Thief of Time

“If it helps, I'm not entirely certain that I am one,” said Susan. She watched Mrs Ogg for a while. “But I understand. There have to be rules, don't there? Thank you for your time.”

Susan stood up and put the preserved day back on the mantelpiece. Then she walked out of the cottage, shutting the door behind her. Binky was waiting by the gate. She mounted up, and it wasn't until then that she heard the door open.

“That's what he said,” said Mrs Ogg. “When he gave me the eggtimer. ‘Thank you for your time, Mrs Ogg,’ he said. You'd better come back in, my girl.”

Tick

Death found Pestilence in a hospice in Llamedos. Pestilence liked hospitals. There was always something for him to do.

Currently he was trying to remove the “Now Wash Your Hands” sign over a cracked basin. He looked up.

“Oh, it's you,” he said. “Soap? I'll give 'em soap!”

I SENT OUT THE CALL, said Death.

“Oh. Yes. Right. Yes,” said Pestilence, clearly embarrassed.

YOU'VE STILL GOT YOUR HORSE?

“Of course, but…”

YOU HAD A FINE HORSE.

“Look, Death… it's… look, it's not that I don't see your point, but—Excuse me…” Pestilence stepped aside as a white-robed nun, completely ignorant of the two Horsemen, passed between them. But he took the opportunity to breathe in her face.

“Just a mild flu,” he said, catching Death's expression.

SO WE CAN COUNT ON YOU, CAN WE?

“To ride out…”

YES.

“For the Big One…”

IT'S EXPECTED OF US.

“How many of the others have you got?”

YOU ARE THE FIRST.

“Er…”

Death sighed. Of course, there had been plenty of diseases, long before humans had been around. But humans had definitely created Pestilence. They had a genius for crowding together, for poking around in jungles, for siting the midden so handily next to the well. Pestilence was, therefore, part human, with all that this entailed. He was frightened.

I SEE, he said.

“The way you put it—”

YOU ARE AFRAID?

“I'll… think about it.”

YES. I AM SURE YOU WILL.

Tick

Quite a lot of brandy splashed into Mrs Ogg's mug. She waved the bottle vaguely at Susan, with an enquiring look.

“No, thank you.”

“Fair enough. Fair enough.” Nanny Ogg put the bottle aside and took a draught of the brandy as though it were beer.

“A man came knocking,” she said. “Three times he came, in my life. Last time was, oh, maybe ten days ago. Same man every time. He wanted a midwife—”

“Ten days ago?” said Susan. “But the boy's at least sixt—” She stopped.

“Ah, you've got it,” said Mrs Ogg. “I could see you was bright. Time didn't matter to him. He wanted the best midwife. And it was, like, he'd found out about me but got the date wrong, just like you or me could knock on the wrong door. Can you understand what I mean?”

“More than you think,” said Susan.

“The third time”—another gulp at the brandy—“he was in a bit of a state,” said Mrs Ogg. “That's how I knew he was just a man, despite everything that happened after. It was because he was panicking, to tell you the truth. Pregnant fathers often panic. He was going on about me coming right away and how there was no time. He had all the time in the world, he just wasn't thinking properly, 'cos husbands never do when the time comes. They panic 'cos it ain't their world any more.”

“And what happened next?” said Susan.

“He took me in his, well, it was like one of them old chariots, he took me to…” Mrs Ogg hesitated. “I've seen a lot of strange things in my life, I'll have you know,” she said, as if preparing the ground for a revelation.

“I can believe it.”

“It was a castle made of glass.” Mrs Ogg gave Susan a look that dared her to disbelieve. Susan decided to hurry things up.

“Mrs Ogg, one of my earliest memories is of helping to feed the Pale Horse. You know? The one outside? The horse of Death? His name is Binky. So please don't keep stopping. There is practically no limit to the things I find normal.”

“There was a woman… well eventually there was a woman,” said the witch. “Can you imagine someone exploding into a million pieces? Yes, I expect you can. Well, imagine it happening the other way. There's a mist and it's all flying together and then, whoosh, there's a woman. Then, whoosh, back into a mist again. And all the time, this noise…” Mrs Ogg ran her finger round the edge of the brandy glass, making it hum.

“A woman kept… incarnating and then disappearing again? Why?”

“Because she was frightened, of course! First time, see?” Mrs Ogg grinned. “I person'ly never had any problems in that area, but I've been at a lot of births when it's all new to the girl and she'll be frightened as hell and when push comes to shove, if you take my meaning, old midwifery term, she'll be yellin' and swearin' at the father and I reckon that she'd give anything to be somewhere else. Well, this lady could be somewhere else. We'd have been in a real pickle if it wasn't for the man, as it turned out.”

“The man who brought you?”