Thief of Time - Steal

Lobsang felt around under the thatched eaves of the cottage, and his hand closed on the bristles of a broomstick that had been thrust among the reeds.

'This is rather like stealing,' he said, as Lu-Tze helped him down.

'No, it's not,' said the sweeper, taking the broomstick and holding it up so he could look along its length. 'And I'll tell you why. If we sort things out, we'll drop it off on our way back and she'll never know it's gone... and if we don't sort things out, well, she'll still never know it's gone. Honestly, they don't take
much care of their sticks, witches. Look at the bristles on this one. I wouldn't use it to clean a pond! Oh, well ... back into clock time, lad. I'd hate to fly one of these things while I was slicing.'

He straddled the stick and gripped the handle. It rose a little way.

'Good suspension, at least,' he said. 'You can have the comfy seat on the back. Hold tight to my own broom and make sure you wrap your robe around you. These things are pretty breezy.'

Lobsang pulled himself aboard and the stick rose. As it drew level with the lower branches around the clearing, it brought Lu-Tze to eye level with a raven.

***

The Thief of Time - p210-211