At the moment, in the never-ending, ever-recreated moment of this peaceful, sunlit little valley, he was fiddling with the little mirrors and shovels and morphic resonators and even stranger devices required to make a mountain grow to no more than six inches high.
The cherry trees were still in bloom. They always were in bloom, here. A gong rang, somewhere back in the temple. A flock of white doves took off from the monastery roof.
A shadow fell over the mountain.
Lu-Tze glanced at the person who had entered the garden. He made the perfunctory symbol of servitude to the rather annoyed-looking boy in novice’s robes.
‘Yes, master?’ he said.
‘I am looking for the one they call Lu-Tze,’ said the boy. ‘Personally, I don’t think he really exists.’
‘I’ve got glaciation,’ said Lu-Tze, ignoring this. ‘At last. See, master? It’s only an inch long, but already it’s carving its own little valley. Magnificent, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, yes, very good,’ said the novice, being kind to an underling. ‘Isn’t this the garden of Lu-Tze?’
‘You mean, Lu-Tze who is famous for his bonsai mountains?’
The novice looked from the line of plates to the little wrinkled smiling man.
‘You are Lu-Tze? But you’re just a sweeper! I’ve seen you cleaning out the dormitories! I’ve seen people kick you!’
Lu-Tze, apparently not hearing this, picked up a plate about a foot across on which a small cinder cone was smoking.
‘What do you think of this, master?’ he said. ‘Volcanic. And it is bloody hard to do, excuse my Klatchian.’
The novice took a step forward, and leaned down and looked directly into the sweeper’s eyes.
Lu-Tze was not often disconcerted, but he was now.
‘You are Lu-Tze?’
‘Yes, lad. I am Lu-Tze.’
The novice took a deep breath and thrust out a skinny arm. It was holding a small scroll.
‘From the abbot … er, venerable one!’
The scroll wobbled in the nervous hand.
‘Most people call me Lu-Tze, lad. Or “Sweeper”. Until they get to know me better, some call me “Get out of the way”,’ said Lu-Tze, carefully wrapping up his tools. ‘I’ve never been very venerable, except in cases of bad spelling.’
He looked around the saucers for the miniature shovel he used for glacial work, and couldn’t see it anywhere. Surely he’d put it down just a moment ago?
The novice was watching him with an expression of awe mixed with residual suspicion. A reputation like Lu-Tze’s got around. This was the man who had — well, who had done practically everything, if you listened to the rumours. But he didn’t look as though he had. He was just a little bald man with a wispy beard and a faint, amiable smile.
Lu-Tze patted the young man on the shoulder in an effort to put him at his ease.
‘Let us see what the abbot wants,’ he said, unrolling the rice paper. ‘Oh. You are to take me to see him, it says here.’
A look of panic froze the novice’s face. ‘What? How can I do that? Novices aren’t allowed inside the Inner Temple!’
‘Really? In that case, let me take you, to take me, to see him,’ said Lu-Tze.
‘You are allowed into the Inner Temple?’ said the novice, and then put his hand over his mouth. ‘But you’re just a swee— Oh …’
‘That’s right! Not even a proper monk, let alone a dong,’ said the sweeper cheerfully. ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’
‘But people talk about you as if you were as high as the abbot!’
‘Oh, dear me, no,’ said Lu-Tze. ‘I’m nothing like as holy. Never really got a grip on the cosmic harmony.’
‘But you’ve done all those incredible—’
‘Oh, I didn’t say I’m not good at what I do,’ said Lu-Tze, ambling away with his broom over his shoulder. ‘Just not holy. Shall we go?’
‘Er … Lu-Tze?’ said the novice, as they walked along the ancient brick path.
‘Yes?’
‘Why is this called the Garden of Five Surprises?’
‘What was your name back in the world, hasty young man?’ said Lu-Tze.
‘Newgate. Newgate Ludd, ven—’
Lu-Tze held up a warning finger. ‘Ah?’
‘Sweeper, I mean.’
‘Ludd, eh? Ankh-Morpork lad?’
‘Yes, Sweeper,’ said the boy. The suddenly dejected tones suggested he knew what was coming next.
‘Raised by the Thieves’ Guild? One of “Ludd’s Lads”?’
The boy formerly known as Newgate looked the old man in the eye and, when he replied, it was in the singsong voice of someone who’d answered the question too many times. ‘Yes, Sweeper. Yes, I was a foundling. Yes, we get called Ludd’s Lads and Lasses after one of the founders of the Guild. Yes, that’s my adopted surname. Yes, it was a good life and sometimes I wish I still had it.’
Lu-Tze appeared not to hear this. ‘Who sent you here?’
‘A monk called Soto discovered me. He said I had talent.’
‘Marco? The one with all the hair?’
‘That’s right. Only I thought the rule was that all monks were shaved.’
‘Oh, Soto says he is bald under the hair,’ said Lu-Tze. ‘He says the hair is a separate creature that just happens to live on him. They gave him a field posting really quickly after he came up with that one. Hard-working fellow, mark you, and friendly as anything provided you don’t touch his hair. Important lesson there: you don’t survive in the field by obeying all the rules, including those relating to mental processes. And what name were you given when you were enrolled?’
‘Lobsang, ven— uh, Sweeper.’
‘Lobsang Ludd?’
‘Er … yes, Sweeper.’
‘Amazing. So, Lobsang Ludd, you tried to count my surprises, did you? Everybody does. Surprise is the nature of Time, and five is the number of Surprise.’
‘Yes, Sweeper. I found the little bridge that tilts and throws you into the carp pool …’
‘Good. Good.’
‘… and I have found the bronze sculpture of a butterfly that flaps its wings when you breathe on it …’
‘That’s two.’
‘There’s the surprising way those little daisies spray you with venomous pollen …’
‘Ah, yes. Many people find them extremely surprising.’
‘And I believe the fourth surprise is the yodelling stick insect.’
‘Well done,’ said Lu-Tze, beaming. ‘It’s very good, isn’t it?’
‘But I can’t find the fifth surprise.’
‘Really? Let me know when you find it,’ said Lu-Tze.
Lobsang Ludd thought about this as he trailed after the sweeper.
‘The Garden of Five Surprises is a test,’ he said, at last.
‘Oh, yes. Nearly everything is.’
Lobsang nodded. It was like the Garden of the Four Elements. Every novice found the bronze symbols of three of them — in the carp pond, under a rock, painted on a kite — but none of Lobsang’s classmates found Fire. There didn’t appear to be a fire anywhere in the garden.
After a while Lobsang had reasoned thus: there were in fact five elements, as they had been taught. Four made up the universe, and the fifth, Surprise, allowed it to keep on happening. No-one had said that the four in the garden were the material four, so the fourth element in the Garden could be Surprise at the fact that Fire wasn’t there. Besides, fire was not generally found in a garden, and the other signs were, truly, in their element. So he’d gone down to the bakeries and opened one of the ovens, and there, glowing red hot below the loaves, was Fire.