We R Igors 9 страница

The historians paid him no attention. Horses did not walk into libraries.

Susan mounted. There were plenty of times when she wished she'd been born completely human and wholly normal, but the reality was that she'd give it all up tomorrow—

–apart from Binky.

A moment later, four hoofprints glowed like plasma in the air above the library, and then faded away.

Tick

The crunch-crunch of the yeti's feet over the snow and the eternal wind of the mountains were the only sounds.

Then Lobsang said, “By ‘cut off his head’, you actually mean…? ”

“Sever the head from the body, ” said Lu-Tze.

“And, ” said Lobsang, still in the tones of one carefully exploring every corner of the haunted cave, “he doesn't mind? ”

“Waal, it's a nuisance, ” said the yeti. “A bit of a paarty trick. But it's okaay, if it helps. The sweeper haas alwaays been a goood friend to us. We owe him faavours. ”

“I've tried teaching 'em the Way, ” said Lu-Tze proudly.

“Yaas. Ver' usefuul. ‘A washed pot never boils, ’” said the yeti.

Curiosity vied with annoyance in Lobsang's head, and won.

“What have I missed here? ” he said. “You don't die? ”

“I doon't die? Wit my head cut off? For laughing! Ho. Ho, ” said the yeti. “Of course I die. But this is not such a sizeaable traansaaction. ”

“It took us years to work out what the yetis were up to, ” said Lu-Tze. “Their loops played hob with the Mandala until the abbot worked out how to allow for them. They've been extinct three times. ”

“Three times, eh? ” said Lobsang. “That's a lot of times to go extinct. I mean, most species only manage it once, don't they? ”

The yeti was entering taller forest now, of ancient pines.

“This'd be a good place, ” said Lu-Tze. “Put us down, sir. ”

“And we'll chop your head off, ” said Lobsang weakly. “What am I saying? I 'm not going to chop anyone's head off! ”

“You heard him say it doesn't worry him, ” said Lu-Tze, as they were gently lowered to the ground.

“That's not the point! ” said Lobsang hotly.

“It's his head, ” Lu-Tze pointed out.

“But I mind! ”

“Oh, well, in that case, ” said Lu-Tze, “is it not written, ‘If you want a thing done properly you've got to do it yourself’? ”

“Yaas, it is, ” said the yeti.

Lu-Tze took the sword out of Lobsang's hand. He held it carefully, like someone unused to weapons. The yeti obligingly knelt.

“You're up to date? ” said Lu-Tze.

“Yaas. ”

“I cannot believe you're really doing this! ” said Lobsang.

“Interesting, ” said Lu-Tze. “Mrs Cosmopilite says, ‘Seeing is believing, ’ and, strangely enough, the Great Wen said, ‘I have seen, and I believe’! ”

He brought the sword down and cut off the yeti's head.

Tick

There was a sound rather like a cabbage being sliced in half, and then a head rolled into the basket to cheers and cries of “Oh, I say, well done! ” from the crowd. The city of Quirm was a nice, peaceful, law-abiding place and the city council kept it that way with a penal policy that combined the maximum of deterrence with the minimum of re-offending.

GRIPPER “THE BUTCHER” SMARTZ?

The late Gripper rubbed his neck.

“I demand a retrial! ” he said.

THIS MAY NOT BE A GOOD TIME, said Death.

“It couldn't possibly have been murder because the…” The soul of Gripper Smartz fumbled in its spectral pockets for a ghostly piece of paper, unfolded it and continued, in a voice of those to whom the written word is an uphill struggle, “…because the bal-ance of my mind was d… dess-turbed. ”

REALLY, said Death. He found it best to let the recently departed get things off their chest.

“Yes, 'cos I really, really wanted to kill him, right? And you can't tell me that's a normal frame of mind, right? He was a dwarf, anyway, so I don't think that should count as manslaughter. ”

I UNDERSTAND THAT WAS THE SEVENTH DWARF YOU KILLED, said Death.

“I'm very prone to being dess-turbed, ” said Gripper. “Really, it's me who's 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 towards 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 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 threaten 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 SEE 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 on? ” she said. “Are you really talking about the Apocalypse? Are you serious? No one believes in that sort of thing any more! ”

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 you cared! ”

TAKE THIS ALSO.

Without wanting to, Susan took a smaller lifetimer from her grandfather.

SHE MAY TALK TO YOU.

“And who is this? ”

THE MIDWIFE, said Death. NOW… FIND THE SON.

He faded.

Susan looked down at the lifetimers in her hands. He's done it to you again! she screamed at herself. You don't have to do this and you can put this thing down and you can go back to the classroom and you can be normal again and you just know that you won't, and so does he—

SQUEAK?

The Death of Rats was sitting between Binky's ears, grasping a lock of the white mane and giving the general impression of someone anxious to be going. Susan raised a hand to slap him off, and then stopped herself. Instead, she pushed the heavy lifetimers into the rat's paws.

“Make yourself useful, ” she said, grasping the reins. “Why do I do this? ”

SQUEAK.

“I have not got a nice nature! ”

Tick

There was not, surprisingly, a great deal of blood. The head rolled into the snow, and the body slowly toppled forward.

“Now you've killed—” Lobsang began.

“Just a second, ” said Lu-Tze. “Any moment now…”

The headless body vanished. The kneeling yeti turned his head to Lu-Tze, blinked and said, “Thaat stung a biit. ”

“Sorry. ”

Lu-Tze turned to Lobsang. “Now, hold on to that memory! ” he commanded. “It'll try to vanish, but you've had training. You've got to go on remembering that you saw something that now did not happen, understand? Remember that time's a lot less unbending than people think, if you get your head right! Just a little lesson! Seeing is believing! ”

“How did it do that? ”

“Good question. They can save their life up to a certain point and go back to it if they get killed, ” said Lu-Tze. “How it's done… well, the abbot spent the best part of a decade working that one out. Not that anyone else can understand it. There's a lot of quantum involved. ” He took a pull of his permanent foul cigarette. “Gotta be good working-out, if no one else can understand it. ”[14]

“How is der abboott these daays? ” said the yeti, getting to its feet again and picking up the pilgrims.

“Teething. ”

“Ah. Reincarnation's alwaays a problem, ” said the yeti, falling into its long, ground-eating lope.

“Teeth are the worst, he says. Always coming or going. ”

“How fast are we going? ” said Lobsang.

The yeti's stride was more like a continuous series of leaps from one foot to the other; there was so much spring in the long legs that each landing was a mere faint rocking sensation. It was almost restful.

“I reckon we're doing thirty miles an hour or so, clock time, ” said Lu-Tze. “Get some rest. We'll be above Copperhead in the morning. It's all downhill from there. ”

“Coming back from the dead…” Lobsang murmured.

“It's more like not actually ever going in the first place, ” said Lu-Tze. “I've studied them a bit, but… well, unless it's built in you'd have to learn how to do it, and would you want to bet on getting it right first time? Tricky one. You'd have to be desperate. I hope I'm never that desperate. ”

Tick

Susan recognized the country of Lancre from the air, a little bowl of woods and fields perched like a nest on the edge of the Ramtop mountains. And she found the cottage, too, which was not the corkscrew-chimneyed compost-heap kind of witch's house popularized by Grim Fairy Tales and other books, but a spanking new one with gleaming thatch and a manicured front lawn.

There were more ornaments—gnomes, toadstools, pink bunnies, big-eyed deer—around a tiny pond than any sensible gardener should have allowed. Susan spotted one brightly painted gnome fishi—No, that wasn't a rod he was holding, was it? Surely a nice old lady wouldn't put something like that in her garden, would she? Would she?

Susan was bright enough to go round to the back, because witches were allergic to front doors. The door was opened by a small, fat, rosy-cheeked woman whose little currant eyes said, yep, that's my gnome all right, and be thankful he's only widdling in the pond.

“Mrs Ogg? The midwife? ”

There was a pause before Mrs Ogg said, “The very same. ”

“You don't know me, but—” said Susan, and realized that Mrs Ogg was looking past her at Binky, who was standing by the gate. The woman was a witch, after all.

“Maybe I do know you, ” said Mrs Ogg. “O'course, if you just stole that horse, you just don't know how much trouble you're in. ”

“I borrowed it. The owner is… my grandfather. ”

Another pause, and it was disconcerting how those friendly little eyes could bore into yours like an auger.

“You'd better come in, ” said Mrs Ogg.

The inside of the cottage was as clean and new as the outside. Things gleamed, and there were a lot of them to gleam. The place was a shrine to bad but enthusiastically painted china ornaments, which occupied every flat surface. What space was left was full of framed pictures. Two harassed-looking women were polishing and dusting.

“I got comp'ny, ” said Mrs Ogg sternly, and the women left with such alacrity that the word “fled” might have been appropriate.

“My daughters-in-law, ” said Mrs Ogg, sitting down in a plump armchair which, over the years, had shaped itself to fit her. “They like to help a poor old lady who's all alone in the world. ”

Susan took in the pictures. If they were all family members, Mrs Ogg was head of an army. Mrs Ogg, unashamedly caught out in a flagrant lie, went on: “Sit down, girl, and say what's on your mind. There's tea brewing. ”

“I want to know something. ”

“Most people do, ” said Mrs Ogg. “And they can go on wantin'. ”

“I want to know about… a birth, ” said Susan, persevering.

“Oh, yes? Well, I done hundreds of confinements. Thousands, prob'ly. ”

“I imagine this one was difficult. ”

“A lot of them are, ” said Mrs Ogg.

“You'd remember this one. I don't know how it started, but I'd imagine that a stranger came knocking. ”

“Oh? ” Mrs Ogg's face became a wall. The black eyes stared out at Susan as if she was an invading army.

“You're not helping me, Mrs Ogg. ”

“That's right. I ain't, ” said Mrs Ogg. “I think I know about you, miss, but I don't care who you are, you see. You can go and get the other one, if you like. Don't think I ain't seen him, neither. I've been at plenty of deathbeds, too. But deathbeds is public, mostly, and birthbeds ain't. Not if the lady don't want them to be. So you get the other one, and I'll spit in his eye. ”

“This is very important, Mrs Ogg. ”

“You're right there, ” said Mrs Ogg firmly.

“I can't say how long ago it was. It may have been last week, even. Time, that's the key. ”

And there it was. Mrs Ogg was not a poker player, at least against someone like Susan. There was the tiniest flicker of the eyes.

Mrs Ogg's chair was rammed back in her effort to rise, but Susan got to the mantelpiece first and snatched what was there, hidden in plain view amongst the ornaments.

“You give that here! ” shouted Mrs Ogg, as Susan held it out of her reach. She could feel the power in the thing. It seemed to pulse in her hand.

“Have you any idea what this is, Mrs Ogg? ” she said, opening her hand to reveal the little glass bulbs.

“Yes, it's an eggtimer that don't work! ” Mrs Ogg sat down hard in her overstuffed chair, so that her little legs rose off the floor for a moment.

“It looks to me like a day, Mrs Ogg. A day's worth of time. ”

Mrs Ogg glanced at Susan, and then at the little hourglass in her hand.

“I reckoned there was something odd about it, ” she said. “The sand don't go through when you tip it up, see? ”

“That's because you don't need it to yet, Mrs Ogg. ”

Nanny Ogg appeared to relax. Once again Susan reminded herself that she was dealing with a witch. They tended to keep up.

“I kept it 'cos it was a gift, ” said the old lady. “And it looks so pretty, too. What do them letters round the edge say? ”

Susan read the words etched on the metal base of the lifetimer: Tempus Redux. “‘Time Returned’, ” she said.

“Ah, that'd be it, ” said Mrs Ogg. “The man did say I'd be repaid for my time. ”

“The man…? ” said Susan gently.

Nanny Ogg glanced up, her eyes ablaze.

“Don't you try to take advantage of me just 'cos I'm moment'r'ly a bit flustered, ” she snapped. “There's no way round Nanny Ogg! ”

Susan looked at the woman, and this time not with the lazy eye. And there was, indeed, no way round Mrs Ogg. But there was another way, with Mrs Ogg. It went straight through the heart.

“A child needs to know his parents, Mrs Ogg, ” she said. “Now more than ever. He needs to know who he really is. It's going to be hard for him, and I want to help him. ”

“Why? ”

“Because I wish someone had helped me, ” said Susan.

“Yes, but there's rules to midwifery, ” said Nanny Ogg. “You don't say what was said or what you saw. Not if the lady don't want you to. ”

The witch wriggled awkwardly in her chair, her face going red. She wants to tell me, Susan knew. She's desperate to. But I've got to play it right, so she can square it with herself.

“I'm not asking for names, Mrs Ogg, because I expect you don't know them, ” she went on.

“That's true. ”

“But the child—”

“Look, miss, I'm not supposed to tell a living soul about—”

“If it helps, I'm not entirely certain that I am one, ” said Susan. She watched Mrs Ogg for a while. “But I understand. There have to be rules, don't there? Thank you for your time. ”

Susan stood up and put the preserved day back on the mantelpiece. Then she walked out of the cottage, shutting the door behind her. Binky was waiting by the gate. She mounted up, and it wasn't until then that she heard the door open.

“That's what he said, ” said Mrs Ogg. “When he gave me the eggtimer. ‘Thank you for your time, Mrs Ogg, ’ he said. You'd better come back in, my girl. ”

Tick

Death found Pestilence in a hospice in Llamedos. Pestilence liked hospitals. There was always something for him to do.

Currently he was trying to remove the “Now Wash Your Hands” sign over a cracked basin. He looked up.

“Oh, it's you, ” he said. “Soap? I'll give 'em soap! ”

I SENT OUT THE CALL, said Death.

“Oh. Yes. Right. Yes, ” said Pestilence, clearly embarrassed.

YOU'VE STILL GOT YOUR HORSE?

“Of course, but…”

YOU HAD A FINE HORSE.

“Look, Death… it's… look, it's not that I don't see your point, but—Excuse me…” Pestilence stepped aside as a white-robed nun, completely ignorant of the two Horsemen, passed between them. But he took the opportunity to breathe in her face.

“Just a mild flu, ” he said, catching Death's expression.

SO WE CAN COUNT ON YOU, CAN WE?

“To ride out…”

YES.

“For the Big One…”

IT'S EXPECTED OF US.

“How many of the others have you got? ”

YOU ARE THE FIRST.

“Er…”

Death sighed. Of course, there had been plenty of diseases, long before humans had been around. But humans had definitely created Pestilence. They had a genius for crowding together, for poking around in jungles, for siting the midden so handily next to the well. Pestilence was, therefore, part human, with all that this entailed. He was frightened.

I SEE, he said.

“The way you put it—”

YOU ARE AFRAID?

“I'll… think about it. ”

YES. I AM SURE YOU WILL.

Tick

Quite a lot of brandy splashed into Mrs Ogg's mug. She waved the bottle vaguely at Susan, with an enquiring look.

“No, thank you. ”

“Fair enough. Fair enough. ” Nanny Ogg put the bottle aside and took a draught of the brandy as though it were beer.

“A man came knocking, ” she said. “Three times he came, in my life. Last time was, oh, maybe ten days ago. Same man every time. He wanted a midwife—”

“Ten days ago? ” said Susan. “But the boy's at least sixt—” She stopped.

“Ah, you've got it, ” said Mrs Ogg. “I could see you was bright. Time didn't matter to him. He wanted the best midwife. And it was, like, he'd found out about me but got the date wrong, just like you or me could knock on the wrong door. Can you understand what I mean? ”

“More than you think, ” said Susan.

“The third time”—another gulp at the brandy—“he was in a bit of a state, ” said Mrs Ogg. “That's how I knew he was just a man, despite everything that happened after. It was because he was panicking, to tell you the truth. Pregnant fathers often panic. He was going on about me coming right away and how there was no time. He had all the time in the world, he just wasn't thinking properly, 'cos husbands never do when the time comes. They panic 'cos it ain't their world any more. ”

“And what happened next? ” said Susan.

“He took me in his, well, it was like one of them old chariots, he took me to…” Mrs Ogg hesitated. “I've seen a lot of strange things in my life, I'll have you know, ” she said, as if preparing the ground for a revelation.

“I can believe it. ”

“It was a castle made of glass. ” Mrs Ogg gave Susan a look that dared her to disbelieve. Susan decided to hurry things up.

“Mrs Ogg, one of my earliest memories is of helping to feed the Pale Horse. You know? The one outside? The horse of Death? His name is Binky. So please don't keep stopping. There is practically no limit to the things I find normal. ”

“There was a woman… well eventually there was a woman, ” said the witch. “Can you imagine someone exploding into a million pieces? Yes, I expect you can. Well, imagine it happening the other way. There's a mist and it's all flying together and then, whoosh, there's a woman. Then, whoosh, back into a mist again. And all the time, this noise…” Mrs Ogg ran her finger round the edge of the brandy glass, making it hum.

“A woman kept… incarnating and then disappearing again? Why? ”

“Because she was frightened, of course! First time, see? ” Mrs Ogg grinned. “I person'ly never had any problems in that area, but I've been at a lot of births when it's all new to the girl and she'll be frightened as hell and when push comes to shove, if you take my meaning, old midwifery term, she'll be yellin' and swearin' at the father and I reckon that she'd give anything to be somewhere else. Well, this lady could be somewhere else. We'd have been in a real pickle if it wasn't for the man, as it turned out. ”

“The man who brought you? ”

“He was kind of foreign, you know? Like the Hub people. Bald as a coot. I remember thinking ‘You look like a young man, mister, but you look like you've been a young man for a long, long time if I'm any judge. ’ Normally I wouldn't have any man there, but he sat and talked to her in his foreign lingo and sang her songs and little poems and soothed her and back she came, out of thin air, and I was ready and it was one, two, done. And then she was gone. Except that she was still there, I think. In the air. ”

“What did she look like? ” said Susan.

Mrs Ogg gave her a Look. “You've got to remember the view I got where I was sitting, ” she said. “The kind of description I might give you ain't a thing anyone'd put on a poster, if you get my meaning. And no woman looks at her best at a time like that. She was young, she had dark hair…” Mrs Ogg refilled her brandy glass and this meant the pause went on for some time. “And she was old, too, if you're after the truth of it. Not old like me. I mean old. ”

She stared at the fire. “Old like darkness and stars, ” she said, to the flames.

“The boy was left outside the Thieves' Guild, ” said Susan, to break the silence. “I suppose they thought that with gifts like that he'd be all right. ”

“The boy? Hah. Tell me, miss… why are we talking about he? ”

Tick

Lady LeJean was being strong.

She'd never realized how much humans were controlled by their bodies. The thing nagged night and day. It was always too hot, too cold, too empty, too full, too tired…

The key was discipline, she was sure. Auditors were immortal. If she couldn't tell her body what to do, she didn't deserve to have one. Bodies were a major human weakness.

Senses, too. The Auditors had hundreds of senses, since every possible phenomenon had to be witnessed and recorded. She could find only five available now. Five ought to be easy to deal with. But they were wired directly into the rest of the body! They didn't just submit information, they made demands!

She'd walked past a stall selling roasted meats and her mouth had started to drool! The sense of smell wanted the body to eat without consulting the brain! But that wasn't the worst of it! The brain itself did its own thinking!

That was the hardest part. The bag of soggy tissue behind the eyes worked away independently of its owner. It took in information from the senses, and checked it all against memory, and presented options. Sometimes the hidden parts of it even fought for control of the mouth! Humans weren't individuals, they were, each one, a committee!

Some of the other members of the committee were dark and red and entirely uncivilized. They had joined the brain before civilization; some of them had got aboard even before humanity. And the bit that did the joined-up thinking had to fight, in the darkness of the brain, to get the casting vote!

After little more than a couple of weeks as a human, the entity that was Lady LeJean was having real trouble.

Food, for example. Auditors did not eat. They recognized that feeble life forms had to consume one another to obtain energy and body-building material. The process was astonishingly inefficient, however, and her ladyship had tried assembling nutrients directly out of the air. This worked, but the process felt… What was the word? Oh, yes… creepy.

Besides, part of the brain didn't believe it was getting fed and insisted that it was hungry. Its incessant nagging interfered with her thought processes and so, despite everything, she'd had to face up to the whole, well, the whole orifices business.

The Auditors had known about these for a long time. The human body appeared to have up to eight of them. One didn't seem to work and the rest appeared to be multi-functional, although surprisingly there seemed to be only one thing that could be done by the ears.

Yesterday she'd tried a piece of dry toast.

It had been the single worst experience of her existence.

It had been the single most intense experience of her existence.

It had been something else, too. As far as she could understand the language, it had been enjoyable.

It seemed that the human sense of taste was quite different from the sense as employed by an Auditor. That was precise, measured, analytical. But the human sense of taste was like being hit in the mouth by the whole world. It had been half an hour of watching fireworks in her head before she remembered to swallow.

How did humans survive this?

She'd been fascinated by the art galleries. It was clear that some humans could present reality in a way that made it even more real, that spoke to the viewer, that seared the mind… but what could possibly transcend the knowledge that the genius of an artist had to poke alien substances into his face? Could it be that humans had got used to it? And that was only the start …

The sooner the clock was finished, the better. A species as crazy as this couldn't be allowed to survive. She was visiting the clockmaker and his ugly assistant every day now, giving them as much help as she dared, but they always seemed one vital step away from completion—

Amazing! She could even lie to herself! Because another voice in her head, which was part of the dark committee, said, “You're not helping, are you? You're stealing parts and twisting parts… and you go back every day because of the way he looks at you, don't you? ”

Parts of the internal committee that were so old they didn't have voices, only direct control of the body, tried to interfere at this point. She tried in vain to put them out of her mind.

And now she had to face the other Auditors. They would be punctual.

She pulled herself together. Water had taken to running out of her eyes lately for no reason at all. She did the best she could with her hair, and made her way to the large drawing room.