creatures
like this get used to living off it. Sooner or later something will learn
to live anywhere.“
”It's certainly doing Mad Hamish good,“ said Cohen. ”I'll swear he's not
as deaf as he was.“
”Whut?“
”I SAID YOU'RE NOT AS DEAF AS YOU WERE, HAMISH!“
”There's no need to shout, mon!“
”Can we cook 'em. do you think?“ said Boy Willie.
”They'll probably taste a bit like chicken,“ said Caleb. ”Everything
does, if you're hungry enough.“
”Leave it to me.“ said Mrs McGarry. ”You get a fire going, and I'll make
this taste more like chicken than ... chicken,"
Cohen wandered off to where the minstrel was sitting by himself, working
on the remains of his lute. The lad had brightened up considerably as the
climb progressed. Cohen thought. He had completely stopped whimpering.
Cohen sat down next to him.
“What're you doing, lad?” he said. “I see you found a skull.”
“It's going to be the sound box,” said the minstrel. He looked worried
for a moment. “That is all right, isn't it?”
“Sure. Good fate for a hero, having his bones made into a harp or
something. It should sing out wonderful.”
“This will be a kind of lyre.” said the minstrel. “It's going to be a bit
primitive, I'm afraid.”
“Even better. Good for the old songs,” said Cohen.
“I have been thinking about the ... the saga.” the minstrel admitted.
“Good lad, good lad. Plenty of spakes?”
“Um. yes. But I thought I'd start off with the legend of how Mazeda stole
fire for mankind in the first place.”
“Nice,” said Cohen.
“And then a few verses about what the gods did to him,” the minstrel went
on, tightening a string.
“Did to him? Did to him?” said Cohen. “They made him immortal!”
“Er ... yes. In a way, I suppose.”
“What do you mean, ”in a way“?”
“It's classical mythology. Cohen,” said the minstrel. “I thought everyone
knew. He was chained to a rock for eternity and every day an eagle comes
and pecks out his liver.”
“Is that true?”
“It's mentioned in many of the classic texts.
”I'm not much of a reader,“ said Cohen. ”Chained to a rock? For a first
offence? He's still there?“
”Eternity isn't finished yet. Cohen.“
”He must've had a big liver!“
”It grows again every night, according to the legend,“ said the minstrel.
”I wish my kidneys did.“ said Cohen. He stared at the distant clouds that
hid the snowy top of the mountain. ”He brought fire to everyone, and the
gods did that to him, eh? Well... we'll have to see about that.“
The omniscope showed a snowstorm.
”Bad weather down there, then,“ said Ridcully.
”No, it's thaumic interference,“ said Ponder. ”They're passing under the
elephants. We'll get a lot more of it, I'm afraid.“
”Did they really say “Ankh-Morpork, we have an orangutan”?“ said the
Dean.
”The Librarian must have got on board somehow,“ said Ponder. ”You know
what he's like for finding odd comers to sleep in. And that. I'm afraid,
explains about the weight and the air. Er ... I have to tell you that I'm
not sure that they have enough time or power to get back on to the Disc
now.“
”What do you mean, you're not sure?“ said Lord Vetinari.
”Er ... I mean I am sure but, er, no one likes bad news all at once,
sir.“
Lord Vetinari looked at the big spell that dominated the cabin. It
floated in the air: the whole world, sketched in glowing lines and.
dropping from one glittering edge, a small curving line. As he watched it
lengthened slightly.
”They can't just turn around and come back?“ he said.
”No, sir. It doesn't work like that.“
”Can they throw the Librarian out?“
The wizards looked shocked.
”No, sir,“ said Ponder. ”That would be murder, sir.“
”Yes, but they may save the world. One ape dies, one world lives. You do
not need to be a rocket wizard to work that out, surely?“
”You can't ask them
like this get used to living off it. Sooner or later something will learn
to live anywhere.“
”It's certainly doing Mad Hamish good,“ said Cohen. ”I'll swear he's not
as deaf as he was.“
”Whut?“
”I SAID YOU'RE NOT AS DEAF AS YOU WERE, HAMISH!“
”There's no need to shout, mon!“
”Can we cook 'em. do you think?“ said Boy Willie.
”They'll probably taste a bit like chicken,“ said Caleb. ”Everything
does, if you're hungry enough.“
”Leave it to me.“ said Mrs McGarry. ”You get a fire going, and I'll make
this taste more like chicken than ... chicken,"
Cohen wandered off to where the minstrel was sitting by himself, working
on the remains of his lute. The lad had brightened up considerably as the
climb progressed. Cohen thought. He had completely stopped whimpering.
Cohen sat down next to him.
“What're you doing, lad?” he said. “I see you found a skull.”
“It's going to be the sound box,” said the minstrel. He looked worried
for a moment. “That is all right, isn't it?”
“Sure. Good fate for a hero, having his bones made into a harp or
something. It should sing out wonderful.”
“This will be a kind of lyre.” said the minstrel. “It's going to be a bit
primitive, I'm afraid.”
“Even better. Good for the old songs,” said Cohen.
“I have been thinking about the ... the saga.” the minstrel admitted.
“Good lad, good lad. Plenty of spakes?”
“Um. yes. But I thought I'd start off with the legend of how Mazeda stole
fire for mankind in the first place.”
“Nice,” said Cohen.
“And then a few verses about what the gods did to him,” the minstrel went
on, tightening a string.
“Did to him? Did to him?” said Cohen. “They made him immortal!”
“Er ... yes. In a way, I suppose.”
“What do you mean, ”in a way“?”
“It's classical mythology. Cohen,” said the minstrel. “I thought everyone
knew. He was chained to a rock for eternity and every day an eagle comes
and pecks out his liver.”
“Is that true?”
“It's mentioned in many of the classic texts.
”I'm not much of a reader,“ said Cohen. ”Chained to a rock? For a first
offence? He's still there?“
”Eternity isn't finished yet. Cohen.“
”He must've had a big liver!“
”It grows again every night, according to the legend,“ said the minstrel.
”I wish my kidneys did.“ said Cohen. He stared at the distant clouds that
hid the snowy top of the mountain. ”He brought fire to everyone, and the
gods did that to him, eh? Well... we'll have to see about that.“
The omniscope showed a snowstorm.
”Bad weather down there, then,“ said Ridcully.
”No, it's thaumic interference,“ said Ponder. ”They're passing under the
elephants. We'll get a lot more of it, I'm afraid.“
”Did they really say “Ankh-Morpork, we have an orangutan”?“ said the
Dean.
”The Librarian must have got on board somehow,“ said Ponder. ”You know
what he's like for finding odd comers to sleep in. And that. I'm afraid,
explains about the weight and the air. Er ... I have to tell you that I'm
not sure that they have enough time or power to get back on to the Disc
now.“
”What do you mean, you're not sure?“ said Lord Vetinari.
”Er ... I mean I am sure but, er, no one likes bad news all at once,
sir.“
Lord Vetinari looked at the big spell that dominated the cabin. It
floated in the air: the whole world, sketched in glowing lines and.
dropping from one glittering edge, a small curving line. As he watched it
lengthened slightly.
”They can't just turn around and come back?“ he said.
”No, sir. It doesn't work like that.“
”Can they throw the Librarian out?“
The wizards looked shocked.
”No, sir,“ said Ponder. ”That would be murder, sir.“
”Yes, but they may save the world. One ape dies, one world lives. You do
not need to be a rocket wizard to work that out, surely?“
”You can't ask them
Similar Books
