She left Banjo to his  sweeping  and stepped  out into  the perpetually sunlit world.

     Bilious and Violet  hurried towards her.  Bilious was  waving a  branch like a club.

     'You don't need that,' said Susan. She wanted some sleep.

     'We talked about  it and we thought  we  ought to come back  and help,' said Bilious.

     'Ah. Democratic  courage,'  said Susan.  'Well,  they're all  gone.  To wherever they go.'

     Bilious lowered the branch thankfully.

     'It wasn't that-' he began.

     'Look, you two can make yourselves useful,' said Susan. 'There's a mess in there. Go and help Banjo.'

     'Banjo?'

     'He's... more or less running the place now.'

     Violet laughed.

     'But he's-'

     'He's in charge,' said Susan wearily.

     'All  right,'  said Bilious. 'Anyway, I'm sure we can tell him  what to do...'

     'No!  Too many  people have told him what  to do.  He knows what to do. Just help him get started, all right? But...'

     If the Hogfather comes  back now, you'll vanish, won't you?  She didn't know how to phrase the question.

     'I'm, er,  giving up my old job,' said Bilious. 'Er... I'm going  to go on working as a  holiday relief for the other gods.' He gave her  a pleading look.

     'Really?' Susan looked  at Violet. Oh, well, maybe if  she believes  in him, at least... It might work. You never know.

     'Good,' she said. 'Have fun. Now I'm going  home. This is  a hell of  a way to spend Hogswatch.'

     She found Binky waiting by the stream.

     The Auditors  fluttered  anxiously.  And, as  always happens  in  their species when something goes radically wrong and needs fixing instantly, they settled down to try to work out who to blame.

     One said, It was...

     And  then  it  stopped.  The  Auditors lived by consensus,  which  made picking scapegoats a  little problematical. It brightened up. After all,  if everyone was  to blame, then  it  was no  one's actual  fault.  That's  what collective responsibility meant, after  all. It  was more like  bad luck, or something.

     Another said, Unfortunately, people might get the wrong idea. We may be asked questions.

     One said, What about Death? He interfered, after all.

     One said, Er... not exactly.

     One said, Oh, come on. He got the girl involved.

     One said, Er... no. She got herself involved.

     One said, Yes, but he told her...

     One said, No. He didn't. In fact he specifically did not tell--

     It paused, and then said, Damn!

     One said, On the other hand...

     The robes turned towards it.

     Yes?

     One said, There's no actual evidence. Nothing written down. Some humans got  excited  and decided  to  attack the  Tooth  Fairy's country.  This  is unfortunate, but nothing to do with us. We are shocked, of course.

     One said, There's still  the Hogfather. Things are going to be noticed. Questions may be asked.

     They hovered for a while, unspeaking.

     Eventually one said, We may have  to take... It paused,  loath even  to think the word, but managed to continue... a risk.

     Bed, thought Susan, as the mists rolled past  her. And in the  morning, decent human things like coffee and porridge. And bed. Real things...

     Binky stopped. She stared at his ears for a moment, and  then urged him forward. He whinnied, and didn't budge.

     A skeletal hand had grabbed his bridle. Death materialized.

IT IS NOT OVER. MORE MUST BE DONE. THEY TORMENT HIM STILL.

     Susan sagged. 'What is? Who are?'

     MOVE FORWARD. I WILL  STEER.  Death climbed into the saddle and reached around her for the reins.

     'Look, I went...' Susan began.

     YES.  I  KNOW. THE CONTROL OF  BELIEF,  said Death, as  the horse moved forward again.  ONLY A VERY SIMPLE  MIND  COULD THINK OF THAT.  MAGIC SO OLD IT'S HARDLY MAGIC. WHAT A SIMPLE WAY TO MAKE MILLIONS  OF CHILDREN CEASE  TO BELIEVE IN THE HOGFATHER.

     'And what were you doing?' Susan demanded.

I TOO HAVE DONE WHAT I SET  OUT TO DO. I HAVE  KEPT A  SPACE. A MILLION CARPETS  WITH SOOTY BOOTMARKS, MILLIONS OF FILLED STOCKINGS, ALL THOSE ROOFS WITH RUNNER MARKS ON THEM... DISBELIEF WILL FIND IT HARD GOING IN THE FACE OF THAT.  ALBERT SAYS HE NEVER WANTS TO DRINK ANOTHER SHERRY FOR  DAYS. THE HOGFATHER WILL HAVE SOMETHING TO COME BACK TO, AT LEAST.

     'What have I got to do now?'

YOU MUST BRING THE HOGFATHER BACK.

     'Oh, must  I? For peace and goodwill and  the tinkling  of fairy bells? Who  cares. He's just  some  fat old  clown  who makes people  feel smug  at Hogswatch!  I've been through all  this  for some old man  who prowls around kids' bedrooms?'

NO. SO THAT THE SUN WILL RISE.

     'What has astronomy got to do with the Hogfather?'

OLD GODS DO NEW JOBS.

     The Senior Wrangler wasn't attending the Feast. He got one of the maids to bring a tray  up  to his rooms, where he  was Entertaining and doing  all those things a man  does when he finds himself unexpectedly tкte-а-tкte with the opposite sex,  like  trying to shine his boots on his trousers and clean his fingernails with his other fingernails.

     'A  little more  wine, Gwendoline? It's  hardly  alcoholic,'  he  said, leaning over her.

     'I don't mind if I do, Mr Wrangler.'

     'Oh, call me  Horace, please. And perhaps a little  something  for your chic-ken?'

     'I'm  afraid  she  seems  to  have  wandered off somewhere,'  said  the Cheerful Fairy. 'I'm  afraid I'm, I'm I'm rather  dull  company...' She blew her nose noisily.

     'Oh,  I  certainly  wouldn't say that,'  said the  Senior Wrangler.  He wished he'd had time to tidy up his rooms a bit, or at least get some of the more embarrassing bits of laundry off the stuffed rhinoceros.

     'Everyone's been  so  kind,'  said the  Cheerful Fairy, dabbing at  her streaming eyes. 'Who was the skinny one that kept making the funny faces for me?'

     'That was the Bursar. Why don't you...'

     'He seemed very cheerful, anyway.'

     'It's the  dried  frog pills, he eats them  by  the handful,'  said the Senior Wrangler dismissively. 'I say, why don't...'

     'Oh dear. I hope they're not addictive.'

     'I'm sure he wouldn't keep on eating them if they were addictive,' said the Senior Wrangler.  'Now, why  don't you have another glass of  wine,  and then... and then...'  a  happy thought struck him  '... and then... and then perhaps  I  could  show you Archchancellor  Bowell's  Remembrance?  It's got a-a-a-a very interesting ceiling. My word, yes.'

     'That would be very nice,' said  the Cheerful Fairy. 'Would it cheer me up, do you think?'

     'Oh,  it would, it would,' said the Senior Wrangler. 'Definitely! Good! So I'll, er, I'll just go and... just go and... I'll... ' He pointed vaguely in the direction of his  dressing room, while hopping  from one foot  to the other. 'I'll just go and, er... go... just...'

     He fled into the dressing room and slammed the door behind him. His wild eyes scanned the shelves and hangers.

     'Clean robe,' he mumbled. 'Comb  face, wash socks, fresh hair,  where's that Insteadofshave lotion...'

     From the other side of the door came the adorable sound of the Cheerful Fairy  blowing her  nose.  From  this side  came the  sound  of  the  Senior Wrangler's muffled scream as, made careless  by haste and a very poor  sense of  smell, he mistakenly  splashed his face with the  turpentine he used for treating his feet.

     Somewhere overhead a  very small  plump child with  a bow and arrow and ridiculously  unaerodynamic wings buzzed ineffectually against a shut window on which the frost was tracing the outline  of  a rather handsome  Auriental lady. The other window already had an icy picture of a vase of sunflowers.