~ * ~ * ~
Warm sunshine poured in through the wide windows of Death's kitchen, and a gentle breeze ruffled the black flowers in the garden. A bumble bee (black, of course) hummed lazily here and there, flitting lightly around. No one has told it that it can't fly – yet. It continued its dance around the flowerbed, stopping first on one flower, then another. Eventually it stopped on one that promptly ate it. Never say that Death doesn't have a sense of humour. Doesn't he always have a grin on his skull? Anyway…
Albert stood once again at the stove in the kitchen, cremating something in a skillet. A mug of tea, so strong that the spoon had started to dissolve when he stirred it, was next to him on a handy counter top. From time to time he would turn to watch the seven foot skeleton pacing nervously round the kitchen, with Death of Rats riding companionably on its shoulder, have a quick gulp of what was, let's face it, only mildly related to tea, and continue cooking.
SQUEAK SQUeeeeaak SQUEAK. SQUEAAAKKK. The skeletal beast remarked, only the tip of its pointed nose visible inside its cowled robe.
I CAN'T HELP IT. Death responded. He sounded like he was sulking, if a voice like the grating of tombs can be said to sulk. AND I'M NOT WALKING THAT FAST. I FEEL ODD. AS IF SOMETHING IS FLUTTERING IN MY STOMACH. I WANT THIS EVENING TO GO WELL.
Albert blinked and wondered briefly where his Master's stomach was, and then attempted to drag his thoughts away from that path and where it led. How did the Master know something was fluttering in it? Was it in a jar somewhere? In the house? Did it know he had a date? How? Did he talk to it? His thoughts continued to wander, despite his wishes, and he reined them in and gave them a good talking to. Sheepishly, they pointed themselves back at the matter in hand. Which wasn't his cooking, by the way. Oh, no. Something far more important. Can you guess what it is yet?
The impending date…
Death turned to Albert, waiting for a moment while he gulped at his tea, and then plucked at his robe. WHAT DO YOU THINK? IS IT ME? IT MUST GO WELL, THIS TIME, OR THERE WILL BE NO MORE.
Albert cleared his throat, giving a few half-hearted pokes at the blackened sausages in the pan in front of him as the starry gaze fixed him in its white-hot glare.
"Er……er…….I'm – I'm sure the evening will be fine, Master," he said as soothingly as possible, whilst brandishing a spatula so crusted in grease and the burnt remains of bacon that it could have been used as a lethal weapon by a homicidally inclined chef.
"Mrs Frost said she was charming, mind you, she always says that, I don't know where she gets it from, honestly, some of those people she's fixed me up with, zombies and vampires, a bed monster – I ask you! A BED monster, of all people - and even a skele- errr-" Albert became aware that his tongue had disengaged from his brain and was running away at full speed. A dangerous trait in anyone, especially an ex-wizard so close to Death. He blinked and snapped his mouth shut. After a moment of silence while two shadowed cowls gazed at him in curious fascination, he grabbed his tongue by the throat (so to speak) and started again. Death started to pace again, striding the length of the huge kitchen..
"Um. Well, Master, I mean - it'll be fine. I'm sure the young lady is very nice. Bit of a looker, eh? That's what she said. That Mrs Frost, I mean. Not that she's a looker, I mean the young lady. Ah," he floundered. He closed his mouth again for a moment, blinking his rheumy eyes. Death completed his latest circuit of the kitchen, turning on his heel and stalking back; he stopped in front of Albert again, and Death of Rats poked his nose out of his cowl, twitching it as Albert glared at him.
BUT WHAT ABOUT THE ROBE? Death asked insistently, clutching a fold of the material in a, in a, well, a bony hand. What else could you all it? IS IT ME, DO YOU THINK? I WOULD LIKE TO MAKE A GOOD IMPRESSION.
Albert eyed the robe doubtfully as Death stood in front of him, eyes watering at the clashing patterns. "Perhaps not the paisley robe, Master?" he said tactfully, blinking. "Maybe we should go for something – a little more classic."
I DIDN'T THINK IT SUITED ME. Death said gloomily. BLACK IT IS, THEN. YOU ALWAYS KNOW WHERE YOU ARE WITH BLACK.
SQUEAK. SQUEEEAK. SQuueeeaKKKK. Death of Rats commented, waving his tiny scythe in the air. The barely visible blue blade sparkled, shearing through particles of air. SQUEAK!
YES, I KNOW YOU TOLD ME SO. Death responded sourly. He turned to Albert. IF YOU'VE FINISHED BURNING, IT IS TIME TO SADDLE BINKY, ALBERT. IT IS ALMOST TIME AND I DO NOT WANT TO BE LATE. He turned and stalked towards the door. I SHALL CHANGE AND MEET YOU AT THE STABLES.
"Are you taking him as well, Master? After the last time?" Albert asked, indicating Death of Rats. "And it's not burning, it's cooking!" he added under his breath.
OF COURSE. I HAVE DECIDED THAT THE YOUNG LADY WAS NOT SUITABLE, SO IT CANNOT HAVE BEEN DEATH OF RATS THAT MADE HER LEAVE. Death said. AND I HAVE HEARD THAT – AH – PETS CAN BE GOOD TALKING POINTS IF YOU RUN OUT OF THINGS. PUPPIES AND SUCHLIKE.
The door banged shut on his words. Albert shook his head, bemused. Puppies? Well, he supposed a skeletal rat was about as far away from that as you could get….the Master got funny ideas, sometimes. And he was always getting things muddled. Take the Sunshine Sanctuary for Sick Dragons, for instance. A right mess that had been, and no mistake. Volunteer work definitely wasn't Death's thing. He hoped the young lady wasn't scared of mice or other small and not-quite-so-furry creatures… And he agreed with the Master, no, it probably hadn't been Death of Rats that had made her leave….
Sighing and starting to cough as black plumes rose from the skillet, he removed his dinner from the stove, waving his arms madly to try and dispel the smoke. He eyed the remains of his dinner for a moment, and then shrugged in resignation. He'd be better off with one of Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler's Things-inna-Bun than what was staring up at him now. The skillet hissed furiously as he sadly doused it in water, and then headed for the stables and Binky.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
She was almost ready. Agnetha flipped back her midnight hair, humming to herself as green eyes met hers in the mirror. Tonight was the first night of the full moon, but there was nothing she could do. She was determined to enjoy the date while she could, so she'd arranged (through the ever so helpful Mrs Frost) to meet Mr De'ath early in the evening, before the moon had a chance to show its face. Then she could always leave - in a mysterious yet enticing manner - before – before it started….
She'd tried to get to see Ridcully again yesterday, but apparently he'd wandered off in the Library, leaving only the sound of his voice behind. Apparently it had been yelling, "Ohbuggerbuggerbuggerdamnwherethehellisthis… arrrrrrgle…... Don'ttouchthat! DON'TTOUCHTHAT!Isaidnodon'ttouchthatohyoustupidbloodyARRRRGGLLLLLLEEHHHHH ……WWAAAAHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…………...."
The Librarian had recruited a crack team of specialist wizards and they'd swung off on a risky mission to the uncharted farthest Shelf regions to find him. In the event that they didn't come back, the Librarian had bequeathed his belongings (about twenty bananas and a somewhat flea bitten blanket) to Rincewind, if anyone could find him. And as per Ridcully's last known instructions, The Unseen University was currently being run by the Bursar, who had last been seen dancing and frolicking through the gardens in a pink frock, refusing to take his dried frog pills and talking to his cucumbers.
Agnetha giggled slightly as she wandered out of her room and down the stairs, gliding into the kitchen. Mrs Cake was preparing to go out (again), and was busily skewering a large garden and most of a fruit stall onto her head with some wickedly sharp looking hat pins.
"Well, Ay think you look delightful, dear!" Mrs Cake said, beaming, as she looked her charge up and down.
"How do I look? – ah," Agnetha grimaced. It was on again…
"Ay'm just out to the Blood Drive, dear. Those poor vampires, you know, it's such a shame."
"Off somewhere ni-" Agnetha bit back on the words.
"Oh no, not at all!" Mrs Cake trilled. "Very useful for any freelance thieves, you know!"
"Aren't those hat pins a bit sha-" Agnetha almost ground her teeth, trying to work an imploring gaze onto Mrs Cake's rosy cheeked face.
The small, round medium blinked once or twice, then shook her head. "Ay sense – something odd, you know," she said slowly, glancing round. Her currant-dark, twinkling eyes met Agnetha's startled green ones for a moment then slid away. "Ay'm not sure what it is….ah. Ay've turned it off now, you know."
Agnetha smiled in thanks. "Well, I hope the Blood Drive is good," she offered nervously.
Mrs Cake gave her a sharp look and then resumed her characteristically smiley, apple-cheeked appearance. "And you be careful on this date, my dear," she admonished. "A helpless young lady like yourself, off to met a strange gentleman – would never have done it in my day," she sniffed, pulling on her gloves and picking up a small bag as she headed past the astonished Agnetha, "but you young people, no waiting, well, where was Ay, oh yes, you be careful but enjoy yourself, and now Ay really must go, Ay won't wait up, goodnight!"
Agnetha stood bemused in the hallway as Mrs Cake and her flower show sailed majestically out into the early evening air, and the door banged shut behind her.