Owen Burgoyne
Chapter 4: The Golden Statue
Two hours later the Guild of Explorers made their way back through the jungle.
"Friendly chap that Chief, eh?" said Blest, smoking on his pipe. "Nice of him to give me that funny green tobacco of his, too."
"Er, yes Edward. I wouldn't smoke that if I were you," suggested Michelmas.
"Why ever not Phillip?! Seems like a damn shame to waste it!"
"Well, it may not have quite the same properties as the tobacco you're used to smoking." Michelmas looked around at the others, and then whispered into Blest's ear. "It may be ... hallucinogenic."
"Poppycock! That green tea they gave us didn't do me any harm!" Blest looked around at the rest of the explorers. "Where's Herringsway disappeared to?"
There was the sound of someone being violently sick from behind a large tree.
"I don't think that green tea agreed with him," said Jones. "Tasted bloody disgustin' anyway. I'd rather drink my own piss."
"Quite," said Michelmas. "And that little golden statue was a very nice gift, wasn't it? Solid hand-forged gold by the look of it. And, if I'm not mistaken, the design is reminiscent of idols forged centuries ago in the jungle valleys of deepest, darkest Klatch. They usually represented one of their many lesser deities, and were normally kept safely in their sacred temples."
"Bloody amazing," said Jones sarcastically.
"Ah, I think I see the beach through the trees."
As they walked out of the fringes of the jungle onto the golden sand, they could see the merchant vessel in the distance.
"They must have waited for us. How nice of them," said Michelmas.
Blest reached into his rucksack and pulled out a small crossbow and a little wooden box. "This should do the trick."
"What is it?" asked Herringsway, still feeling nauseous.
"Flare," said Blest. He cocked the crossbow and opened the box. Inside it sat a drowsy salamander. Blest gently lifted out the salamander, loaded it into the crossbow, closed his eyes and aimed vaguely at the sky.
Before the sleepy creature had a chance to realize what was going on, it was flying up into the air at a rapidly increasing rate. It was the shock of this that caused it flash brightly in the sky.
"That should do the trick," smiled the General.
After the ship had made its stop at Bes Pelargic, during which Jones spent the entire time hidden inside one of the cabins, they slowly headed back to Ankh-Morpork.
As the warm sun shone onto the deck, most of the explorers were enjoying the warm weather. Herringsway was leaning over the side of the ship making gurgling noises and managing to make his face turn an impressive shade of green.
Michelmas was sat on a pile of sacks, looking at the gold statue. "You know Alwyn, I've a funny feeling I've seen one of these before."
"Well, when you've seen one bloody golden idol you've seen 'em all. Give it here and let me have a look," said Jones, taking it from Michelmas. "It's lighter than I thought it would be." He tapped it on the head. "And it sounds hollow! Bloody cheapskates!" He looked at the gurning face of the statue again. "You're right though; there is something familiar about it."
"And I can't work out what the inscription on the bottom means, either."
Jones upturned the statue and squinted at the writing. "Haven't a clue I'm afraid. I was bloody useless at Klatchian when I was at school." He passed it back to Michelmas.
Herringsway, who was still making gurgling noises, looked over. "I was always quite good at languages," he said, wiping a dribble of vomit away from his chin. "What does it say?"
"Well, I'm not sure of the pronunciation, but I think it says ... Dibbler."
"Grumble in the Jungle" is copyright (C) Owen Burgoyne 2002. Discworld (R) is a trade mark registered by Terry Pratchett. All the characters in this story are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.