The Last Continent (Discworld 22)

'Could someone separate my ankles, please? I fear they may have fused together.' A couple of the riders dismounted and, after some effort, pulled him free. The leader looked down at him. 'Name your price for that little battler, mate!' said Remorse. 'Er . . . three . . . er . . . squids?' said Rincewind, muzzily. 'What? For a wiry little devil like that? He's got to be worth a coupla hundred at least!'

'Three squids is all I've got . . .'

'I reckon a few of them rocks hit him on the head,' said one of the stockmen who were holding Rincewind up. 'I mean I'll buy him off'f you, mister,' said Remorse, patiently. 'Tell you what – two hundred squids, a bag of tucker and we'll set you right on the road to . . . Where was it he wanted to go, Clancy?'

'Bugarup,' murmured Rincewind. 'Oh, you don't wanna go to Bugarup,' said Remorse. 'Nothing in Bugarup but a bunch of wowsers and pooftahs.'

'

's okay, I like parrots,' mumbled Rincewind, who was just hoping that they would let him go so that he could hold on to the ground again. 'Er . . . what's Ecksian for going mad with terrified fatigue and collapsing in a boneless heap?' The men looked at one another. 'Isn't that “snagged as a wombat's tonker”?'

'No, no, no, that's when you chuck a twister, isn't it?' said Clancy. 'What? Strewth, no. Chucking a twister's when . . . when you . . . yeah, it's when you . . . yeah, it's when your nose . . . Hang on, that's “bend a smartie” . . .'

'Er—' said Rincewind, clutching his head. 'What? “Bend a smartie” is when your ears get blocked underwater.' Clancy looked uncertain, and then seemed to reach a decision. 'Yeah, that's right!'

'Nah, that's “gonging like a possum's armpit”, mate.'

'Excuse me—' said Rincewind. 'That ain't right. “Gonging like a possum's armpit” is when you crack a crusty. When your ears are stuffed like a Mudjee's kettle after a week of Fridays, that's “stuck up like Morgan's mule”.'

'No, you're referrin' to “happier than Morgan's mule in a choccy patch”—'

'You mean “as fast as Morgan's mule after it ate Ma's crow pie”.'

'How fast was that? Exactly?' said Rincewind. They all stared at him. Taster'n an eel in a snakepit, mate!' said Clancy. 'Don't you understand plain language?'

'Yeah,' said one of the men, 'he might be a fancy rider but I reckon he's dumber than a—'

'Don't anyone say anything!' shouted Rincewind. 'I'm feeling a lot better, all right? Just . . . all right, all right?' He straightened his ragged robe and adjusted his hat. 'Now, if you could just set me on the right road to Bugarup, I will not trespass further on your time. You may keep Snowy. He can bed down on a ceiling somewhere.'

'Oh, no, mister,' said Remorse. He reached into a shirt pocket, pulled out a bundle of notes and licked his thumb to count off twenty. 'I always pays me debts. You want to stay with us a while first? We could use another rider and it's tough going on the road by yourself. There's bush rangers about.' Rincewind rubbed his head again. Now that his various bodily organs had wobbled their way back into their approximate positions he could get back to general low-key generalized dread.

They won't have to worry about me,' he mumbled. 'I promise not to light fires or feed the animals. Well, I say promise - most of the time they're trying to feed off me.' Remorse shrugged. 'Just so long as there's no more of those damn dropping bears,' said Rincewind. The men laughed. 'Drop-bears? Who's been feedin' you a line about drop-bears?'

'What do you mean?'

'There's no such thing as drop-bears! Someone must've seen you coming, mate!'

'Huh? They've got . . . they went,' Rincewind waved his arm, 'boing . . . all over the place . . . great big teeth . . .'

'I reckon he madder'n Morgan's mule, mate!' said Clancy. The group went silent. 'How mad is that, then?' said Rincewind. Clancy leaned on his saddle and looked nervously at the other men. He licked his lips. 'Well, it's . . .'

'Yes?'

'Well, it's . . . it's . . .' His face twisted up. 'It's . . .'

'Ver'. . .?' Rincewind hinted. 'Ver' . . .' Clancy mumbled, clutching the syllable like a lifeline. 'Hmm?'

'Ver . . . ry . . .'

'Keep going, keep going . . .'

'Ver . . . ry . . . mad?' said Clancy. 'Well done! See? So much easier,' said Rincewind. 'Someone mentioned something about food?' Remorse nodded to one of the men, who handed Rincewind a sack. 'There's beer and veggies and stuff and, 'cos you're a good sport, we're giving you a tin of jam, too.'

'Gooseberry?'

'Yep.'

'And I'm wondering about your hat,' said Remorse. 'Why's there all corks round it?'