Discworld 26 - The Thief of Time (15 page)

 
 
  
'I know. I'll tell you, the day someone pulls the plug out of the bottom of the universe, the
chain will lead all the way to Ankh-Morpork and some bugger saying, “I just wanted to see
what would happen.” All roads lead to Ankh-Morpork.'
'I thought all roads led away from Ankh-Morpork.'
'Not the way we're going. Ah, here we are.'
Lu-Tze knocked on the door of a rough but large shed built right up against the wall. At the
same moment there was an explosion within and someone - Lobsang corrected himself - half
of someone tumbled very fast out of the unglazed window beside it and hit the path with
bone-cracking force. Only when it stopped rolling did he realize that it was a wooden dummy
in a monk's robe.
'Qu's having fun, I see,' said Lu-Tze. He hadn't moved as the dummy had sailed past his ear.
The door burst open and a plump old monk looked out excitedly.
'Did you see that? Did you see that?' he said. 'And that was with just one spoonful!' He
nodded at them. 'Oh, hello, Lu-Tze. I was expecting you. I've got some things ready.'
'Got what?' said Lobsang.
'Who's the boy?' said Qu, ushering them in.
'The untutored child is called Lobsang,' said Lu-Tze, looking around the shed. There was a
smoking circle on the stone floor, with drifts of blackened sand around it. 'New toys, Qu?'
'Exploding mandala,' said Qu happily, bustling forward. 'Just sprinkle the special sand on a
simple design anywhere you like, and the first enemy to walk on it- Bang, instant karma!
Don't touch that!'
Lu-Tze reached across and snatched from Lobsang's inquisitive hands the begging bowl that
he had just picked up from a table.
'Remember Rule One,' he said, and hurled the bowl across the room. Hidden blades slid out
as it spun, and the bowl buried itself in a beam.
'That would take a man's head right off!' said Lobsang. And then they heard the faint ticking.
'... three, four, five...' said Qu. 'Everybody duck... Now!'
Lu-Tze pushed Lobsang to the floor a moment before the bowl exploded. Metal fragments
scythed overhead.
'I added just a little something extra since you last saw it,' said Qu proudly, as they got to
their feet again. 'A very versatile device. Plus, of course, you can use it to eat rice out of. Oh,
and have you seen this?'
He picked up a prayer drum. Both Lu-Tze and Lobsang took a step back.

 
 
  
Qu twirled the drum a few times, and the weighted cords pattered against the skins.
'The cord can be instantly removed for a handy garotte,' he said, 'and the drum itself can be
removed - like so - to reveal this useful dagger.'
'Plus, of course, you can use it to pray with?' said Lobsang.
'Well spotted,' said Qu. 'Quick boy. A prayer is always useful in the last resort. In fact we've
been working on a very promising mantra incorporating sonic tones that have a particular
effect on the human nervous syst-'
'I don't think we need any of this stuff, Qu,' said Lu-Tze.
Qu sighed. 'At least you could let us turn your broom into a secret weapon, Lu-Tze. I've
shown you the plans-'
'It is a secret weapon,' said Lu-Tze. 'It's a broom.'
'How about the new yaks we've been breeding? At the touch of a rein their horns will
instantly-'
'We want the spinners, Qu.'
The monk suddenly looked guilty. 'Spinners? What spinners?'
Lu-Tze walked across the room and pressed a hand against part of the wall, which slid aside.
'These spinners, Qu. Don't muck me about, we haven't got time.'
Lobsang saw what looked very much like two small Procrastinators, each one within a metal
framework mounted on a board. There was a harness attached to each board.
'You haven't told the abbot about them yet, have you?' said Lu-Tze, unhooking one of the
things. 'He'd put a stop to them if you did, you know that.'
'I didn't think anyone knew!' said Qu. 'How did you-'
Lu-Tze grinned. 'No one notices a sweeper,' he said.
'They're still very experimental!' said Qu, close to panic. 'I was going to tell the abbot, of
course, but I was waiting until I had something to demonstrate! And it would be terrible if
they fell into the wrong hands!'
'Then we'll see to it that they don't,' said Lu-Tze, examining the straps. 'How're they powered
now?'
'Weights and ratchets were too unreliable,' said Qu. 'I'm afraid I had to resort to... clockwork.'
Lu-Tze stiffened, and he glared at the monk. 'Clockwork?

 
 
  
'Only as a motive force, only as a motive force!' Qu protested. 'There's really no other
choice!'
'Too late now, it'll have to do,' said Lu-Tze, unhooking the other board and passing it across
to Lobsang. 'There you go, lad. With a bit of sacking round it it'll look just like a backpack.'
'What is it?'
Qu sighed. 'They're portable Procrastinators. Try not to break them, please.'
'What will we need them for?'
'I hope you won't have to find out,' said Lu-Tze. 'Thanks, Qu.'
Are you sure you wouldn't prefer some time bombs?' said Qu hopefully. 'Drop one on the
floor and time will slow for-'
'Thanks, but no.'
'The other monks were fully equipped,' said Qu.
'But we're travelling light,' said Lu-Tze firmly. 'We'll go out the back way, Qu, okay?'
The back way led to a narrow path and a small gate in the wall. Dismembered wooden
dummies and patches of scorched rock indicated that Qu and his assistants often came this
way. And then there was another path, beside one of the many icy streamlet's.
'Qu means well,' said Lu-Tze, walking fast. 'But if you listen to him you end up clanking
when you walk and exploding when you sit down.'
Lobsang ran to keep up. 'It'll take weeks to walk to Ankh-Morpork, Sweeper!'
'We'll slice our way there,' said Lu-Tze, and he stopped and turned. 'You think you can do
that?'
'I've done it hundreds of times-' Lobsang began.
'In Oi Dong, yes,' said Lu-Tze. 'But there're all kinds of checks and safeguards in the valley.
Oh, didn't you know that? Slicing in Oi Dong is easy, lad. It's different out there. The air tries
to get in the way. Do it wrong and the air is a rock. You have to shape the slice around you so
that you move like a fish in water. Know how to do that?'
'We learned a bit of the theory, but-'
'Soto said you stopped time for yourself back in the city. The Stance of the Coyote, it's called.
Very hard to do, and I don't reckon they teach it in the Thieves' Guild, eh?'
'I suppose I was lucky, Sweeper.'

 
 
  
'Good. Keep it up. We'll have plenty of time for you to practise before we leave the snow. Get
it right before you tread on grass, or kiss your feet goodbye.'
They called it slicing time. . .
There is a way of playing certain musical instruments that is called 'circular breathing',
devised to allow people to play the didgeridoo or the bagpipes without actually imploding or
being sucked down the tube. 'Slicing time' was very much the same, except time was
substituted for air and it was a lot quieter. A trained monk could stretch a second further
than an hour...
But that wasn't enough. He'd be moving in a rigid world. He'd have to learn to see by echo
light and hear by ghost sound and let time leach into his immediate universe. It wasn't hard,
once he found the confidence; the sliced world could almost seem normal, apart from the
colours...
It was like walking in sunsets, although the sun was fixed high in the sky and barely moved.
The world ahead shaded towards violet, and the world behind, when Lobsang looked round,
was the shade of old blood. And it was lonely. But the worst of it, Lobsang realized, was the
silence. There was noise, of a sort, but it was just a deep sizzle at the edge of hearing. His
footsteps sounded strange and muffled, and the sound arrived in his ears out of sync with the
tread of his feet.
They reached the edge of the valley and stepped out of the perpetual springtime into the real
world of the snows. Now the cold crept in, slowly, like a sadist's knife.
Lu-Tze strode on ahead, seemingly oblivious of it.
Of course, that was one of the stories about him. Lu-Tze, it was said, would walk for miles
during weather when the clouds themselves would freeze and crash out of the sky. Cold did
not affect him, they said.
And yet-
In the stories Lu-Tze had been bigger, stronger... not a skinny little bald man who preferred
not to fight.
'Sweeper!'
Lu-Tze stopped and turned. His outline blurred slightly, and Lobsang unwrapped himself
from time. Colour came back into the world, and while the cold ceased to have the force of a
drill it still struck hard.
'Yes, lad?'
'You're going to teach me, right?'
'If there's anything left that you don't know, wonder boy,' said Lu-Tze drily. 'You're slicing
well, I can see that.'

 
 
  
'I don't know how you can stand this cold!'
'Ah, you don't know the secret?'
'Is it the Way of Mrs Cosmopilite that gives you such power?'
Lu-Tze hitched up his robe and did a little dance in the snow, revealing skinny legs encased
in thick, yellowing tubes.
'Very good, very good,' he said. 'She still sends me these double-knit combinations, silk on
the inside, then three layers of wool, reinforced gussets and a couple of handy trapdoors.
Very reasonably priced at six dollars a pair because I'm an old customer. For it is written,
“Wrap up warm or you'll catch your death.”'
'It's just a trick?'
Lu-Tze looked surprised. 'What?' he said.
'Well, I mean, it's all tricks, isn't it? Everyone thinks you're a great hero and... you don't fight,
and they think you possess all kinds of strange knowledge and... and it's just... tricking
people. Isn't it? Even the abbot? I thought you were going to teach me... things worth
knowing...'
'I've got her address, if that's what you want. If you mention my name- Oh. I see you don't
mean that, right?'
'I don't want to be ungrateful I just thought-'
'You thought I should use mysterious powers derived from a lifetime of study just to keep my
legs warm? Eh?'
'Well-'
'Debase the sacred teachings for the sake of my knees, you think?'
'If you put it like that-'
Then something made Lobsang look down.
He was standing in six inches of snow. Lu-Tze was not. His sandals were standing in two
puddles. The ice was melting away around his toes. His pink, warm toes.
'Toes, now, that's another matter,' said the sweeper. 'Mrs Cosmopilite is a wizard with
longjohns, but she can't turn a heel worth a damn.' Lobsang looked up into a wink. 'Always
remember Rule One, eh?'
Lu-Tze patted the shaken boy on the arm. 'But you're doing well' he said. 'Let's have a quiet
sit down and a brew-up.' He pointed to some rocks, which at least offered some protection
from the wind; snow had piled up against them in big white mounds.

 
 
  
'Lu-Tze?'
'Yes, lad?'
'I've got a question. Can you give me a straight answer?'
'I'll try, of course.'
'What the hell is going on?'
Lu-Tze brushed the snow off a rock.
'Oh,' he said. 'One of the difficult questions.'
Tick
Igor had to admit it. When it came to getting weird things done, sane beat mad hands down.
He'd been used to masters who, despite doing wonderful handstands on the edge of the
mental catastrophe curve, couldn't put their own trousers on without a map. Like all Igors,
he'd learned how to deal with them. In truth, it wasn't a difficult job (although sometimes you
had to work the graveyard shift) and once you got them settled into their routine you could
get on with your own work and they wouldn't bother you until the lightning rod needed
raising.
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.
One of Igors former masters had made a tick-tock man, all levers and gearwheels and cranks
and clockwork. Instead of a brain, it had a long tape punched with holes. Instead of a heart, it
had a big spring. Provided everything in the kitchen was very carefully positioned, the thing
could sweep the floor and make a passable cup of tea. If everything wasn't carefully
positioned, or if the ticking, clicking thing hit an unexpected bump, then it'd strip the plaster
off the walls and make a furious cup of cat.
Then his master had conceived the idea of making the thing live, so that it could punch its
own tapes and wind its own spring. Igor, who knew exactly when to follow instructions to the
letter, dutifully rigged up the classic rising-table-and-lightning-rod arrangement on the
evening of a really good storm. He didn't see exactly what happened thereafter, because he
wasn't there when the lightning hit the clockwork. No, Igor was at a dead run halfway down
the hill to the village, with all his possessions in a carpet bag. Even so, a white-hot cogwheel
had whirred over his head and buried itself in a tree trunk.
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.
It seemed to this Igor that if you could make a tick-tock man live, he'd be like Jeremy. And
Jeremy was ticking faster, as the clock neared completion.

 
 
  
Igor didn't much like the clock. He was a people person. He preferred things that bled. And as
the clock grew, with its shimmering crystal parts that didn't seem entirely all here, so Jeremy
grew more absorbed and Igor grew more tense. There was definitely something new
happening here, and while Igors were avid to learn new things there were limits. Igors did not
believe in forbidden knowledge and 'Things Man Was Not Meant to Know', but obviously
there were some things a man was not meant to know, such as what it felt like to have every
single particle of your body sucked into a little hole, and that seemed to be one of the options
available in the immediate future.
And then there was Lady LeJean. She gave Igor the willies, and he was a man not usually
subject to even the smallest willy. She wasn't a zombie and she wasn't a vampire, because she
didn't smell like one. She didn't smell like anything. In Igor's experience, everything smelled
like something.
And there was the other matter.
'Her feet don't touch the ground, thur,' he said.
'Of course they do,' said Jeremy, buffing up part of the mechanism with his sleeve. 'She'll be
here again in a minute and seventeen seconds. And I'm sure her feet will be touching the
ground.'
'Oh, thometimeth they do, thur. But you watch when thee goeth up or down a thtep, thur.
Thee doethn't get it egthactly right, thur. You can jutht thee the thadow under her thoeth.'
'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.
'Go and get ready by the door,' said Jeremy. 'Floating in the air doesn't make you a bad
person.'
Igor shrugged. He was entertaining the idea that it didn't mean you were a person at all, and
incidentally he was rather worried that Jeremy seemed to have dressed himself with a little
more care this morning.
He'd decided in these circumstances not to broach the subject of his hiring, but he had been
working that one out. He'd been hired before her ladyship had engaged Jeremy to do this
work? Well, all that showed was that she knew her man. But she'd hired him herself in Bad
Schüschein. And he'd got himself onto the mail coach that very day. And it turned out that
Lady LeJean had visited Jeremy on that day, too.
The only thing faster than the mail coach between Uberwald and Ankh-Morpork was magic,
unless someone had found a way to travel by semaphore. And Lady LeJean hardly looked
like a witch.
The shop's clocks were putting up a barrage of noise to signal the passing of seven o'clock
when Igor opened the front door. It always Did[10] to anticipate the knock. That was another
part of the Code of the Igors.