Interesting Times - Terry Pratchett [94]
He’d chat with a couple of soldiers and say: “I’m sure there’s no huge hungry army of vampire ghosts” and get told, “No, there’s seven old men.”
“Just seven old men?”
“I heard they’re very old,” said a soldier. “Like, too old to die. I heard from someone at the palace that they can walk through walls and make themselves invisible.”
“Oh, come on,” said Rincewind. “Seven old men fighting this whole army?”
“Makes you think, eh? Corporal Toshi says the Great Wizard is helping them. Stands to reason. I wouldn’t be fighting a whole army if I didn’t have a lot of magic on my side.”
“Er. Anyone know what the Great Wizard looks like?” said Rincewind.
“They say he’s taller than a house and got three heads.”
Rincewind nodded encouragingly.
“I heard,” said a soldier, “that the Red Army is going to fight on their side, too.”
“So what? Corporal Toshi says they’re just a bunch of kids.”
“No, I heard…the real Red Army…you know…”
“The Red Army ain’t gonna side with barbarian invaders! Anyway, there’s no such thing as the Red Army. That’s just a myth.”
“Like the invisible vampire ghosts,” said Rincewind, giving the clockwork of anxiety another little turn.
“Er…yeah.”
He left them arguing.
No one was deserting. Running off into a night full of non-specific terrors was worse than staying in camp. But that was all to the good, he decided. It meant that the really frightened people were staying put and seeking reassurance from their comrades. And there was nothing like someone repeating “I’m sure there’s no vampire wizards” and going to the latrine four times an hour to put backbone into a platoon.
Rincewind crept back towards the city, rounded a tent in the shadows, and collided with a horse, which trod heavily on his foot.
“Your wife is a big hippo!”
SORRY.
Rincewind froze, both hands clutching his aching foot. He knew only one person with a voice like a cemetery in midwinter.
He tried to hop backwards, and collided with another horse.
RINCEWIND, ISN’T IT? said Death. YES. GOOD EVENING. I DON’T BELIEVE YOU HAVE MET WAR. RINCEWIND, WAR. WAR, RINCEWIND.
War touched his helmet in salute.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said. He indicated the other three riders. “Like to introduce you to m’sons, Terror and Panic. And m’daughter, Clancy.”
The children chorused a “hello.” Clancy was scowling, looked about seven years old and was wearing a hard hat and a Pony Club badge.
I WASN’T EXPECTING TO SEE YOU HERE, RINCEWIND.
“Oh. Good.”
Death pulled an hourglass out of his robe, held it up to the moonlight, and sighed. Rincewind craned to see how much sand was left.
HOWEVER, I COULD—
“Don’t you make any special arrangement just on my account,” said Rincewind hurriedly. “I, er…I expect you’re all here for the battle?”
YES. IT PROMISES TO BE EXTREMELY—SHORT.
“Who’s going to win?”
NOW, YOU KNOW I WOULDN’T TELL YOU THAT, EVEN IF I KNEW.
“Even if you knew?” said Rincewind. “I thought you were supposed to know everything!”
Death held up a finger. Something fluttered down through the night. Rincewind thought it was a moth, although it looked less fluffy and had a strange speckled pattern on its wings.
It settled on the extended digit for a moment, and then flew up and away again.
ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS, said Death, THE ONLY CERTAIN THING IS UNCERTAINTY. TRITE, I KNOW, BUT TRUE.
Somewhere on the horizon, thunder rumbled.
“I’ll, er, just be sort of going, then,” said Rincewind.
DON’T BE A STRANGER, said Death, as the wizard hurried off.
“Odd person,” said War.
WITH HIM HERE, EVEN UNCERTAINTY IS UNCERTAIN. AND I’M NOT SURE EVEN ABOUT THAT.
War pulled a large paper-wrapped package out of his saddlebag.
“We’ve got…let’s see now…Egg and Cress, Chicken Tikka, and Mature Cheese with Crunchy Pickle, I think.”
THEY DO SUCH MARVELOUS THINGS WITH SANDWICHES THESE DAYS.
“Oh…and Bacon Surprise.”
REALLY? WHAT IS SO SURPRISING ABOUT BACON?
“I don’t know. I suppose it comes as something of a shock to the pig.”
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