'How come your brother likes him so much?'

     Medium  Dave grimaced. Banjo had always done what  he was told,  simply because Medium Dave had told him. Up to now, anyway.

     It must have been  that  punch in  the bar. Medium Dave didn't like  to think  about it.  He'd  always  promised their mother that  he'd look  after Banjo,[21] and Banjo had gone back like a falling tree. And when Medium Dave had  risen from  his  seat to  punch Teatime's  unbalanced  lights out  he'd suddenly found the Assassin already behind him, holding a knife. In front of everyone. It was humiliating, that's what it was

     And then Banjo had sat up, looking puzzled, and spat out a tooth

     'If it wasn't for  Banjo going  around with him  all the  time we could gang up on him,' said Catseye.

     Medium Dave looked up, one hand clamping a handkerchief to his eye.

     'Gang up on him?' he said.

     'Yeah, it's all your fault,' Chickenwire went on.

     'Oh, yeah? So it wasn't you who said, wow, ten thousand dollars,  count me in?'

     Chickenwire backed away. 'I didn't know there was going to  be all this creepy stuff! I want to go home!'

     Medium  Dave hesitated, despite his pain and  rage. This  wasn't normal talk for  Chickenwire,  for  all  that he  whined  and  grumbled. This was a strange place, no lie about that, and all that business  with the teeth  had been  very... odd, but  he'd  been out with Chickenwire  when  jobs had gone wrong and both the Watch and the Thieves' Guild had been after them and he'd been as cool as anyone. And if  the Guild had been the  ones  to  catch them they'd have nailed their ears to  their ankles and thrown them in the river. In Medium Dave's book, which was a simple book and largely written in mental crayon, things didn't get creepier than that.

     'What's  up with you?' he  said. 'All  of you you're acting like little kids!'

     'Would he deliver to apes earlier than humans?'

     'Interesting  point, sir.  Possibly you're referring to my theory  that humans  may  have in fact  descended from apes, of  course,' said Ponder. 'A bold hypothesis which ought to sweep away the ignorance of centuries if the grants committee could just see their way clear to letting me hire a boat and sail around to the islands of ... '

     'I just thought he might deliver alphabetically,' said Ridcully.

     There was a patter of soot in the cold fireplace.

     'That's presumably him now, do you think?' Ridcully went on. 'Oh, well, I thought we should check ...'

     Something landed in  the ashes. The  two wizards stood  quietly  in the darkness while the figure picked itself up. There was a rustle of paper.

LET ME SEE NOW

     There was a click as Ridcully's pipe fell out of his mouth.

     'Who the hell are you?' he said. 'Mr Stibbons, light a candle!'

     Death backed away.

     I'M THE HOGFATHER, OF COURSE. ER. HO. HO.  HO. WHO WOULD YOU  EXPECT TO COME DOWN A CHIMNEY ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS, MAY I ASK?

     'No, you're not!'

     I AM. LOOK, I'VE GOT THE BEARD AND THE PILLOW AND EVERYTHING!

     'You look extremely thin in the face!'

     I'M... I... I'M NOT WELL. IT'S ALL... YES,

     IT'S ALL THIS SHERRY. AND RUSHING AROUND. I AM A BIT ILL.

     'Terminally, I  should say.'  Ridcully grabbed  the beard.  There was a twang as the string gave way.

     'It's a false beard!'

     NO IT'S NOT, said Death desperately.

     'Here's the  hooks for the ears,  which must have  given  you  a bit of trouble, I must say!'

     Ridcully flourished the incriminating evidence.

     'What were you  doing coming down  the chimney?' he  continued. 'Not in marvellous taste, I think.'

     Death waved a small grubby scrap of paper defensively.

     OFFICIAL  LETTER  TO THE  HOGFATHER. SAYS  HERE... he  began,  and then looked at  the paper again. WELL, QUITE A LOT, IN FACT.  IT'S A  LONG  LIST. LIBRARY STAMPS, REFERENCE BOOKS, PENCILS, BANANAS...

     'The Librarian  asked the Hogfather  for those  things?' said Ridcully. 'Why?'

     I DON'T  KNOW, said  Death.  This was a  diplomatic answer. He kept his finger over  a  reference to the Archchancellor. The  orang-utan for 'duck's bottom' was quite an interesting squiggle.

     'I've got plenty in my desk drawer,'  mused Ridcully. 'I'm  quite happy to give them out  to any  chap provided he can  prove  he's  used up the old one.'

THEY MUST SHOW YOU AN ABSENCE OF PENCIL?

     'Of course. If he needed essential materials  he need only have come to me. No man can tell you I'm an unreasonable chap.'

     Death checked the list carefully.

     THAT   IS  PRECISELY   CORRECT,   he  confirmed,  with  anthropological exactitude.

     'Except for the bananas, of course. I wouldn't keep fish in my desk.'

     Death looked down at the list and then back up at Ridcully.

     GOOD? he said, in the hope that this was the right response.

     Wizards  know  when they are  going  to die.[22]  Ridcully had no  such premonitions, and to Ponder's horror prodded Death in the cushion.

     'Why you?' he said. 'What's happened to the other fellow?'

I SUPPOSE I MUST TELL YOU.

     In the house  of Death, a  whisper  of  shifting sand and the  faintest chink of moving glass, somewhere in the darkness of the floor...

     And, in the dry shadows, the sharp smell of snow and a thud of hooves.

     Sideney almost swallowed his tongue when Teatime appeared beside him.

     'Are we making progress?'

     'Gnk...'

     'I'm sorry?' said Teatime.

     Sideney  recovered  himself. 'Er...  some,'  he said.  'We think  we've worked out... er... one lock.'

     Light gleamed off Teatime's eye.

     'I believe there are seven of them?' said the Assassin.

     'Yes, but... they're half magic and  half real  and half not there... I mean... there's parts of them that don't exist all the time...'

     Mr Brown, who had been working at one of the locks, laid down his pick.

     '  't's  no good, mister,'  he said. 'Can't  even get a purchase with a crowbar.  Maybe  if I went back to the city and got a  couple  of dragons we could do something. You  can melt through steel with them if you twist their necks right and feed 'em carbon.'

     'I was told you were the best locksmith in the city,' said Teatime.

     Behind him, Banjo shifted position.

     Mr Brown looked annoyed...

     'Well, yes,' he said. 'But locks  don't generally alter 'emselves while you're working on 'em, that's what I'm saying.'

     'And I thought you could open any lock anyone ever made,' said Teatime.

     'Made by humans,' said Mr Brown sharply. 'And most dwarfs. I dunno what made these. You never said anything about magic.'

     'That's  a shame,' said Teatime.  'Then really  I have no  more need of your services. You may as well go back home.'

     'I won't  be sorry.' Mr Brown started putting things back into his tool bag. 'What about my money?'

     'Do I owe you any?'

     'I came  along with  you.  I don't  see it's my fault that  this is all magic business. I should get something.'

     'Ah, yes,  I  see your point,' said Teatime. 'Of course, you should get what you deserve. Banjo?'

     Banjo lumbered forward, and then stopped.

     Mr Brown's hand had come out of the bag holding a crowbar.

     'You  must think I  was born yesterday, you  slimy  little  bugger,' he said. 'I know  your type.  You  think it's all some  kind of game.  You make little  jokes  to yourself and  you think no one else notices and  you think you're so smart. Well, Mr Teacup, I'm leaving, right? Right now. With what's coming to  me. And you ain't stopping me. And Banjo certainly ain't. I  knew old  Ma Lilywhite back in the good old  days. You  think  you're  nasty? You think you're mean? Ma Lilywhite'd  tear your  ears  off and spit 'em in your eye,  you cocky little devil. And I worked with her, so you don't  scare  me and nor does little Banjo, poor sod that he is.'