Lords and Ladies - Terry Pratchett [77]
“Oh, it’s something some of the young wizards came up with,” said Ridcully diffidently. “I said I’d…try it out for them. The mouse hair rubs against the glass rods and there’s sparks, don’t’y’know, and…and…”
Granny Weatherwax looked at the Archchancellor’s somewhat grubby hair and raised an eyebrow.
“My word,” she said. “What will they think of next?”
“Don’t really understand how it works, Stibbons is the man for this sort of thing, I thought I’d help them out…”
“Lucky you were going bald, eh?”
In the darkness of her sickroom Diamanda opened her eyes, if they were her eyes. There was a pearly sheen to them.
The song was as yet only on the threshold of hearing.
And the world was different. A small part of her mind was still Diamanda, and looked out through the mists of enchantment. The world was a pattern of fine silver lines, constantly moving, as though everything was coated with filigree. Except where there was iron. There the lines were crushed and tight and bent. There, the whole world was invisible. Iron distorted the world. Keep away from iron.
She slipped out of bed, using the edge of the blanket to grasp the door handle, and opened the door.
Shawn Ogg was standing very nearly to attention.
Currently he was guarding the castle and Seeing How Long He Could Stand On One Leg.
Then it occurred to him that this wasn’t a proper activity for a martial artist, and he turned it into No. 19, the Flying Chrysanthemum Double Drop Kick.
After a while he realized that he had been hearing something. It was vaguely rhythmical, and put him in mind of a grasshopper chirruping. It was coming from inside the castle.
He turned carefully, keeping alert in case the massed armies of Foreign Parts tried to invade while his back was turned.
This needed working out. He wasn’t on guard from things inside the castle, was he? “On guard” meant things outside. That was the point of castles. That’s why you had all the walls and things. He’d got the big poster they gave away free with Jane’s All the World’s Siege Weapons. He knew what he was talking about.
Shawn was not the quickest of thinkers, but his thoughts turned inexorably to the elf in the dungeon. But that was locked up. He’d locked the door himself. And there was iron all over the place, and Mum had been very definite about the iron.
Nevertheless…
He was methodical about it. He raised the drawbridge and dropped the portcullis and peered over the wall for good measure, but there was just the dusk and the night breeze.
He could feel the sound now. It seemed to be coming out of the stone, and had a saw-toothed edge to it that grated on his nerves.
It couldn’t have got out, could it? No, it stood to reason. People hadn’t gone around building dungeons you could get out of.
The sound swung back and forth across the scale.
Shawn leaned his rusty pike against the wall and drew his sword. He knew how to use it. He practiced for ten minutes every day, and it was one sorry hanging sack of straw when he’d finished with it.
He slipped into the keep by the back door and sidled along the passages toward the dungeon. There was no one else around. Of course, everyone was at the Entertainment. And they’d be back any time now, carousing all over the place.
The castle felt big, and old, and cold.
Any time now.
Bound to.
The noise stopped.
Shawn peered around the corner. There were the steps, there was the open doorway to the dungeons.
“Stop!” shouted Shawn, just in case.
The sound echoed off the stones.
“Stop! Or…or…or…Stop!”
He eased his way down the steps and looked through the archway.
“I warn you! I’m learning the Path of the Happy Jade Lotus!”
There was the door to the cell, standing ajar. And a white-clad figure next to it.
Shawn blinked.
“Aren’t you Miss Tockley?”
She smiled at him. Her eyes glowed in the dim light.
“You’re wearing chain-mail, Shawn,” she said.
“What, miss?” He glanced at the open door again.
“That’s terrible. You must take it off, Shawn. How can you hear with all