Thief of Time

War's big red face wrinkled. “Do I like rabbit?”

“Yes, dear.”

“I thought I liked beef.”

“No, dear. Beef gives you wind.”

“Oh.” War sighed. “Any chance of onions?”

“You don't like onions, dear.”

“I don't?”

“Because of your stomach, dear.”

“Oh.”

War smiled awkwardly at Death. “It's rabbit,” he said. “Erm… dear, do I ride out for Apocalypses?”

Mrs War took the lid off a saucepan and prodded viciously at something inside.

“No, dear,” she said firmly. “You always come down with a cold.”

“I thought I rather, er, sort of liked that kind of thing…?”

“No, dear. You don't.”

Despite himself, Death was fascinated. He had never come across the idea of keeping your memory inside someone else's head.

“Perhaps I would like a beer?” War ventured.

“You don't like beer, dear.”

“I don't?”

“No, it brings on your trouble.”

“Ah. Uh, how do I feel about brandy?”

“You don't like brandy, dear. You like your special oat drink with the vitamins.”

“Oh, yes,” said War mournfully. “I'd forgotten I liked that.” He looked sheepishly at Death. “It's quite nice,” he said.

COULD I HAVE A WORD WITH YOU, said Death, IN PRIVATE?

War looked puzzled. “Do I like wo—”

IN PRIVATE, PLEASE, Death thundered.

Mrs War turned and gave Death a disdainful look.

“I understand, I quite understand,” she said haughtily. “But don't you dare say anything to bring on his acid, that's all I shall say.”

Mrs War had been a Valkyrie once, Death remembered. It was another reason to be extremely careful on the battlefield.

“You've never been tempted by the prospect of marriage, old man?” said War, when she'd gone.

NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. IN NO WAY.

“Why not?”

Death was nonplussed. It was like asking a brick wall what it thought of dentistry. As a question, it made no sense.

I HAVE BEEN TO SEE THE OTHER TWO, he said, ignoring it. FAMINE DOESN'T CARE AND PESTILENCE IS FRIGHTENED.

“The two of us, against the Auditors?” said War.

RIGHT IS ON OUR SIDE.

“Speaking as War,” said War, “I'd hate to tell you what happens to very small armies that have Right on their side.”

I HAVE SEEN YOU FIGHT.

“My old right arm isn't what it was…” War murmured.

YOU ARE IMMORTAL. YOU ARE NOT ILL, said Death, but he could see the worried, slightly hunted look in Wars eyes and knew that there was only one way this was going to go.

To be human was to change, Death realized. The Horsemen… were horsemen. Men had wished upon them a certain shape, a certain form. And, just like the gods, and the Tooth Fairy, and the Hogfather, their shape had changed them. They would never be human, but they had caught aspects of humanity as though they were some kind of disease.

Because the point was that nothing, nothing, had one aspect and one aspect alone. Men would envisage a being called Famine, but once they gave him arms and legs and eyes, that meant he had to have a brain. That meant he'd think. And a brain can't think about plagues of locusts all the time.

Emergent behaviour again. Complications always crept in. Everything changed.

THANK GOODNESS, thought Death, THAT I AM COMPLETELY UNCHANGED AND EXACTLY THE SAME AS I EVER WAS.

And then there was one.

Tick

The hammer stopped, halfway across the room. Mr White walked over and picked it out of the air.

“Really, your ladyship,” he said. “You think we don't watch you? You, the Igor, make the clock ready!”

Igor looked from him to Lady LeJean and back. “I only take orderth from Marthter Jeremy, thank you,” he said.

“The world will end if you start that clock!” said Lady LeJean.

“What a foolish idea,” said Mr White. “We laugh at it.”

“Hahaha,” said the other Auditors obediently.

“I don't need medicine!” Jeremy shouted, pushing Dr Hopkins out of the way. “And I don't need people to tell me what to do. Shut up!”

In the silence, thunder grumbled in the clouds.

“Thank you,” said Jeremy, more calmly. “Now, I hope I am a rational man, and I shall approach this rationally. A clock is a measuring device. I have built the perfect clock, my lady. I mean ladies. And gentlemen. It will revolutionize timekeeping.”

He reached up and moved the hands of the clock to almost one o'clock. Then he reached down, gripped the pendulum, and set it swinging.

The world continued to exist.

“You see? The universe doesn't stop even for my clock,” Jeremy went on. He folded his hands and sat down. “Watch,” he said calmly.

The clock ticked gently. Then something rattled in the machinery around it, and the big green glass tubes of acid began to sizzle.

“Well, nothing seems to have happened,” said Dr Hopkins. “That's a blessing.”

Sparks crackled around the lightning rod positioned above the clock.

“This is just making a path for the lightning,” said Jeremy happily. “We send a little lightning up, and a lot more comes back—”

Things were moving inside the clock. There was a sound best represented as fizzle, and greenish-blue light filled the case.

“Ah, the cascade has initialized,” said Jeremy. “As a little exercise, the, ah, more traditional pendulum clock has been slaved to the Big Clock, you'll see, so that every second it will be readjusted to the correct time.” He smiled, and one cheek twitched. “Some day all clocks will be like this,” he said, and added, “While I normally hate such an imprecise term as ‘any second now’, nevertheless I—”

Tick