Discworld 26 - The Thief of Time (31 page)

 
 
  
In fact it seemed to Susan, as she walked past the vats and counters, that chocolate lost some
of its attraction when you saw it like this. It was the difference between seeing the little heaps
of pigment and seeing the whole picture. She selected a syringe that seemed designed to do
something intensely personal to female elephants, athough she decided that here it was
probably used for doing the wiggly bits of decoration.
And over here was a small vat of cocoa liquor.
She stared around at the trays and trays of fondant cremes, marzipans and caramels. Oh, and
here was an entire table of Soul Cake eggs. But they weren't the hollow-shelled, cardboard
tasting presents for children, oh, no - these were the confectionery equivalent of fine, intricate
jewellery.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. One of the statue-like workers bent over her
tray of Praline Dreams was shifting almost imperceptibly.
Time was flowing into the room. Pale blue light glinted in the air.
She turned and saw a vaguely human figure hovering beside her. It was featureless and as
transparent as mist, but in her head it said, I'm stronger. You are my anchor, my link to this
world. Can you guess how hard it is to find it again in so many? Get me to the clock. . .
Susan turned and thrust the icing syringe into the arms of the groaning Myria. 'Grab that. And
make some kind of... of sling or something. I want you to be carrying as many of those
chocolate eggs as possible. And the cremes. And the liqueurs. Understand? You can do it!'
Oh, gods, there was no alternative. The poor thing needed some kind of morale boost.
'Please, Myria? And that's a stupid name! You're not many, you're one. Okay? Just be...
yourself. Unity... that'd be a good name.'
The new Unity raised a mascara-streaked face. 'Yes, it is, it's a good name...'
Susan snatched as much merchandise as she could carry, aware of some rustling behind her,
and turned to find Unity standing to attention holding, by the look of it, a bench-worth of
assorted confectionery in...
... a sort of big cerise sack.
'Oh. Good. Intelligent use of the materials to hand,' said Susan weakly. Then the teacher
within her cut in and added, 'I hope you brought enough for everybody.'
* * *
'You were the first,' said Lu-Tze. 'You basically created the whole business. Innovative, you
were.'
'That was then,' said Ronnie Soak. 'It's all changed now.'
'Not like it used to be,' agreed Lu-Tze.

 
 
  
'Take Death,' said Ronnie Soak. 'Impressive, I'll grant you, and who doesn't look good in
black? But, after all, Death... What's death?'
'Just a big sleep,' said Lu-Tze.
'Just a big sleep,' said Ronnie Soak. 'As for the others... War? If war's so bad, why do people
keep doing it?'
'Practically a hobby,' said Lu-Tze. He began to roll himself a cigarette.
'Practically a hobby,' said Ronnie Soak. 'As for Famine and Pestilence, well...'
'Enough said,' said Lu-Tze sympathetically.
'Exactly. I mean, Famine's a fearful thing, obviously-'
'-in an agricultural community, but you've got to move with the times,' said Lu-Tze, putting
the roll-up in his mouth.
'That's it,' said Ronnie. 'You've got to move with the times. I mean, does your average city
person fear famine?'
'No, he thinks food grows in shops,' said Lu-Tze. He was beginning to enjoy this. He had
eight hundred years' worth of experience in steering the thoughts of his superiors, and most of
them had been intelligent. He decided to strike out a little.
'Fire, now: city folk really fear fire,' he said. 'That's new. Your primitive villager, he reckoned
fire was a good thing, didn't he? Kept the wolves away. If it burned down his hut, well, logs
and turf are cheap enough. But now he lives in a street of crowded wooden houses and
everyone's cooking in their rooms, well-'
Ronnie glared.
'Fire? Fire? Just a demi-god! Some little tea-leaf pinches the flame from the gods and
suddenly he's immortal? You call that training and experience?' A spark leapt from Ronnie's
fingers and ignited the end of Lu-Tze's cigarette. 'And as for gods-'
'Johnny-come-latelys, the pack of 'em,' said Lu-Tze quickly.
'Right! People started worshipping them because they were afraid of me,' said Ronnie. 'Did
you know that?'
'No, really?' said Lu-Tze innocently.
But now Ronnie sagged. 'That was then, of course,' he said. 'It's different now. I'm not what I
used to be.'
'No, no, obviously not, no,' said Lu-Tze soothingly. 'But it's all a matter of how you look at it,
am I correct? Now, supposing a man- that is to say a-'

 
 
  
'Anthropomorphic personification,' said Ronnie Soak. 'But I've always preferred the term
“avatar”.'
Lu-Tze's brow wrinkled. 'You fly around a lot?' he said.
'That would be aviator.'
'Sorry. Well, supposing an avatar, thank you, who was perhaps a bit ahead of his time
thousands of years ago, well, supposing he took a good look around now, he might just find
the world is ready for him again.'
Lu-Tze waited. 'My abbot, now, he reckons you are the bees' knees,' he said, for a little
reinforcement.
'Does he?' said Ronnie Soak suspiciously.
'Bee's knees, cat's pyjamas and dog's... elbows,' Lu-Tze finished. 'He's written scroll's and
scroll's about you. Says you are hugely important in understanding how the universe works.'
'Yeah, but... he's just one man,' said Ronnie Soak, with all the sullen reluctance of someone
cuddling a lifetime's huge snit like a favourite soft toy.
'Technically, yes,' said Lu-Tze. 'But he's an abbot. And brainy? He thinks such big thoughts
he needs a second lifetime just to finish them off! Let a lot of peasants fear famine, I say, but
someone like you should aim for quality. And you look at the cities, now. Back in the old
days there were just heaps of mud bricks with names like Ur and Uh and Ugg. These days
there's millions of people living in cities. Very, very complicated cities. Just you think about
what they really, really fear. And fear... Well, fear is belief. Hmm?'
There was another long pause.
'Well, all right, but...' Ronnie began.
'Of course, they won't be living in 'em very long, because by the time the grey people have
finished taking them to pieces to see how they work there won't be any belief left.'
'My customers do depend on me...' Ronnie Soak mumbled.
'What customers? That's Soak speaking,' said Lu-Tze. 'That's not the voice of Kaos.'
'Hah!' said Kaos bitterly. 'You haven't told me yet how you worked that one out.'
'Because I've got more than three brain cells and you're vain and you painted your actual
name back to front on your cart whether you knew it or not and a dark window is a mirror
and K and S are still recognizable in a reflection even when they're back to front, thought Lu-
Tze. But that wasn't a good way forward.
'It was just obvious,' he said. 'You sort of shine through. It's like putting a sheet over an
elephant. You might not be able to see it, but you're sure the elephants still there.'

 
 
  
Kaos looked wretched. 'I don't know,' he said. 'It's been a long time-'
'Oh? And I thought you said you were Number One?' said Lu-Tze, deciding on a new
approach. 'Sorry! Still, I suppose it's not your fault you've lost a few skills over the centuries,
what with one thing and-'
'Lost skills?' snapped Kaos, waving a finger under the sweeper's nose. 'I could certainly take
you to the cleaners, you little maggot!'
'What with? A dangerous yoghurt?' said Lu-Tze, climbing off the cart.
Kaos leapt down after him. 'Where do you get off, talking to me like that?' he demanded.
Lu-Tze glanced up. 'Corner of Merchant and Broad Way,' he said. 'So what?'
Kaos roared. He tore off his striped apron and his white cap. He seemed to grow in size.
Darkness evaporated off him like smoke.
Lu-Tze folded his hands and grinned. 'Remember Rule One,' he said.
'Rules? Rules? I'm Kaos!'
'Who was the first?' said Lu-Tze.
'Yes!'
'Creator and Destroyer?'
'Damn right!'
'Apparently complicated, apparently patternless behaviour that nevertheless has a simple,
deterministic explanation and is a key to new levels of understanding of the multidimensional
universe?'
'You'd better believe it- What?'
'Got to move with the times, mister, got to keep up!' shouted Lu-Tze excitedly, hopping from
foot to foot. 'You're what people think you are! And they've changed you! I hope you're good
at sums!'
'You can't tell me what to be!' Kaos roared. 'I'm Kaos!'
'You don't think so? Well, your big comeback ain't gonna happen now that the Auditors have
taken over! The rules, mister! That's what they are! They're the cold dead rules!'
Silver lightning flickered in the walking cloud that had once been Ronnie. Then cloud, cart
and horse vanished.
'Well, could have been worse, I suppose,' said Lu-Tze to himself. 'Not a very bright lad,
really. Possibly a bit too old-fashioned.'

 
 
  
He turned round and found a crowd of Auditors watching him. There were dozens of them.
He sighed and grinned his sheepish little grin. He'd had just about enough for one day.
'Well I expect you have heard of Rule One, right?' he said.
That seemed to give them pause. One said, 'We know millions of rules, human.'
'Billions. Trillions,' said another.
'Well you can't attack me,' said Lu-Tze, ''cos of Rule One.'
The nearest Auditors went into a huddle.
'It must involve gravitation.'
'No, quantum effects. Obviously.'
'Logically there cannot be a Rule One because at that point there would be no concept of
plurality.'
'But if there is not a Rule One, can there be any other rules? If there is no Rule One, where is
Rule Two?'
'There are millions of rules! They cannot fail to be numbered!'
Wonderful thought Lu-Tze. All I have to do is wait until their heads melt.
But an Auditor stepped forward. It looked more wild-eyed than the others, and was much
more unkempt. It was also carrying an axe.
'We do not have to discuss this!' it snapped. 'We must think: This is nonsense, we will not
discuss it!'
'But what is Rule-' an Auditor began.
'You will call me Mr White!'
'Mr White, what is Rule One?'
'I am not glad you asked that question!' screamed Mr White, and swung the axe. The body of
the other Auditor crumbled in around the blade, dissolving into floating motes that dispersed
in a fine cloud.
'Anyone else got any questions?' said Mr White, raising the axe again.
One or two Auditors, not yet entirely in tune with current developments, opened their mouths
to speak. And shut them again.

 
 
  
Lu-Tze took a few steps back. He prided himself on an incredibly well-honed ability to talk
his way in or out of anything, but that rather depended on a passably sane entity being
involved at the other end of the dialogue.
Mr White turned to Lu-Tze. 'What are you doing out of your place, organic?'
But Lu-Tze was overhearing another, whispered conversation. It was coming from the other
side of a nearby wall, and it went like this:
'Who cares about the damn wording!'
'Accuracy is important, Susan. There is a precise description on the little map inside the lid.
Look.'
'And you think that will impress anyone?'
'Please. Things should be done properly.'
'Oh, give it to me, then!'
Mr White advanced on Lu-Tze, axe raised. 'It is forbidden to-' he began.
'Eat... Oh, good grief... Eat... “a delicious fondant sugar creme infused with delightfully rich
and creamy raspberry filling wrapped in mysterious dark chocolate” ... you grey bastards!'
A shower of small objects pattered down on the street. Several of them broke open.
Lu-Tze heard a whine or, rather, the silence caused by the absence of a whine he'd grown
used to.
'Oh, no, I'm winding dow ...'
Trailing smoke, but looking more like a milkman again, albeit one that'd just delivered to a
blazing house, Ronnie Soak stormed into his dairy.
'Who does he think he is?' he muttered, gripping the spotless edge of a counter so hard that
the metal bent. 'Hah, oh yes, they just toss you aside, but when they want you to make a
comeback-'
Under his fingers the metal went white hot and then dripped.
'I've got customers. I've got customers. People depend on me. It might not be a glamorous
job, but people will always need milk-'
He clapped a hand to his forehead. Where the molten metal touched his skin the metal
evaporated.
The headache was really bad.

 
 
  
He could remember the time when there was only him. It was hard to remember, because...
there was nothing, no colour, no sound, no pressure, no time, no spin, no light, no life...
Just Kaos.
And the thought arose: Do I want that again? The perfect order that goes with
changelessness?
More thoughts were following that one, like little silvery eels in his mind. He was, after all, a
Horseman, and had been ever since the time the people in mud cities on baking plains put
together some hazy idea of Something that had existed before anyone else. And a Horseman
picks up the noises of the world. The mud-city people and the skin-tent people, they'd known
instinctively that the world swirled perilously through a complex and uncaring multiverse,
that life was lived a mirrors thickness from the cold of space and the gulfs of night. They
knew that everything they called reality, the web of rules that made life happen, was a bubble
on the tide. They feared old Kaos. But now-
He opened his eyes and looked down at his dark, smoking hands. To the world in general, he
said, 'Who am I now?'
Lu-Tze heard his voice speed up from nothing: '-wn ...'
'No, you're wound up again,' said a young woman in front of him. She stood back, giving him
a critical look. Lu-Tze, for the first time in eight hundred years, felt that he'd been caught
doing something wrong. It was that kind of expression - searching, rummaging around inside
his head.
'You'll be Lu-Tze, then,' said Susan. 'I'm Susan Sto Helit. No time for explanations. You've
been out for... well, not for long. We have to get Lobsang to the glass clock. Are you any
good? Lobsang thinks you're a bit of a fraud.'
'Only a bit? I'm surprised.' Lu-Tze looked around. 'What happened here?'
The street was empty, except for the ever-present statues. But scraps of silver paper and
coloured wrappers littered the ground, and across the wall behind him was a long splash of
what looked very much like chocolate icing.
'Some of them got away,' said Susan, picking up what Lu-Tze could only hope was a giant
icing syringe. 'Mostly they fought with one another. Would you try to tear someone apart just
for a coffee creme?'
Lu-Tze looked into those eyes. After eight hundred years you learn how to read people. And
Susan was a story that went back a very long way. She probably even knew about Rule One,
and didn't care. This was someone to treat with respect. But you couldn't let even someone
like her have it all their own way.
'The kind with a coffee bean on the top, or the ordinary kind?' he said.
'The kind without the coffee bean, I think,' said Susan, holding his gaze.