Hogfather

Medium Dave sighed. He was all for class solidarity, but sometimes Catseye got on his nerves.

‘They're title deeds,’ he said. ‘And they're better than money.’

‘Paper's better'n money?’ said Catseye. ‘Hah, if you can burn it you can't spend it, that's what I say.’

‘Hang on,’ said Chickenwire. ‘I know about them. The Tooth Fairy owns property?’

‘Got to raise money somehow,’ said Medium Dave. ‘All those half-dollars under the pillow.’

‘If we steal them, do they become ours?’

‘Is that a trick question?’ said Catseye, smirking.

‘Yeah, but… ten thousand each doesn't sound such a lot, when you see all this.’

‘He won't miss a—’

‘Gentlemen…’

They turned. Teatime was in the doorway.

‘We were just… we were just piling up the stuff,’ said Chickenwire.

‘Yes. I know. I told you to.’

‘Right. That's right. You did,’ said Chickenwire gratefully.

‘And there's such a lot,’ said Teatime. He gave them a smile. Catseye coughed.

‘'s got to be thousands,’ said Medium Dave. ‘And what about all these deeds and so on? Look, this one's for that pipe shop in Honey Trap Lane! In Ankh-Morpork! I buy my tobacco there! Old Thimble is always moaning about the rent, too!’

‘Ah. So you opened the strongboxes,’ said Teatime pleasantly.

‘Well… yes…’

‘Fine. Fine,’ said Teatime. ‘I didn't ask you to, but… fine, fine. And how did you think the Tooth Fairy made her money? Little gnomes in some mine somewhere? Fairy gold? But that turns to trash in the morning!’

He laughed. Chickenwire laughed. Even Medium Dave laughed. And then Teatime was on him, pushing him irresistibly backwards until he hit the wall.

There was a blur and he tried to blink and his left eyelid was suddenly a rose of pain.

Teatime's good eye was close to him, if you could call it good. The pupil was a dot. Medium Dave could just make out his hand, right by Medium Dave's face.

It was holding a knife. The point of the blade could only be the merest fraction of an inch from Medium Dave's right eye.

‘I know people say I'd kill them as soon as look at them,’ whispered Teatime. ‘And in fact I'd much rather kill you than look at you, Mr Lilywhite. You stand in a castle of gold and plot to steal pennies. Oh, dear. What am I to do with you?’

He relaxed a little, but his hand still held the knife to Medium Dave's unblinking eye.

‘You're thinking that Banjo is going to help you,’ he said. ‘That's how it's always been, isn't it? But Banjo likes me. He really does. Banjo is my friend.’

Medium Dave managed to focus beyond Teatime's ear. His brother was just standing there, with the blank face he had while he waited for another order or a new thought to turn up.

‘If I thought you were feeling bad thoughts about me I would be so downcast,’ said Teatime. ‘I do not have many friends left, Mr Medium Dave.’

He stood back and smiled happily. ‘All friends now?’ he said, as Medium Dave slumped down. ‘Help him, Banjo.’

On cue, Banjo lumbered forward.

‘Banjo has the heart of a little child,’ said Teatime, the knife disappearing somewhere about his clothing. ‘I believe I have, too.’

The others were frozen in place. They hadn't moved since the attack. Medium Dave was a heavy-set man and Teatime was a matchstick model, but he'd lifted Medium Dave off his feet like a feather.

‘As far as the money goes, in fact, I really have no use for it,’ said Teatime, sitting down on a sack of silver. ‘It is small change. You may share it out amongst yourselves, and no doubt you'll squabble and doublecross one another more tiresomely. Oh, dear. It is so awful when friends fall out.’

He kicked the sack. It split. Silver and copper fell in an expensive trickle.

‘And you'll swagger and spend it on drink and women,’ he said, as they watched the coins roll into every corner of the room. ‘The thought of investment will never cross your scarred little minds —’

There was a rumble from Banjo. Even Teatime waited patiently until the huge man had assembled a sentence. The result was:

‘I gotta piggy bank.’

‘And what would you do with a million dollars, Banjo?’ said Teatime.

Another rumble. Banjo's face twisted up.

‘Buy… a… bigger piggy bank?’

‘Well done.’ The Assassin stood up. ‘Let's go and see how our wizard is getting on, shall we?’

He walked out of the room without looking back. After a moment Banjo followed.

The others tried not to look at one another's faces. Then Chickenwire said, ‘Was he saying we could take the money and go?’

‘Don't be bloody stupid, we wouldn't get ten yards,’ said Medium Dave, still clutching his face. ‘Ugh, this hurts. I think he cut the eyelid… he cut the damn eyelid…’

‘Then let's just leave the stuff and go! I never joined up to ride on tigers!’

‘And what'll you do when he comes after you?’

‘Why'd he bother with the likes of us?’

‘He's got time for his friends,’ said Medium Dave bitterly. ‘For gods' sakes, someone get me a clean rag or something…’

‘OK, but… but he can't look everywhere.’

Medium Dave shook his head. He'd been through Ankh-Morpork's very own university of the streets and had graduated with his life and an intelligence made all the keener by constant friction. You only had to look into Teatime's mismatched eyes to know one thing, which was this: that if Teatime wanted to find you he would not look everywhere. He'd look in only one place, which would be the place where you were hiding.

‘How come your brother likes him so much?’

Medium Dave grimaced. Banjo had always done what he was told, simply because Medium Dave had told him. Up to now, anyway.

It must have been that punch in the bar. Medium Dave didn't like to think about it. He'd always promised their mother that he'd look after Banjo,[21] and Banjo had gone back like a falling tree. And when Medium Dave had risen from his seat to punch Teatime's unbalanced lights out he'd suddenly found the Assassin already behind him, holding a knife. In front of everyone. It was humiliating, that's what it was.’

And then Banjo had sat up, looking puzzled, and spat out a tooth.

‘If it wasn't for Banjo going around with him all the time we could gang up on him,’ said Catseye.

Medium Dave looked up, one hand clamping a handkerchief to his eye.

‘Gang up on him?’ he said.

‘Yeah, it's all your fault,’ Chickenwire went on.

‘Oh, yeah? So it wasn't you who said, wow, ten thousand dollars, count me in?’

Chickenwire backed away. ‘I didn't know there was going to be all this creepy stuff! I want to go home!’

Medium Dave hesitated, despite his pain and rage. This wasn't normal talk for Chickenwire, for all that he whined and grumbled. This was a strange place, no lie about that, and all that business with the teeth had been very… odd, but he'd been out with Chickenwire when jobs had gone wrong and both the Watch and the Thieves' Guild had been after them and he'd been as cool as anyone. And if the Guild had been the ones to catch them they'd have nailed their ears to their ankles and thrown them in the river. In Medium Dave's book, which was a simple book and largely written in mental crayon, things didn't get creepier than that.