Thief of Time (Discworld, #26; Death, #5)

by Terry Pratchett

It wasn’t like that with Jeremy. He was truly a man you could set your watch by. Igor had never seen a life so organized, so slimmed down, so timed. He found himself thinking of his new master as the tick-tock man.

Loyalty to a master was very important, but it took second place to loyalty to Igordom. If the world was going to be full of lurching servants, then they were damn well going to be called Igor.

“Thoeth?” “On her feet, thur,” sighed Igor. The lisp could be a problem, and in truth any Igor could easily fix it, but it was part of being an Igor. You might as well stop limping.

In theory it will never need adjusting. It will take its time from the universal tick.” “Ah. You found it, then?” “The time it takes the smallest possible thing that can happen to happen. I know it exists.”

Jeremy smiled. Igor had seen better smiles on a corpse.

At the crossroads her ladyship waved one hand vaguely and the trolls headed off by themselves. Igor stayed with her. For all the trademark limp, Igors could move fast when they had to. They often had to, when the mob hit the windmill.*

Anyway, people have been messing around with time ever since they were people. Wasting it, killing it, sparing it, making it up. And they do it. People’s heads were made to play with time.

Lobsang wrapped time around himself, and followed. And a memory came from nowhere at all: Wen was right.

One said, There will be questions. The Auditors hated questions. They hated them almost as much as they hated decisions, and they hated decisions almost as much as they hated the idea of the individual personality. But what they hated most was things moving around randomly.

The Auditors avoided death by never going so far as to get a life. They strove to be as indistinguishable as hydrogen atoms, and with none of the latter’s joie de vivre.

You had to hand it to human beings. They had one of the strangest powers in the universe. Even her grandfather had remarked upon it. No other species anywhere in the world had invented boredom.

And along with this had come the contrary power, to make things normal. The world changed mightily, and within a few days humans considered it was normal. They had the most amazing ability to shut out and forget what didn’t fit. They told themselves little stories to explain away the inexplicable, to make things normal.

Susan sighed. And you had to remember that Time probably wasn’t time, in the same way that Death wasn’t exactly the same as death and War wasn’t exactly the same as war. She’d met War, a big fat man with an inappropriate sense of humor and a habit of repeating himself, and he certainly didn’t personally attend every minor fracas. She disliked Pestilence, who gave her funny looks, and Famine was just wasted and weird. None of them ran their . . .call it their discipline. They personified it.

Grandfather might be an ultimate destroyer of worlds and the final truth of the universe, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t take an interest in the little people.

“Why do I do this?” SQUEAK. “I have not got a nice nature!”

“I borrowed it. The owner is . . .my grandfather.” Another pause, and it was disconcerting how those friendly little eyes could bore into yours like an auger. “You’d better come in,” said Mrs. Ogg.

“And she was old, too, if you’re after the truth of it. Not old like me. I mean old.” She stared at the fire. “Old like darkness and stars,” she said, to the flames.

“Damn!” he said. He shuffled around the tree to where the Death of Rats was sitting. SQUEAK? “Look, if you want me to do this undercover work you’ve got to get me a book on ornithology, okay?” said Quoth. “Let’s go, or I’ll never keep up.”

“Do you know what happens if you slice time on a magically powered vehicle traveling at more than seventy miles an hour?” “No!” “Me neither! And I don’t want to find out!”

Jeremy held out his hand. “I am pleased to meet you,” he said. Six pairs of eyes looked uncomprehendingly at the hand. “The custom here is to shake hands,” said her ladyship. In unison, the Auditors extended a hand and wiggled it slowly in the air.

It’s happening already, thought Lady LeJean. It’s in the darkness where your eyes can’t see. The universe becomes two halves, and you live in the half behind the eyes. Once you have a body, you have a “me.” I have seen galaxies die. I have watched atoms dance. But until I had the dark behind the eyes, I didn’t know the death from the dance. And we were wrong. When you pour water into a jug, it becomes jug-shaped and it is not the same water anymore. An hour ago they never dreamed of having names, and now they are arguing about them . . .

Caution. That was it. That was the word! Auditors loved that word. Always put off until tomorrow something which, tomorrow, you could put off until, let’s say, next year.

enthusiastically. “And what is this pretty blue glow?” “It’s, it’s the crystal ring,” said Jeremy. “It, it—” “It spins light,” said Lady LeJean. “And then it makes a hole in the universe.” “Really?” said Dr. Hopkins, putting his glasses back on. “What an original idea! Does a cuckoo come out?”

“See? Nothing to it,” said the sweeper. “Just maintain, that’s all. Nice and steady.” It was like balancing on a wire. It was fine if you didn’t think about it.

“But I don’t know what I can do to—” “Find out what you can do!”

“But . . .you were the fifth horseman of the Apocalypse!” “And I bet you can’t remember my name.” Lu-Tze hesitated. “No,” he said. “I don’t think I ever heard it.” The fifth horseman turned around. His eyes were black. Completely black. Shiny, and black, and without any whites at all. “My name,” said the fifth horseman, “is . . .” “Yes?” “My name is Ronnie.”

When he looked at her like that, she felt a terrible urge to claw his face off. Which made absolutely no sense at all. No Auditor should feel like that about another Auditor. No Auditor should feel like that about anything. No Auditor should feel.

Susan. “Don’t see what you expect to see, see what’s in front of you!”

“An Auditor . . .” Susan breathed. “You’re an Auditor, too. Aren’t you? Why should I trust you?” “There isn’t anyone else.” “But you are one of them,” said Susan. “I can tell, even under all that . . .that stuff!” “I was one of them,” said Lady LeJean. “Now I rather think I’m one of me.”

Susan took a deep breath. “He carries his own time, just like you,” she said. “He’s your brother.” And it was a lie. But he wasn’t ready for the truth. By the look of his face, he wasn’t even ready for the lie.

“My grandfather is Death.” “That’s a strange thing to say. Death is just the end of life. It’s not a . . .a person—” PAY ATTENTION TO ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU . . . A wind whipped around the room, and the light changed. Shadows formed on Susan’s face. A faint blue light outlined her. Lobsang swallowed.

“Your mother is Time.” “No one knows who my mother is!” “I could take you to the midwife,” said Susan. “Your father found the best there’s ever been. She delivered you. Your mother was Time.”

“He’s not your brother,” said Susan. “I lied a bit. I’m sorry.” “But you said—” “I had to lead up to it,” said Susan. “It’s one of those things you have to get hold of a bit at a time, I’m afraid. He’s not your brother. He’s you.” “Then who am I?” Susan sighed. “You. Both of you . . .are you.”

Lobsang reached down and touched Jeremy’s hand with his fingertip. The world went white.

Death glanced at the book. The cover and all the pages were made of iron. Realization dawned. YOU ARE THE ANGEL CLOTHED ALL IN WHITE OF THE IRON BOOK FROM THE PROPHECIES OF TOBRUN, AM I CORRECT? “That’s right!”

EXACTLY. ONLY, WHILE IT IS TRUE WE HAVE TO RIDE OUT, Death added, drawing his sword, IT DOESN’T SAY ANYWHERE AGAINST WHOM. Your meaning? hissed the Auditor, but now there was a flicker of fear. Things were happening that it didn’t understand. Death grinned. In order to fear, you had to be a me. Don’t let anything happen to me. That was the song of fear.

WE MUST DO WHAT WE CAN. “And if that doesn’t work?” said Pestilence. Death gathered up Binky’s reins. The Auditors were much closer now. He could make out their individual, identical shapes. Remove one, and there were always a dozen more. THEN WE DID WHAT WE COULD, he said, UNTIL WE COULD NOT.

He nodded. HELLO, RONNIE. GOOD TO SEE YOU. I WONDERED IF YOU WOULD COME. A hand trailing cold steam came up and removed the helmet. “Hello, boys,” said Chaos pleasantly.

Lu-Tze took the arm of the astonished Unity. “How quickly they learn, eh?” he said. “And so do I, I’m pleased to say. Ever heard of yetis, miss? I was desperate enough to see how much I’d really learned. And they were right . . .it does sting a bit . . .”

Can you grasp all that?” “Yes. I think so.” “Good. Everything I have just said is nonsense. It bears no resemblance to the truth of the matter in any way at all. But it is a lie that you can . . .understand, I think.

“Behold, the fifth surprise!” He reached into his robe. Lobsang floated closer. The sweeper produced a cheap carnival mask. It was one of those that consisted of a fake pair of glasses, glued above a big pink nose, and a heavy black mustache. He put it on and wiggled his ears once or twice. “Boo,” he said.

So easily does a thief of time repay his debts!”

“In any case, chocolate is hardly a rare commodity,” said Chaos. “There are planets covered in the stuff.” REALLY? “Indeed.” IT MIGHT BE BEST, said Death, IF NEWS LIKE THAT DID NOT GET ABOUT.

It was some minutes later that Death reached into his robe and pulled out a lifetimer that was small and light enough to have been designed for a doll. He turned around. “But . . .I died,” said the shade of Unity. YES, said Death. THIS IS THE NEXT PART . . .

The stars around her head grew brighter, and the cupboard’s interior darkened into interstellar black. “If iss is oo, Def o’ Raffs—” she began. “It’s me,” said Lobsang. Tick Even with nougat, you can have a perfect moment.

A chocolate you did not want to eat does not count as chocolate. This discovery is from the same branch of culinary physics that determined that food eaten while walking along contains no calories.

*Igors were loyal, but they were not stupid. A job was a job. When an employer had no further use for your services, for example because he’d just been staked through the heart by a crowd of angry villagers, it was time to move on before they decided that you ought to be on the next stake. An Igor soon learned a secret way out of any castle and where to stash an overnight bag.

*Every society needs a cry like that, but only in a very few do they come out with the complete, unvarnished version, which is “Remember-The-Atrocity-Committed-Against-Us-Last-Time-That-Will-Excuse-The-Atrocity-That-We’re-About-To-Commit-Today! And So On! Hurrah!”.