Discworld 32 A Hat Full of Sky by Terry Pratchett

Author:Terry Pratchett [Pratchett, Terry]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-05-17T19:04:29.621000+00:00

alone! Now, get movin', ye scunners, or feel the flat o' my blade!' He raised his sword and growled. They fled. Rob Anybody laid his sword down with care, then sat on the step of the shepherding hut to watch the sun. After a while, he was aware of something else . . . Hamish the aviator gave Miss Level's broomstick a doubtful look. It hung a few feet above the ground and it worried him. He hitched up the bundle on his back that contained his parachute, although it was technically the 'paradrawers', since it was made of string and an old pair of Tiffany's best Sunday drawers, well washed. They still had flowers on, but there was nothing like them for getting a Feegle safely to the ground. He had a feeling it (or they) were going to be needed. 'It's no' got feathers,' he complained. 'Look, we dinnae ha' time to argue!' said Daft Wullie. 'We're in a hurry, ye ken, an' you're the only one who knows how tae fly!' 'A broomstick isnae flyin',' said Hamish. 'It's magic. It hasnae any wings! I dinnae ken that stuff!' But Big Yan had already thrown a piece of string over the bristle end of the stick and was climbing up. Other Feegles followed. 'Besides, how do they steer these things?' Hamish went on. 'Weel, how do ye do it with wi' the birdies?' Daft Wullie demanded. 'Oh, that's easy. Ye just shift your weight, but-' 'Ach, yell learn as we go,' said Wullie. 'Flying can-nae be that difficult. Even ducks can do it, and they have nae brains at a'.' And there was really no point in arguing, which is why, a few minutes later, Hamish inched his way along the stick's handle. The rest of the Feegles clung to the bristles at the other end, chattering. Firmly tied to the bristles was a bundle of what looked like sticks and rags, with a battered hat and the stolen beard on top of it. At least this extra weight meant that the stick end was pointing up, towards a gap in the fruit trees. Hamish sighed, took a deep breath, pulled his goggles over his eyes and put a hand on a shiny area of stick just in front of him. Gently, the stick began to move through the air. There was a cheer from the Feegles. 'See? Told yez ye'd be OK,' Daft Wullie called out. 'But can ye no' make it go a wee bit faster?' Carefully, Hamish touched the shiny area again. The stick shuddered, hung motionless for a moment, and then shot upwards trailing a noise very like Arrrrrrrrrgg00ggg0gg0ghhhh.hhhhhh.hhhh . . . In the silent world of Tiffany's head, Rob Anybody picked up his sword again and crept across the darkening turf. There was something there, small but moving. It was a tiny thorn bush, growing so fast that its twigs visibly moved. Its shadow danced on the grass. Rob Anybody stared at it. It had to mean something.

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