Interesting Times - Terry Pratchett [95]
“We’re going to bring him back,” he said. “It’s been four days. And then we can send them back their bloody tube thing. It gives me the willies.”
The senior wizards looked at one another. No one was very keen on a university with a Rincewind component, but the metal dog did give them the willies. No one had wanted to go near it. They’d piled some tables around it and tried to pretend it wasn’t there.
“All right,” said the Dean. “But Stibbons kept going on about things weighing the same, right? If we send that back, won’t it mean Rincewind arrives here going very fast?”
“Mr. Stibbons says he’s working on the spell,” said Ridcully. “Or we could pile some mattresses up at one end of the hall or something.”
The Bursar raised a hand.
“Yes, Bursar?” said Ridcully encouragingly.
“Ho, landlord, a pint of your finest ale!” said the Bursar.
“Good,” said Ridcully. “That’s settled, then. I’ve already told Mr. Stibbons to start looking…”
“On that demonic device?”
“Yes.”
“Then nothing can possibly go wrong,” said the Dean sourly.
“A trumpet of lobsters, if you would be so good.”
“And the Bursar agrees.”
The warlords had gathered in Lord Hong’s chambers. They carefully kept a distance from one another, as befitted enemies who were in the most shaky of alliances. Once the barbarians were dealt with, the battle might still continue. But they wanted assurance on one particular point.
“No!” said Lord Hong. “Let me make this absolutely clear! There is no invisible army of blood-sucking ghosts, do you understand? The people beyond the Wall are just like us—except vastly inferior in every respect, of course. But totally visible.”
One or two of the lords did not look convinced.
“And all this talk about the Red Army?” said one of them.
“The Red Army, Lord Tang, is an undisciplined rabble that shall be put down with resolute force!”
“You know what Red Army the peasants are talking about,” said Lord Tang. “They say that thousands of years ago it—”
“They say that thousands of years ago a wizard who did not exist took mud and lightning and made soldiers that couldn’t die,” said Lord Hong. “Yes. It’s a story, Lord Tang. A story made up by peasants who did not understand what really happened. One Sun Mirror’s army just had”—Lord Hong waved a hand vaguely—“better armor, better discipline. I am not frightened of ghosts and I am certainly not afraid of a legend that probably never existed.”
“Yes, but—”
“Soothsayer!” snapped Lord Hong. The soothsayer, who hadn’t been expecting it, gave a start.
“Yes, my lord?”
“How’re those entrails coming along?”
“Er—they’re about ready, my lord,” said the soothsayer.
The soothsayer was rather worried. This must have been the wrong kind of bird, he told himself. About the only thing the entrails were telling him was that if he got out of this alive he, the soothsayer, might be lucky enough to enjoy a nice chicken dinner. But Lord Hong sounded like a man with the most dangerous kind of impatience.
“And what do they tell you?”
“Er—the future is…the future is…”
Chicken entrails had never looked like this. For a moment he thought they were moving.
“Er…it is uncertain,” he hazarded.
“Be certain,” said Lord Hong. “Who will win in the morning?”
Shadows flickered across the table.
Something was fluttering around the light.
It looked like an undistinguished yellow moth, with black patterns on its wings.
The soothsayer’s precognitive abilities, which were considerably more powerful than he believed, told him: this is not a good time to be a clairvoyant.
On the other hand, there was never a good time to be horribly executed, so…
“Without a shadow of doubt,” he said, “the enemy will be most emphatically beaten.”
“How can you be so certain?” said Lord McSweeney.
The soothsayer bridled.
“You see this wobbly bit near the kidneys? You want to argue with this green trickly thing? You know all about liver suddenly? All right?”
“So there you are,” said Lord Hong. “Fate smiles upon us.”
“Even so—” Lord Tang began. “The men are very—”
“You