Chapter the Fourth, in which gods look on and communications workers confer.

In another place, looked at one way being the summit of Cori Celesti, another way a place not bound by the normal constraints of Space and Time (1) Anoia and Offler had finished their sauna, made themselves presentable and moved on to the 'Loaf and Carafe,' a small new eatery with a vaguely Omnian vibe to it, for a shawarma each. (2)

'Do you think Joshua will make a go of it ?' enquired Anoia.

'Thith plathe ? If the food and wine are anything to go by he'll thrive. Brilliant catering thkillth ! Even if hith believerth hadn't landed him here he would have ended up thome kind of ethnic thelebrity thef !'

Joshua smiled faintly. He was a recent arrival and Offler could be hard to understand, especially when talking with his mouth full, and the 'ethnic chef' could sometimes find find the egotism and occasionally patronising ways of his new neighbours trying. Still, sometimes you had to approach the top of society to secure more believers and on this world the Pantheon on Dunmanifestin were Top Gods. If he could just get them to believe in him...

'It lookth like the Pothtmathter thuthpectth hith vithitor wathn't completely thtraight with him.'

'I agree, let's keep our minds on the show, this is the most diverting thing I've seen in a while. Do you think we should tell any of the others ?'

'Given Von Lipwig'th karmic thignature it'll be all over the Thity before long !'

Meanwhile, at some distance Rimwards, two communications workers were conferring. One of them looked like something out of a very strange storybook. The other was a Goblin. In fact he was Mrs Von Lipwig's personal assistant, Of the Twilight the Darkness.

'Missus Boss said to see if Mr Wet was still busy at work, knows he looks for challenges, and may be driving mail coach express speed on icy road to get post to train station.'

Mr Groat bristled slightly at the disrespect shown his superior, but took a grip of himself. The Goblin had accompanied Moist on the frantic mission to Bonk to restore the Low King to power, and if anyone had earned the right to speak of him so, it was Of the Twilight the Darkness.

'I was about to check on him, it'll be shift change time soon, we should go to the apartment.'

Mr Groat, being in charge in Moist's absence took the lead at a surprisingly sprightly pace for a man of his age, slightly discomfiting the little PA.

'Clean living, the care of a good woman and all – natural home – made medicines' (3) explained the old man.

Mr Groat knocked on the door. Not raising an answer he took the official keyring out of his jacket pocket. Relieved of the weight, the jacket hung oddly from his shoulders. (4) He opened the door to find an untidy suite, no Mr Von Lipwig and a stronger smell of sulphur than usual.

'I hope I'm not being culturally insensitive, the Postmaster does go on so if he thinks I am, (5) but can you make something of this Mr Of the Twilight the Darkness ? I think something supernatural may have happened to our Postmaster.'

'I think you right on the money here Mr Prophet. (6) I needs to look into this. Goblin ways and means. Suggest you sends a junior to inform Missus Boss while I see what I can do. Looks like you pulled double shift – and plucky Goblin sidekick needs go to Uberwald !'

'Do you need a rail pass ? I can talk Miss Maccalariat...'

'No need Goblin trick to get there quick, bit like Feegles !' (7)

Mr Groat took his leave of the little clacksman and went to find a junior postman to send to the Von Lipwig residence with the treat of informing Mr Von Lipwig's good lady that her husband had probably been supernaturally transported to Uberwald, and that Of the Twilight the Darkness had gone to look for him. She was less likely to be dangerously sharp with a newbie not fully aware of the Post Office/Clacks/Von Lipwig dynamic. (8)

Of the Twilight the Darkness looked around him, and carefully closed the door of the apartment. He didn't want any of the posties seeing this. It wasn't to keep any cultural secrets. Among Humans only a wizard or witch would be able to grasp it anyway. He'd heard stories about this place and what the staff might do if stressed out. It didn't do to unsettle the posties. (9) He wasn't about to make anyone Go Postal on his watch.

He prepared to follow Mister A Bit Wet to Uberwald. It was a similar trick to the one called the 'crawstep' by the Feegles, but nobody human could have pronounced the Goblin name for this opening of a path through the secret passages of the world's dimensions. It was a path a Goblin could stroll through.

When Mr Groat returned there was an absence of Goblin, but Of the Twilight the darkness had left a memo.

'Mr Prophet, Gone to Uberwald looking for Mr Boss. Should have said before but maybe can do something about time elapsed. See you soon.'

It wasn't signed but it didn't have to be, by now Tolliver Groat knew the PA's handwriting as well as his own. He didn't notice the lack of a pun based on Moist's name. If he had he'd have realized his colleague was worried.

Of the Twilight the Darkness stepped into an Uberwaldean snowstorm at the back of a pack of howling Lipwigzers.

(1)You get this kind of thing in worlds where magic holds sway.

(2)A kind of Klatchian/Omnian kebab wrap equivalent. Tastier than a burnt offering.

(3)Foxgloves are natural. So is deadly nightshade. So are death cap mushrooms.

(4)Most people wouldn't notice, it was so old and distorted anyway, issued when he joined.

(5)Like the Watch, the Post Office was a species – blind employer. The Mail needed the workers.

(6)During the Postal Interregnum Mr Groat had constantly prophesied the Deliverance...

(7)Goblins have the discipline for 'normal' jobs, Nac Mac Feegle are more...idiosyncratic.

(8)Moist did call her 'Spike' and her late brother had called her 'Killer.' In a good way.

(9)Their anger was worse. Unlicenced thieves would surrender to the Watch rather than face it.