Lords and Ladies - Terry Pratchett [109]
“Put it down.”
“But—”
“It’d go right through him. Look, you can see that tree through him. He’s not really here. He can’t get past the doorway. But he can send his thoughts.”
“But I can smell—”
“If he was really here, we wouldn’t still be standing up.”
The elves parted as the King walked through. His hind legs hadn’t been designed for bipedal walking; the knees were the wrong way round and the hooves were over-large.
It ignored them all and strutted slowly to the fallen Queen. Magrat pulled herself to her feet and hefted the axe uncertainly.
The Queen uncoiled, leaping up and raising her hands, her mouth framing the first words of some curse—
The King held out a hand, and said nothing.
Only Magrat heard it.
Something about meeting by moonlight, she said later.
And they awoke.
The sun was well over the Rim. People pulled themselves to their feet, staring at one another.
There was not an elf in sight.
Nanny Ogg was the first to speak. Witches can generally come to terms with what actually is, instead of insisting on what ought to be.
She looked up at the moors. “The first thing we do,” she said, “the first thing, is put back the stones.”
“The second thing,” corrected Magrat.
They both looked down at the still body of Granny Weatherwax. A few stray bees were flying disconsolate circles in the grass near her head.
Nanny Ogg winked at Magrat.
“You did well there, girl. Didn’t think you had it in you to survive an attack like that. It fairly had me widdling myself.”
“I’ve had practice,” said Magrat darkly.
Nanny Ogg raised her eyebrows, but made no further comment. Instead she nudged Granny with her boot.
“Wake up, Esme,” she said. “Well done. We won.”
“Esme?”
Ridcully knelt down stiffly and picked up one of Granny’s arms.
“It must have taken it out of her, all that effort,” burbled Nanny. “Freeing Magrat and everything—”
Ridcully looked up.
“She’s dead,” he said.
He thrust both arms underneath the body and got unsteadily to his feet.
“Oh, she wouldn’t do a thing like that,” said Nanny, but in the voice of someone whose mouth is running on automatic because their brain has shut down.
“She’s not breathing and there’s no pulse,” said the wizard.
“She’s probably just resting.”
“Yes.”
Bees circled, high in the blue sky.
Ponder and the Librarian helped drag the stones back into position, occasionally using the Bursar as a lever. He was going through the rigid phase again.
They were unusual stones, Ponder noticed—quite hard, and with a look about them that suggested that once, long ago, they had been melted and cooled.
Jason Ogg found him standing deep in thought by one of them. He was holding a nail on a piece of string. But, instead of hanging from the string, the nail was almost at right angles, and straining as if desperate to reach the stone. The string thrummed. Ponder watched it as though mesmerized.
Jason hesitated. He seldom encountered wizards and wasn’t at all sure how you were supposed to treat them.
He heard the wizard say: “It sucks. But why does it suck?”
Jason kept quiet.
He heard Ponder say: “Maybe there’s iron and…and iron that loves iron? Or male iron and female iron? Or common iron and royal iron? Some iron contains something else? Some iron makes a weight in the world and other iron rolls down the rubber sheet?”
The Bursar and the Librarian joined him, and watched the swinging nail.
“Damn!” said Ponder, and let go of the nail. It hit the stone with a plink.
He turned to the others with the agonized expression of a man who has the whole great whirring machinery of the Universe to dismantle and only a bent paper clip to do it with.
“What ho, Mr. Sunshine!” said the Bursar, who was feeling almost cheerful with the fresh air and lack of shouting.
“Rocks! Why am I messing around with lumps of stone? When did they ever tell anyone anything?” said Ponder. “You know, sir, sometimes I think there’s a great ocean of truth out there and I’m just sitting on the beach playing with…with stones.”
He kicked the stone.
“But one day we’ll find a way to sail that ocean,