Thief of Time (Discworld 26)

'Are you always like this?' said the voice of Lobsang. 'Like what? I can feel your hand and I can hear your voice - at least, I think I can hear it, but maybe it's just in my head - but I can't feel myself running-'

'So... so analytical?'

'Of course. What am I supposed to be thinking? “Oh, my paws and whiskers”? Anyway, it's quite straightforward. It's all metaphorical. My senses are telling me stories because they can't cope with what is really happening-'

'Don't let go of my hand.'

'It's all right, I won't let you go.'

'I meant, don't let go of my hand because otherwise every part of your body will be compressed into a space much, much smaller than an atom.'

'Oh.'

'And don't try to imagine what this really looks like from outside. Here comes the cloooccckkkkkkk-'

Mr White's mouth closed. His expression of surprise became one of horror, and then one of shock, and then one of terrible, wonderful bliss. He began to unravel. He came apart like a big and complex jigsaw puzzle made of tiny pieces, crumbling gently at the extremities and then vanishing into the air. The last piece to evaporate was the lips, and then they too were gone. A half-chewed chocolate-coated coffee bean dropped onto the street. Lu-Tze reached down quickly, picked up the axe and flourished it at the other Auditors. They leaned back out of the way, mesmerized by authority. 'Who does this belong to now?' he demanded. 'Come on, whose is it?'

'It is mine! I am Miss Taupe!' shouted a woman in grey. 'I am Mr Orange and it belongs to me! No one is even sure that taupe is a proper colour!' screamed Mr Orange. An Auditor in the crowd said, rather more thoughtfully, 'Is it the case, then, that hierarchy is negotiable?'

'Certainly not!' Mr Orange was jumping up and down. 'You have to decide it amongst yourselves,' said Lu-Tze. He tossed the axe into the air. A hundred pairs of eyes watched it fall. Mr Orange got there first, but Miss Taupe trod on his fingers. After that, it became very busy and confusing and, to judge by the sounds from within the growing scrum, also very, very painful. Lu-Tze took the arm of the astonished Unity. 'Shall we be going?' he said. 'Oh, don't worry about me. I was just desperate enough to try something I'd learned from a yeti. It did sting a bit...' There was a scream from somewhere in the mob. 'Democracy at work,' said Lu-Tze happily. He glanced up. The flames above the world were dying out, and he wondered who'd won. There was bright blue light ahead and dark red light behind, and it amazed Susan how she could see both kinds without opening her eyes and turning her head. Eyes open or shut, she couldn't see herself. All that told her that she was something else besides mere point of view was a slight pressure on what she remembered as her fingers. And the sound of someone laughing, close to her. A voice said, 'The sweeper said everyone has to find a teacher and then find their Way.'

'And?' said Susan.

'This is my Way. It's the way home.' And then, with a noise that was unromantically very similar to the kind Jason would make by putting a wooden ruler on the edge of his desk and twanging it, the journey ended. It might not even have begun. The glass clock was in front of her, full size, glittering. There was no blue glow inside. It was just a clock, entirely transparent, and ticking. Susan looked down the length of her arm, and up his arm to Lobsang. He let go of her hand. 'We're here,' he said. 'With the clock?' said Susan. She could feel herself gasping to get her breath back. 'This is only a part of the clock,' said Lobsang. 'The other part.'

'The bit outside the universe?'

'Yes. The clock has many dimensions. Do not be afraid.'

'I don't think I have ever been afraid of anything in my life,' said Susan, still gulping air. 'Not really afraid. I get angry. I'm getting angry now, in fact. Are you Lobsang or are you Jeremy?'

'Yes.'

'Yes, I walked into that. Are you Lobsang and are you Jeremy?'

'Much closer. Yes. I will always remember both of them. But I would prefer you to call me Lobsang. Lobsang has the better memories. I never liked the name Jeremy even when I was Jeremy.'

'You really are both of them?'

'I am... everything about them that was worth being, I hope. They were very different and they were both me, born just an instant apart, and neither of them was very happy by himself. It makes you wonder if there is anything to astrology after all.'

'Oh, there is,' said Susan. 'Delusion, wishful thinking and gullibility.'

'Don't you ever let go?'

'I haven't yet.'

'Why?'

'I suppose... because in this world, after everyone panics, there's always got to be someone to tip the wee out of the shoe.' The clock ticked. The pendulum swung. But the hands did not move.

'Interesting,' said Lobsang. 'You're not a follower of the Way of Mrs Cosmopilite, are you?'

'I don't even know what it is,' said Susan. 'Have you got your breath back now?'

'Yes.'

'Let's turn around, then.' Personal time moved on again, and a voice behind them said, 'Is this yours?' Behind them there were glass steps. At the top of the steps was a man dressed like a History Monk, shaven-headed, besandalled. The eyes gave away a lot more. A young man who'd been alive for a very long time, Mrs Ogg had said, and she had been right. He was holding a struggling Death of Rats by the scruff of his robe. 'Er, he's his own,' said Susan, as Lobsang bowed. 'Then please take him away with you. We cannot have him running around here. Hello, my son.' Lobsang walked towards him and they embraced, briefly and formally. 'Father,' said Lobsang, straightening up. 'This is Susan. She has been... very helpful.'