AllFreeNovel
Share Us
'Eh?' said Bethan, still propping up the now unconscious Rincewind.
Twoflower was looking the other way, at a big glass window full of strange wares, and a beaded doorway, and a large sign above it all which now said, after its characters had finished writhing into position:
'Skillet, Wang, Yrxle!yt, Bunglestiff, Cwmlad and Patel'
'Estblshd: various'
'PURVEYORS'
The jeweller turned the gold slowly over the tiny anvil, tapping the last strangely-cut diamond into place.
'From a troll's tooth, you say?' he muttered, squinting losely at his work.
'Yesh,' said Cohen, 'and as I shay, you can have all the resht.' He was fingering a tray of gold rings.
'Very generous,' murmured the jeweller, who was dwar-vish and knew a good deal when he saw one. He sighed.
'Not much work lately?' said Cohen. He looked out through the tiny window and watched a group of empty-eyed people gathered on the other side of the narrow street.
'Times are hard, yes.'
'Who are all theshe guysh with the starsh painted on?' said Cohen.
The dwarf jeweller didn't look up.
'Madmen,' he said. 'They say I should do no work because the star comes. I tell them stars have never hurt me, I wish I could say the same about people.'
Cohen nodded thoughtfully as six men detached themselves from the group and came towards the shop. They were carrying an assortment of weapons, and had a driven, determined look about them.
'Strange,' said Cohen.
'I am, as you can see, of the dwarvish persuasion,' said the jeweller. 'One of the magical races, it is said. The star people believe that the star will not destroy the Disc if we turn aside from magic. They're probably going to beat me up a bit. So it goes.'
his street was deathly quiet, that particularly unpleasant quiet that comes when hundreds of frightened and angry people are standing very still.
A man at the edge of the crowd turned around and scowled at the newcomers. He had a red star painted on his forehead.
'What's—' Rincewind began, and stopped as his voice seemed far too loud, 'what's this?'
'You're strangers?' said the man.
'Actually we know one another quite—' Twoflower egan, and fell silent. Bethan pointed up the street.
Every temple had a star painted on it. There was a particularly big one daubed across the stone eye outside the temple of Blind Io, leader of the gods.
'Urgh,' said Rincewind. 'Io is going to be really pissed when he sees that. I don't think we ought to hang around here, friends.'
The crowd was facing a crude platform that had been built in the centre of the wide street. A big banner had been draped across the front of it.
'I always heard that Blind Io can see everything that happens everywhere,' said Bethan quietly. 'Why hasn't —'
'Quiet!' said the man beside them. 'Dahoney speaks!'
A figure had stepped up on the platform, a tall thin man with hair like a dandelion. There was no cheer from the crowd, just a collective sigh. He began to speak.
Rincewind listened in mounting horror. Where were the gods? said the man. They had gone. Perhaps they had never been. Who, actually, could remember seeing them? And now the star had been sent —
It went on and on, a quiet, clear voice that used words like 'cleanse' and 'scouring' and 'purify' and drilled into the brain like a hot sword. Where were the wizards? Where was magic? Had it ever really worked, or had it all been a dream?
