Thief of Time - Terry Pratchett [69]
The historians paid him no attention. Horses did not walk into libraries.
Susan mounted. There were plenty of times when she wished she’d been born completely human and wholly normal. She’d give up all the immortality tomorrow—
—apart from Binky.
A moment later, four hoofprints glowed like plasma in the air above the museum and faded away.
Tick
The crunch-crunch of the yeti’s feet over the snow, and the eternal wind of the mountains were the only sounds.
Then Lobsang said: “By ‘cut off his head,’ you actually mean…?”
“Sever the head from the body,” said Lu-Tze.
“And,” said Lobsang, still in the tones of one carefully exploring every aspect of the haunted cave, “he doesn’t mind?”
“Waal, it’s a nuisance,” said the yeti. “A bit of a paarty trick. But it okaay, if it helps. The Sweeper haas alwaays been a goood friend to us. We owe him faavors.”
“I’ve tried teaching ’em the Way,” said Lu-Tze proudly.
“Yaas. Ver’ usefuul. ‘A washed pot never boils,’” said the yeti.
Curiosity vied with annoyance in Lobsang’s head, and won.
“What have I missed here?” he said. “You don’t die?”
“I doon’t die? Wit my head cut off? For laughing! Ho. Ho,” said the yeti. “Of course I die. But this is not such a sizeaable traansaaction.”
“It took us years to work out what the yetis were up to,” said Lu-Tze. “Their loops played hob with the Mandala until the abbot worked out how to allow for them. They’ve been extinct three times.”
“Three times, eh?” said Lobsang. “That’s a lot of times to go extinct. I mean, most species only manage it once, don’t they?”
The yeti was now entering taller forest, of ancient pines.
“This’d be a good place,” said Lu-Tze. “Put us down, sir.”
“And we’ll chop your head off,” said Lobsang weakly. “What am I saying? I’m not going to chop anyone’s head off!”
“You heard him say it doesn’t bother him,” said Lu-Tze, as they were gently lowered to the ground.
“That’s not the point!” said Lobsang hotly.
“It’s his head,” Lu-Tze pointed out.
“But I mind!”
“Oh, well, in that case,” said Lu-Tze, “is it not written, ‘If you want a thing done properly you’ve got to do it yourself’?”
“Yass, it is,” said the yeti.
Lu-Tze took the sword out of Lobsang’s hand. He held it carefully, like someone unused to weapons. The yeti obligingly knelt.
“You’re up to date?” said Lu-Tze.
“Yaas.”
“I cannot believe you’re really doing this!” said Lobsang.
“Interesting,” said Lu-Tze. “Mrs. Cosmopilite says, ‘Seeing is believing’ and, strangely enough, the Great Wen said, ‘I have seen, and I believe!’”
He brought the sword down and cut off the yeti’s head.
Tick
There was a sound rather like a cabbage being sliced in half, and then a head rolled into the basket to cheers and cries of “oh, I say, well done!” from the crowd. The city of Quirm was a nice, peaceful, law-abiding place and the city council kept it that way with a penal policy that combined the maximum of deterrence with the minimum of re-offending.
GRIPPER “THE BUTCHER” SMARTZ?
The late Gripper rubbed his neck.
“I demand a retrial!” he said.
THIS MAY NOT BE A GOOD TIME, said Death.
“It couldn’t possibly have been murder because the…” the soul of Gripper Smartz fumbled in its spectral pockets for a ghostly piece of paper, unfolded it and continued, in a voice of those to whom the written word is an uphill struggle, “…because the balance of my mind was d…dess-turbed.”
REALLY, said Death. He found it best to let the recently departed get things off their chests.
“Yes, ’cos I really, really wanted to kill him, right? And you can’t tell me that’s a normal frame of mind, right? He was a dwarf, anyway, so I don’t think that should count as manslaughter.”
I UNDERSTAND THAT WAS THE SEVENTH DWARF YOU KILLED, said Death.