Hogfather

NO.

‘You did, didn't you?’ Albert stated.

NO.

‘You put all those things in the sack.’

NO.

‘You got them from somewhere and put them in the sack.’

NO.

‘You did put them in the sack, didn't you?’

NO.

‘You put them in the sack.’

YES.

‘I knew you put them in the sack. Where did you get them?’

THEY WERE JUST LYING AROUND.

‘Whole roast pig does not, in my experience, just lie around.’

NO ONE SEEMED TO BE USING THEM, ALBERT.

‘Couple of chimneys ago we were over that big posh restaurant…’

REALLY? I DON'T REMEMBER.

‘And it seemed to me you were down there a bit longer than usual, if you don't mind me saying so.’

REALLY.

‘How exactly were they just inverted comma lying around inverted comma?’

JUST… LYING AROUND. YOU KNOW. RECUMBENT.

‘In a kitchen?’

THERE WAS A CERTAIN CULINARINESS ABOUT THE PLACE, I RECALL.

Albert pointed a trembling finger.

‘You nicked someone's Hogswatch dinner, master!’

IT'S GOING TO BE EATEN, said Death defensively. ANYWAY, YOU THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA WHEN I SHOWED THAT KING THE DOOR.

‘Yeah, well, that was a bit different,’ said Albert, lowering his voice. ‘But, I mean, the Hogfather doesn't drop down the chimney and pinch people's grub!’

THE BEGGARS WILL ENJOY IT, ALBERT.

‘Well, yes, but—’

IT WASN'T STEALING. IT WAS JUST… REDISTRIBUTION. IT WILL BE A GOOD DEED IN A NAUGHTY WORLD.

‘No, it won't!’

THEN IT WILL BE A NAUGHTY DEED IN A NAUGHTY WORLD AND WILL PASS COMPLETELY UNNOTICED.

‘Yeah, but you might at least have thought about the people whose grub you pinched.’

THEY HAVE BEEN PROVIDED FOR, OF COURSE. I AM NOT COMPLETELY HEARTLESS. IN A METAPHORICAL SENSE. AND NOW — ONWARDS AND UPWARDS.

‘We're heading down, master.’

ONWARDS AND DOWNWARDS, THEN.

There were… swirls. Binky galloped easily through them, except that he did not seem to move. He might have been hanging in the air.

‘Oh, me,’ said the oh god weakly.

‘What?’ said Susan.

‘Try shutting your eyes—’

Susan shut her eyes. Then she reached up to touch her face.

‘I'm still seeing…’

‘I thought it was just me. It's usually just me.’ The swirls vanished.

There was greenery below.

And that was odd. It was greenery. Susan had flown a few times over countryside, even swamps and jungles, and there had never been a green as green as this. If green could be a primary colour, this was it.

And that wiggly thing.

‘That's not a river!’ she said.

‘Isn't it?’

‘It's blue!’

The oh god risked a look down.

‘Water's blue,’ he said.

‘Of course it's not!’

‘Grass is green, water's blue… I can remember that. It's some of the stuff I just know.’

‘Well, in a way…’ Susan hesitated. Everyone knew grass was green and water was blue. Quite often it wasn't true, but everyone knew it in the same way they knew the sky was blue, too.

She made the mistake of looking up as she thought that.

There was the sky. It was, indeed, blue. And down there was the land. It was green.

And in between was nothing. Not white space. Not black night. Just… nothing, all round the edges of the world. Where the brain said there should be, well, sky and land, meeting neatly at the horizon, there was simply a void that sucked at the eyeball like a loose tooth.

And there was the sun.

It was under the sky, floating above the land.

And it was yellow.

Buttercup yellow.

Binky landed on the grass beside the river. Or at least on the green. It felt more like sponge, or moss. He nuzzled it.

Susan slid off, trying to keep her gaze low. That meant she was looking at the vivid blue of the water.

There were orange fish in it. They didn't look quite right, as if they'd been created by someone who really did think a fish was two curved lines and a dot and a triangular tail. They reminded her of the skeletal fish in Death's quiet pool. Fish that were… appropriate to their surroundings. And she could see them, even though the water was just a block of colour which part of her insisted ought to be opaque…

She knelt down and dipped her hand in. It felt like water, but what poured through her fingers was liquid blue.

And now she knew where she was. The last piece clicked into place and the knowledge bloomed inside her. She knew if she saw a house just how its windows would be placed, and just how the smoke would come out of the chimney.

There would almost certainly be apples on the trees. And they would be red, because everyone knew that apples were red. And the sun was yellow. And the sky was blue. And the grass was green.

But there was another world, called the real world by the people who believed in it, where the sky could be anything from off-white to sunset red to thunderstorm yellow. And the trees would be anything from bare branches, mere scribbles against the sky, to red flames before the frost. And the sun was white or yellow or orange. And water was brown and grey and green…

The colours here were springtime colours, and not the springtime of the world. They were the colours of the springtime of the eye.

‘This is a child's painting,’ she said.

The oh god slumped onto the green.

‘Every time I look at the gap my eyes water,’ he mumbled. ‘I feel awful.’

‘I said this is a child's painting,’ said Susan.

‘Oh, me… I think the wizards' potion is wearing off…’