Moving Pictures (Discworld 10)

Victor reached them just as Silverfish said, in astonished, tones, 'The whole city?'

'You can leave out the bits round the edge,' said Dibbler. 'But I want the whole of the centre. The palace, the University, the Guilds - everything that makes it a real city, understand? It's got to be right!'

He was red in the face. Behind him loomed Detritus the troll, patiently holding what appeared to be a bed over his head on one massive hand, like a waiter with a tray. Dibbler had the sheets in one hand. Then Victor realized that the whole bed, not just the sheets, was covered in writing.

'But the cost -' Silverfish protested.

'We'll find the money somehow,' said Dibbler calmly.

Silverfish couldn't have looked more horrified if Dibbler had worn a dress. He tried to rally.

'Well, if you're determined, Throat-'

'Right!'

'-I suppose, come to think of it, maybe we could amortize the cost over several clicks, maybe even hire it out afterwards-'

'What are you talking about?' demanded Dibbler. 'We're building it for Blown Away!'

'Yes, yes, of course,' said Silverfish soothingly. 'And then afterwards, we can-'

'Afterwards? There won't be any afterwards! Haven't you read the script? Detritus, show him the script!'

Detritus obligingly dropped the bed between them.

'It's your bed, Throat.'

'Script, bed, what's the difference? Look . . . here . . . just above the carving . . . '

There was a pause while Silverfish read. It was quite a long one. Silverfish wasn't used to reading matter that didn't come in columns with totals at the bottom. Eventually he said, 'You're going . . . to . . . set it on

'It's historical. You can't argue with history,' said Dibbler smugly. 'The city was burned down in the civil war, everyone knows that.'

Silverfish drew himself up. 'The city might have been,' he said stiffly, 'but I didn't have to find the budget for it! It's recklessly extravagant!'

'I'll pay for it somehow,' said Dibbler, calmly.

'In a word - im-possible!'

'That's two words,' said Dibbler.

'There's no way I can work on something like this,' said Silverfish, ignoring the interruption. 'I've tried to see your point of view, haven't I? But you've taken moving pictures and you're trying to turn them into, into, into dreams. I never wanted them to be like this! Include me out!'

'OK.' Dibbler looked up at the troll.

'Mr Silverfish was just leaving,' he said. Detritus nodded, and then slowly and firmly picked up Silverfish by his collar.

Silverfish went white. 'You can't get rid of me like that,' he said.

'You want to bet?'

'There won't be an alchemist in Holy Wood who'll work for you! We'll take the handlemen with us! You'll be finished!'

'Listen! After this click the whole of Holy Wood will be coming to me for a job! Detritus, throw this bum out!'

'Right you are, Mr Dibbler,' rumbled the troll, gripping Silverfish's collar.

'You haven't heard the last of this, you - you scheming, devious megalomaniac!'