Hogfather - Terry Pratchett [108]
“Did!”
“Didn’t!”
“Did!”
Banjo’s big bald head turned toward her.
“What’s dis about the Hogfather?” he said.
“I don’t think he’s dead,” said Susan. “But Teatime has made him very ill—”
“Who cares?” said Teatime, dancing away. “When this is over, Banjo, you’ll have as many presents as you want. Trust me!”
“Dere’s got to be a Hogfather,” Banjo rumbled. “Else dere’s no Hogswatch.”
“It’s just another solar festival,” said Teatime. “It—”
Medium Dave stood up. He had his hand on his sword.
“We’re going, Teatime,” he said. “Me and Banjo are going. I don’t like any of this. I don’t mind robbing, I don’t mind thieving, but this isn’t honest. Banjo? You come with me right now!”
“What’s dis about no more Hogfather?” said Banjo.
Teatime pointed to Susan.
“You grab her, Banjo. It’s all her fault!”
Banjo lumbered a few steps in Susan’s direction, and then stopped.
“Our mam said no hittin’ girls,” he rumbled. “No pullin’ dere hair…”
Teatime rolled his one good eye. Around his feet the grayness seemed to be boiling in the stone, following his feet as they moved. And it was around Banjo, too.
Searching, Susan thought. It’s looking for a way in.
“I think I know you, Teatime,” she said, as sweetly as she could for Banjo’s sake. “You’re the mad kid they’re all scared of, right?”
“Banjo?” snapped Teatime. “I said grab her—”
“Our mam said—”
“The giggling excitable one even the bullies never touched because if they did he went insane and kicked and bit,” said Susan. “The kid who didn’t know the difference between chucking a stone at a cat and setting it on fire.”
To her delight he glared at her.
“Shut up,” he said.
“I bet no one wanted to play with you,” said Susan. “Not the kid with no friends. Kids know about a mind like yours even if they don’t know the right words for it—”
“I said shut up! Get her, Banjo!”
That was it. She could hear it in Teatime’s voice. There was a touch of vibrato that hadn’t been there before.
“The kind of little boy,” she said, watching his face, “who looks up dolls’ dresses…”
“I didn’t!”
Banjo looked worried.
“Our mam said—”
“Oh, to blazes with your mam!” snapped Teatime.
There was a whisper of steel as Medium Dave drew his sword.
“What’d you say about our mam?” he whispered.
Now he’s having to concentrate on three people, Susan thought.
“I bet no one ever played with you,” she said. “I bet there were things people had to hush up, eh?”
“Banjo! You do what I tell you!” Teatime screamed.
The monstrous man was beside her now. She could see his face twisted in an agony of indecision. His enormous fists clenched and unclenched and his lips moved as some kind of horrible debate raged in his head.
“Our…our mam…our mam said…”
The gray marks flowed across the floor and formed a pool of shadow which grew darker and higher with astonishing speed. It towered over the three men, and grew a shape.
“Have you been a bad boy, you little perisher?”
The huge woman towered over all three men. In one meaty hand it was holding a bundle of birch twigs as thick as a man’s arm.
The thing growled.
Medium Dave looked up into the enormous face of Ma Lilywhite. Every pore was a pothole. Every brown tooth was a tombstone.
“You been letting him get into trouble, our Davey? You have, ain’t you?”
He backed away. “No, Mum…no, Mum…”
“You need a good hiding, Banjo? You been playing with girls again?”
Banjo sagged on to his knees, tears of misery rolling down his face.
“Sorry Mum sorry sorry Mum noooohhh Mum sorry Mum sorry sorry—”
Then the figure turned to Medium Dave again.
The sword dropped out of his hand. His face seemed to melt.
Medium Dave started to cry.
“No Mum no Mum no Mum nooooh Mum—”
He gave a gurgle and collapsed, clutching his chest. And vanished.
Teatime started to laugh.
Susan tapped him on the shoulder and, as he looked round, hit him as hard as she could across the face.
That was the plan, at least. His hand moved faster and caught her wrist. It was like striking an iron bar.
“Oh, no,” he said. “I don’t think so.”
Out of the corner of her eye Susan saw Banjo crawling across