Chapter the Eighth, in Which a Trickster is Bested Before the Gods.

This may look like a concluding chapter. It isn't. I have some loose ends to tie up, which may take a chapter or two. In keeping with Discworld canon about the number eight, there's a lot of supernatural stuff going on here.

'...that tree root twisted when I stepped near it. I flew closer to the tree to investigate a strange sound, dismounted and began walking up to the trunk to see if there was a stranded traveller near it, then it grabbed me !'

'Some things are not adding up properly about tonight Mistress...' Herr Von Lipwig allowed the sentence to tail off, he'd not had much to do with the witches, and this one was relatively young.

'Hexe,' (1) she said. 'It really is my family name. It helps when I haven't been introduced to people in emergency situations. My name even serves as a title to address me by. That tree may have been a trap to set something up.'

'Given who is present I wouldn't be a bit surprised,' said Moist. He stretched and yawned. If this was a dream it was going on a bit, but he was starting to feel warm and half asleep, (2) he'd soon be starting his shift when Mr Groat dug him out of bed. He collapsed, snoring onto the snow.

'Mr Boss, wake up, warned you about this, need to get you up and moving again !'

Of the Twilight the Darkness was surprisingly strong for someone of his size and quickly hauled Moist into a semi sitting position.

'Hellish Human brew (3) worn off ! Need to get some good strong Goblin coffee into you !'

Moist was vaguely aware of the distinctive flavour of the goblin's coffee being poured down his throat, there was even some heat still in it, (4) and Mistress Hexe's worried voice.

'If he has traces of Splot still in his system and there are medicinal herbs in that coffee, there could be unforeseen interactions.'

Moist could feel vitality returning. Traces of the Old Country pick – me- up were introducing themselves to the extra ingredients in the coffee, and they were forming new alliances. New vistas of consciousness were opening up for him. He could see much of what was really there, though sparing him the full depressing knurd (5) state that Klatchian Coffee would have induced.

'We have an audience,' he managed to say.

'Astfgl. (6) He can see us,' muttered Blind Io. He decided to extend the vision of the gathering in Dunmanifestin to the rest of the little group in the snow.

'Don't bother kneeling people, we are not in a temple right now !' The voice of the god sounded impressive in their ears but somehow didn't carry further than Moist and his companions.

The dogs appeared to be motionless in time, frozen as it were in the act of doing various doggy things they had busied themselves with whilst having no immediate duties to perform.

Moist noted that, oddly enough, the gods he could see appeared to be sitting and standing around a table in what looked like perhaps an Ephebian restaurant or kebab/shawarma shop. One of them was handing a shawarma to Blind Io.

'On the house boss,' he heard the curly haired and somewhat swarthy staff member say. Some things didn't change when it came to toadying then.

'Mighty ones, we believe the time has come for some audience interaction,' said Mistress Hexe, bowing from the waist. (7)

'We who are gathered for your entertainment would fain speak with you.'

She had clocked the tableau on the table.

There was a huddle of deities and a hubbub of urgently whispered voices along the lines of 'they think it's our fault,' 'well we know it isn't,' 'whose is it then ?' and then quite tellingly 'and why is Goat Boy over there trying to hide behind the tree ?'

'May I speak to you as a penitent in the process of discharging an obligation ?' Moist addressed the crowd around the table. There was a general murmur of assent. Penitence was a good thing. It kept believers from getting too big for their boots and reinforced the Pantheon's position.

'You have the floor Mr Von Lipwig,' said Blind Io, 'you have a knack of being entertaining and useful and I would speak privately with you when you have finished.'

This could be good and it could be bad. Having to see Frau Shambers after class hadn't always been an enlightening experience, and as for boarding school where some of the teachers had been even worse bullies than the other kids...he dived in.

'I would speak for Mr Prankus, (8) who is currently hiding behind that tree, and not just because he looks ridiculous in jesters' motley. I would also have him speak to me and ask some questions.'

'Very well, Mr Lipwig, and it will be edifying if your companions Witness this. Prankus, step forward next to Mr Lipwig.' Blind Io's statement was an order this time.

This was raising Moist's spirits considerably. He was in control of the situation and Prankus was looking decidedly shifty, shuffling from hoof to hoof.

'I am going to complete the third task you set me, here and now. But first, what did you really have the authority to set me a penance for ?'

There was an embarrassed mumble.

'Speak up that entity !' snapped blind Io, beginning to sound testy. He wasn't sure he liked the way this was going.

'Scrumping Mr Drumknott's pecils !' squeaked Prankus, managing to find his voice. He was radiating nervousness, way beyond where someone who was within his rights would be. (9)

'And so you played up the Uberwaldean milieu when you manifested to me. It was to trick me into suggesting I undertake a penance in Uberwald, to make the suggestion myself. You set this up and I would have enjoyed the battle of wits and been glad of the reconciliation with Grandfather Bastian. But you went too far. In setting up that tree and Mistress Hexe you put an innocent bystander and the community she serves at risk.'

'I admit it ! I meant no harm and was sure of your abilities ! Your penance for the pencils would have simply been showing pity to a lonely outcast and sharing a glass of schnapps or similar with me, but the temptation to gull the King of Conmen was too great ! What a tale that would make !'

'You very nearly managed it, but I recognized the style. Only one entity would over – reach himself so ineptly, so I ask...'

'Steady on,' said Prankus, 'no need to...' (10)

'...that though he has offended the Gods, and come close to bringing the Pantheon into disrepute, (11) Hoki the Jokester be reinstated to Dunmanifestin and found something useful to do, it worked for me. I suggest he be assigned to maintaining the drains of Mr Abraxas' establishment. (12)

Abraxas was startled.

'How did you recognise me ?'

'Your bust is outside the Applied Philosophy Department at UU. And I knew this was your day job in your mortal life.' (12a)

'Well I could do with some help, I'm fed up with rodding drains myself, what is your view Lord Io ?'

Blind Io pondered for a moment.

'In the spirit of Hogswatch, I rescind the exile of Hoki the Jokester who may now reside within Dunmanifestin should he so choose, but while resident he is responsible for keeping clear the drains of all Ephebian establishments therein. This is my decree !'

'That should keep the little pest too busy to cause trouble,' he muttered to himself, privately noting that Hoki could now come back in a way that not only laid a shedload of extra and unpleasant work on him but wouldn't gain him any believers either. Mr Von Lipwig had definitely bested Hoki the Jokester. Word would get out. It always did, and it would be one more story about the triumphs of the Golden Postman.

'The adventure is over. We will make arrangements for everyone to return to their proper places. Hogswatch is coming and it is a time for generosity. Now, while everyone is milling about trying to make sense of what just happened, I would confer with you privately Mr Von Lipwig...'

Moist knew that this was going to be interesting. He was also aware of an Agatean curse about interesting times.

(1)Uberwaldean for 'witch,' literally.

(2)If you've hiked with the Scouts, you'll recognize hypothermia symptoms.

(3)Look who's talking...

(4)The flask may have been a Goblin Pot of sorts. See Sir Terry's Snuff for an introduction to them.

(5)The reverse of 'drunk,' seeing with no illusions at all. Can be a very gloomy state of mind.

(6)It seems appropriate for a god to use a demon's name as a swear word.

(7)'Witches doesn't curtsey, witches bows !' - Granny Weatherwax.

(8)By now you'll probably have guessed the Roundworld spirit he's based on.

(9)Though simply being in the presence of this Pantheon would make almost anyone nervous.

(10)You may have spotted where this is going and who he is. Reg moonlighting was a clue.

(11)And that takes some doing.

(12)Posties returning from Ephebian holidays hadn't been impressed by that country's plumbing.

(12a)There were ancient Roundworld philosophers with day jobs. Aristotle was a sculptor.