(please know that I don't own Discworld, Labyrinth, or The Chronicles of Narnia)
Teatime at Thirteen O'clock
Or
Ms. William's New Adventures in the Labyrinth
Or
A Family's Tale
Chapter 1
The Fortress in Nowhere
The Shortcomings of Death
A Teatime of Some Importance
The Old Clients
The New Contract
The Fortress stood in Nowhere. Technically it existed in its own pocket dimension but Death in his cunning way had named the dimension Nowhere, so it really exists in Nowhere. It was Death who had built the fortress. It was very simply built. A solid wall ten miles thick set around a stone cube of a building. Neither the wall nor the building had doors or windows because Death had no use for them.
Death had created the fortress for one important purpose, to hold a single human soul. Death's general interest in all things human had turned as of late to causes and effects of mental illness in Humans. I intrigued him how a creature could fail to think correctly. The fortress held Death's secret pride and joy in this matter, the ultimate case-study for abnormal psychology.
Death had made one critical error in this, save keeping the soul at all; he assumed the fortress could not be broken into because it was in a pocket dimension only he could enter. There were no guards therefore and the only precaution taken within the fortress was to keep the soul chained so it couldn't move an inch 24/8.
But something entered Nowhere. Something crossed the ten mile wall. Something entered the prison without any doors. And once inside, something made an audible coughing sound to get the souls attention.
The shimmering figure of young man looked up and saw nothing but a shimmering cloak in the air.
Mr. Teatime?
"It's pronounced Teea-tor-mee," the man said slowly in a strangely high strung voice, "everyone always gets it wrong."
We are sorry we're sure.
"Are you another one of death's creatures?"
No
"Than what are you?"
Your former clients
Teatime smiled.
"You're the ones who wanted to exhume the Hogfather."
Correct.
"I knew my friends would come."
The chains that held him broke. And the soul of Mr. Teatime stood up straight.
We wish to offer you a new contract.
"Don't you want me to finish the last one?" Teatime asked concernedly, "It seems most inelegant to fail a contract."
That contract is closed. The Hogfather is no longer an acceptable target. We are willing to offer life in exchange for the death of another.
Teatime seized up and saw his shimmer take on substance and become a body.
"So, will this be easy?"
No, the target is well guarded and processes extreme knowledge of magic. It will also require traveling to several other worlds.
"Sounds like fun. I will need to know the targets background information, and of course who he is."
The information shall be implanted into your brain, replied the Auditor, as for who he is…
A piece of paper with a sketch on it appeared in Teatime's hand.
We shall call him the Gent with the Weird Hair.