'Have you? Why?'
She frowned. 'Hey, I'm not that unattractive?'
'I didn't mean it like that,' said Victor hurriedly.
'Oh, I suppose if you're a powerful merchant it's nice to have a famous wife.
It's like owning jewellery.' She looked down.
'Mrs Cosmopilite says can she have one of the ones I don't want. I said she could have all three.'
'I've always been that way about choices myself,' said 'victor, cheering up.
'Have you? If that's all the choice there is, I'm not choosing. What can you be, after you've been yourself, as big as possible?'
'Nothing,' said Victor.
'No-one knows what it feels like.'
'Except us.'
'Yes.'
'Yes.'
Ginger grinned. It was the first time Victor had ever seen her face shorn of petulance, anger, worry or Holy Wood make-up.
'Cheer up,' she said. 'Tomorrow is another day.'
Click . . .
Sergeant Colon, Ankh-Morpork city watch, was awakened from his peaceful doze in the guardhouse over the main gate by a distant rumbling.
A cloud of dust stretched from horizon to horizon. He watched it thoughtfully for some time. It grew bigger and, eventually, disgorged a dark-skinned young man riding an elephant.
It trotted up the road to the gates and lumbered to a halt at the city wall. The dust cloud, Colon couldn't help noticing, was still on the horizon and still getting bigger.
The boy cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted: 'Can you tell me the way to Holy Wood?'
'There ain't no Holy Wood any more, from what I hear,' said Colon.
The boy appeared to consider this. He looked down at a piece of paper in his hand. Then he said: 'Do you know where I can find Mr C.M.O.T. Dibbler?'
Sgt Colon repeated the initials under his breath.
'You mean Throat?' he said. 'Cut-me-own-Throat Dibbler?'
'Is he in?'
Sgt Colon glanced at the city behind him. 'I'll just go and see,' he said. 'Who shall I say wants him?'
'We've got a delivery for him. COD.'
'Cod?' hazarded Colon, glancing at the lowering cloud. 'You're herding fish?'
'Not fish.'
Huge grey foreheads were becoming visible in the dust. There was also the very distinctive smell you get when a thousand elephants have been foraging for days in cabbage fields:
Вы читаете Moving pictures
