'What's that got to do with anything?'
'Don't ask me. He was the one who started talking about giving stuff to the troops.'
'Will you lot shut up? No one's giving anything to the troops!'
'Oh, shouldn't they have something? It's Hogswatch, after all.'
'Look it was just a figure of speech, all right? I just meant I was. fully in agreement. It's just colourful language. Good grief, you surely can't think I'm actually suggesting giving stuff to the troops, at Hogswatch or any other time!'
'You weren't?'
'No!" 'That's a bit mean, isn't it?' Ponder just let it happen. It's because their minds are so often involved with deep and problematic matters, he told himself, that their mouths are allowed to wander around making a nuisance of themselves. 'I don't hold with using that thinking machine,' said the Dean. 'I've said this before. It's meddling with the Cult. The occult has always been good enough for me, thank you very much.'
'On the other hand it's the only person round here who can think straight and it does what it's told,' said Ridcully. The sleigh roared through the snow, leaving rolling trails in the sky. 'Oh, what fun,' muttered Albert, hanging on tightly. The runners hit a roof near the University and the pigs trotted to a halt. Death looked at the hourglass again. ODD, he said. 'It's a scythe job, then?' said Albert. 'You won't be wanting the false beard and the jolly laugh?' He looked around, and puzzlement replaced sarcasm. 'Hey ... how could anyone be dead up here? Someone was. A corpse lay in the snow. It was dear that the man had only just died. Albert squinted up at the sky. 'There's nowhere to fall from and there's no footprints in the snow,' he said, as Death swung his scythe. 'So where did he come from? Looks like someone's personal guard. Been stabbed to death. Nasty knife wound there, see?'
'It's not good,' agreed the spirit of the man, looking down at himself. Then he stared from himself to Albert to Death and his phantom expression went from shock to concern. 'They got the teeth! All of them! They just walked in ... and ... they ... no, wait. . He faded and was gone. 'Well, what was that all about?' said Albert.
I HAVE MY SUSPICIONS. 'See that badge on his shirt? Looks like a drawing of a tooth.' YES. IT DOES. 'Where's that come from?' A PLACE I CANNOT GO. Albert looked down at the mysterious corpse and then back up at Deaths impassive skull. 'I keep thinking it was a funny thing, us bumping into your grand-daughter like that,' he said. YES. Albert put his head on one side. 'Given the large number of chimneys and kids in the world, ekcetra.' INDEED… 'Amazing coincidence, really.' IT JUST GOES TO SHOW. 'Hard to believe, you might say.' LIFE CERTAINLY SPRINGS A FEW SURPRISES. 'Not just life, I reckon,' said Albert. 'And she got real worked up, didn't she? Flew right off the ole handle. Wouldn't be surprised if she started asking questions.' THAT'S PEOPLE FOR YOU. 'But Rat is hanging around, ain't he? He'll probably keep an eye socket on her. Guide her path, prob'ly.' HE IS A LITTLE SCAMP, ISN'T HE? Albert knew he couldn't win. Death had the ultimate poker face. I'M SURE SHE'LL ACT SENSIBLY. 'Oh, yeah,' said Albert, as they walked back to the sleigh. 'It runs in the family, acting sensibly.' Like many barmen, Igor kept a club under the bar to deal with those little upsets that occurred around closing time, although in fact Biers never closed and no one could ever remember not seeing Igor behind the bar. Nevertheless, things sometimes got out of hand. Or paw. Or talon. Igor's weapon of choice was a little different. It was tipped with silver (for werewolves), hung with garlic (for vampires) and wrapped around with a strip of blanket (for bogeymen). For everyone else the fact that it was two feet of solid bog-oak usually sufficed. He'd been watching the window. The frost was creeping across it. For some reason the creeping fingers were forming into a pattern of three little dogs looking out of a boot. Then someone had tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, club already in his hand, and relaxed. 'Oh ... it's you, miss. I didn't hear the door.' There hadn't been the door. Susan was in a hurry. 'Have you seen Violet lately, Igor?'
'The tooth girl?' Igor's one eyebrow writhed in concentration. 'Nah, haven't seen her for a week or two.` The eyebrow furrowed into a V of annoyance as he spotted the raven, which tried to shuffle behind a halfempty display card of beer nuts. 'You can get that out of here, miss,' he said. 'You know the rule 'bout pets and familiars. If it can't turn back into human on demand, it's out.'
'Yeah, well, some of us have more brain cells than fingers,' muttered a voice from behind the beer nuts. 'Where does she live?'
'Now, miss, you know I never answers questions like that--'
‘WHERE DOES SHE LIVE, IGOR?'
'Shamlegger Street, next to the picture framers,' said Igor automatically. The eyebrow knotted in anger as he realized what he'd said. 'Now, miss, you know the rules! I don't get bitten, I don't get me froat torn out and no one hides behind me door! And you don't try your granddad's voice on me! I could ban you for messin' me about like that!'
'Sorry, it's important,' said Susan. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that the raven had crept on to the shelves and was pecking the top off a jar. 'Yeah, well, suppose one of the vampires decides it's important he's missed his tea?' grumbled Igor, putting the club away. There was a plink from the direction of thee pickled egg jar. Susan tried hard not to look. ' Can we go?' said the oh god. 'All this alcohol makes me nervous.' Susan nodded and hurried out. Igor grunted. Then he went back to watching the frost, because Igor never demanded much out of life. After a while he heard a muffled voice say: 'I 'ot 'un! I 'ot 'un!' It was indistinct because the raven had speared a pickled egg with its beak. Igor sighed, and picked up his club. And it would have gone very hard for the raven if the Death of Rats hadn't chosen that moment to bite Igor on the ear. DOWN THERE, said Death. The reins were hauled so sharply so quickly that the hogs ended up facing the other way. Albert fought his way out of a drift of teddy bears, where he'd been dozing. 'What's up? What's up? Did we hit something?' he said. Death pointed downwards. An endless white snowfield lay below, only the occasional glow of a window candle or a half-covered hut indicating the presence on this world of brief mortality. Albert squinted, and then saw what Death had spotted. '
's some old bugger trudging through the snow,' he said. 'Been gathering wood, by the look of it. A bad night to be out,' he said. 'And I'm out in it too, come to that. Look, master, I'm sure you've done enough now to make sure----' SOMETHING'S HAPPENING DOWN THERE. HO. HO. HO. 'Look, he's all right,' said Albert, hanging on as the sleigh tumbled downwards. There was a brief wedge of light below as the wood-gatherer opened the door of a snow-drifted hovel. 'See, over there, there's a couple of blokes catching him up, look they're weighed down with parcels and stuff, see? He's going to have a decent Hogswatch after all, no problem there. Now can we go-' Death's glowing eye sockets took in the scene in minute detail. IT'S WRONG. 'Oh, no ... here we go again.' The oh god hesitated. 'What do you mean, you can't walk through the door?' said Susan. 'You walked through the door in the bar.'
'That was different. I have certain god-like powers in the presence of alcohol. Anyway, we've knocked and she hasn't answered and whatever happened to Mr Manners?' Susan shrugged, and walked through the cheap woodwork. She knew she probably shouldn't. Every time she did something like this she used up a certain amount of, well, normal. And sooner or later she'd forget what doorknobs were for, just like Grandfather. Come to think of it, he'd never found out what doorknobs were for.
She opened the door from the inside. The oh god stepped in and looked around. This did not take long. It was not a large room. It had been subdivided from a room that itself hadn't been all that big to start with. 'This is where the Tooth fairy lives?' Bilious said. 'It's a bit ... poky, isn't it? Stuff all over the floor ... What're these things hanging from this line?'
'They're . . . women's clothes,' said Susan, rummaging through the paperwork on a small rickety table. 'They're not very big,' said the oh god. 'And a bit thin . . .'
'Tell me,' said Susan, without looking up. 'These memories you arrived here with ... They weren't very complicated, were they ... ? Ah...' He looked over her shoulder as she opened a small red notebook. 'I've only talked to Violet a few times,' she said. 'I think she delivers the teeth somewhere and gets a percentage of the money. It's not a highly paid line of work. You know, they say you can Earn $$$ in Your Spare Time but she says really she could earn more money waiting on tables - All, this looks right 'What's that?'
'She said she gets given the names every week.'
'What, of the children where going to lose teeth?'
'Yes. Names and addresses,' said Susan, flicking through the pages. 'That doesn't sound very likely.' `Pardon me, but are you the God of Hangovers? Oh, look here's Twyla's tooth last month.' She smiled at the neat grey writing. 'She practically hammered it out because she needed the half-dollar.'
'Do you like children?' said the oh god. She gave him a look. 'Not raw,' she said. `Other people's are OK. Hold on . . .' She flicked some pages back and forth. 'There's just blank days,' she said. 'Look, the last few days, all unticked. No names. But if you go back a week or two, look they're all properly marked off and the money added up at the bottom of the page, see? And ... this can't be right, can it?' There were only five names entered on the first unticked night, for the previous week. Most children instinctively knew when to push their luck and only the greedy or dentally improvident called out the Tooth Fairy around Hogswatch. 'Read the names,' said Susan. ‘William Wittles, a.k.a. Willy (home), Tosser (school), 2nd flr bck bdrm, 68 Kicklebury Street; Sophie Langtree, a.k.a. Daddy's Princess, attic bdrm, 5 The Hippo; The Hon. Jeffrey Bibbleton, a.k.a. Trouble in Trousers (home), Foureyes (school), 1st fir bck, Scrote Manor, Park Lane-' He stopped. 'I say, this is a bit intrusive, isn't it?'
' It's a whole new world,' said Susan. 'You haven't got there yet. Keep going.'
'Nuhakme Icta, a.k.a. Little Jewel, basement, The Laughing Falafel, Klatchistan Take-Away and All Nite Grocery, cnr. Soake and Dimwell; Reginald Lilywhite, a.k.a. Banjo, The Park Lane Bully, Have You Seen This Man? , The Goose Gate Grabber, The Nap Hill Lurker, Rm 17, YMPA. 'YMPA?'
'It's what we generally call the Young-Men's-ReformedCultists-of-the-Ichor-God-Bel- ShamharothAssociation,' said Susan. 'Does that sound to you like someone who'd expect a visit from a tooth fairy?' 4 No.'
'Me neither. He sounds like someone who'd expect a visit from the Watch.' Susan looked around. It really was a crummy room, the sort rented by someone who probably took it never intending to stay Iong, the sort where walking across the floor in the middle of the night would be accompanied by the crack of cockroaches in a death flamenco. It was amazing how many people spent their whole fives in places where they never intended to stay. Cheap, narrow bed, crumbling plaster, tiny window She opened the window and fished around below the ledge, and felt satisfied when her questing fingers dosed on a piece of string which was attached to an oilcloth bag. She hauled it in. 'What's that?' said the oh god, as she opened it on the table. 'Oh, you see them a lot,' said Susan, taking out some packages wrapped in second-hand waxed paper. 'You live alone, mice and roaches eat everything, there's nowhere to store food - but outside the window it's cold and safe. More or less safe. It's an old trick. Now ... look at this. Leathery bacon, a green loaf and a bit of cheese you could shave. She hasn't been back home for some time, believe me.'
'Oh dear. What now?'