Lords and Ladies - Terry Pratchett [101]
Ridcully blinked. People were milling around and being harangued by a small young man in loose-fitting chain-mail and one arm in a sling, who seemed to be the only person with any grip on things.
When he was certain he could walk straight, Ridcully headed toward him.
“What’s going on, young—” he began, and then stopped. Shawn Ogg looked around.
“The scheming minx!” said Ridcully, to the air in general. “‘Oh, go back and get it then,’ she said, and I fell right for it! Even if I could cut the mustard again I don’t know where we were!”
“Sir?” said Shawn.
Ridcully shook himself. “What’s happening?” he said.
“I don’t know!” said Shawn, who was almost in tears. “I think we’re being attacked by elves! Nothing anyone’s telling me’s making any sense! Somehow they arrived during the Entertainment! Or something!”
Ridcully looked around at the frightened, bewildered people.
“And Miss Magrat’s gone out to fight them alone!”
Ridcully looked perplexed.
“Who’s Miss Magrat?”
“She’s going to be queen! The bride! You know? Magrat Garlick?”
Ridcully’s mind could digest one fact at a time.
“What’s she gone out for?”
“They captured the king!”
“Did you know they’ve got Esme Weatherwax as well?”
“What, Granny Weatherwax?”
“I came back to rescue her,” said Ridcully, and then realized that this sounded either nonsense or cowardly.
Shawn was too upset to notice. “I just hope they’re not collecting witches,” he said. “They’ll need our mum to get the complete set.”
“They ain’t got me, then,” said Nanny Ogg, behind him.
“Mum? How did you get in?”
“Broomstick. You’d better get some people with bows up on the roof. I came down that way. So can others.”
“What’re we going to do, Mum?”
“There’s bands of elves all over the place,” said Nanny, “and there’s a big glow over the Dancers—”
“We must attack them!” shouted Casanunda. “Give ’em a taste of cold steel!”
“Good man, that dwarf!” said Ridcully. “That’s right! I’ll get my crossbow!”
“There’s too many of them,” said Nanny flatly.
“Granny and Miss Magrat are out there, Mum,” said Shawn. “Miss Magrat came over all strange and put on armor and went out to fight all of them!”
“But the hills are crawling with elves,” said Nanny. “It’s a double helping of hell with extra devils. Certain death.”
“It’s certain death anyway,” said Ridcully. “That’s the thing about Death, certainty.”
“We’d have no chance at all,” said Nanny.
“Actually, we’d have one chance,” said Ridcully. “I don’t understand all this continuinuinuum stuff, but from what young Stibbons says it means that everything has to happen somewhere, d’y’see, so that means it could happen here. Even if it’s a million to one chance, ma’am.”
“That’s all very well,” said Nanny, “but what you’re saying is, for every Mr. Ridcully that survives tonight’s work, 999,999 are going to get killed?”
“Yes, but I’m not bothered about those other buggers,” said Ridcully. “They can look after themselves. Serve ’em right for not inviting me to their weddings.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Shawn was hopping from one foot to the other.
“We ought to be fighting ’em, Mum!”
“Look at everyone!” said Nanny. “They’re dog tired and wet and confused! That’s not an army!”
“Mum, Mum, Mum!”
“What?”
“I’ll pussike ’em up, Mum! That’s what you have to do before troops go into battle, Mum! I read about that in books! You can take a rabble of thingy and make the right kind of speech and pussike them up and turn ’em into a terrible fighting force, Mum!”
“They look terrible anyway!”
“I mean terrible like fierce, Mum!”
Nanny Ogg looked at the hundred or so Lancre subjects. The thought of them managing to fight anyone at all took some getting used to.
“You been studyin’ this, Shawn?” she inquired.
“I’ve got five years’ worth of Bows and Ammo, Mum,” said Shawn reproachfully.
“Give it a try, then. If you think it’ll work.”
Trembling with excitement, Shawn climbed on to a table, drew his sword with his good hand, and banged it on the planks until people were silent.
He made a speech.
He pointed out that their king had