Outside the fault in reality They clustered, peering in with something approaching eyes at the light and warmth. There was a crowd of them by now.
There had been a way through, once. To say that they remembered it would be wrong, because they had nothing as sophisticated as memory. They barely had anything as sophisticated as heads. But they did have instincts and emotions.
They needed a way in.
They found it.
It worked quite well, the sixth time. The main problem was the trolls' enthusiasm for hitting each other, the ground, the air and, quite often, themselves. In the end, Victor just concentrated on trying to hit the clubs as they whirred past him.
Dibbler seemed quite happy with this. Gaffer wasn't.
'They moved around too much,' he said. 'They were out of the picture half the time.'
'It was a battle,' said Silverfish.
'Yeah, but I can't move the picture box around,' said the handleman. 'The imps fall over.'
'Couldn't you strap them in or something?' said Dibbler.
Gaffer scratched his chin. 'I suppose I could nail their feet to the floor,' he said.
'Anyway, it'll do for now,' said Silverfish. 'We'll do the scene where you rescue the girl. Where's the girl? I distinctly instructed her to be here. Why isn't she here? Why doesn't anyone ever do what I tell them?'
The handleman took his cigarette stub out of his mouth.
'She's filmin' A Bolde Adventurer over the other side of the hill,' he volunteered.
'But that ought to have been finished yesterday!' wailed Silverfish.
'Film exploded,' said the handleman.
'Blast! Well, I suppose we can do the next fight. She doesn't have to be in it,' said Silverfish grumpily. 'All right, everybody. We'll do the bit where Victor fights the dreaded Balgrog.'
'What's a Balgrog?' said Victor.
A friendly but heavy hand tapped him on the shoulder.
'It's a traditional evil monster what is basically Morry painted green with wings stuck on,' said Rock. 'I'll jus' go an' help him with the paintin'.'
He lumbered off.
No-one seemed to want Victor at the moment.
He stuck the ridiculous sword into the sand, wandered away and found a bit of shade under some scrubby olive trees. There were rocks here. He tapped them gently. They didn't appear to be anyone.
The ground formed a cool little hollow that was almost pleasant by the seared standards of Holy Wood hill.
There was even a draught blowing from somewhere. As he leaned back against the stones he felt a cool breeze coming from them. Must be full of caves under here, he thought.
- far away in Unseen University, in a draughty, many pillar'd corridor, a little device that no-one had paid much attention to for years started to make a noise -
So this was Holy Wood. It hadn't looked like this on the silver screen. It seemed that moving pictures involved a lot of waiting around and, if he was hearing things right, a mixing-up of time. Things happened before the things they happened after. The monsters were just Morry painted green with wings stuck on. Nothing was really real.
Funnily enough, that was exciting.
'I've just about had enough of this,' said a voice beside him.
He looked up. A girl had come down the other path. Her face was red with exertion under the pale make-up, her hair hung over her eyes in ridiculous ringlets, and she wore a dress which, while clearly made for her size, was designed for someone who was ten years younger and keen on lace edging.