Discworld 23 - Carpe Jugulum by Pratchett Terry

Author:Pratchett, Terry [Terry, Pratchett,]
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: Acrobat Distiller 7.0.5 (Windows)
Published: 2010-06-21T04:00:00+00:00

'No,' he said. 'I'll tell Vlad of you!' Perdita screamed in Agnes's voice. The other vampire hesitated. 'Hah! Yes, he knows me!' said Agnes and Perdita together. 'Hah!' One of the vampires looked her up and down. 'What, you?' he said. 'Yes, her,' said a voice. Vlad strolled towards them, thumbs hooked into the pockets of his waistcoat. 'Demone? Crimson? To me, please?' The two went and stood meekly in front of him. There was a blur, and then his thumbs were back in his waistcoat and the two vampires were in mid-crumple and sinking to the floor. 'This is the kind of thing we don't do to our guests,' said Vlad, stepping over Demone's twitching body and holding out his hands to Agnes. 'Did they hurt you? Say the word and I'll turn them over to Lacrimosa. She's just discovered you have a torture chamber here. And to think we thought Lancre was backward!' 'Oh, that old thing,' said Agnes weakly. Crimson was making bubbling noises. I didn't even see his hands move, said Perdita. 'Er . . . it's been there for centuries . . .' 'Oh, really? She did say there weren't enough straps and buckles. Still, she is . . . inventive. Just say the word.' Say the word, Perdita prompted. That'd be two less of them. 'Er . . . no,' said Agnes. Ah . . . moral cowardice from the fat girl. 'Er. . . who are they?' 'Oh, we brought some of the clan in on the carts. They can make themselves useful, Father said.' 'Oh? They're relatives?' Granny Weatherwax would've said yes, Perdita whispered. Vlad coughed gently. 'By blood,' he said. 'Yes. In a way. But . . . subservient. Do come this way.' He gently took her arm and led her back up the passage, treading heavily on Crimson's twitching hand as he did so. 'You mean vampirism is like . . . pyramid selling?' said Agnes. She was alone with Vlad. Admittedly this had the edge over being alone with the other two, but somehow at a time like this it seemed vital to hear the sound of her own voice, if only to remind herself that she was alive. 'I'm sorry?' said Vlad. 'Who sells pyramids?' 'No, I mean . . . you bite five necks, and in two months' time you get a lake of blood of your very own?' He smiled, but a little cautiously. 'I can see we will have a lot to learn,' he said. 'I understood every word fn that sentence, but not the sentence itself. I'm sure there is a lot you could teach me. And, indeed, I could teach you. . .' 'No,' said Agnes, flatly. 'But when we- Oh, what is that moron doing now?' A cloud of dust was advancing from the direction of the kitchens. In the middle of it, holding a bucket and a shovel, was Igor. 'Igor!' 'Yeth, marthter?' 'You're putting down dust again, aren't you?' 'Yeth, marthter.

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