Moving Pictures - Terry Pratchett [51]
“Yeah,” said Rock. “There was no call to go callin’ him wot you called him. An’ if you’re going to go doin’ fancy swordwork, we’re applyin’ for an extra dollar a day Havin’-Bits-Chopped-Off allowance.”
Victor’s sword had several nicks on the blade. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine how they had got there.
“Look,” he said desperately. “I don’t understand. I didn’t call anyone anything. Have we started filming yet?”
“One minute I’m sitting in a tent, next minute I’m breathing camel,” said Ginger petulantly. “Is it too much to ask what is going on?”
But no one seemed to be listening to them.
“Why can’t we find a way of getting sound?” said Dibbler. “That was damn good dialogue there. Didn’t understand a word of it, but I know good dialogue when I hear it.”
“Parrots,” said the handleman flatly. “Your common Howondaland Green. Amazing bird. Memory like an elephant. Get a couple of dozen in different sizes and you’ve got a full vocal—”
That launched a detailed technical discussion.
Victor let himself slide off the camel’s back and ducked under its neck to reach Ginger.
“Listen,” he said urgently. “It was just like last time. Only stronger. Like a sort of dream. The handleman started to take pictures and it was just like a dream.”
“Yes, but what did we actually do?” she said.
“What you did,” said Rock, “was gallop the camel up to the tent, leap off, come at us like a windmill—”
“—leapin’ on rocks and laughin’—” said Morry.
“Yeah, you said to Morry, ‘Have at you, you Foul Black Guard,’” said Rock. “And then you caught him a right ding on the arm, cut a hole in the tent—”
“Good sword work, though,” said Morry appraisingly. “A bit showy, but pretty good.”
“But I don’t know how to—” Victor began.
“—and she was lying there all longgrass,” said Rock.
“An’ you swept her up, and she said—”
“Long grass?” said Ginger weakly.
“Languorous,” said Victor. “I think he means languorous.”
“—she said, ‘Why, it is the Thief of…the Thief of…’” Rock hesitated. “Dad’s Bag, I think you said.”
“Bagged Dad,” said Morry, rubbing his arm.
“Yeah, an’ then she said, ‘You are in great danger, for my father has sworn to kill you,’ and Victor said, ‘But now, o fairest rose, I can reveal that I am really the Shadow of the Dessert—’”
“What’s languorous mean?” said Ginger suspiciously.
“An’ he said, ‘Fly with me now to the casbah,’ or something like that, an’ then he gave her this, this, thing humans do with their lips—”
“Whistle?” said Victor, with hopeless hope.
“Nah, the other thing. Sounds like a cork coming out of a bottle,” said Rock.
“Kiss,” said Ginger, coldly.
“Yeah. Not that I’m any judge,” said Rock, “but it seemed to go on for a while. Definitely very, you know, kissy.”
“I thought it was going to be bucket-of-water time myself,” said a quiet canine voice behind Victor. He kicked out backward, but failed to connect.
“And then he was back on the camel and dragged her up and Mr. Dibbler shouted ‘Stop, stop, what the hell’s going on, why won’t anyone tell me what the hell’s going on,’” said Rock. “And then you said ‘What happened?’”
“Don’t know when I last saw swordplay like that,” said Morry.
“Oh,” said Victor. “Well. Thank you.”
“All that shouting ‘Ha!’ and ‘Have at you, you dog.’ Very professional,” said Morry.
“I see,” said Victor. He reached sideways and grabbed Ginger’s arm.
“We’ve got to talk,” he hissed. “Somewhere quiet. Behind the tent.”
“If you think I’m going anywhere alone with you—” she began.
“Listen, this is no time to start acting like—”
A heavy hand settled on Victor’s shoulder. He turned, and saw the shape of Detritus eclipsing the world.
“Mr. Dibbler doesn’t want anyone running off,” he said.
“Everyone has to stay until Mr. Dibbler says.”
“You’re a real pain, you know,” said Victor. Detritus gave him a big, gem-studded grin. 13
“Mr. Dibbler says I can be a vice-president,” he said proudly.
“In charge of what?” said Victor.
“Vice-presidents,” said Detritus.
Gaspode the Wonder Dog made a little growling sound at the back of his throat. The camel, which had been idly