Discworld 11 - Reaper Man by Pratchett Terry

Author:Pratchett, Terry [Terry, Pratchett,]
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Published: 2010-06-21T04:00:00+00:00

Discworld 11 - Reaper Man

He relaxed, or at least moved into a different level of tension.

‘What the hell’re you doing?’

He looked at the blade in his hands as if he was seeing it for the first time.

I THOUGHT I WOULD SHARPEN THIS SCYTHE, MISS FLITWORTH.

‘At one o’clock in the morning?’

He looked at it blankly.

IT’S JUST AS BLUNT AT NIGHT, MISS FLITWORTH.

Then he slammed it down on the anvil.

AND I CAN’T SHARPEN IT ENOUGH!

‘I think perhaps the heat has got to you,’ she said, and reached out and took his arm.

‘Besides, it looks sharp enough to -’ she began, and paused. Her fingers moved on the bone of his arm. They pulled away for a moment, and then closed again.

Bill Door shivered.

Miss Flitworth didn’t hesitate for long. In seventy-five years she had dealt with wars, famine, innumerable sick animals. a couple of epidemics and thousands of tiny, everyday tragedies. A depressed skeleton wasn’t even in the top ten Worst Things she had seen.

144

‘So it is you,’ she said.

MISS FLITWORTH, I -

‘I always knew you would come one day.’

I THINK PERHAPS THAT -

‘You know, I spent most of my life waiting for a knight on a white charger.’ Miss Flitworth grinned.’The joke’s on me, eh?’

Bill Door sat down on the anvil.

‘The apothecary came.’ she said.’He said he couldn’t do anything. He said she was fine. We just couldn’t wake her up. And. you know, it took us ages to get her hand open. She had it closed so tightly.’

I SAID NOTHING WAS TO BE TAKEN!

‘It’s all right. It’s all right. We left her holding it.’

GOOD.

‘What was it?’

MY TIME.

‘Sorry?’

MY TIME. THE TIME OF MY LIFE.

‘It looks like an eggtimer for very expensive eggs.’

Bill Door looked surprised. YES. IN A WAY. I HAVE GIVEN HER SOME OF MY TIME.

‘How come you need time?’

EVERY LIVING THING NEEDS TIME. AND WHEN IT RUNS OUT, THEY DIE. WHEN IT RUNS OUT, SHE WILL DIE. AND I WILL DIE, TOO. IN A FEW HOURS.

‘But you can’t -’

I CAN. IT’S HARD TO EXPLAIN.

‘Move up.’

WHAT?

‘I said move up. I want to sit down.’

Bill Door made space on the anvil. Miss Flitworth sat down.

‘So you’re going to die,’ she said.

YES.

‘And you don’t want to.’

NO.

‘Why not?’

145

He looked at her as if she was mad.

BECAUSE THEN THERE WILL BE NOTHING. BECAUSE I WON’T EXIST.

‘Is that what happens for humans, too?’

I DON’T THINK SO. IT’S DIFFERENT FOR YOU. YOU HAVE IT ALL BETTER ORGANISED.

They both sat watching the fading glow of the coals in the forge.

‘So what were you working on the scythe blade for?’ said Miss Flitworth.

I THOUGHT PERHAPS I COULD . . . FIGHT BACK . . .

‘Has it ever worked? With you, I mean.’

NOT USUALLY. SOMETIMES PEOPLE CHALLENGE ME TO A GAME. FOR THEIR LIVES, YOU KNOW.

‘Do they ever win?’

NO. LAST YEAR SOMEONE GOT THREE STREETS AND ALL THE UTILITIES.

‘What? What sort of game is that?’

I DON’T RECALL.’EXCLUSIVE POSSESSION’, I THINK. I WAS THE BOOT.

‘Just a moment.’ said Miss Flitworth. If you’re you, who will be coming for you?’

DEATH. LAST NIGHT THIS WAS PUSHED UNDER THE DOOR.

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