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Against a background of splintering timber, Ridcully went on: 'It says
on the plans that this was a bathroom. There's nothing frightening about a
bathroom, for gods' sake. I want a bathroom. I'm fed up with sluicing down
with you fellows. It's unhygienic. You can catch stuff. My father told me
that. Where you get lots of people bathing together, the Verruca Gnome is
running around with his little sack.'
'Is that like the Tooth Fairy?' said the Dean sarcastically.
'I'm in charge here and I want a bathroom of my own,' said Ridcully
firmly. 'And that's all there is to it, all right? I want a bathroom in time
for Hogswatchnight, understand?'
And that's a problem with beginnings, of course. Sometimes, when you're
dealing with occult realms that have quite a different attitude to time, you
get the effect a little way before the cause.
noise, like little silver bells.
At about the same time as the Archchancellor was laying down the law,
Susan Sto-Helit was sitting up in bed, reading by candlelight.
Frost patterns curled across the windows.
She enjoyed these early evenings. Once she had put the children to bed
she was more or less left to herself. Mrs Gaiter was pathetically scared of
giving her any instructions even though she paid Susan's wages.
Not that the wages were important, of course. What was important was
that she was being her Own Person and holding down a Real job. And being a
governess was a real job. The only tricky bit had been the embarrassment
when her employer found out that she was a duchess, because in Mrs Gaiter's
book, which was a rather short book with big handwriting, the upper crust
wasn't supposed to work. It was supposed to loaf around. It was all Susan
could do to stop her curtseying when they met.
A flicker made her turn her head.
The candle flame was streaming out horizontally, as though in a howling
wind.
She looked up. The curtains billowed away from the window, which-
-flung itself open with a clatter.
But there was no wind.
At least, no wind in this world.
Images formed in her mind. A red ball ... The sharp smell of snow...
And then they were gone, and instead there were...
'Teeth?' said Susan, aloud. 'Teeth, again?'
She blinked. When she opened her eyes the window was, as she knew it
would be, firmly shut. The curtain hung demurely. The candle flame was
innocently upright. Oh, no, not again. Not after all this time. Everything
'Thusan?'
She looked around. Her door had been pushed open and a small figure
stood there, barefoot in a nightdress.
She sighed. 'Yes, Twyla?'
'I'm afwaid of the monster in the cellar, Thusan. It's going to eat me
up.'
Susan shut her book firmly and raised a warning finger.
'What have I told you about trying to sound ingratiatingly cute,
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