Российское респираторное общество 20 страница“Oh, yes,” said Jade. “Well...?” “Um... it had some nice crevasses,” said Jade thoughtfully. “And a glacier that my father says is permanent even at midsummer.” Gloria nodded approvingly. “He sounds a nice boy.” “But I’ve always liked Crag from the next valley. Father hates him. But he’s working very hard and saving up and he’s nearly got enough for his own bridge.” Gloria sighed. “Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman,” she said. She nudged Susan. “Want some fish?” “I’m not hungry, thanks.” “It’s really good. Not stale old stuff like it used to be.” “No, thanks.” Gloria gave her another nudge. “Want to go and get your own, then?” she said, leering behind her beard. “Why should I do that?” “Oh, quite a few girls have gone down there today,” said the dwarf. She leaned closer. “It’s the new boy working there,” she said. “I’d swear he’s elvish.” Something inside Susan was plucked and went twang. She stood up. “ So that’s what he meant! Things that haven’t happened yet. ” “What? Who?” said Gloria. “The shop in Three Roses Alley?” “That’s right.” The door to the wizard’s house was open. The wizard had put a rocking chair in the doorway and was asleep in the sun. A raven was perched on his hat. Susan stopped and glared at it. “And have you got any comment to make?” “Croak croak,” said the raven, and ruffled its feathers. “Good,” said Susan. She walked on, aware that she was blushing. Behind her a voice said, “Hah!” She ignored it. There was a blur of movement among the debris in the gutter. Something hidden by a fish wrapper went: SNH, SNH, SNH. “Oh yes, very funny,” said Susan. She walked on. And then broke into a run. Death smiled and pushed aside the magnifying lens and turned away from the Discworld to find Albert watching him. JUST CHECKING, he said. “That’s right, Master,” said Albert. “I’ve saddled up Binky.” YOU UNDERSTAND I WAS JUST CHECKING? “Right you are, Master.” HOW ARE YOU FEELING NOW? “Fine, Master.” STILL GOT YOUR BOTTLE? “Yes, Master.” It was on the shelf in Albert’s bedroom. He followed Death out into the stable-yard, helped him into the saddle, and passed up the scythe. AND NOW I MUST BE GOING OUT, said Death. “That’s the ticket, Master.” SO STOP GRINNING LIKE THAT. “Yes, Master.” Death rode out, but found himself guiding the white horse down the track to the orchard. He stopped in front of one particular tree, and stared at it for some time. Eventually he said: LOOKS PERFECTLY LOGICAL TO ME. Binky turned obediently away and trotted into the world. The lands and cities of it lay before him. Blue light flamed along the blade of the scythe. Death felt attention on him. He looked up at the universe, which was watching him with puzzled interest. A voice which only he heard said: So you’re a rebel, little Death? Against what? Death thought about it. If there was a snappy answer, he couldn’t think of one. So he ignored it, and rode towards the lives of humanity. They needed him. Somewhere, in some other world far away from the Discworld, someone tentatively picked up a musical instrument that echoed to the rhythm in their soul. It will never die. It’s here to stay.
THE END [1] Because of quantum. [2] The question seldom addressed is where Medusa had snakes. Underarm hair is an even more embarrassing problem when it keeps biting the top of the deodorant bottle. [3] Cabbages. [4] Cabbages. [5] Anything that ate cabbages and didn’t mind not having any friends. [6] Until an unfortunate axe incident, Gloria had been captain of the school basketball team. Dwarfs don’t have height but they do have acceleration, and many a visiting team member got a nasty shock when Gloria appeared rising vertically out of the depths. [7] Or methane crystals. Or sea anemones. The principle is the same. In any case, it soon fills up with whatever is the local equivalent of fast-food boxes and derelict lager cans. [8] According to rural legend—at least in those areas where pigs are a vital part of the household economy—the Hogfather is a winter myth figure who, on Hogswatchnight, gallops from house to house on a crude sledge drawn by four tusked wild boars to deliver presents of sausages, black puddings, pork scratchings and ham to all children who have been good. He says “Ho ho ho’ a lot. Children who have been bad get a bag full of bloody bones (it’s these little details which tell you it’s a tale for the little folk). There is a song about him. It begins: You’d Better Watch Out... The Hogfather is said to have originated in the legend of a local king who, one winter’s night, happened to be passing, or so he said, the home of three young women and heard them sobbing because they had no food to celebrate the midwinter feast. He took pity on them and threw a packet of sausages through the window.+ + Badly concussing one of them, but there’s no point in spoiling a good legend. [9] Wizards did not have balls. There was a popular song about it. But they did hold their annual Excuse Me, or free-for-all dance, which was one of the highlights of the Ankh-Morpork social calendar. The Librarian in particular always looked forward to it, and used an amazing amount of hair cream. [10] Well, except for Unseen University once, but that was just a student prank. [11] The smallest room in Unseen University is in fact a broom cupboard on the fourth floor. He really meant the privy. The Reader had a theory that all the really good books in any building—at least, all the really funny ones+—gravitate to a pile in the privy but no-one ever has time to read all of them, or even knows how they came to be there. His research was causing extreme constipation and a queue outside the door every morning. + The ones with cartoons about cows and dogs. And captions like: “As soon as he saw the duck, Elmer knew it was going to be a bad day.” [12] And didn’t appear to do anything to the enemy at all. [13] He was a wizard. Trick shots for a wizard aren’t the old three-timesround-the-table jobs. His best one was once off the cushion, once off a seagull, once off the back of the head of the Bursar who’d been walking along the corridor outside last Tuesday (a bit of temporal spin there) and a tricky rebound off the ceiling. He’d missed sinking the actual shot by a whisker, but it had been pretty tricky, even so. [14] And this was true. Nature can adapt to practically anything. There were fish evolved to live in the river. They looked like a cross between a soft-shelled crab and an industrial vacuum cleaner, and tended to explode in fresh water, and what you had to use for bait was nobody’s business, but they were fish and a sportsman like Ridcully never cared about what the quarry tasted like. [15] The Senior Wrangler had a theory that long food—beans, celery and rhubarb—made you taller, because of the famous Doctrine of Signatures. It certainly made him lighter. [16] And, of course, one that misfires. Deafness doesn’t prevent composers hearing the music. It prevents them hearing the distractions. [17] It wasn’t the taste. Plenty of hot dogs taste bad. But Dibbler had now actually managed to produce sausages that didn’t taste of anything. It was weird. No matter how much mustard, ketchup and pickle people put on them, they still didn’t taste of anything. Not even the midnight dogs they sell to drunks in Helsinki can quite manage that. [18] Troll beer is ammonium sulphide dissolved in alcohol and tastes like drinking fermented batteries. [19] Not with very good results, however. Stibbons spent weeks grinding lenses and blowing glassware and had finally produced a device which showed the tremendous amount of tiny animals there were in one drop of water from the river Ankh. The Archchancellor had taken a look and then remarked that anything in which that much life could exist had to be healthy. [20] All right—all dwarf songs. Except the one about Hiho. [21] Troll gambling is even simpler than Australian gambling. One of the most popular games is One Up, which consists of throwing a coin in the air and betting on whether it will come down again. [22] Rats had featured largely in the history of Ankh-Morpork. Shortly before the Patrician came to power there was a terrible plague of rats. The city council countered it by offering twenty pence for every rat tail. This did, for a week or two, reduce the number of rats—and then people were suddenly queuing up with tails, the city treasury was being drained, and no-one seemed to be doing much work. And there still seemed to be a lot of rats around. Lord Vetinari had listened carefully while the problem was explained, and had solved the thing with one memorable phrase which said a lot about him, about the folly of bounty offers, and about the natural instinct of Ankh-Morporkians in any situation involving money: “Tax the rat farms.” [23] From the Old wys-ars, lit.: one who, at bottom, is very smart. [24] Or, at least, on to the river. [25] A very grammatical half an hour, however. [26] Old shoes always turn up in the bottom of every wardrobe. If a mermaid had a wardrobe old shoes would turn up in the bottom of it. [27] Although, strictly speaking, humans feel it all the time. [28] PLUGGERS [29] He’d still got the nugget somewhere. Российское респираторное общество
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