A Hogswatch Carol

Author's Note: I don't particularly like this one. It might be my least favourite in the entire set – but I don't know, I might change my mind later.

I'm just hoping no one's out of character here.

Disclaimer: William, Sacharissa, Otto and Mr. Wintler belong to Terry Pratchett. As to the carol 'Winter Wonderland' – well, carols belong to everybody, don't they?

2. Walking in a Winter Wonderland

Sleigh bells ring – are you listening
In the lane – snow is glistening
A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight
Walking in a winter wonderland

It was snowing. By all accounts, it was snowing quite prettily – at least until the part where the snow met the ground of Ankh-Morpork. But if you kept your gaze at eye-level, it really looked quite good.

The Times had turned out one fantastically long Hogswatch edition, which had kept the entire office awake till the wee hours in the mornings before it was printed, and then after they had sold every copy, shut their doors and went on holiday.

But as we all know, it's not that easy for a reporter to go on holiday.

The two co-editors of the newspaper and their head iconographer stepped out into the street. All three had a look of determination on their faces.

"Right," said William de Worde. "This is the plan. We're going to walk down the street, turn the corner, and find a restaurant to have dinner. We are not going to stop on the way, whatever happens, be it a, traffic accident, a murder, or a naked man running past."

"No press-ganging," breathed Sacharissa. "All right, are we ready? No, we're not. Otto, I can see the iconograph."

"Sorry," admitted Otto. "Habit, you see."

"That's what we're trying to break, Otto," reprimanded Sacharissa.

"Oh, very vell," muttered Otto, ducking back inside the office.

"And no notebooks either," Sacharissa addressed William accusingly, as they stood outside in the snow.

"I don't have a notebook on me," protested William.

"Just checking."

Otto emerged sans iconograph, and they began their walk.

Any observant passer-by would have been intrigued by their walk. They didn't walk like normal people hurrying home with their Hogswatch shopping. They walked like they were trying to avoid a periodic rain of hailstones. Otto was navigating through half-closed eyes; occasionally he careened off a lamppost. Sacharissa's lips were firmly set with prim purpose; she clutched her cloak around her like a shield against the snow. William was giving all the alleyways furtive glances, in case naked men came running out of them. Occasionally, for no visible reason, he ducked.

It was a softening sight, snow on Ankh-Morpork. It was by no means particularly beautifying, but it meant that whenever you stepped in something less than solid in the streets, you could convince yourself quite aptly that it was snow, nothing more. The shops were trying to outdo each other in colour and decoration, putting up a blazing show of ornamentation along the rows of shopfronts. The whole effect was really almost attractive.

However, to a reporter's eye, even in a winter wonderland such as this, every street was filled with dangers lurking in the potential of everything that moved to become a scandal that needed reporting.

Halfway down the street, a bout of screaming broke out behind them. A running man in black shoved Otto aside unceremoniously and dashed off down the street, followed by the shrieks of a little old lady. "UNLICENSED THIEF! HELP! UNLICENSED THIEF!"

Otto grabbed both William and Sacharissa as they spun around on autopilot, hands reaching for the pockets where their notebooks and pens were normally kept. "Keep valking! Ve must be stronk!"

William finally tore his eyes away from the tantalising sight of an unlicensed robbery. He glanced at Sacharissa and saw the headlines reflected in her eyes. 'UNLICENSED THIEF STRIKES ON HOGSWATCH'. 'WHAT IS THIS CITY COMING TO?'

She sighed wistfully. "Let's go."

They turned the corner without further incident, upon which they encountered an all-too-familiar face. "Oh, there you are! What a Hogswatch, eh?"

"Happy Hogswatch, Mr. Wintler," ventured William, warily.

Mr. Wintler seemed not to catch the skepticism in William's voice. "Would you believe it? There I was the other day, looking over my garden, and right in the middle of all this frost and snowy weather I dig up a red potato that's frozen into a most marvellous shape! And I thought, oh, wouldn't the Times like to put that in their Hogswatch edition, it's terribly humorous, I tell you – here, I've got it in this box. Would you like to take a look at – "

William flinched. "Please, Mr. Wintler, not in public!"

Mr. Wintler gave him a puzzled look.

"What he means," said Sacharissa in the place of her petrified co-editor, "is that we are currently on holiday leave, and are thus unable to address your request."

"But I thought…" began the miffed Mr. Wintler.

"Furthermore," went on Sacharissa, firmly overriding him, "the Hogswatch edition has already been printed. There's a stack being sold from the pavement opposite us, if you'd like to check. In short, Mr. Wintler, we're not interested. And we must be going. Do come back to see us after the holiday season, thank you."

She rammed her arm through William's, and with a firm stride dragged him limply away without a backward look. Otto hastily raced down the street after her, leaving the unfortunate Mr. Wintler behind at the street corner.

"You are really very terrifying when you do that," muttered William as he was dragged past a group of carollers singing in off-tune cacophony.

"Really," replied Sacharissa without batting an eyelid.

"You haf never noticed?" supplemented Otto. "Vhen you are angry, zer cartoonists, zey refuse to come out of zer office until I tell zem you haf calmed down."

Sacharissa looked slightly alarmed. "It's that bad?"

"Only when you really lose it," said William, and added morosely, "Could you stop dragging me? I'm taller than you, and it makes it rather hard to walk."

Sacharissa released him and tactfully changed the subject. "We're nearly there," she said cheerfully. "All we need to do is find a restaurant, and we're s – "

At that moment they were passing the Alchemists' Guild, which promptly blew up.

The force from the blast nearly knocked them off their feet. The roof of the Guild was suddenly a pretty play of brilliantly violet flames, which whirled about the melting roofing tiles and snapped at each other like vindictive dragons. A group of shellshocked-looking alchemists staggered out of the building, gazed in horror at the fire consuming their roof, and then began to point fingers and shriek blame at each other, an action that steadily degenerated into a brawl.

The three stared at each other in growing consternation.

"I need my notebook!" wailed William.

"Where's my pen?" gasped Sacharissa.

"Picture, picture, damndamdamndamn……" groaned Otto.

Journalism is not something one can be born with. However, it makes up for that by being exceptionally easy to inculcate.

"Interview the alchemists!"

"My notebook!"

"Oh, gods, zer lightink…"

"Who started it? Who started it? Oh shi – "

"William, don't swear!"

" – take mushrooms. Gods, I need paper."

"Gods, Sacharissa, you should have let me bring zer iconograph!"

"Stop it!" shrieked Sacharissa. "It's happening again!"

William and Otto instinctively shut up.

Sacharissa turned on her heel and marched up the street. Five seconds later she broke into a run.

The other two made haste to catch up. Leaving the brawling alchemists, the burning Guild, and a truly tempting story behind, they pelted across the snowy pavement and flung themselves into the first eating place they saw.

The waiter gave them a concerned look as they struggled to get their breath back.

"Table for three, please," panted William. "Thank you." He sank into a seat. "Okay, who's paying?"

"Sacharissa must not pay," said Otto automatically, "it is not zer proper thing for a lady, so it vill be either me or you."

"Me then," decided William.

"I do protest…"

"I have more money than you," argued William. "I do. Anyway, it's Hogswatch, so it doesn't matter. What matters is that we're here."

"Yes," said Sacharissa, after a deep breath. She smiled graciously at them over the rim of her water-glass. "I told you it wouldn't be too difficult."

William reflected on all the struggles his internal journalist had put up on the way here.

"Er," he said, "well."

"Happy Hogsvatch, everybody," said Otto gaily.

"To peace and goodwill," agreed Sacharissa virtuously, raising her glass.

William raised his own. "To peace, especially."

They drank.

End.