Chapter three completed! Staring Miss Susan and her Gothic Schoolroom. Please read and review!

The Squid of Time and His Multi-Dimensional Trousers

Chapter Three: No Running With Scythes

This was an ancient battleground, scared by many epic and heroic encounters. Here demons were faced, lives were changed, honour was challenged and defeat was merciless. Here, the very spirit of courage was to be found in every noble heart that ever dared to step from their allotted place, travel the worn aisles of slavery and attempt to sneak into the Stationary Cupboard without the teacher noticing.

Miss Susan was better than most teachers at spotting offenders; but then, Miss Susan had more than a touch of the occult about her and could also walk through walls.

The current focus of her attentions was a young girl named Emily. Emily's father was the kind of rich, doting man who would still be calling his daughter 'my little girl' when she was thirty-five. Emily's mother was very modern and progressive, and thought that the child should be allowed to learn through her own instincts, unfettered by the preconceptions of an outmoded society; she was, in short, the type of woman who would buy a stable and half a cartload of hay if her daughter decided to play at being a horse for three days. As a consequence of this, Emily herself was scruffy, spoiled, disobedient and wild.

Parents evening was going to be interesting.

Emily was currently screaming for all she was worth, because in her small sphere of childhood experience, this was the best method she had found of getting what she wanted. But what had worked on various nannies, whose future employment depended on Emily's continued happiness, did not work on Miss Susan.

Emily continued to scream. Miss Susan simply watched her. It was her very privately held opinion that Emily would one day find gainful employment as some kind of criminal mastermind; she had given some consideration to referring her to the Assassin's Guild School in Ankh-Morpork, and had even gone so far as to draft a letter after she caught Emily trying to crucify the class gerbil.

Emily paused, risked a glance at Miss Susan, and screamed even louder. Miss Susan merely sat there, eyes narrowed.

It was only two weeks into the term, but the rest of the class had learned fast. Already Emily was in the centre of a rapidly expanding circle; small tousled heads peered out from around various items of classroom furniture.

Emily stopped screaming, gave Miss Susan a look of pure hatred, and started to sob.

They were carefully tuned, perfectly pitched sobs, designed to melt the heart of even the sternest and most uncaring of adults. Strictly authoritarian governesses had been reduced to mortifying guilt by the merest hint of them. Miss Susan was unimpressed. She sat back in her chair, arms folded, and waited.

Emily quietened down, and frowned at Miss Susan. This was not how it was supposed to work. She tried a few whimpers, to no effect. Miss Susan was unmoved.

Emily sniffed once and lapsed into silence. The rest of the class held its breath.

And Miss Susan said, in the voice normally to be heard ushering the souls of the dead into the next world:

"HAVE YOU QUITE FINISHED?"

The shadows darkened, and a wind of eldritch whispered through the classroom.

"'es," squeaked Emily, but Miss Susan barely heard it. The wind of eldritch had not been her doing.

She blinked, and time stopped. Not too long ago, she would have snapped her fingers just for the effect of the thing.

"Death of Rats?" she asked of the frozen classroom in general.

There was a sparkle in the air, like dust motes in sunlight. "Lobsang?" she whispered.

He appeared in front of her, drawn together out of the glittering air, and stumbled forward onto the edge of the desk.

"Lobsang?" asked Susan with a frown. "What's wrong?"

"Please, you have to help me," Lobsang said. He sounded as if he were forcing the words out through a barrier of distracting pain, which was more or less the case.

"Lobsang, you can't just show up here and expect --" she began crossly.

"Please, this really hurts."

Susan rolled her eyes, all frowning face and stern manner, ready to deliver a reprimand and take control where everyone else was obviously panicking, but when she caught Lobsang's gaze she faltered.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "What hurts?"

"I... don't know," he winced. "It's somewhere... in Ankh-Morpork, I think. They're doing something... You have to hurry..."

"Who?" Susan demanded. "Doing what?"

But Lobsang was already fading. "Please, Susan..." he whispered. She felt what might have been a hand on her face, no more substantial than a shimmer; and then the school bell went, and time returned.

Miss Susan shook herself. Then she stood up and smiled at the class.

"Alright, home time," she said, trying to keep her voice cheerful. "Everyone remember your book bags. Adam, give Toby back his coat, please. Emily?"

"'es?" said Emily, still frozen in terror.

"I don't want to see another tantrum like that in this classroom. Do you understand me?"

"'es."

"Good. Now go and get your things. Alright, everyone, don't push. Yasmine, let go of Deborah's hair. And everyone remember to look for something poisonous to bring in for the Toxicity display!"

When the last of the stragglers had gone, Susan stood and stared around her empty classroom. There was marking to be done, and the gerbil needed feeding, and she'd been planning to teach the class about ancient tribal burial customs tomorrow. Her life was full of little things that needed doing.

On the other hand, if the personification of Time told you to hurry, you probably shouldn't wait around.

She wrote a short note to the headmistress, tidied the classroom, made sure the Stationary Cupboard was securely locked and gathered a few vital items into her bag. Then she sat down at her desk and concentrated.

She could find anyone, anywhere on the Disc - although to get there she would need some help. But this wasn't a problem because really, when it came right down to it, she was only as human as she made herself, and as much Death's Granddaughter as she allowed herself to become.

Susan opened up her hands, and Death's ominous, empty life-timer appeared in front of her. It usually sat on his desk in his office; it wouldn't take him long to notice that it was gone - and when he realised, he would know who had it and why.

She didn't have long to wait. A few moments later the horse of Death appeared in the classroom and gave her a whinny of recognition.

She was a little surprised that her Grandfather hadn't come in person, or at least in personification. Instead he'd sent Binky and --

SQUEAK! said the Death of Rats impatiently, drumming his miniature scythe on Binky's harness.

"He says hurry up, there's something weird going on," translated Quoth, Raven, professional Bird of the Occult and official sidekick and crony (only in it for the eyeballs).

Ah, yes, thought Susan, as she mounted up. The gang's all here. And a moment later they were gone, leaving nothing but an empty classroom and four hoof-prints glowing red in the evening air.
Susan had always turned to Death for help because, much as she would hate to admit it, she didn't really have anywhere else to go. But having a Grandfather whose horse could go anywhere that existed, and even some places that didn't, almost made up for having a Grandfather who was the Ultimate Reality of mankind.

Death was in his study, behind a desk that currently seemed to be housing more books and scrolls and assorted occult paraphernalia than it usually did. Susan crossed the room and placed Death's hourglass on the desk with a click. Death looked up.

AH, SUSAN, he said. I THOUGHT IT MUST BE YOU. WHAT SEEMS TO BE THE PROBLEM?

"You tell me," said Susan. "Death of Rats said something was happening. Is that why you sent Binky to fetch me?"

ON THE CONTRARY, Death replied. IT IS NOTHING THAT I CANNOT DEAL WITH MYSELF. I WOULD NOT HAVE SENT FOR YOU IF YOU HAD NOT EXPRESSED SOME DESIRE TO BE NOTICED.

"The hourglass?" Susan queried.

INDEED, said Death. VERY RESOURCEFUL. WAS THERE A PARTICULAR REASON FOR IT? I SUPPOSE IT'S TOO MUCH TO HOPE THAT YOU JUST WANTED TO POP IN FOR A CHAT.

"Lobsang came to see me," Susan said, ignoring this. "He seemed... hurt. He wanted me to go to Ankh-Morpork."

AH, said Death. THINGS BECOME MORE CLEAR.

"They do?"

YES. COME AND LOOK AT THIS.

Death crossed the study to the Mirror, Susan trailing behind.

"Grandfather, what is going on?" Susan demanded.

SOMEONE HAS DIED WHO SHOULD NOT HAVE DIED.

Death waved a skeletal hand in front of the Mirror, and its clouded surface resolved itself into a sequence of images.

THIS IS ANKH-MORPORK, Death explained. WATCH.

Susan saw four people in an alley, strangely dressed, and one mugger. Even as she watched, the mugger attacked one of the strangers, and then...

BUT NOW LET US LOOK FURTHER BACK, Death said. PERHAPS THERE IS SOMETHING I HAVE MISSED.

The Mirror swirled again, and the images changed. Here was the same alleyway, now empty. But as she looked closer she saw something opening up in the air, something that sparkled and shimmered. A few seconds later, the four strangers stepped out of it, staring around them with the fatal curiosity of a tourist in Ankh-Morpork.

AH-HAH, said Death.

"I don't understand," said Susan testily.

LOOK AGAIN. AND THIS TIME, LOOK WITH THE EYES OF DEATH.

It was a family trait. Susan dismissed her lazy preconceptions, and let herself see what was really there.

Through the eyes of Death, the strangers in the alley seemed unreal - no more substantial than gossamer and mist.

"But why --?" she began.

BECAUSE, said Death, THEY ARE NOT SUBJECT TO ME.

"I still don't understand," said Susan, beginning to be annoyed.

COME, said Death. I WILL EXPLAIN ON THE WAY.

"Where are we going?" Susan asked, following her Grandfather towards the door. She could feel her hair unravelling and expanding around her head into its ground state of Vast Frizzy Cloud.

TO ANKH-MORPORK, Death replied, TO SEE WHAT WE SHALL SEE.

"MR STIBBONS!!!"

"Er, yes, Archchancellor?"

"What the Devil is all these people doin' in here? This is supposed to be the Faculty Dining Hall. There's women in here!"

"Uh, well, it would seem that the experiment has proved a little too successful..."

"Ya call that successful? How's a chap supposed to have his second lunch, eh, I'd like to know?"

"You said only inanimate objects! You said! I found a talking mouse in my closet! A talking mouse!"

"Yes, but, Dean, he's apologised for stabbing you with the sword."

"It still hasn't stopped bleeding."

"Well, Dean, you did try and hit him with the warming pan."

"And so would you, if you found someone in your closet!"

"Lucky for you it was only a little mouse, eh Dean? Otherwise you might really have got hurt."

"Shut up, Mustrum."

"It's alright, I'm sure Mr Stibbons has a plan in operation to sort all this out even as we speak. Haven't you, Mr Stibbons?"

"Er..."