish courses.

     'How're you feeling now, old chap?' said the

     Dean,  who  was  sitting next to the  Bursar. 'Back  on the dried  frog pills?'

     'I, er, I, er,  no,  Im not  too bad,'  said  the  Bursar.  'It was, of course, rather a, rather a shock when-'

     'That's a shame, because here's your Hogswatch present,' said the Dean, passing over a small box. It rattled. 'You can open it now if you like.'

     'Oh, well, how nice...'

     'It's from me,' said the Dean.

     'What a lovely...'

     'I bought it with my  own money, you know,'  said  the  Dean, waving  a turkey leg airily.

     'The wrapping paper is a very nice...'

     'More than a dollar, I might add.'