Click.
They threw themselves flat as he gripped it in both hands, flexed his muscles, and took a swing at the gong.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Caught in a series of tableaux, Detritus appeared to move instantly into . . . click . . . different but connected positions as he pivoted on one horny foot, the hammer head . . . click . . . making a bright arc in the darkness.
Click.
The impact knocked the gong so far backwards that the chains broke, and it slammed against the wall of the pit.
Sound came back quickly and in vast quantities, as though it had been dammed up somewhere and had then suddenly been released, to slosh joyfully back into the world and drown every eardrum.
Booong.
Click.
The giant figure on the slab sat upright slowly, dust cascading off it in slow streams. Underneath it was gold, untarnished by the years.
It moved slowly but deliberately, as though propelled by clockwork. One hand grasped the giant sword. The other gripped the edge of the slab to steady the figure as its long, tapering legs swung down to the ground.
ually a muffled voice said: 'You leaned.'
'Nonsense. A fine mess you got me into. What is it?'
'Cabbages, Archchancellor.'
'Some kind of vegetable?'
'Yes.'
'Can't stand vegetables. Thins the blood.'
There was a pause. Then the farmers heard the other voice say: 'Well, I'm very sorry about that, you bloodthirsty overbearing tub of lard.'
There was another pause.
Then: 'Can I sack you, Bursar?'
'No, Archchancellor. I've got tenure.'
'In that case, help me out and let's go and find a drink.'
The farmers crept away.
'Dang me,' said the believer in cabbages. 'They're wizards. Best not to meddle in the affairs of danged wizards.'
'Yeah,' said the other farmer. 'Er . . . what does dang mean? Exactly?'
It was the time of the silence.
Nothing moved in Holy Wood except the light. It flickered slowly. Holy Wood light, Victor thought.