Discworld 38 - Carpe Jugulum by Terry Pratchett

Author:Terry Pratchett
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Parodies, Satire, Folk Tales, Fantasy, Fairy Tales, Legends & Mythology
ISBN: 9781435274686
Publisher: Paw Prints
Published: 2008-05-09T07:00:00+00:00

Hodgesaargh ate his meal in the servants' dining room off the kitchen, and ate alone. There were new people around, but Hodgesaargh generally didn't pay much attention to non-falconers. There were always other people in the castle, and they had jobs to do, and if pressed Hodgesaargh would vaguely acknowledge the fact that if he left his laundry in a sack by the kitchen door every week it'd be washed and dried two days later. There were his meals. The game he left on the cold slab in the long pantry got dealt with. And so on.

He was returning to the mews when one of the shadows pulled him into the darkness, with a hand damped over his mouth.

'Mph?'

'It's me. Mrs Ogg,' said Nanny. 'You all right, Hodgesaargh?'

'Mph,' and by this Hodgesaargh contrived to indicate that he was fine except for someone's thumb blocking his breathing.

'Where are the vampires?'

'Mph?'

Nanny released her grip.

'Vampires?' the falconer panted. 'They the ones that walk around slowly?'

'No, that's the . . . food,' said Nanny. 'Any swishlooking buggers about as well? Any soldiers?'

There was a soft thud from somewhere in the shadows, and someone said, 'Blast, I've dropped the nappy bag. Did you see where it rolled?'

'Er, there's some new ladies and gentlemen,' said Hodgesaargh. 'They're hanging around the kitchens. There's some men in chainmail, too.'

'Damn!' said Nanny.

'There's the little door off the main hall,' said Magrat. 'But that's always locked on the inside.'

Agnes swallowed. 'All right. I'll go in and unlock it, then.'

Nanny tapped her on the shoulder. 'You'll be all right?' .

'Well, they can't control me. . .'

'They can grab you, though.'

Wad won't want you hurt, said Perdita. You saw the way he looked at us . . .

'I . . . think I'll be all right,' said Agnes.

'You know your own minds best, I'm sure,' said Nanny. 'Got the holy water?'

'Let's hope it works better than the garlic,' said Agnes.

'Good luck.' Nanny coded her head. 'Sounds like the mob is spontaneously arriving at the gate. Go!'

Agnes ran off into the rain, around the castle to the doors of the kitchen. They were wide open. She made it to the corridor beyond the kitchens when a hand grabbed her shoulder, and then in a blur of speed two young men were standing in front of her.

They were dressed something like the young opera-goers she'd seen in Ankh-Morpork, except that their fancy waistcoats would have been considered far too fast by the staider members of the community, and they wore their hair long like a poet who hopes that romantically flowing locks will make up for a wretched inability to find a rhyme for 'daffodil'.

'Why are you in such a hurry, girl?' one said.

Agnes sagged. 'Look,' she said, 'I'm very busy. Can we speed this up? Can we dispense with all the leers and "I like a girl with spirit" stuff? Can we get right to the bit where I twist out of your grip and kick you in the-'

One of them struck her hard across the face.

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