Discworld - 09 - Eric by Terry Pratchett

Author:Terry Pratchett
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9780380821211
Publisher: HarperTorch
Published: 2002-02-04T02:00:00+00:00

Flames roared over Tsort. The entire hubward sky was red.

Rincewind and Eric watched from a rock down by the beach.

“They’re not topless towers, anyway,” said Eric after a while. “I can see the tops.”

“I think they meant toppleless towers,” Rincewind hazarded, as another one collapsed, red-hot, into the ruins of the city. “And that was wrong, too.”

They watched in silence for a while longer, and then Eric said, “Funny, that. The way you tripped over the Luggage and dropped the lamp and everything.”

“Yes,” said Rincewind shortly.

“Makes you think history is always going to find a way to work itself out.”

“Yes.”

“Good, though, the way your Luggage rescued everyone.”

“Yes.”

“Funny to see all those kids riding on its back.”

“Yes.”

“Everyone seems quite pleased about it.”

The opposing armies were, at any rate. No one was bothering to ask the civilians, whose views on warfare were never very reliable. Among the soldiery, at least among the soldiery of a certain rank, there was a lot of back-slapping and telling of anecdotes, jovial exchanging of shields and a general consensus that, what with fires and sieges and armadas and wooden horses and everything, it had been a jolly good war. The sound of singing echoed across the wine-dark sea.

“Hark at them,” said Lavaeolus, emerging from the gloom around the beached Ephebian ships. “It’ll be fifteen choruses of ‘The Ball of Philodelphus’ next, you mark my words. Lot of idiots with their brains in their jockstraps.”

He sat down on the rock. “Bastards,” he said, with feeling.

“Do you think Elenor will be able to explain it all to her boyfriend?” said Eric.

“I imagine so,” said Lavaeolus. “They usually can.”

“She did get married. And she’s got lots of children,” said Eric.

Lavaeolus shrugged. “A moment’s wild passion,” he said. He gave Rincewind a sharp look.

“Hey, you, demon,” he said. “I’d like a quiet word, if I may.”

He led Rincewind toward the boats, pacing heavily across the damp sand as if there was a lot weighing on his mind.

“I’m going home tonight, on the tide,” he said. “No sense in hanging about here, what with the war being over and everything.”

“Good idea.”

“If there’s one thing I hate, it’s sea voyages,” said Lavaeolus. He gave the nearest boat a kick. “It’s all idiots striding around and shouting, you know? Pull this, lower that, avast the other. And I get seasick, too.”

“It’s heights with me,” said Rincewind, sympathetically.

Lavaeolus kicked the boat again, obviously wrestling with some big emotional problem.

“The thing is,” he said, wretchedly. “You wouldn’t happen to know if I get home all right, would you?”

“What?”

“It’s only a few hundred miles, it shouldn’t take too long, should it?” said Lavaeolus, radiating anxiety like a lighthouse.

“Oh.” Rincewind looked at the man’s face. Ten years, he thought. And all kinds of weird stuff with winged wossnames and sea-monsters. On the other hand, would it do him any good to know?

“You get home okay,” he said. “You’re well-known for it, in fact. There’s whole legends about you going home.”

“Phew.” Lavaeolus leaned against a hull, took off his helmet and wiped his forehead.

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