'Our mam used to wallop us if we went down to the cellar,' said Medium Dave. 'She had her still down there.'

'Yeah?' said Catseye, from somewhere far off. 'Well, our dad used to

wallop us if we tried to get out. Now shut up talking about it.'

They reached the bottom of the stairs.

There was an absence of anybody. And any body.

'He couldn't have survived that, could he?' said Medium Dave.

'I saw him as he went past,' said Catseye. 'Necks aren't supposed to bend that way...'

He squinted upwards.

'Who's that moving up there?'

'How are their necks moving?' quavered Chickenwire.

'Split up!' said Medium Dave. 'And this time all take a stairway. Then they can't come back down!'

'Who're they? Why're they here?'

'Why're we here?' said Peachy. He started, and looked behind him.

'Taking our money? After us putting up with him?'

'Yeah...' said Peachy distantly, trailing after the others. 'Er... did you hear that noise just then?'

'What noise?'

'A sort of clipping, snipping... ?'

'No.'

'No.'

'No. You must have imagined it.'

Peachy nodded miserably.

As he walked up the stairs, little shadows raced through the stone and followed his feet.

Susan darted off the stairs and dragged the oh god along a corridor lined with white doors.

'I think they saw us,' she said. 'And if they're tooth fairies there's been a really stupid equal opportunities policy...'

She pushed open a door.

There were no windows to the room, but it was lit perfectly well by the walls themselves. Down the middle of the room was something like a display case, its lid gaping open. Bits of card littered the floor.

She reached down and picked one up and read: 'Thomas Ague, aged 4 and nearly three quarters, 9 Castle View, Sto Lat'. The writing was in a meticulous rounded script.

She crossed the passage to another room, where there was the same scene of devastation.

'So now we know where the teeth were,' she said. 'They must've taken them out of everywhere and carried them downstairs.'

'What for?'

She sighed. 'It's such old magic it isn't even magic any more,' she said. 'If you've got a piece of someone's hair, or a nail clipping, or a tooth you can control them.'

The oh god tried to focus.

'That heap's controlling millions of children?'

'Yes. Adults too, by now.'

'And you... you could make them think things and do things?'

She nodded. 'Yes.'

'You could get them to open Dad's wallet and post the contents to some address?'

'Well, I hadn't thought of that, but yes, I suppose you could...'

'Or go downstairs and smash all the bottles in the drinks cabinet and promise never to take a drink when they grow up?' said the oh god hopefully.

'What are you talking about?'

'It's all right for you. You don't wake up every morning and see your whole life flush before your eyes.

Medium Dave and Catseye ran down the passage and stopped where it forked.

'You go that way, I'll...'

'Why don't we stick together?' said Catseye.

'What's got into everyone? I saw you bite the throats out of a coupla guard dogs when we did that job in Quirm! Want me to hold your hand? You check the doors down there, I'll check them along here.'

He walked off.

Catseye peered down the other passage.

There weren't many doors down there. It wasn't very long. And, as Teatime had said, there was nothing dangerous here that they hadn't brought with them.

He heard voices coming from a doorway and sagged with relief.

He could deal with humans.

As he approached, a sound made him look round.

Shadows were racing down the passage behind him. They cascaded down the walls and flowed over the ceiling.

Where shadows met they became darker. And darker.

And rose. And leapt.

'What was that?' said Susan.

'Sounded like the start of a scream,' said Bilious.

Susan threw open the door.

There was no one outside.

There was movement, though. She saw a patch of darkness in the corner of a wall shrink and fade, and another shadow slid around the bend of the corridor.

And there was a pair of boots in the centre of the corridor.

She hadn't remembered any boots there before.

She sniffed. The air tasted of rats, and damp, and mould.

'Let's get out of here,' she said.

'How're we going to find this Violet in all these rooms?'

'I don't know. I should be able to... sense her, but I can't.' Susan peered around the end of the corridor. She could hear men shouting, some way off.

They slipped out on to the stairs again and managed another flight. There were more rooms here, and in each one a cabinet that had been broken open.

Shadows moved in the corners. The effect was as though some invisible light source was gently shifting.

'This reminds me a lot of your... um... of your grandfather's place,' said the oh god.

'I know,' said Susan. 'There aren't any rules except the ones he makes up as he goes along. I can't see him being very happy if someone got in and started pulling the library apart...'

She stopped. When she spoke again her voice had a different tone.

'This is a children's place,' she said. 'The rules are what children believe.'

'Well, that's a relief.'

'You think so? Things aren't going to be right. In the Soul Cake Duck's country ducks can lay chocolate eggs, in the same way that Death's country is black and sombre because that's what people believe. He's very conventional about that sort of thing. Skull and bone decorations all over the place. And this place...'

'Pretty flowers and an odd sky.'

'I think it's going to be a lot worse than that. And very odd, too.'

'More odd than it is now?'

'I don't think it's possible to die here.'

'That man who fell down the stairs looked pretty dead to me.'

'Oh, you die. But not here. You... let's see... yes... you go somewhere else. Away. You're just not seen any more. That's about all you understand when you're three. Grandfather said it wasn't like that fifty years ago. He said you often couldn't see the bed for everyone having a good cry. Now they just tell the child that Grandma's gone. For three weeks Twyla thought her uncle'd been buried in the sad patch behind the garden shed along with Buster and Meepo and all three Bulgies.'

'Three Bulgies?'

'Gerbils. They tend to die a lot,' said Susan. 'The trick is to replace them when she's not looking. You really don't know anything, do you?'

'Er... hello?'

The voice came from the corridor.

They worked their way round to the next room.

There, sitting on the floor and tied to the leg of a white display case, was Violet. She looked up in apprehension, and then in bewilderment, and finally in growing recognition.

'Aren't you...?'

'Yes, yes, we see each other sometimes in Biers, and when you came for Twyla's last tooth you were so shocked that I could see you I had to give you a drink to get your nerves back,' said Susan, fumbling with the ropes. 'I don't think we've got a lot of time.'

'And who's he?'

The oh god tried to push his lank hair into place.

'Oh, he's just a god,' said Susan. 'His name's Bilious.'

'Do you drink at all?' said the oh god.

'What sort of quest-'

'He needs to know before he decides whether he hates you or not,' said Susan. 'It's a god thing.'

'No, I don't,' said Violet. 'What an idea. I've got the blue ribbon!'

The oh god raised his eyebrows at Susan.

'That means she's a member of Offler's League of Temperance,' said Susan. 'They sign a pledge not to touch alcohol. I can't think why. Of course, Offler's a crocodile. They don't go in bars much. They're into water.'

'Not touch alcohol at all?' said the oh god.

'Never!' said Violet. 'My dad's very strict about that sort of thing!'

After a moment Susan felt forced to wave a hand across their locked gaze.

'Can we get on?' she said. 'Good. Who brought you here, Violet?'

'I don't know! I was doing the collection as usual, and then I thought I heard someone following me, and then it all went dark, and when I came to we were... Have you seen what it's like outside?'

'Yes.'

'Well, we were there. The big one was carrying me. The one they call Banjo. He's not bad, just a bit... odd. Sort of... slow. He just watches me. The others are thugs. Watch out for the one with the glass eye. They're all afraid of him. Except Banjo.'

'Class eye?'

'He's dressed like an Assassin. He's called Teatime. I think they're trying to steal something... They spent ages carting the teeth out. Little teeth everywhere... It was horrible! Thank you,' she added to the oh god, who had helped her on to her feet.

'They've piled them up in a magic circle downstairs,' said Susan.

Violet's eyes and mouth formed three Os. It was like looking at a pink bowling ball.

'What for?'

'I think they're using them to control the children. By magic.'

Violet's mouth opened wider.

'That's horrid.'

Horrible, thought Susan. The word is 'horrible'. 'Horrid' is a childish word selected to impress nearby males with one's fragility, if I'm any judge. She knew it was unkind and counterproductive of her to think like that. She also knew it was probably an accurate observation, which only made it worse.

'Yes,' she said.

'There was a wizard! He's got a pointy hat!'

'I think we should get her out of here,' said the oh god, in a tone of voice that Susan considered was altogether too dramatic.

'Good idea,' she conceded. 'Let's go.'

Catseye's boots had snapped their laces. It was as if he'd been pulled upwards so fast they simply couldn't keep up.

That worried Medium Dave. So did the smell. There was no smell at all in the rest of the tower, but just here there was a lingering odour of mushrooms.

His forehead wrinkled. Medium Dave was a thief and a murderer and therefore had a highly developed moral sense. He preferred not to steal from poor people, and not only because they never had anything worth stealing. If it was necessary to hurt anyone, he tried to leave wounds that would heal. And when in the course of his activities he had to kill people then he made some effort to see that they did not suffer much or at least made as few noises as possible.

This whole business was getting on his nerves. Usually, he didn't even notice that he had any.

There was a wrongness to everything that grated on his bones.

And a pair of boots was all that remained of old Catseye.

He drew his sword.

Above him, the creeping shadows moved and flowed away.

Susan edged up to the entrance to the stairways and peered around into the point of a crossbow.

'Now, all of you step out where I can see you.' said Peachy conversationally. 'And don't touch that sword, lady. You'll probably hurt yourself.'

Susan tried to make herself unseen, and failed. Usually it was so easy to do that that it happened automatically, usually with embarrassing results. She could be idly reading a book while people searched the room for her. But here, despite every effort, she seemed to remain obstinately visible.

'You don't own this place,' she said, stepping back.

'No, but you see this crossbow? I own this crossbow. So you just walk ahead of me, right, and we'll all go and see Mister Teatime.'

'Excuse me, I just want to check something,' said Bilious. To Susan's amazement he leaned over and touched the point of the arrow.

'Here! What did you do that for?' said Peachy, stepping back.

'I felt it, but of course a certain amount of pain sensation would be part of normal sensory response,' said the oh god. 'I warn you, there's a very good chance that I might be immortal.'

'Yes, but we probably aren't,' said Susan.

'Immortal, eh?' said Peachy. 'So if I was to shoot you inna head, you wouldn't die?'

'I suppose when you put it like that... I do know I feel pain...'

'Right. You just keep moving, then.'

'When something happens,' said Susan, out of the corner of her mouth, 'you two try to get downstairs and out, all right? If the worst comes to the worst, the horse will. take you out of here.'

'If something happens,' whispered the oh god.

'When,' said Susan.

Behind them, Peachy looked around. He knew he'd feel a lot better when any of the others turned up. It was almost a relief to have prisoners.

Out of the corner of her eye Susan saw something move on the stairs on the opposite side of the shaft. For a moment she thought she saw several flashes like metal blades catching the light.

She heard a gasp behind her.

The man with the crossbow was standing very still and staring at the opposite stairs.

'Oh, noooo,' he said, under his breath.

'What is it?' said Susan.

He stared at her. 'You can see it too?'

'The thing like a lot of blades clicking together?' said Susan.

'Oh, nooo...'

'It was only there for a moment,' said Susan.

'It's gone now,' she said. 'Somewhere else,' she added.

'It's the Scissor Man . .

'Who's he?' said the oh god.

'No one!' snapped Peachy, trying to pull himself together. 'There's no such thing as the Scissor Man, all right?'

'Ah... yes. When you were little, did you suck your thumb?' said Susan. 'Because the only Scissor Man I know is the one people used to frighten children with. They said he'd turn up and...'

'Shutupshutupshutup!' said Peachy, prodding her with the crossbow. 'Kids believe all kinds of crap! But I'm grown up now, right, and I can open beer bottles with other people's teeth an— oh, gods...'

Susan heard the snip, snip. It sounded very close now.

Peachy had his eyes shut.

'Is there anything behind me?' he quavered.

Susan pushed the others aside and waved frantically towards the bottom of the stairs.

'No,' she said, as they hurried away.

'Is there anything standing on the stairs at all?'

'No.'

'Right! If you see that one-eyed bastard you tell him he can keep the money!'

He turned and ran.

When Susan turned to go up the stairs the Scissor Man was there.

It wasn't man-shaped. It was something like an ostrich, and something like a lizard on its hind legs, but almost entirely like something made out of blades. Every time it moved a thousand blades went snip, snip.

Its long silver neck curved and a head made of shears stared down at her.

'You're not looking for me,' she said. 'You're not my nightmare.'

The blades tilted this way and that. The Scissor Man was trying to think.

'I remember you came for Twyla,' said Susan, stepping forward. 'That damn governess had told her what happens to little girls who suck their thumbs, remember? Remember the poker? I bet you needed a hell of a lot of sharpening afterwards...'

The creature lowered its head, stepped carefully around her in as polite a way as it could manage, and clanked on down the stairs after Peachy.

Susan ran on towards the top of the tower.

Sideney put a green filter over his lantern and pressed down with a small silver rod that had an emerald set on its tip. A piece of the lock moved. There was a whirring from inside the door and something went click.

He sagged with relief. It is said that the prospect of hanging concentrates the mind wonderfully, but it was Valium compared to being watched by Mister Teatime.

'I, er, think that's the third lock,' he said. 'Green light is what opens it. I remember the fabulous lock of the Hall of Murgle, which could only be opened by the Hubward wind, although that was...'

'I commend your expertise,' said Teatime. 'And the other four?'

Sideney looked up nervously at the silent bulk of Banjo, and licked his lips.

'Well, of course, if I'm right, and the locks depend on certain conditions, well, we could be here for years...' he ventured. 'Supposing they can only be opened by, say, a small blond child holding a mouse? On a Tuesday? In the rain?'

'You can find out what the nature of the spell is?' said Teatime.

'Yes, yes, of course, yes.' Sideney waved his hands urgently. 'That's how I worked out this one. Reverse thaumaturgy, yes, certainly. Er. In time.'

'We have lots of time,' said Teatime.

'Perhaps a little more time than that,' Sideney quavered. 'The processes are very, very, very... difficult.'

'Oh, dear. If it's too much for you, you've only got to say,' said Teatime.

'No!' Sideney yipped, and then managed to get some self-control. 'No. No. No, I can... I'm sure I shall work them out soon...'

'Jolly good,' said Teatime.

The student wizard looked down. A wisp of vapour oozed from the crack between the doors.

'Do you know what's in here, Mister Teatime?' 'No.'

'Ah. Right.' Sideney stared mournfully at the fourth lock. It was amazing how much you remembered when someone like Teatime was around.

He gave him a nervous look. 'There's not going to be any more violent deaths, are there?' he said. 'I just can't stand the sight of violent deaths!'

Teatime put a comforting arm around his shoulders. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'I'm on your side. A violent death is the last thing that'll happen to you.'

'Mister Teatime?'

He turned. Medium Dave stepped onto the landing.

'Someone else is in the tower,' he said. 'They've got Catseye. I don't know how. I've got Peachy watching the stairs and I ain't sure where Chickenwire is.'

Teatime looked back to Sideney, who started prodding at the fourth lock again in a feverish attempt not to die.

'Why are you telling me? I thought I was paying you big strong men a lot of money to deal with this sort of thing.'

Medium Dave's lips framed some words, but when he spoke he said, 'Ah right, but what are we up against here? Eh? Old Man Trouble or the bogeyman or what?'

Teatime sighed.

'Some of the Tooth Fairy's employees, I assume,' he said.

'Not if they're like the ones that were here,' said Medium Dave. 'They were just civilians. It looks like the ground opened and swallowed Catseye up.' He thought about this. 'I mean the ceiling,' he corrected himself. A horrible image had just passed across his under-used imagination.

Teatime walked across to the stairwell and looked down. Far below, the pile of teeth looked like a white circle.

'And the girl's gone,' said Medium Dave.

'Really? I thought I said she should be killed.'

Medium Dave hesitated. The boys had been brought up by Ma Lilywhite to be respectful to women as delicate and fragile creatures, and were soundly thrashed if disrespectful tendencies were perceived by Ma's incredibly sensitive radar. And it was truly incredibly sensitive. Ma could hear what you were doing three rooms away, a terrible thing for a growing lad.

That sort of thing leaves a mark. Ma Lilywhite certainly could. As for the others, they had no objections in practice to the disposal of anyone who got between them and large sums of money, but there was a general unspoken resentment at being told by Teatime to kill someone just because he had no further use for them. It wasn't that it was unprofessional. Only Assassins thought like that. It was just that there were things you did do, and things you didn't do. And this was one of the things you didn't do.

'We thought... well, you never know...'

'She wasn't necessary,' said Teatime. 'Few people are.'

Sideney thumbed hurriedly through his notebooks.

'Anyway, the place is a maze-' Medium Dave said.

'Sadly, this is so,' said Teatime. 'But I am sure they will be able to find us. It's probably too much to hope that they intend something heroic.'

Violet and the oh god hurried down the stairs.

'Do you know how to get back?' said Violet.

'Don't you?'

'I think there's a... a kind of soft place. If you walk at it knowing it's there you go through.'

'You know where it is?'

'No! I've never been here before! They had a bag on my head when we came! All I ever did was take the teeth from under the pillows!' Violet started to sob. 'You just get this list and about five minutes' training and they even dock you ten pence a week for the ladder and I know I made that mistake with little William Rubin but they should of said, you're supposed to take any teeth you...'

'Er... mistake?' said Bilious, trying to get her to hurry.

'Just because he slept with his head under the pillow but they give you the pliers anyway and no one told me that you shouldn't-'

She certainly did have a pleasant voice, Bilious told himself. It was just that in a funny way it grated, too. It was like listening to a talking flute.

'I think we'd just better get outside,' he said. 'In case they hear us,' he hinted.

'What sort of godding do you do?' said Violet.

'Er... oh, I... this and that... I... er...' Bilious tried to think through the pounding headache. And then he had one of those ideas, the kind that only sound good after a lot of alcohol. Someone else may have drunk the drinks, but he managed to snag the idea.

'I'm actually self-employed,' he said, as brightly as he could manage.

'How can you be a self-employed god?'

'Ah, well, you see, if any other god wants, perhaps, you know, a holiday or something, I cover for them. Yes. That's what I do.'

Unwisely, in the circumstances, he let his inventiveness impress him.

'Oh, yes. I'm very busy. Rushed off my feet. They're always employing me. You've no idea. They don't think twice about pushing off for a month as a big white bull or a swan or something and it's always, "Oh, Bilious, old chap, just take care of things while I'm away, will you? Answer the prayers and so on." I hardly get a minute to myself but of course you can't turn down work these days.'

Violet was round-eyed with fascination.

'And are you covering for anyone right now?' she asked.

'Um, yes... the God of Hangovers, actually... 'A God of Hangovers? How awful!'

Bilious looked down at his stained and wretched toga.

'I suppose it is...' he mumbled.

'You're not very good at it.'

'You don't have to tell me.'

'You're more cut out to be one of the important gods,' said Violet, admiringly. 'I can just see you as lo or Fate or one of those.'

Bilious stared at her with his mouth open.

'I could tell at once you weren't right,' she went on. 'Not for some horrible little god. You could even be Offier with calves like yours.'

'Could I? I mean... oh, yes. Sometimes. Of course, I have to wear fangs...'

And then someone was holding a sword to his throat.

'What's this?' said Chickenwire. 'Lover's Lane?'

'You leave him alone, you!' shouted Violet. 'He's a god! You'll be really sorry!'

Bilious swallowed, but very gently. It was a sharp sword.

'A god, eh?' said Chickenwire. 'What of?'

Bilious tried to swallow again.

'Oh, bit o' this, bit o' that,' he mumbled.

'Cor,' said Chickenwire. 'Well, I'm impressed. I can see I'm going to have to be dead careful here, eh? Don't want you smiting me with thunderbolts, do I? Puts a crimp in the day, that sort of thing...'

Bilious didn't dare move his head. But out of the corner of his eye he was sure he could see shadows moving very fast across the walls.

'Dear me, out of thunderbolts, are we?' Chickenwire sneered. 'Well, y'know, I've never...'

There was a creak.

Chickenwire's face was a few inches from Bilious. The oh god saw his expression change.

The man's eyes rolled. His lips said '...nur...'

Bilious risked stepping back. Chickenwire's sword didn't move. He stood there, trembling slightly, like a man who wants to turn round to see what's behind him but doesn't dare to in case he does.

As far as Bilious was concerned, it had just been a creak.

He looked up at the thing on the landing above.

'Who put that there?' said Violet.

It was just a wardrobe. Dark oak, a bit of fancy woodwork glued on in an effort to disguise the undisguisable fact that it was just an upright box. It was a wardrobe.

'You didn't, you know, try to cast a thunderbolt and go on a few letters too many?' she went on.

'Huh?' said Bilious, looking from the stricken man to the wardrobe. It was so ordinary it was ... odd.

'I mean, thunderbolts begin with T and wardrobes...'

Violet's lips moved silently. Part of Bilious thought: I'm attracted to a girl who actually has to shut down all other brain functions in order to think about the order of the letters of the alphabet. On the other hand, she's attracted to someone who's wearing a toga that looks as though a family of weasels have had a party in it, so maybe I'll stop this thought right here.

But the major part of his brain thought: why's this man making little bubbling noises? It's just a wardrobe, for my sake!

'No, no,' mumbled Chickenwire. 'I don't wanna!'

The sword clanged on the floor.

He took a step backwards up the stairs, but very slowly, as if he was doing it despite every effort his muscles could muster.

'Don't want to what?' said Violet.

Chickenwire spun round. Bilious had never seen that happen before. People turned round quickly, yes, but Chickenwire just revolved as if some giant hand had been placed on his head and twisted a hundred and eighty degrees.

'No. No. No,' Chickenwire whined. 'No.'

He tottered up the steps.

'You got to help me,' he whispered.

'What's the matter?' said Bilious. 'It's just a wardrobe, isn't it? It's for putting all your old clothes in so that there's no room for your new clothes.'

The doors of the wardrobe swung open.

Chickenwire managed to thrust out his arms and grab the sides and, for a moment, he stood quite still.

Then he was pulled into the wardrobe in one sudden movement and the doors slammed shut.

The little brass key turned in the lock with a click.

'We ought to get him out,' said the oh god, running up the steps.

'Why?' Violet demanded. 'They are not very nice people! I know that one. When he brought me food he made... suggestive comments.'

'Yes, but...' Bilious hadn't ever seen a face like that, outside of a mirror. Chickenwire had looked very, very sick.

He turned the key and opened the doors.

'Oh dear...'

'I don't want to see! I don't want to see!' said Violet, looking over his shoulder.

Bilious reached down and picked up a pair of boots that stood neatly in the middle of the wardrobe's floor.

Then he put them back carefully and walked around the wardrobe. It was plywood. The words 'Dratley and Sons, Phedre Road, Ankh-Morpork' were stamped in one corner in faded ink.

'Is it magic?' said Violet nervously.

'I don't know if something magic has the maker's name on it,' said Bilious.

'There are magic wardrobes,' said Violet nervously. 'If you go into them, you come out in a magic land.'

Bilious looked at the boots again.

'Um... yes,' he said.

I THINK I MUST TELL YOU SOMETHING, said Death.

'Yes, I think you should,' said Ridcully. 'I've got little devils running round the place eating socks and pencils, earlier tonight we sobered up someone who thinks he's a God of Hangovers and half my wizards are trying to cheer up the Cheerful Fairy. We thought something must've happened to the Hogfather. We were right, right?'

'Hex was right, Archchancellor,' Ponder corrected him.

HEX? WHAT IS HEX?

'Er... Hex thinks — that is, calculates — that there's been a big change in the nature of belief today,' said Ponder. He felt, he did not know why, that Death was probably not in favour of unliving things that thought.

MR HEX WAS REMARKABLY ASTUTE. THE HOGFATHER HAS BEEN... Death paused. THERE IS NO SENSIBLE HUMAN WORD. DEAD, IN A WAY, BUT NOT EXACTLY... A GOD CANNOT BE KILLED. NEVER COMPLETELY KILLED. HE HAS BEEN, SHALL WE SAY, SEVERELY REDUCED.

'Ye gods!' said Ridcully. 'Who'd want to kill off the old boy?'

HE HAS ENEMIES.

'What did he do? Miss a chimney?'

EVERY LIVING THING HAS ENEMIES.

'What, everything?'

YES. EVERYTHING. POWERFUL ENEMIES. BUT THEY HAVE CONE TOO FAR THIS TIME. NOW THEY ARE USING PEOPLE.

'Who are?'

THOSE WHO THINK THE UNIVERSE SHOULD BE A LOT OF ROCKS MOVING IN CURVES. HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF THE AUDITORS?

'I suppose the Bursar may have done...'

NOT AUDITORS OF MONEY. AUDITORS OF REALITY. THEY THINK OF LIFE AS A STAIN ON THE UNIVERSE. A PESTILENCE. MESSY. GETTING IN THE WAY.

'In the way of what?'

THE EFFICIENT RUNNING OF THE UNIVERSE.

'I thought it was run for us... Well, for the Professor of Applied Anthropics, actually, but we're allowed to tag along,' said Ridcully. He scratched his chin. 'And I could certainly run a marvellous university here if only we didn't have to have these damn students underfoot all the time.'

QUITE SO.

'They want to get rid of us?'

THEY WANT YOU TO BE... LESS... DAMN, I'VE FORGOTTEN THE WORD. UNTRUTHFUL? THE HOGFATHER IS A SYMBOL OF THIS... Death snapped his fingers, causing echoes to bounce off the walls, and added, WISTFUL LYING?

'Untruthful?' said Ridcully. 'Me? I'm as honest as the day is long! Yes, what is it this time?'

Ponder had tugged at his robe and now he whispered something in his ear. Ridcully cleared his throat.