Thief of Time

“Let us see what the abbot wants,” he said, unrolling the rice paper. “Oh. You are to take me to see him, it says here.”

A look of panic froze the novice's face. “What? How can I do that? Novices aren't allowed inside the Inner Temple!”

“Really? In that case, let me take you, to take me, to see him,” said Lu-Tze.

“You are allowed into the Inner Temple?” said the novice, and then put his hand over his mouth. “But you're just a swee—Oh…”

“That's right! Not even a proper monk, let alone a dong,” said the sweeper cheerfully. “Amazing, isn't it?”

“But people talk about you as if you were as high as the abbot!”

“Oh, dear me, no,” said Lu-Tze. “I'm nothing like as holy. Never really got a grip on the cosmic harmony.”

“But you've done all those incredible—”

“Oh, I didn't say I'm not good at what I do,” said Lu-Tz:e, ambling away with his broom over his shoulder. “Just not holy. Shall we go?”

“Er… Lu-Tze?” said the novice, as they walked along the ancient brick path.

“Yes?”

“Why is this called the Garden of Five Surprises?”

“What was your name back in the world, hasty young man?” said Lu-Tze.

“Newgate. Newgate Ludd, ven—”

Lu-Tze held up a warning finger. “Ah?”

“Sweeper, I mean.”

“Ludd, eh? Ankh-Morpork lad?”

“Yes, Sweeper,” said the boy. The suddenly dejected tones suggested he knew what was coming next.

“Raised by the Thieves' Guild? One of ‘Ludd's Lads’?”

The boy formerly known as Newgate looked the old man in the eye and, when he replied, it was in the singsong voice of someone who'd answered the question too many times. “Yes, Sweeper. Yes, I was a foundling. Yes, we get called Ludd's Lads and Lasses after one of the founders of the Guild. Yes, that's my adopted surname. Yes, it was a good life and sometimes I wish I still had it.”

Lu-Tze appeared not to hear this. “Who sent you here?”

“A monk called Soto discovered me. He said I had talent.”

“Marco? The one with all the hair?”

“That's right. Only I thought the rule was that all monks were shaved.”

“Oh, Soto says he is bald under the hair,” said Lu-Tze. “He says the hair is a separate creature that just happens to live on him. They gave him a field posting really quickly after he came up with that one. Hard-working fellow, mark you, and friendly as anything provided you don't touch his hair. Important lesson there: you don't survive in the field by obeying all the rules, including those relating to mental processes. And what name were you given when you were enrolled?”

“Lobsang, ven—uh, Sweeper.”

“Lobsang Ludd?”

“Er… yes, Sweeper.”

“Amazing. So, Lobsang Ludd, you tried to count my surprises, did you? Everybody does. Surprise is the nature of Time, and five is the number of Surprise.”

“Yes, Sweeper. I found the little bridge that tilts and throws you into the carp pool…”

“Good. Good.”

“…and I have found the bronze sculpture of a butterfly that flaps its wings when you breathe on it…”

“That's two.”

“There's the surprising way those little daisies spray you with venomous pollen…”

“Ah, yes. Many people find them extremely surprising.”

“And I believe the fourth surprise is the yodelling stick insect.”

“Well done,” said Lu-Tze, beaming. “It's very good, isn't it?”

“But I can't find the fifth surprise.”

“Really? Let me know when you find it,” said Lu-Tze.

Lobsang Ludd thought about this as he trailed after the sweeper.

“The Garden of Five Surprises is a test,” he said, at last.

“Oh, yes. Nearly everything is.”

Lobsang nodded. It was like the Garden of the Four Elements. Every novice found the bronze symbols of three of them—in the carp pond, under a rock, painted on a kite—but none of Lobsang's classmates found Fire. There didn't appear to be a fire anywhere in the garden.

After a while Lobsang had reasoned thus: there were in fact five elements, as they had been taught. Four made up the universe, and the fifth, Surprise, allowed it to keep on happening. No one had said that the four in the garden were the material four, so the fourth element in the Garden could be Surprise at the fact that Fire wasn't there. Besides, fire was not generally found in a garden, and the other signs were, truly, in their element. So he'd gone down to the bakeries and opened one of the ovens, and there, glowing red hot below the loaves, was Fire.

“Then… I expect that the fifth surprise is: there is no fifth surprise,” he said.

“Nice try, but no cylindrical smoking thing,” said Lu-Tze. “And is it not written, ‘Oo, you are so sharp you'll cut yourself one of these days’?”

“Um, I haven't read that in the sacred texts yet, Sweeper,” said Lobsang uncertainly.

“No, you wouldn't have,” said Lu-Tze.

They stepped out of the brittle sunlight into the deep cold of the temple, and walked on through ancient halls and down stairways cut into the rock. The sound of distant chanting followed them. Lu-Tze, who was not holy and therefore could think unholy thoughts, occasionally wondered whether the chanting monks were chanting anything, or were just going “aahaaahahah”. You could never tell with all that echo.