Moving Pictures (Discworld 10)

'Yeah,' he repeated. 'Er.'

'I know what you mean,' said Dibbler slowly.

'It's . . . I mean, it's really great, but . . . well, I can't help feeling . . . '

'Yeah. There's something wrong,' said Dibbler flatly.

'Not wrong,' said Soll desperately. 'Not exactly wrong. Not wrong as such. Just missing . . . ' He stopped, at a loss for words.

He sighed. And Dibbler sighed.

Overhead, the thunder rolled.

And out of the sky came a broomstick with two screaming wizards on it.

Victor pushed open the door at the base of the Tower of Art.

It was dark inside, and he could hear water dripping down from the distant roof.

The tower was said to be the oldest building in the world. It certainly felt like it. It wasn't used for anything now, and the internal floors had long ago rotted away, so that all that was left inside was the staircase.

It was a spiral, made of huge slabs set into the wall itself. Some of them were missing. It'd be a dangerous climb, even in daylight.

In the dark . . . not a chance.

The door slammed open behind him and Ginger strode in, dragging the handleman behind her.

'Well?' she said. 'Hurry up. You've got to save that poor monkey.'

'Ape,' said Victor absently.

'Whatever.'

'It's too dark,' Victor muttered.

'It's never too dark in the clicks,' said Ginger flatly. 'Think about it.'

She nudged the handleman, who said, very quickly, 'She's right. 'S never dark in the clicks. Stands to reason. You've got to have enough light to see the dark by.'

Victor glanced up at the gloom, and then back at Ginger.

'Listen!' he said urgently. 'If I . . . if something goes wrong, tell the wizards about the . . . you know. The pit. The Things will be trying to break through there, too.'

'I'm not going back there!'

There was a roll of thunder.

'Get going!' shouted Ginger, white-faced. 'Lights! Picture box! Action! And stuff like that!'

Victor gritted his teeth and ran for it. There was enough light to give the darkness a shape, and he leapt from stair to stair with the magic of Holy Wood reciting its litany in his head.

'There has to be enough light', he panted, 'to see the darkness.'

He staggered onwards.

'And in Holy Wood I never run out of strength,' he added, hoping his legs would believe him.

That took care of the next turn.