Bücher online kostenlos Kostenlos Online Lesen
Carpe Jugulum

Carpe Jugulum

Titel: Carpe Jugulum Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Terry Pratchett
Vom Netzwerk:
ground,” moaned the Countess, landing heavily.
    “ Afterward we’ll burn that place to the ground,” said Lacrimosa. “This is what kindness leads to, Father, I do hope you’re paying attention?”
    “After you paid for that bell tower, too,” said the Countess.
    The Count rubbed his throat, where the links of the gold chain still showed as a red weal. He wouldn’t have believed that a human could be so strong.
    “Yes, that might be a good course of action,” he said. “We would have to make sure the news got around, of course.”
    “You think this news won’t get around?” said Lacrimosa, landing beside him.
    “It will be dawn soon, Lacci,” said the Count, with heavy patience. “Because of my training, you will regard it as rather a nuisance, not a reason to crumble into a little pile of dust. Reflect on this.”
    “That Weatherwax woman did this, didn’t she,” said Lacri-mosa, ignoring this call to count her blessings. “She put her self somewhere and she’s attacking us. She can’t be in the baby. I suppose she wasn’t in your fat girl, Vlad? Plenty of room in there. Are you listening, Brother?”
    “What?” said Vlad, distantly, as they turned a corner in the road and saw the castle ahead of them.
    “I saw you give in and bite her. So romantic. They still dragged her off, though. They’ll have to use quite a long stake to hit any useful organ.”
    “She’d have put her self somewhere close,” said the Count. “It stands to reason. It must’ve been someone in the hall…”
    “One of the other witches, surely,” said the Countess.
    “I wonder…”
    “That stupid priest,” said Lacrimosa.
    “That would probably appeal to her,” said the Count. “But I suspect not.”
    “Not…Igor?” said his daughter.
    “I wouldn’t give that a moment’s thought,” said the Count.
    “I still think it was Fat Agnes.”
    “She wasn’t that fat,” said Vlad sulkily.
    “You’d have got tired of her in the end and we’d have ended up with her always getting in the way, just the others,” said Lacrimosa. “ Traditionally a keepsake is meant to be a lock of their hair, not their entire skull—”
    “She’s different.”
    “Just because you can’t read her mind? How interesting would that be?”
    “At least I did bite someone,” said Vlad. “What was wrong with you?”
    “Yes, you were acting very strangely, Lacci,” said the Count, as they reached the drawbridge.
    “If she was hiding in me I’d know!” snarled Lacrimosa.
    “I wonder if you would,” said the Count. “She just has to find a weak spot…”
    “She’s just a witch, Father. Honestly, we’re acting as though she’s got some sort of terrible power—”
    “Perhaps it was Vlad’s Agnes after all,” said the Count. He gave his son a slightly longer stare than was strictly necessary.
    “We’re nearly at the castle,” said the Countess, trying to rally them. “We’ll all feel better for an early day.”
    “Our best coffins got taken to Lancre,” said Lacrimosa sullenly. “ Someone was so sure of themselves.”
    “Don’t you adopt that tone with me, young woman!” said the Count.
    “I’m two hundred years old,” said Lacrimosa. “Pardon me, but I think I can choose any tone I like.”
    “That’s no way to speak to your father!”
    “Really, Mother, you might at least act as if you had two brain cells of your own!”
    “It is not your father’s fault that everything’s gone wrong!”
    “It has not all gone wrong, my dear! This is just a temporary setback!”
    “It won’t be when the Escrow meat tell their friends! Come on, Vlad, stop moping and back me up here…”
    “If they tell them, what can they do? Oh, there will be a little bit of protesting, but then the survivors will see reason,” said the Count. “In the meantime, we have those witches waiting for us. With the baby.”
    “And we’ve got to be polite to them, I suppose?”
    “Oh, I don’t think we need to go that far,” said the Count. “Let them live, perhaps—”
    Something bounced on the bridge beside him. He reached down to pick it up, and dropped it with a yelp.
    “But…garlic shouldn’t burn…” he began.
    “Thith ith water from the Holy Turtle Pond of Thquintth,” said a voice above them. “Blethed by the Bithop himthelf in the Year of the Trout.” There was a glugging noise and the sound of someone swallowing. “That wath a good year for beatitude,” Igor went on. “But you don’t have

Weitere Kostenlose Bücher