Small Gods (Discworld 13) - Page 237

Oh, dear . . .

He had to find lions.

Lions drank.

Brutha awoke as the afternoon light dragged across the desert. His mouth tasted of snake.

Om was butting him on the foot.

“Come on, come on, you're missing the best of the day.”

“Is there any water?” Brutha murmured thickly.

“There will be. Only five miles off. Amazing luck.”

Brutha pulled himself up. Every muscle ached.

“How do you know?”

“I can sense it. I am a god, you know.”

“You said you could only sense minds.”

Om cursed. Brutha didn't forget things.

“It's more complicated than that,” lied Om. “Trust me. Come on, while there's some twilight. And don't forget Mister Vorbis.”

Vorbis was curled up. He looked at Brutha with unfocused eyes, stood up like a man still asleep when Brutha helped him.

“I think he might have been poisoned,” said Brutha. “There's sea creatures with stings. And poi?sonous corals. He keeps moving his lips, but I can't make out what he's trying to say.”

“Bring him along,” said Om. “Bring him along. Oh, yes.”

“You wanted me to abandon him last night,” said Brutha.

“Did I?” said Om, his very shell radiating inno?cence. “Well, maybe I've been to Ethics. Had a change of heart. I can see he's with us for a purpose now. Good old Vorbis. Bring him along.”

Simony and the two philosophers stood on the cliff?top, looking across the parched farmlands of Omnia to the distant rock of the Citadel. Two of them look?ing, anyway.

“Give me a lever and a place to stand, and I'd smash that place like an egg,” said Simony, leading Didactylos down the narrow path.

“Looks big,” said Urn.

“See the gleam? Those are the doors.”

“Look massive.”

“I was wondering,” said Simony, “about the boat. The way it moved. Something like that could smash the doors, right?”

“You'd have to flood the valley,” said Urn.

“I mean if it was on wheels.”

“Hah, yes,” said Urn, sarcastically. It had been a long day. "Yes, if I had a forge and half a dozen black?smiths and a lot of help. Wheels? No problem. But--

“We shall have to see,” said Simony, “what we can do.”

The sun was on the horizon when Brutha, his arm around Vorbis's shoulders, reached the next rock is?land. It was bigger than the one with the snake. The wind had carved the stones into gaunt, unlikely shapes, like fingers. There were even plants lodging in crevices in the rock.

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
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