Going Postal - Terry Pratchett [102]
Gilt was shocked, not surprised. That tiny moment was barely measurable on any clock, but just for an instant the world had gone wrong for Reacher Gilt. That moment had been wiped out so competently that all that remained of it was Moist’s certainty that it had happened, but the certainty was rigid.
He was loath to let go of the hand in case there was a flash that might broil him alive. After all, he had recognized the nature of Gilt, so the man must certainly have spotted him.
“Thank you, Mr. Gilt,” he said.
“I gather you were kind enough to carry some of our messages today,” Gilt rumbled.
“It was a pleasure, sir. If ever you need our help, you only have to ask.”
“Hmm,” said Gilt. “But the least I can do is buy you dinner, Postmaster. The bill will come to my table. Choose whatever you wish. And now, if you will excuse me, I must attend to my…other guests.”
He bowed to the simmering Miss Dearheart and walked back.
“The management would like to thank you for not killing the guests,” said Moist, sitting down. “Now we should—”
He stopped and stared.
Miss Dearheart, who had been saving up to hiss at him, took one look at his face and hesitated.
“Are you ill?” she said.
“They’re…burning,” said Moist, his eyes widening.
“Ye gods, you’ve gone white!”
“The writing…they’re screaming…I can smell burning!”
“Someone over there is having crepes,” said Miss Dearheart. “It’s just—” She stopped, and sniffed. “It smells like paper, though…”
People looked around as Moist’s chair crashed backwards.
“The Post Office is on fire! I know it is!” he shouted, and turned and ran.
Miss Dearheart caught up just as he was in the hall, where one of Gilt’s bodyguards had grabbed him. She tapped the man on the shoulder and, as he turned to push her away, stamped down heavily. As he screamed, she dragged the bewildered Moist away.
“Water…we’ve got to get water…” He groaned. “They’re burning! They’re all burning!”
CHAPTER 10
The Burning of Words
In which Stanley remains calm • Moist the hero
• Searching for a cat, never a good idea • Something in
the dark • Mr. Gryle is encountered • Fire and water
• Mr. Lipwig helps the Watch • Dancing on the edge
• Mr. Lipwig gets religion • Opportunity time
• Miss Maccalariat’s hair-grip • The miracle
THE LETTERS BURNED
Part of the ceiling fell down, showering more letters onto the flames. The fire was already reaching for the upper floors. As Stanley dragged Mr. Groat across the floor, another slab of plaster smashed on the tiles, and the old mail that poured down after it was already burning. Smoke, thick as soup, rolled across the distant ceiling.
Stanley pulled the old man into the locker room and laid him on his bed. He rescued the golden hat, too, because Mr. Lipwig would be bound to be angry if he didn’t. Then he shut the door and took down, from the shelf over Groat’s desk, the Book of Regulations. He turned the pages methodically until he came to the page What to Do in Case of Fire.
Stanley always followed the rules. All sorts of things could go wrong if you didn’t.
So far he’d done 1. Upon Discovery of the Fire, Remain Calm.
Now he came to 2. Shout “Fire!” in a Loud, Clear Voice.
“Fire!” he shouted, and then ticked off 2. with his pencil.
Next was 3. Endeavor to Extinguish Fire If Possible.
Stanley went to the door and opened it. Flames and smoke billowed in. He stared at them for a moment, shook his head, and shut the door.
Paragraph 4 said: If Trapped by Fire, Endeavor to Escape. Do Not Open Doors If Warm. Do Not Use Stairs If Burning. If No Exit Presents Itself, Remain Calm and Await (a) Rescue or (b) Death.
This seemed to cover it. The world of pins was simple, and Stanley knew his way around it like a goldfish knows its tank, but everything else was very complicated and only worked if you followed the rules.
He glanced up at the grubby little windows. They were far too small to climb through and had been welded shut by many applications of official paint, so he broke one pane as neatly as possible to allow some fresh air in.