Thief of Time - Terry Pratchett [116]
He sighed and nudged Binky. The horse stepped forward, in a direction that could not be found on any map.
And the sky was full of gray shapes. There was a ripple in the ranks of Auditors as the pale horse trotted forward.
One drifted toward Death and hung in the air a few feet away.
It said, Should you not be riding out?
DO YOU SPEAK FOR ALL?
You know the custom, said the voice in Death’s mind. Among us, one speaks for all.
WHAT IS BEING DONE IS WRONG.
It is not your business.
NEVERTHELESS, WE ARE ALL ANSWERABLE.
The universe will last forever, said the voice. Everything preserved, ordered, understood, lawful, filed…changeless. A perfect world. Finished.
NO.
It will all end one day in any case.
BUT THIS IS TOO SOON. THERE IS UNFINISHED BUSINESS.
And that is—?
EVERYTHING.
And, with a flash of light, a figure clothéd all in white appeared, holding a book in one hand.
It looked from Death to the endlessly massing ranks of the Auditors, and said:
“Sorry? Is this the right place?”
Two Auditors were measuring the number of atoms in a paving slab. It existed, and therefore it had to be measured.
They looked up at a movement.
“Good afternoon,” said Lu-Tze. “May I draw your attention to the notice my assistant is holding up?”
Susan held up the sign. It read: MOUTHS MUST BE OPEN. BY ORDER.
And Lu-Tze unfolded his hands. There was a caramel in each one, and he was a good shot.
The mouths shut. The faces went impassive. Then there was a sound somewhere between a purr and a wail, which disappeared into the ultrasonic. And then…the Auditors dissolved, gently, first going fuzzy around the edges and, as the process accelerated, swiftly becoming a spreading cloud.
“Hand-to-mouth fighting,” said Lu-Tze. “Why doesn’t it happen to humans?”
“lt nearly does,” said Susan, and when they stared at her, she blinked and said, “To stupid, indulgent humans, anyway.”
“You don’t have to concentrate to stay the same shape,” said Unity. “And that was the last of the caramels, by the way.”
“No, there’s six in one of B&W’s Gold Selections,” said Susan. “Three have got white chocolate cream in dark chocolate and three have got whipped cream in milk chocolate. They’re the ones in the silver wrapp—look, I just happen to know things, all right? Let’s keep going, okay? Without mentioning chocolate.”
You have no power over us, said the Auditor. We are not alive.
BUT YOU ARE DEMONSTRATING ARROGANCE, PRIDE, AND STUPIDITY. THESE ARE EMOTIONS. I WOULD SAY THEY ARE SIGNS OF LIFE.
“Excuse me?” said the shining figure in white.
But you are all alone here!
“Excuse me?”
YES? said Death. WHAT IS IT?
“This is the Apocalypse, yes?” said the shining figure petulantly.
WE ARE TALKING.
“Yes, right, but is it the Apocalypse? The actual end of the actual whole world?”
No, said the Auditor.
YES, said Death. IT IS.
“Great!” said the figure
What? said the Auditor.
WHAT? said Death.
The figure looked embarrassed.
“Well, not great, obviously. Obviously not great, as such. But it’s what I’m here for. It’s what I’m for, really.” It held up a book. “Er…I’ve got the place marked ready. Wow! It’s been, you know, so long…”
Death glanced at the book. The cover and all the pages were made of iron. Realization dawned.
YOU ARE THE ANGEL CLOTHED ALL IN WHITE OF THE IRON BOOK FROM THE PROPHECIES OF TOBRUN, AM I CORRECT?
“That’s right!” The pages clanged as the angel hurriedly thumbed through them. “And it’s clothéd, by the way, if you don’t mind. Clo-theddd. Just a detail, I know, but I like to get it right.”
What is happening here? the Auditor growled.
I DON’T KNOW HOW TO TELL YOU THIS, said Death, ignoring the interruption, BUT YOU ARE NOT OFFICIAL.
The pages stopped clanking.
“What do you mean?” said the angel suspiciously.
THE BOOK OF TOBRUN HAS NOT BEEN CONSIDERED OFFICIAL CHURCH DOGMA FOR A HUNDRED YEARS. THE PROPHET BRUTHA REVEALED THAT THE WHOLE CHAPTER WAS A METAPHOR FOR A POWER STRUGGLE WITHIN THE EARLY CHURCH. IT IS NOT INCLUDED IN THE REVISED VERSION OF THE BOOK