Author's notes: Drumroll, please... I'm bringing back one of my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE characters, who, as far as I can tell, has only appeared in "The Colour of Magic," "The Light Fantastic," and "Interesting Times." But I haven't read anything after "The Truth," or "Reaper Man" and "Witches Abroad," so don't hurt me! (R&R! Pretty please, with sugar on top?)
Oh, by the way, could someone who's read "Thief of Time" tell me what on earth Susan was doing at the end? I can't find the book anywhere, and I can't write chapter 3 without knowing! *weep*
Chapter 2b (joy, the idiot's getting into sub-chapters...)
The Lady was not a Goddess. That much was true.
She moved above the limits of Belief and Magic and Proverbial Wossnames that shackle Gods, Magical Creatures, and... Proverbial Wossnames. Like Death. She was the Lord Vetinari of the Discworld, with her thumb on the scales in just the right way so that everything happened the way she wanted it to. The beautiful thing about it was that everyone thought it was their idea.
Now she moved silently over the Gods and Goddesses of the Discworld, her long dress trailing behind her, whispering in the suddenly cold wind. Her emerald eyes, eerily green from rim to rim, crinkled with restrained laughter. It was almost certainly a grim, "I-told-you-so-and-did-you-listen" laugh.
The Lady's hand fell in the middle of Klatch, searching for the right piece among the tangle of carved white marble. Her fingers closed, and she brought her fist up, staring at it.
"Yes," she murmured, and vanished with nothing more astonishing than a soft green after-glow.
"... The water buffalo can be prodded and poked and the ox can be driven off cliffs, but the hedgehog can never be buggered at all, for whats or for buts or for..." The wheedling, cracking voice wound out through the University's dank corridors, adding another dimension of dull terror to the ominous place.
"What verse is she on?" asked Ponder weakly, watching Nanny Ogg sing enthusiastically into an empty rum bottle, while lying full on the floor and thumping out the rhythm (-A- rhythm, at any rate, if not the right one).
"What animal did she just mention?" Agnes asked wearily.
"Um... a giraffe. And then an emu. Or vice versa."
"The emu first, or the giraffe?"
"The giraffe, I guess."
"Verse 23, then. Unless the emu was first, then it's verse 15."
A'Tuin finished with the galaxy-sized tissue with a final astronomic snort, and let it drift away into space.
It may satisfy some people to know that it landed on a planet far far away and sprouted life. It may also make them very unhappy to know that they are the life that sprang from it.
The Alchemists Guild announced to the world at large that it did not require magic in order to continue functioning normally. (i.e. Blowing up every other day.) Smoking debris and people flew through the air, some screaming, some unconcious, and some just yodeling "I could've sworn I'd got it that time!" and crashing willy-nilly into the scenery.
Vimes squeezed his eyes shut as a few pieces of flaming chemicals hit his window, and thanked whoever was listening that he'd decided to keep his window shut that day to keep out the cold.
The Discworld shuddered. Invisible nonorine (nahn-OH-reen) lightning bolts laced over the atmosphere, outside the rainbow, outside the universal window, outside the realm of normality, reality, and, most importantly, health. Nonorine is a highly toxic and radioactive colour that can be likened to ultra-violet, but much more dangerous. It is a kind of reddish-green, laced with virulent yellow.
In short, itt was not the kind of colour that you wanted to wear on an important night out.
The electricity snaked across the dome that protected the Discworld, eating away at whatever it touched; air, cloud, or land. One of the elephants was grazed in the flailing, and A'Tuin sneezed.
The closest elephant trunked down another tissue.
***
Whew! That was hard. Writing an entire half-chapter without one mention of our established heroine. Let me know what you think, suggestions welcome!
Oh, by the way, could someone who's read "Thief of Time" tell me what on earth Susan was doing at the end? I can't find the book anywhere, and I can't write chapter 3 without knowing! *weep*
Chapter 2b (joy, the idiot's getting into sub-chapters...)
The Lady was not a Goddess. That much was true.
She moved above the limits of Belief and Magic and Proverbial Wossnames that shackle Gods, Magical Creatures, and... Proverbial Wossnames. Like Death. She was the Lord Vetinari of the Discworld, with her thumb on the scales in just the right way so that everything happened the way she wanted it to. The beautiful thing about it was that everyone thought it was their idea.
Now she moved silently over the Gods and Goddesses of the Discworld, her long dress trailing behind her, whispering in the suddenly cold wind. Her emerald eyes, eerily green from rim to rim, crinkled with restrained laughter. It was almost certainly a grim, "I-told-you-so-and-did-you-listen" laugh.
The Lady's hand fell in the middle of Klatch, searching for the right piece among the tangle of carved white marble. Her fingers closed, and she brought her fist up, staring at it.
"Yes," she murmured, and vanished with nothing more astonishing than a soft green after-glow.
"... The water buffalo can be prodded and poked and the ox can be driven off cliffs, but the hedgehog can never be buggered at all, for whats or for buts or for..." The wheedling, cracking voice wound out through the University's dank corridors, adding another dimension of dull terror to the ominous place.
"What verse is she on?" asked Ponder weakly, watching Nanny Ogg sing enthusiastically into an empty rum bottle, while lying full on the floor and thumping out the rhythm (-A- rhythm, at any rate, if not the right one).
"What animal did she just mention?" Agnes asked wearily.
"Um... a giraffe. And then an emu. Or vice versa."
"The emu first, or the giraffe?"
"The giraffe, I guess."
"Verse 23, then. Unless the emu was first, then it's verse 15."
A'Tuin finished with the galaxy-sized tissue with a final astronomic snort, and let it drift away into space.
It may satisfy some people to know that it landed on a planet far far away and sprouted life. It may also make them very unhappy to know that they are the life that sprang from it.
The Alchemists Guild announced to the world at large that it did not require magic in order to continue functioning normally. (i.e. Blowing up every other day.) Smoking debris and people flew through the air, some screaming, some unconcious, and some just yodeling "I could've sworn I'd got it that time!" and crashing willy-nilly into the scenery.
Vimes squeezed his eyes shut as a few pieces of flaming chemicals hit his window, and thanked whoever was listening that he'd decided to keep his window shut that day to keep out the cold.
The Discworld shuddered. Invisible nonorine (nahn-OH-reen) lightning bolts laced over the atmosphere, outside the rainbow, outside the universal window, outside the realm of normality, reality, and, most importantly, health. Nonorine is a highly toxic and radioactive colour that can be likened to ultra-violet, but much more dangerous. It is a kind of reddish-green, laced with virulent yellow.
In short, itt was not the kind of colour that you wanted to wear on an important night out.
The electricity snaked across the dome that protected the Discworld, eating away at whatever it touched; air, cloud, or land. One of the elephants was grazed in the flailing, and A'Tuin sneezed.
The closest elephant trunked down another tissue.
***
Whew! That was hard. Writing an entire half-chapter without one mention of our established heroine. Let me know what you think, suggestions welcome!