Lords and Ladies (Discworld 14) - Page 259

“No we ain't,” sobbed Carter. “I been there. That's that gorge just above Bad Ass. We ain't there! I wish we was there! We're under this bush! And they'll be looking for us! And so shall she!”

“What happened when we was doing the Ent-” Carpenter began.

“I ain't asking that question right now,” said Jason. “The question I'm asking right now is, how do we get home tonight?”

“She'll be waiting for us!” Carter wailed.

There was a tinkle in the darkness.

“What've you got there?” said Jason.

“It's the props sack,” said Carter. “You said as how it was my job to look after the props sack!”

“You dragged that all the way down here?”

“I ain't about to get into more trouble 'cos of losing the props sack!”

Carter started to shiver.

“If we gets back home,” said Jason, “I'm going to talk to our mam about getting you some of these new dried frog pills.”

He pulled the sack toward him and undid the top.

“There's our bells in here,” he said, “and the sticks. And who told you to pack the accordion?”

“I thought we might want to do the Stick and-”

“No one's ever to do the Stick and-”

There was a laugh, away on the rain-soaked hill, and a crackling in the bracken. Jason suddenly felt the focus of attention.

“They're out there!” said Carter.

“And we ain't got any weapons,” said Tinker.

A set of heavy brass bells hit him in the chest.

“Shut up,” said Jason, “and put your bells on. Carter?”

“They're waiting for us!”

“I'll say this just once,” said Jason. “After tonight no one's ever to talk about the Stick and Bucket dance ever again. All right?”

The Lancre Morris Men faced one another, rain plastering their clothes to their bodies.

Carter, tears of terror mingling with make-up and the rain, squeezed the accordion. There was the long-drawn-out chord that by law must precede all folk music to give bystanders time to get away

Jason held up his hand and counted his fingers.

“One, two . . .” His forehead wrinkled. “One, two, three . . .”

“. . . four . . .” hissed Tinker.

“. . . four,” said Jason. “Dance, lads!”

Six heavy ash sticks clashed in mid-air.

“. . . one, two, forward, one, back, spin . . .”

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
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