Moving Pictures (Discworld)
Terry Pratchett
Language: English
Pages: 416
ISBN: 0062237349
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Discworld's pesky alchemists are up to their old tricks again. This time, they've discovered how to get gold from silver—the silver screen that is. Hearing the siren call of Holy Wood is one Victor Tugelbend, a would-be wizard turned extra. He can't sing, he can't dance, but he can handle a sword (sort of), and now he wants to be a star. So does Theda Withel, an ambitious ingénue from a little town you've probably never heard of.
But the click of moving pictures isn't just stirring up dreams inside Discworld.Holy Wood's magic is drifting out into the boundaries of the universes, where raw realities, the could-have-beens, the might-bes, the never-weres, and the wild ideas are beginning to ferment into a really stinky brew. It's up to Victor and Gaspode the Wonder Dog to rein in the chaos and bring order back to a starstruck Discworld. And they're definitely not ready for their close-up!
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an assassin, which looked dashing and romantic. But it also involved hard work and, when you got right down to it, occasionally having to kill someone. Then he’d tried wanting to be an actor, which looked dramatic and romantic, but it had involved dusty tights, cramped lodgings and, to his amazement, hard work. He’d allowed himself to be sent to the University because it was easier than not going. He tended to smile a lot, in a faintly puzzled way. This gave people the impression that he was
vegetables. Thins the blood.’ There was a pause. Then the farmers heard the other voice say: ‘Well, I’m very sorry about that, you bloodthirsty overbearing tub of lard.’ There was another pause. Then: ‘Can I sack you, Bursar?’ ‘No, Archchancellor. I’ve got tenure.’ ‘In that case, help me out and let’s go and find a drink.’ The farmers crept away. ‘Dang me,’ said the believer in cabbages. ‘They’re wizards. Best not to meddle in the affairs of danged wizards.’ ‘Yeah,’ said the other farmer.
you?’ he said. ‘Moving pictures?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Everyone wants to be in moving pictures!’ ‘No, thanks,’ said Victor, politely. ‘I’m sure it’s a worthwhile job, but moving pictures doesn’t sound very interesting to me.’ ‘I’m talking about moving pictures!’ ‘Yes,’ said Victor mildly. ‘I heard you.’ The man shook his head. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘you’ve made my day. First time in weeks I’ve met someone who isn’t desperate to get into moving pictures. I thought as soon as I saw you: he’ll be expecting a
Holy Wood. It was the sound of nails being hammered. Holy Wood had gone critical. New houses, new streets, new neighbourhoods, appeared overnight. And, in those areas where the hastily-educated alchemical apprentices were not yet fully alongside the trickier stages of making octo-cellulose, disappeared even faster. Not that it made a lot of difference. Barely would the smoke have cleared before someone was hammering again. And Holy Wood grew by fission. All you needed was a steady-handed,
‘Only your Remembrance, that I do Not Sleep. Three times a day you will remember Holy Wood. Else The Cities of the World Will Tremble and Fall, and you will See the Greatest of them All in Flames. And with that the Golden Man took up his golden sword and went into the Hill and stood at the Gate, forever. ‘And the People said to one another, Funny, he lookes just like my Uncle Osbert …’ The Librarian turned the page. ‘… But there were among them, humans and animals alike, those touched by the
