Thief of Time - Terry Pratchett [70]
“I’m very prone to being dess-turbed,” said Gripper. “Really, it’s me who is the victim here. All I needed was a bit of understanding, someone to see my point of view for five minutes…”
WHAT WAS YOUR POINT OF VIEW?
“All dwarfs need a damn good kicking, in my opinion. ’ Ere, you’re Death, right?”
YES INDEED.
“I’m a big fan! I’ve always wanted to meet you, y’know? I’ve got a tattoo of you on my arm, look here. Done it meself.”
The benighted Gripper turned at the sound of hooves. A young woman in black, entirely unregarded by the crowd, who were gathered around the food stalls and souvenir stands and the guillotine, was leading a large white stallion toward them.
“And you’ve even got valet parking!” said Gripper. “Now that’s what I call style!” And with that, he faded.
WHAT A CURIOUS PERSON, said Death. AH, SUSAN. THANK YOU FOR COMING. OUR SEARCH NARROWS.
“Our search?”
YOUR SEARCH, IN FACT.
“It’s just mine now, is it?”
I TOLD YOU I HAVE SOMETHING ELSE TO ATTEND TO.
“More important than the end of the world?”
IT IS THE END OF THE WORLD. THE RULES SAY THAT THE HORSEMEN SHALL RIDE OUT.
“That old legend? But you don’t have to do that!”
IT IS ONE OF MY FUNCTIONS. I HAVE TO OBEY THE RULES.
“Why? They’re breaking the rules!”
BENDING THEM. THEY HAVE FOUND A LOOPHOLE. I DO NOT HAVE THAT KIND OF IMAGINATION.
It was like Jason and the Battle for the Stationery Cupboard, Susan told herself. You soon learned that “No one is to open the door of the Stationery Cupboard” was a prohibition that a seven-year-old simply would not understand. You had to think and rephrase it in more immediate terms, like “No one, Jason, no matter what, no, not even if they thought they heard someone shouting for help, no one—are you paying attention, Jason?—is to open the door of the Stationery Cupboard, or accidentally fall on the door handle so that it opens, or threatens to steal Richenda’s teddy bear unless she opens the door of the Stationery Cupboard, or be standing nearby when a mysterious wind comes out of nowhere and blows the door open all by itself, honestly, it really did, or in any way open, cause to open, ask anyone else to open, jump up and down on the loose floorboard to open, or in any other way seek to obtain entry to the Stationery Cupboard, Jason!”
“A loophole,” said Susan.
YES.
“Well, why can’t you find one, too?”
I AM THE GRIM REAPER. I DO NOT THINK PEOPLE WISH ME TO GET…CREATIVE. THEY WOULD WISH ME TO DO THE TASK ASSIGNED TO ME AT THIS TIME BY CUSTOM AND PRACTICE.
“And that’s just…riding out?”
YES.
“Where to?”
EVERYWHERE, I THINK. IN THE MEANTIME, YOU WILL NEED THIS.
Death handed her a lifetimer.
It was one of the special ones, slightly bigger than normal. She took it reluctantly. It looked like an hourglass, but all those little glittering shapes tumbling through the pinch were seconds.
“You know I don’t like doing the…the whole scythe thing,” she said. “It’s not—hey, this is really heavy!”
HE IS LU-TZE, A HISTORY MONK. EIGHT HUNDRED YEARS OLD. HE HAS AN APPRENTICE. I HAVE LEARNED THIS. BUT I CANNOT FEEL HIM, I CANNOT SENSE HIM. HE IS THE ONE. BINKY WILL TAKE YOU TO THE MONK, YOU WILL FIND THE CHILD.
“And then what?”
I SUSPECT HE WILL NEED SOMEONE. WHEN YOU HAVE FOUND HIM, LET BINKY GO. I SHALL NEED HIM.
Susan’s lips moved as a memory collided with a thought.
“To ride out?” she said. “Are you really talking about the Apocalypse? Are you serious? No one believes in that sort of thing anymore!”
I DO.
Susan’s jaw dropped. “You’re really going to do that? Knowing everything you know?”
Death patted Binky on the muzzle.
YES, he said.
Susan gave her grandfather a sideways look.
“Hold on, there’s a trick, isn’t there…you’re planning something and you’re not even going to tell me, right? You’re not really going to just wait for the world to end and celebrate it, are you?”
WE WILL RIDE OUT.
“No!”
YOU WILL NOT TELL THE RIVERS NOT TO FLOW. YOU WILL NOT TELL THE SUN NOT TO SHINE. YOU WILL NOT TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD AND SHOULD NOT DO.
“But it’s so—” Susan’s expression changed, and Death flinched. “I thought