The abbot was in his highchair, and had recently flicked a spoonful of nourishing pap all over the chief acolyte, who was smiling like a man whose job depended on looking happy that parsnip-and-gooseberry custard was dribbling down his forehead.
It occurred to Lobsang, not for the first time, that the abbot was a little bit more than purely random in his attacks on the man. The acolyte was, indeed, the kind of mildly objectionable person who engendered an irresistible urge in any right-thinking person to pour goo into his hair and hit him with a rubber yak, and the abbot was old enough to listen to his inner child.
“You sent for me, Your Reverence,” said Lu-Tze, bowing.
The abbot upturned his bowl down the chief acolyte's robe.
“Wahahaahaha ah, yes, Lu-Tze. How old are you now?”
“Eight hundred, Your Reverence. But that's no age at all!”
“Nevertheless, you have spent a lot of time in the world. I understood you were looking to retire and cultivate your gardens?”
“Yes, but—”
“But,” the abbot smiled angelically, “like an old warhorse you say ‘haha!’ at the sound of trumpets, yes?”
“I don't think so,” said Lu-Tze. “There's nothing funny about trumpets, really.”
“I meant that you long to be out in the field again. But you have been helping to train world operatives for many years, haven't you? These gentlemen?”
A number of burly and muscular monks were sitting on one side of the room. They were kitted out for travel, with rolled sleeping mats on their backs, and dressed in loose black clothing. They nodded sheepishly at Lu-Tze, and their eyes above their half-masks looked embarrassed.
“I did my best,” said Lu-Tze. “Of course, others trained them. I just tried to undo the damage. I never taught them to be ninjas.” He nudged Lobsang. “That, apprentice, is Agatean for ‘the Passing Wind’,” he said, in a stage whisper.
“I am proposing to send them out immediately WAH!” The abbot hit his high chair with his spoon. “That is my order, Lu-Tze. You are a legend… but you have been a legend for a long time. Why not trust in the future? Bikkit!”
“I see,” said Lu-Tze sadly. “Oh, well, it had to happen sometime. Thank you for your consideration, Your Reverence.”
“Brrmbrrm… Lu-Tze, I have known you a long time! You will not go within a hundred miles of Uberwald, will you?”
“Not at all, Your Reverence.”
“That is an order!”
“I understand, of course.”
“You've disobeyed my baababa orders before, though. In Omnia, I remember.”
“Tactical decision made by the man on the spot, Your Reverence. It was more what you might call an interpretation of your order,” said Lu-Tze.
“You mean, going where you had distinctly been told not to go and doing what you were absolutely forbidden to do?”
“Yes, Your Reverence. Sometimes you have to move the seesaw by pushing the other end. When I did what shouldn't be done in a place where I shouldn't have been, I achieved what needed to be done in the place where it should have happened.”
The abbot gave Lu-Tze a long hard stare, the kind that babies are good at giving.
“Lu-Tze, you are not nmnmnbooboo to go to Uberwald or anywhere near Uberwald, understand?” he said.
“I do, Your Reverence. You are right, of course. But, in my dotage, may I travel another path, of wisdom rather than violence? I wish to show this young man… the Way.”
There was laughter from the other monks.
“The Way of the Washerwoman?” said Rinpo.
“Mrs Cosmopilite is a dressmaker,” said Lu-Tze calmly.
“Whose wisdom is in sayings like ‘It won't get better if you pick at it’?” said Rinpo, winking at the rest of the monks.
“Few things get better if you pick at them,” said Lu-Tze, and now his calmness was a lake of tranquillity. “It may be a mean little Way but, small and unworthy though it is, it is my Way.” He turned to the abbot. “That was how it used to be, Your Reverence. You recall? Master and pupil go out into the world, where the pupil may pick up practical instruction by precept and example, and then the pupil finds his own Way and at the end of his Way—”
“—he finds himself bdum,” said the abbot.
“First, he finds a teacher,” said Lu-Tze.
“He is lucky that you will bdumbdum be that teacher.”
“Reverend Sir,” said Lu-Tze. “It is in the nature of Ways that none can be sure who the teacher may be. All I can do is show him a path.”
“Which will be in the direction of bdum the city,” said the abbot.
“Yes,” said Lu-Tze. “And Ankh-Morpork is a long way from Uberwald. You won't send me to Uberwald because I am an old man. So, in all respect, I beg you to humour an old man.”
“I have no choice, when you put it like that,” said the abbot.
“Reverend Sir—” began Rinpo, who felt that he did.
The spoon was banged on the tray again. “Lu-Tze is a man of high reputation!” the abbot shouted. “I trust him implicitly to do the correct action! I just wish I could blumblum trust him to do what I blumblum want! I have forbidden him to go to Uberwald! Now do you wish me to forbid him not to go to Uberwald? BIKKIT! I have spoken! And now, will all you gentlemen be so good as to leave? I have urgent business to attend to.”
Lu-Tze bowed and grabbed Lobsang's arm. “Come on, lad!” he whispered. “Let's bugger off quick before anyone works it out!”
On the way out they passed a lesser acolyte carrying a small potty with a pattern of bunny rabbits around it.
“It's not easy, reincarnating,” said Lu-Tze, running down the corridor. “Now we've got to be out of here before someone gets any funny ideas. Grab your bag and bedroll!”
“But no one would countermand the abbot's orders, would they?” said Lobsang, as they skidded round a corner.
“Ha! It'll be his nap in ten minutes and if they give him a new toy when he wakes up he might end up being so busy banging square green pegs into round blue holes that he'll forget what he said,” said Lu-Tze. “Politics, lad. Too many idiots will start saying what they're sure the abbot would have meant. Off you go, now. I'll see you in the Garden of Five Surprises in one minute.”
When Lobsang arrived Lu-Tze was carefully tying one of the bonsai mountains into a bamboo framework. He fastened the last knot and placed it in a bag over one shoulder.
“Won't it get damaged?” said Lobsang.
“It's a mountain. How can it get damaged?” Lu-Tze picked up his broom. “And we'll just drop in and have a chat with an old mate of mine before we leave, though. Maybe we'll pick up some stuff.”
“What's going on, Sweeper?” said Lobsang, trailing after him.
“Well, it's like this, lad. Me and the abbot and the bloke we're going to see, we go back a long way. Things are a bit different now. The abbot can't just say, ‘Lu-Tze, you are an old rogue, it was you who put the idea of Uberwald into everyone's heads in the first place, but I see you're onto something, so off you go and follow your nose.’”
“But I thought he was the supreme ruler!”
“Exactly! And it's very hard to get things done when you're a supreme ruler. There're too many people in the way, mucking things up. This way, the new lads can have fun running around Uberwald going ‘Hai!’ and we, my lad, will be heading for Ankh-Morpork. The abbot knows that. Almost knows that.”
“How do you know the new clock is being built in Ankh Morpork?” said Lobsang, trailing behind Lu-Tze as he took a mossy, sunken path that led through rhododendron thickets to the monastery wall.
“I know. I'll tell you, the day someone pulls the plug out of the bottom of the universe, the chain will lead all the way to Ankh-Morpork and some bugger saying, ‘I just wanted to see what would happen.’ All roads lead to Ankh-Morpork.”
“I thought all roads led away from Ankh-Morpork.”
“Not the way we're going. Ah, here we are.”
Lu-Tze knocked on the door of a rough but large shed built right up against the wall. At the same moment there was an explosion within and someone—Lobsang corrected himself—half of someone tumbled very fast out of the unglazed window beside it and hit the path with bone-cracking force. Only when it stopped rolling did he realize that it was a wooden dummy in a monk's robe.
“Qu's having fun, I see,” said Lu-Tze. He hadn't moved as the dummy had sailed past his ear.
The door burst open and a plump old monk looked out excitedly.
“Did you see that? Did you see that?” he said. “And that was with just one spoonful!” He nodded at them. “Oh, hello, Lu-Tze. I was expecting you. I've got some things ready.”
“Got what?” said Lobsang.
“Who's the boy?” said Qu, ushering them in.
“The untutored child is called Lobsang,” said Lu-Tze, looking around the shed. There was a smoking circle on the stone floor, with drifts of blackened sand around it. “New toys, Qu?”
“Exploding mandala,” said Qu happily, bustling forward. “Just sprinkle the special sand on a simple design anywhere you like, and the first enemy to walk on it—Bang, instant karma! Don't touch that!”
Lu-Tze reached across and snatched from Lobsang's inquisitive hands the begging bowl that he had just picked up from a table.
“Remember Rule One,” he said, and hurled the bowl across the room. Hidden blades slid out as it spun, and the bowl buried itself in a beam.
“That would take a man's head right off!” said Lobsang. And then they heard the faint ticking.
“…three, four, five…” said Qu. “Everybody duck… Now!”
Lu-Tze pushed Lobsang to the floor a moment before the bowl exploded. Metal fragments scythed overhead.
“I added just a little something extra since you last saw it,” said Qu proudly, as they got to their feet again. “A very versatile device. Plus, of course, you can use it to eat rice out of. Oh, and have you seen this?”
He picked up a prayer drum. Both Lu-Tze and Lobsang took a step back.
Qu twirled the drum a few times, and the weighted cords pattered against the skins.
“The cord can be instantly removed for a handy garotte,” he said, “and the drum itself can be removed—like so—to reveal this useful dagger.”
“Plus, of course, you can use it to pray with?” said Lobsang.
“Well spotted,” said Qu. “Quick boy. A prayer is always useful in the last resort. In fact we've been working on a very promising mantra incorporating sonic tones that have a particular effect on the human nervous syst—”
“I don't think we need any of this stuff, Qu,” said Lu-Tze.
Qu sighed. “At least you could let us turn your broom into a secret weapon, Lu-Tze. I've shown you the plans—”
“It is a secret weapon,” said Lu-Tze. “It's a broom.”
“How about the new yaks we've been breeding? At the touch of a rein their horns will instantly—”
“We want the spinners, Qu.”
The monk suddenly looked guilty. “Spinners? What spinners?”
Lu-Tze walked across the room and pressed a hand against part of the wall, which slid aside.
“These spinners, Qu. Don't muck me about, we haven't got time.”
Lobsang saw what looked very much like two small Procrastinators, each one within a metal framework mounted on a board. There was a harness attached to each board.
“You haven't told the abbot about them yet, have you?” said Lu-Tze, unhooking one of the things. “He'd put a stop to them if you did, you know that.”
“I didn't think anyone knew!” said Qu. “How did you–”
Lu-Tze grinned. “No one notices a sweeper,” he said.
“They're still very experimental!” said Qu, close to panic. “I was going to tell the abbot, of course, but I was waiting until I had something to demonstrate! And it would be terrible if they fell into the wrong hands!”
“Then we'll see to it that they don't,” said Lu-Tze, examining the straps. “How're they powered now?”
“Weights and ratchets were too unreliable,” said Qu. “I'm afraid I had to resort to… clockwork.”
Lu-Tze stiffened, and he glared at the monk. “Clockwork?”
“Only as a motive force, only as a motive force!” Qu protested. “There's really no other choice!”
“Too late now, it'll have to do,” said Lu-Tze, unhooking the other board and passing it across to Lobsang. “There you go, lad. With a bit of sacking round it it'll look just like a backpack.”
“What is it?”
Qu sighed. “They're portable Procrastinators. Try not to break them, please.”
“What will we need them for?”
“I hope you won't have to find out,” said Lu-Tze. “Thanks, Qu.”
“Are you sure you wouldn't prefer some time bombs?” said Qu hopefully. “Drop one on the floor and time will slow for—”
“Thanks, but no.”
“The other monks were fully equipped,” said Qu.
“But we're travelling light,” said Lu-Tze firmly. “We'll go out the back way, Qu, okay?”
The back way led to a narrow path and a small gate in the wall. Dismembered wooden dummies and patches of scorched rock indicated that Qu and his assistants often came this way. And then there was another path, beside one of the many icy streamlet's.
“Qu means well,” said Lu-Tze, walking fast. “But if you listen to him you end up clanking when you walk and exploding when you sit down.”
Lobsang ran to keep up.
“It'll take weeks to walk to Ankh-Morpork, Sweeper!”
“We'll slice our way there,” said Lu-Tze, and he stopped and turned. “You think you can do that?”
“I've done it hundreds of times—” Lobsang began.
“Back in Oi Dong, yes,” said Lu-Tze. “But there's all kinds of checks and safeguards in the valley. Oh, didn't you know that? Slicing in Oi Dong is easy, lad. It's different out there. The air tries to get in the way. Do it wrong and the air is a rock. You have to shape the slice around you so that you move like a fish in water. Know how to do that?”
“We learned a bit of the theory, but—”
“Soto said you stopped time for yourself back in the city. The Stance of the Coyote, it's called. Very hard to do, and I don't reckon they teach it in the Thieves' Guild, eh?”
“I suppose I was lucky, Sweeper.”
“Good. Keep it up. We'll have plenty of time for you to practise before we leave the snow. Get it right before you tread on grass, or kiss your feet goodbye.”
They called it slicing time…
There is a way of playing certain musical instruments that is called “circular breathing”, devised to allow people to play the didgeridoo or the bagpipes without actually imploding or being sucked down the tube. “Slicing time” was very much the same, except time was substituted for air and it was a lot quieter. A trained monk could stretch a second further than an hour…
But that wasn't enough. He'd be moving in a rigid world. He'd have to learn to see by echo light and hear by ghost sound and let time leach into his immediate universe. It wasn't hard, once he found the confidence; the sliced world could almost seem normal, apart from the colours…
It was like walking in sunsets, although the sun was fixed high in the sky and barely moved. The world ahead shaded towards violet, and the world behind, when Lobsang looked round, was the shade of old blood. And it was lonely. But the worst of it, Lobsang realized, was the silence. There was noise, of a sort, but it was just a deep sizzle at the edge of hearing. His footsteps sounded strange and muffled, and the sound arrived in his ears out of sync with the tread of his feet.
They reached the edge of the valley and stepped out of the perpetual springtime into the real world of the snows. Now the cold crept in, slowly, like a sadist's knife.
Lu-Tze strode on ahead, seemingly oblivious of it.
Of course, that was one of the stories about him. L
u-Tze, it was said, would walk for miles during weather when the clouds themselves would freeze and crash out of the sky. Cold did not affect him, they said.
And yet—
In the stories Lu-Tze had been bigger, stronger… not a skinny little bald man who preferred not to fight.
“Sweeper!”
Lu-Tze stopped and turned. His outline blurred slightly, and Lobsang unwrapped himself from time. Colour came back into the world, and while the cold ceased to have the force of a drill it still struck hard.
“Yes, lad?”
“You're going to teach me, right?”
“If there's anything left that you don't know, wonder boy,” said Lu-Tze drily. “You're slicing well, I can see that.”
“I don't know how you can stand this cold!”
“Ah, you don't know the secret?”
“Is it the Way of Mrs Cosmopilite that gives you such power?”
Lu-Tze hitched up his robe and did a little dance in the snow, revealing skinny legs encased in thick, yellowing tubes.
“Very good, very good,” he said. “She still sends me these double-knit combinations, silk on the inside, then three layers of wool, reinforced gussets and a couple of handy trapdoors. Very reasonably priced at six dollars a pair because I'm an old customer. For it is written, ‘Wrap up warm or you'll catch your death.’”
“It's just a trick?”
Lu-Tze looked surprised. “What?” he said.
“Well, I mean, it's all tricks, isn't it? Everyone thinks you're a great hero and… you don't fight, and they think you possess all kinds of strange knowledge and… and it's just… tricking people. Isn't it? Even the abbot? I thought you were going to teach me… things worth knowing…”
“I've got her address, if that's what you want. If you mention my name—Oh. I see you don't mean that, right?”
“I don't want to be ungrateful I just thought—”
“You thought I should use mysterious powers derived from a lifetime of study just to keep my legs warm? Eh?”
“Well—”
“Debase the sacred teachings for the sake of my knees, you think?”
“If you put it like that—”
Then something made Lobsang look down.
He was standing in six inches of snow. Lu-Tze was not. His sandals were standing in two puddles. The ice was melting away around his toes. His pink, warm toes.
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