That meant the cellars. Logical, really, but not good.

You're doing this to impress me, said Perdita. You're doing it to try to be extrovert and dynamic.

Shut up, Agnes thought.

A voice outside said, 'Put them down there and puth off.'

That was the one who called himself Igor.

Agnes wished she'd thought of- a weapon.

'Get rid of me, would they?' the voice went on, against a background of disappearing footsteps. 'Thith ith all going to end in tearth. It'th all very well for them, but who hath to go and thweep up the dutht, eh? That'th what I'd like to know. Who'th it hath to pull their headth out of the pickle jarth? Who'th it hath to find them under the ithe? I mutht've pulled out more thtaketh than I've had wriggly dinnerth...'

Light flooded in as the coffin lid was removed.

Igor stared at Agnes. Agnes stared at Igor. ;A lot of people don't like me as soon as they've met me,' said Oats.

'I suppose that saves time,' said Agnes, and cursed. Perdita had got through on that one, but Oats didn't seem to have noticed. He sighed.

'I'm afraid I have a bit of a difficulty with people,' he went on. 'I fear I'm just not cutout for pastoral work.'

Don't get involved with this twerp, said Perdita. But Agnes said, 'You mean sheep and so on?'

'It all seemed a lot clearer at college,' said Oats, who like many people seldom paid much attention to what others said when he was unrolling his miseries, 'but here, when I tell people some of the more accessible stories from the Book of Om they say things like, "That's not right, mushrooms wouldn't grow in the desert," or, "That's a stupid way to run a vineyard." Everyone here is so very... literal.'

Oats coughed. There seemed to be something preying on his mind. 'Unfortunately, the Old Book of Om is rather unyielding on the subject of witches,' he said.

'Really.'

'Although having studied the passage in question in the original Second Omnian IV text, I have advanced the rather daring theory that the actual word in question translates more accurately as  -  cockroaches".'

'Yes?'

'Especially since it goes on to say that they can be killed by fire or in "traps of treacle". It also says later on that they bring lascivious dreams.'

'Don't look at me,' said Agnes. 'All you're getting is a walk home.'

To her amazement, and Perdita's crowing delight, he blushed as red as she ever did.

'Er, er, the word in question in that passage might just as easily be read in context as `boiled lobsters",' he said hurriedly.

'Nanny Ogg says Omnians used to burn witches,' said Agnes.

'We used to burn practically everybody,' said Oats gloomily. 'Although some witches did get pushed into big barrels of treacle, I believe.'

He had a boring voice, too. He did appear, she had to admit, to be a boring person. It was almost too perfect a presentation, as if he was trying to make himself seem boring. But one thing had piqued Agnes's curiosity.

'Why did you come to visit Granny Weatherwax?'

'Well, everyone speaks very... highly of her,' said Oats, suddenly picking his words like a man pulling plums from a boiling pot. 'And they said she hadn't turned up last night, which was very strange. And I thought it must be hard for an old lady living by herself. And...'

'Yes?'

'Well, I understand she's quite old and it's never too late to consider the state of your immortal soul,' said Oats. 'Which she must have, of course.'

Agnes gave him a sideways look. 'She's never mentioned it,' she said.

'You probably think I'm foolish.'

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net