Moving Pictures (Discworld 10)

'Right! Right!' said Dibbler. 'Good man. I knew it was some kind of a word like that. Disown. Hear that, Soll?'

'Yes, Uncle,' said Soll dispiritedly. 'I'll go and see if I can find some more carpenters, then, shall I?'

'Right.' Soll flashed Victor a look of terrified astonishment as he scurried away. Dibbler started haranguing a group of handlemen. Instructions spouted out of the man like water from a fountain.

'I reckon no-one's goin' to Ankh-Morpork this morning, then,' said a voice by Victor's knee.

'He's certainly very, er, ambitious today;' said Victor. 'Not like himself at all.'

Gaspode scratched an ear. 'There was sunnink I got to tell you. What was it, now? Oh, yeah. I remember. Your girlfriend is an agent of demonic powers. That night we saw her on the hill she was prob'ly on her way to commune with evil. What d'you fink of that, eh?'

He grinned. He was rather proud of the way he'd introduced the subject.

'That's nice,' said Victor abstractedly. Dibbler was certainly acting even stranger than usual. Even stranger than usual for Holy Wood, even . . .

'Yeah,' said Gaspode, slightly annoyed at this reception. 'A-cavortin' at night with eldritchly occult Intelligences from the Other Side, I shouldn't wonder.'

'Good,' said Victor. You didn't normally burn things in Holy Wood. You saved them and painted on the other side. Despite himself, he began to get interested.

'-a cast of thousands,' Dibbler was saying. 'I don't care where you get them from, we'll hire everyone in Holy Wood if we have to, right? And I want-'

'A-helpin' them in their evil attempts to take over the whole world, if I'm any judge,' said Gaspode.

'Does she?' said Victor. Dibbler was talking to a couple of apprentice alchemists now. What was that. A twentyreeler? But no-one had ever dreamed of going above five!

'Yeah, a-diggin' away to rouse them from their ancient slumber to reek havoc, style offing,' said Gaspode. 'Prob'ly aided by cats, you mark my-'

'Look, just shut up a minute, will you?' said Victor, irritably. 'I'm trying to hear what they're saying.'

'Well, 'scuse me. I was jus' tryin' to save the world,' muttered Gaspode. 'If gharstely creatures from Before the Dawna Time starts wavin' at you from under your bed, jus' you don't come complainin' to me.'

'What are you going on about?' said Victor.

'Oh, nothin'. Nothin'.'

Dibbler looked up, caught sight of Victor's craning face, and waved at it.

'You, lad! Come here! Have I got a part for you!'

'Have you?' said Victor, pushing his way through the crowd.

'That's what I said!'

'No, you asked if-' Victor began, and gave up.

'And where's Miss Ginger, may I ask?' said Dibbler. 'Late again?'

' . . . prob'ly sleepin' in . . . ' grumbled a sullen and totally ignored voice from down below in the sea of legs, '. . . prob'ly takes it out of you, messin' with the occult . . . '

'Soll, send someone to fetch her here-'

'Yes, Uncle.'

'. . . wot can you expect, huh, people who like cats're capable of anythin', you can't trust 'em. . . '

'And find someone to transcribe the bed.'

'Yes, Uncle.'