Jingo - Terry Pratchett [78]
Well, well…
71-hour Ahmed was not superstitious. He was substitious, which put him in a minority among humans. He didn’t believe in the things everyone believed in but which nevertheless weren’t true. He believed instead in the things that were true in which no one else believed. There are many such substitions, ranging from “It’ll get better if you don’t pick at it” all the way up to “Sometimes things just happen.”
Currently he was disinclined to believe in sea monsters, especially ones that spoke in the language of Ankh-Morpork, but he did believe that there were a lot of things in the world that he didn’t know about.
In the far distance he could see the lights of a ship. It didn’t seem to be gaining on them.
This was much more worrying.
In the darkness 71-hour Ahmed reached over his shoulder and grasped the handle of his sword.
Above him, the mainsail creaked in the wind.
Sergeant Colon knew he was facing one of the most dangerous moments in his career.
There was nothing for it. He was out of options.
“Er…if I add this A and this O and this I and this D,” he said, the sweat pouring down his pink cheeks, “then I can use that V to make ‘avoid.’ Er…and that gets me, er, a…what d’you call these blue squares, Len?”
“A ‘Three Times Ye Value of Thee Letter’ score,” said Leonard of Quirm.
“Well done, sergeant,” said Lord Vetinari. “I do believe that puts you in the lead.”
“Er…I do believe it does, sir,” squeaked Sergeant Colon.
“However, I find that you have left me the use of my U, N and A, B, L, E,” the Patrician went on, “which incidentally lands me on this Three Times the Whole Worde square and, I rather suspect, wins me the game.”
Sergeant Colon sagged with relief.
“A capital game, Leonard,” said Vetinari. “What did you say it was called?”
“I call it the ‘Make Words With Letters That Have All Been Mixed Up Game,’ my lord.”
“Ah. Yes. Obviously. Well done.”
“Huh, an’ I got three points,” mumbled Nobby. “They was perfectly good words that you wouldn’t let me have, too.”
“I’m sure the gentlemen don’t want to know those words,” said Colon severely.
“I’d have got ten points for that X.”
Leonard looked up. “Strange. We seem to have stopped moving…”
He reached up and opened the hatch. Damp night air poured in, and there was the sound of voices, quite close, echoing loudly as voices do when heard across water.
“Heathen Klatchian talk,” said Colon. “What are they gabblin’ about?”
“‘What nephew of a camel cut the rigging?’” said Lord Vetinari, without looking up. “‘Not just the ropes, look at this sail—Here, give me a hand…’”
“I didn’t know you spoke Klatchian, my lord.”
“Not a word,” said Lord Vetinari.
“But you—”
“I did not,” said Vetinari calmly.
“Ah…right…”
“Where are we, Leonard?”
“Well, er, my star charts are all out of date, of course, but if you would care to wait until the sun rises, and I’ve invented a device for ascertaining position by reference to the sun, and devised a satisfactorily accurate watch—”
“Where are we now, Leonard?”
“Er…in the middle of the Circle Sea, I suspect.”
“The middle?”
“Pretty close, I should say. Look, if I can measure the wind speed—”
“Then Leshp should be in this vicinity?”
“Oh, yes, I should—”
“Good. Unhitch us from this apparently stricken ship while we still have the cover of darkness and in the morning I wish to see this troublesome land. In the meantime, I suggest that everyone gets some sleep.”
Sergeant Colon did not get a lot of sleep. This was partly because he was woken up several times by sawing and banging coming from the front of the Boat, and partly because water kept dripping on his head, but mainly because the lull in activity was causing him to consider his position.
Sometimes when he woke up he saw the Patrician hunched over Leonard’s drawings, a gaunt silhouette in the light of the candle—reading, making notes…
He was in the immediate company of a man even the Assassins’ Guild was frightened of, another man who would stay up all night in order to invent an alarm clock to wake him up in the morning, and