Thief of Time - Terry Pratchett [136]
The chocolate closed over her with barely a sound. Then the two watchers waited until the fat, lazy ripples had died away.
“Now there was a lady with style,” said Chaos. “What a waste.”
YES. I THOUGHT SO.
“Well, it’s been fun…up to that point, anyway. And now, I must be off,” said Chaos.
YOU’RE CONTINUING WITH THE MILK ROUND?
“People rely on me.”
Death looked impressed.
IT’S GOING TO BE…INTERESTING TO HAVE YOU BACK, he said.
“Yeah. It is,” said Chaos. “You’re not coming?”
I’M JUST GOING TO WAIT HERE FOR A WHILE.
“Why?”
JUST IN CASE.
“Ah.”
YES.
It was some minutes later that Death reached into his robe and pulled out a lifetimer that was small and light enough to have been designed for a doll. He turned around.
“But…I died,” said the shade of Unity.
YES, said Death. THIS IS THE NEXT PART…
Tick
Emma Robertson sat in the classroom with wrinkled brow, chewing on her pencil. Then, rather slowly, but with the air of one imparting great secrets, she set to work.
She wrote:
“We went to Lanker where there are witches they are kind they grow erbs. We met this which she was very jole and sang us a snog abot a hedghog it had difficut words. Jason try to kick her cat it chase him up a tre. I know a lot about wiches now they do not have warts they do not eat you they are just like your grane except your grane does not know difult words.”
At her high desk Susan relaxed. There was nothing like a classroom of bent heads. A good teacher used whatever materials there were to hand, and taking the class to visit Mrs. Ogg was an education in itself. Two educations.
A classroom going well had its own smell: a hint of pencil shavings, poster paints, long-dead stick insects, glue, and, of course, the faint aroma of Billy.
There had been an uneasy meeting with her grandfather. She’d raged that he hadn’t told her things. And he’d said, of course he hadn’t. If you told humans what the future held, it wouldn’t. That made sense. Of course, it made sense. It was good logic. The trouble was that Susan was only mostly logical. And so, now, things were back in that uneasy, rather cool state where they spent most of their time, in the tiny little family that ran on dysfunctionality.
Maybe, she thought, that was a normal family state in any case. When push came to shove—thank you, Mrs. Ogg, she’d always remember that phrase now—they’d rely on each other automatically, without a thought. Apart from that, they kept out of one another’s way.
She hadn’t seen the Death of Rats lately. It was too much to hope that he was dead. In any case, it hadn’t slowed him down so far.
That thought made her think about the contents of her desk. Susan was very strict about eating in class and took the view that, if there were rules, then they applied to everyone, even her. Otherwise they were merely tyranny. But rules were there to make you think before you broke them.
There was still half a box of Higgs & Meakins cheapest assortment tucked in there among the books and papers.
Opening the lid carefully and slipping her hand in was easy, and so was the maintenance of a suitably teachery face while she did so. Questing fingers found a chocolate in the nest of empty paper cups.
Then she briskly picked up the keys and walked to the classroom cupboard with what she hoped was the purposeful step of someone about to check on the supply of pencils. After all, you never knew, with pencils. They needed watching.
The door clicked behind her, leaving only the dim light through the transom. She put the chocolate in her mouth, and shut her eyes.
She was mostly human and partly immortal. It was a difficult trick. It had to do with how you reacted to the universe and how the universe reacted to you. In a way, it was all smoke and mirrors, or maybe it was really just a matter of assumption. It certainly wasn’t a matter of logic. She’d had certain powers and advantages and she would be immortal for as long as she lived.
The chocolate outer shell dissolved and her very human senses told her that she had selected a nougat. But she was resolute. Life was tough.