Thief of Time - Terry Pratchett [104]
It was wild-eyed and frantic. It focused on the pair of them with difficulty, as if trying to remember who and what they were. But it was holding a sword, and holding it correctly.
A figure rose up behind it. One hand grabbed it by the hair and jerked its head back. The other was thrust over its open mouth.
The Auditor struggled for a moment, and then went rigid.
And then disintegrated, tiny particles spinning away and disappearing into nothing.
For a moment the last few handfuls tried to form, in the air, the shape of a small cowled figure. Then it, too, was dragged apart, with a faint scream that was heard via the hairs on the back of the neck.
Susan glared at the figure in front of her.
“You’re a…you can’t be a…what are you?” she demanded.
The figure was silent. This may have been because thick cloth covered its nose and mouth. Heavy gloves encased its hands, too. And this was odd, because most of the rest of it was wearing a sequined evening gown. And a mink stole.
And a knapsack. And a huge picture hat with enough feathers to make three rare species totally extinct.
The figure rummaged in the knapsack, and then thrust out a piece of dark brown paper, as if proffering holy writ. Lobsang took it with care.
“It says here, ‘Higgs & Meakins Luxury Assortment,’” he said. “Caramel Crunch, Hazelnut Surprise…they’re chocolates?”
Susan opened her hand and looked at the crushed Strawberry Whirl she had picked up. She gave the figure a careful look.
“How did you know that would work?” she said.
“Please! You have nothing to fear from me,” said the muffled voice through the bandages. “I’m down to the ones with the nuts in now, and they don’t melt very quickly.”
“Sorry?” said Lobsang. “You just killed an Auditor with a chocolate?”
“My last Orange Creme, yes. We are exposed here. Come with me.”
“An Auditor…” Susan breathed. “You’re an Auditor, too. Aren’t you? Why should I trust you?”
“There isn’t anyone else.”
“But you are one of them,” said Susan. “I can tell, even under all that…that stuff!”
“I was one of them,” said Lady LeJean. “Now I rather think I’m one of me.”
People were living in the attic. There was a whole family up there. Susan wondered if their presence was official or unofficial or one of those in-between states that were so common in Ankh-Morpork, where there was always a chronic housing shortage. So much of the city’s life took place on the street because there was no room for it inside. Whole families were raised in shifts, so that the bed could be used for twenty-four hours a day. By the look of it, the caretakers and men who knew the way to Caravati’s Three Large Pink Women and One Piece of Gauze had moved their families into the rambling attics.
The rescuer had simply moved in on top of them. A family, or at least one shift of it, was seated on benches around a table, frozen in timelessness. Lady LeJean removed her hat, hung it on the mother, and shook out her hair. Then she unwrapped the heavy bandages from her nose and mouth.
They revealed an exquisite mask of a face that had nevertheless been made up by a clown. Probably a blind clown. And one who was wearing boxing gloves. In a fog. The woman looked at the world through panda eyes and her lipstick touched her mouth only by accident.
She looked down when she caught Susan’s stare.
“I know what I look like,” she said. “I’m afraid I…I’m losing control. I’m sorry. There’s just too much…it’s all too…Ever since I…I just feel so…” She stopped and attempted to pull herself together. “My name is Myria LeJean. I know you, Susan Sto Helit. I do not know the young man, although there is something familiar about him. I take it you are here to destroy the clock?”
“To stop it,” said Lobsang.
“Hold on, hold on,” said Susan. “This makes no sense. Auditors hate everything about life. And you are an Auditor, aren’t you?”
“I have no idea what I am,” sighed Lady LeJean. “But right now I know that I am everything an Auditor should not be. We…they…we have to be stopped!”
“With chocolate?” said Susan.
“The sense of taste is new