Thief of Time - Creative Differences

'Cheers,' said Lu-Tze, raising his cup. 'Funny, though. I mean, if you said to people there were originally  five Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and then one of them left and is a milkman, well, they'd be a bit surprised. They'd wonder about why you...'

For a moment Ronnie's eyes blazed silver.

'Creative differences,' he growled. 'The whole ego thing. Some people might say... No, I don't like to talk about it. I wish them all the luck in the world, of course.'

'Of course,' said Lu-Tze, keeping his expression opaque.

'And I've watched their careers with great interest.'

'I'm sure.'

'Do you know I even got written out of the official history?' said Ronnie. He held up a hand and a book appeared in it. It looked brand new. 'This was before,' he said sourly. 'Book of Om. Ever meet him? Tall man, beard, tendency to giggle at nothing?'

'Before my time, Ronnie.'

Ronnie handed the book over. 'First edition. Try Chapter 2, verse 7,' he said.
And Lu-Tze read: ' "And the Angel clothèd all in white opened the Iron Book, and a fifth rider appeared in a chariot of burning ice, and there was a snapping of laws and a breaking of bonds and the multitude cried 'Oh God, we're in trouble now!' " '

'That was me,' said Ronnie proudly.

Lu-Tze's eyes strayed to verse 8: ' "And I saw, sort of like rabbits, in many colours but basically a plaid pattern, kind of spinning around, and there was a sound as of like big syrupy things."'

'That verse got cut for the next edition,' said Ronnie. 'Very open to visions of all sorts, old Tobrun. The fathers of Omnianism could pick and mix what they wanted. Of course, in those days everything was new. Death was Death, of course, but the rest were really just Localized Crop Failure, Scuffles and Spots.’

'And you-?' Lu-Tze ventured.

'The public wasn't interested in me any more,' said Ronnie. 'Or so I was told. Back in those days we were only playing to very small crowds. One plague of locusts, some tribe's waterhole drying up, a volcano exploding... We were glad of any gig going. There wasn't room for five.' He sniffed. 'So I was told.’

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The Thief of Time - p258-260