Raising Steam, Page 38

  fn30 A discipline where the hands move in time as well as in space, the exponent twisting space behind his own back whilst doing so.

  fn31 All’s mastery of artery-clogging cuisine had made him a number of friends in interesting places – trading sources for sauces had turned out to be very good business practice.

  fn32 A dismay shared by many of the journalists, who worried they would get mud on their new shoes and be attacked by pheasants.

  fn33 Proctector of the Eight Protectorates and Empress of the Long Thin Debated Piece Hubwards of Sto Kerrig.

  fn34 There were in fact two waiting rooms, one for men and families and the other for single ladies; as predicted, Effie was very firm that all aspects of the railway should be clean and wholesome, indeed hygienic, something she was very keen on.

  fn35 The caption as it turned out was ‘Let the train take the strain’. It appeared that Mr de Worde and his wife were very impressed with the toilet facilities.

  fn36 And when a troll announces, you really are announced at.

  fn37 Even Professor Rincewind, who spent most of the journey hiding under his seat in the firm belief that locomotion was exactly the kind of thing that usually led to certain death, conceded that trains could come in very handy when one wanted to get somewhere, or, more importantly, away from somewhere, quickly.

  fn38 Which, it has to be noted, included a certain amount of hinterland, as with most city states.

  fn39 The jailers couldn’t understand how he’d escaped until they realized they weren’t getting their washing back.

  fn40 He knew he couldn’t use that colloquial term around there, of course, but after all, the people of Quirm called the people of Ankh-Morpork sphincters, mostly in fun. Mostly.

  fn41 For humans he would have been in too deep. Way too deep.

  fn42 An Ankh-Morpork citizen will never yield to the idea that there are other cities at least as good as their own and treat the concept that there could be with humorous disdain. The phrase originated when an Ankh-Morpork citizen was shown an equestrian statue in Pseudopolis and when faced with the beast, said, ‘Maybe it’s a Big Horse I’m Morporkian’, an incident that gave rise to a popular bar room song.

  fn43 Which instead of masking the ubiquitous goblin smell merely lent it an extra piquancy.

  fn44 Unggue pots, as they were called, had a major and sacred part in goblin society. In Ankh-Morpork sensible goblins were making quasi unggue pots for sale, looking like the real thing, Adora Belle said, but with the magic taken out and the wonderful sparkle left in. However, it helped if you didn’t pay too much attention to what the pots traditionally held …

  fn45 There was no point in speculating on what else they could have. Just the thought turned Moist’s stomach.

  fn46 Any young goblin is thought of as being a twig.

  fn47 Which consists of a troll with a comfortable pannier on either side that can carry up to four people.

  fn48 Apart from occasionally going with a few clients down to the Pink PussyCat Club to appear to have a good time and stick money down the garters of the gyrating young ladies, which really was hardly evil at all in the light of early-onset middle age, just rather sad, although extremely enjoyable at the time and a death warrant if Adora Belle ever found out.

  fn49 Colon and Nobby had lived a long time in a dangerous occupation and they knew how not to be dead. To wit, by arriving when the bad guys had got away.

  fn50 It would be impolite to ask Otto how he got around so quickly. Of course, everybody knew that he was a vampire, but he was a fervent black ribboner and so whatever anybody thought they knew about him, they didn’t talk about it.

  fn51 A development that proved fatal to the Brassica Carriage Company, which had elected to construct its engines and tracks to a gauge based on the horse-drawn cabbage delivery carts.

  fn52 And yet Harry was still a Titan, a humorous term meaning deep trousers and short fingers, owing to his tendency to look on the disgorging of money in much the same light as root canal surgery delivered by a troll dentist.

  fn53 Feeney was privileged. To a goblin, the name is always the name, untouchable and part of the goblin itself.

  fn54 Or indeed, the fruits de mer of his labour.

  fn55 Moist suspected Vetinari had had some say in that coinage since Pseudopolis had never had a king and was beset by the curse of democracy, an affliction the Patrician couldn’t abide.

  fn56 Around the Sto Plains, as in other places, it took a while for country people to come to terms with indoor … facilities. A privy in the garden with fresh air all around was considered much more hygienic and, if you were careful, the tomatoes you grew would be most excellent.fn57

  fn57 If you don’t know what this means, your grandparents will tell you.

  fn58 On the Quirm line Harry had had to stop her from giving them a bidet.

  fn59 This would have been an even bigger fortune had not Thunderbolt carefully made certain that the Hygienic Railway Company took its slice.

  fn60 Harry was thrilled; he’d tried to be nonchalant about it but when he heard the suggestion that he should be part of a toy railroad he grinned from ear to ear, although Effie complained that they had made him look too fat.

  fn61 With all goblins, the male ones especially, you got the impression of sinews but they mostly consisted of sinews tied together with other sinews. Surely, the mind protested, there must be muscles in there somewhere, but quite possibly they had to fight to find some room among all those damn sinews.

  fn62 It is well known that it is possible to climb Cori Celesti. Many athletes have attempted to climb to the summit and most of them have failed, although history does admit that a posse of elderly gentlemen with arthritis and bandy legs did manage this feat but subsequently died like heroes which was, after all, what it was all about. Other aspiring and indeed perspiring athletes have managed to get at least a little way up by using what is known as the Path of Lights, which it has to be said does not favour anyone who is not a true hero. Nevertheless many still attempt to run up Cori Celesti or at least break their femur in trying.

  fn63 Miss Daisy Snapes was officially the first person to be born on a moving train, thanks to a midwife who rushed the mother to the guard’s van. Young Daisy was born at thirty miles an hour and her doting parents named her Locomotion Snapes, until Moist got to hear about it and gave her and her parents a free season ticket on the railway, along with the suggestion that Locomotion might sound better as a middle name.

  fn64 The swamps in this part of the world are famous for their birdlife but also notorious, because they move constantly and quickly. Dry land is hard to find. The human inhabitants live on large rafts that serve as both shelters and gardens. The older generations have splayed feet, which they try to encourage in their offspring because the webs show that the owner is a great hunter of the swamps. They have no known enemies, probably because most people don’t want to step into a swamp. They are in fact helpful to travellers, and they distil extremely useful medications from the floating flora and fauna of the swamps, which include the twisting honeydew and the egregious flytrap, whose venom can be used in the making of delicate ironwork etchings, and which must be approached with extreme caution as the venom can be spat over several yards.

  There clearly has been magic at work in the Netherglades and its future as the pharmacopoeia of the world is being tested by Professor Rincewind of Unseen University. A dispatch from him reveals that the juice pressed from a certain little yellow flower induces certainty in the patient for up to fifteen minutes. About what they are certain they cannot specify, but the patient is, in that short time, completely certain about everything. And further research has found that a floating water hyacinth yields in its juices total uncertainty about anything for half an hour. Philosophers are excited about the uses of these potions, and the search continues for a plant that combines the qualities of both, thereby being of great use to theologians.

  fn65 In their minds, at least, althoug
h it has to be said that they had been too careful to attempt to overthrow the Low King until he was far away in Quirm.

  fn66 At least, that’s where Moist assumed he’d come from. Vetinari was one of the greatest students of concealment the Assassins had ever produced, so it could simply have been a shadowy state of mind.

  fn67 The only carriages that were open to the weather were the ones for those extra-large passengers (mostly trolls) who couldn’t fit inside anything else, and that was because they were in fact the coal cars. No one minded – trolls were impervious to rain, which helped them cultivate a better quality of lichen in any case, and the coal doubled as a welcome snack during the journey.

  fn68 In that it went against every instinct of a born-and-bred Ankh-Morporkian.

  fn69 Some months before, Mr Reg Shoe, travelling in an otherwise empty compartment, had got his fingers trapped when the carriage window shot up unexpectedly fast, and by the time the train reached the terminus he had lost the top joint of one digit. Mr Shoe, being a zombie, though indignant was merely inconvenienced by this accident, but at Effie’s insistence Simnel had devised the communication cord: a small rope that ran the length of the train, with a bell attached to either end. If there was a problem, a passenger could pull this rope and the driver or guard, alerted by the bell, would slam on the brakes.

  fn70 Moist had seen the Falls before and that’s just what they were … falls. Pretty good falls by the standard of falls, but once you’d looked at them for a few minutes undoubtedly someone would say: ‘Where can we get a coffee around here?’

  fn71 And if you knew where to ask, the fabled Klatchian migratory bog truffle, which despite resembling the Klatchian bog toad in both taste and appearance was extremely rare and therefore a delicacy.

  fn72 Dwarfish, trans.: my lord.

  fn73 Which didn’t include Corporal Nobby Nobbs or Sergeant Colon, who were not precisely special but, as Moist knew, curiously useful, which was why Vimes put up with them.

  fn74 At least they said they were virgins. There certainly were petals.

  fn75 A dwarf is not thought of as a youth until he is in his fifties.

  fn76 Stumbleweed is like tumbleweed, but less athletic. This tells you everything you need to know about Slake.

  fn77 Although this accusation has never been levelled by anybody at his lordship, which is to say, none have been found.

  fn78 The way that Moist fought was erratic, since he took the view that if you didn’t know what you were going to do next, neither would the enemy. After all, it was a mêlée and nobody owns a mêlée. You might as well try to control a hurricane.

  fn79 Vurms are somewhat like glow worms, but with a stink that illumines. They can be found in deep dark places, where they subsist on the effluvia of any creatures that may arrive there. They are very useful to tomb raiders and others of that kidney – who in turn are often very useful to the vurms, especially their kidneys.

  fn80 A part of dwarf etiquette that outsiders find near impossible to master, the traditional helmet butt is a little less vigorous than the manoeuvre known on the tougher streets of Ankh-Morpork as the ‘Shamlegger Kiss’, but it must also not be so gentle as to imply that either the giver or the receiver is a sissy.

  fn81 Frankly most palaces are just like this. Their backsides do not bear looking at.

  Acknowledgements

  I was assisted in writing Raising Steam by the boiler-suited gentlemen of the Watercress Line in Hampshire, who showed me – well, they showed me everything, including their workshops, the footplate and the fire box of a travelling locomotive and, wonder of wonders, the signal box: a treasure in mahogany and brass. Champion!

  And, of course, my grateful thanks go to Rob for keeping the whole show on the rails, and to my editor, Philippa Dickinson, who supplied advice and flapjacks and, above all, patience.

  About the Author

  Terry Pratchett is the acclaimed creator of the global bestselling Discworld series, the first of which, The Colour of Magic, was published in 1983. Raising Steam is his fortieth Discworld novel. His books have been widely adapted for stage and screen, and he is the winner of multiple prizes, including the Carnegie Medal, as well as being awarded a knighthood for services to literature. After falling out with his keyboard he now talks to his computer. Occasionally, these days, it answers back.

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