Moving Pictures (Discworld 10)

'Will we have to be introduced to them all?' said Victor.

'No. They'll be introduced to you,' said Dibbler. 'It'll be the biggest thrill of their lives.'

Victor stared out at the crowds again.

'Is it my imagination,' he said, 'or is it getting foggy?'

Poons hit the Chair across the back of the legs with his stick.

'What's going on?' he said. 'Why's everyone cheering?'

'The Patrician's just got out of his carriage,' said the Chair.

'Don't see what's so wonderful about that,' said Poons. 'I've got out of carriages hundreds of times. There's no trick to it at all.'

'It's a bit odd,' the Chairman admitted. 'And they cheered the head of the Assassins' Guild and the High Priest of Blind Io, too. And now someone's rolled out a red carpet.'

'What, in the street? In Ankh-Morpork?'

'Yes.'

'Wouldn't like to have their cleaning bill,' said Poons.

The Lecturer in Recent Runes nudged the Chair heavily in the ribs, or at least at the point where the ribs were overlaid by the strata of fifty years of very good dinners.

'Quiet!' he hissed. 'They're coming!'

'Who?'

'Someone important, by the look of it.'

The Chair's face creased in panic behind his false real beard. 'You don't think they've invited the Archchancellor, do you?'

The wizards tried to shrink inside their robes, like upright turtles.

In fact it was a far more impressive coach than any of the crumbling items in the University's mews. The crowd surged forward against the line of trolls and city guards and stared expectantly at the carriage door; the very air hummed with anticipation.

Mr Bezam, his chest so inflated with self-importance that he appeared to be floating across the ground, bobbed towards the carriage door and opened it.

The crowd held its collective breath, except for a small part of it that hit surrounding people with its stick and muttered, 'What's happening? What's going on? Why won't anyone tell me what's happening? I demand someone tell me, mm, what's happening?'

The door stayed shut. Ginger was gripping the handle as if it was a lifeline.

'There's thousands of them out there!' said Ginger. 'I can't go out there!'

'But they all watch your clicks,' pleaded Soll. 'They're your public.'

'No!'

Soll threw up his hands. 'Can't you persuade her?' he said to Victor.

'I'm not even sure I can persuade myself,' said Victor.

'But you've spent days in front of these people,' said Dibbler.

'No I haven't,' said Ginger. 'It was just you and the handlemen and the trolls and everyone. That was different. Anyway, that wasn't really me,' she added. 'That was Delores De Syn.'

Victor bit his lip thoughtfully.