6/26/2023 0 Comments Terry pratchett feet of clay'A hundred dollars?' the man said suspiciously. In fact, it even had a small coronet moulded on to its head. It reminded him of one of the old pictures of the city's kings, all haughty stance and imperious haircut. This one gleamed like a newly polished statue, perfect down to the detailing of the clothes. But it wasn't like the usual lumpen clay things that you occasionally saw. It was also a golem, the man could see that. I've been asking around but it's wicked the prices you're going for these days.' The golem rubbed the words off the slate and wrote: TO YOU, ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS. Of course, golems couldn't speak, could they? 'Hah. 'Well? What do you want at this time of night?' The golem handed him a slate, on which was written: WE HEAR YOU WANT A GOLEM. It was big and dark red and looked like a child's clay model of a man. There was no mistaking the shape right in front of him, though. He thought maybe there'd been very faint points of light. But he thought afterwards that there had been shapes out there, just beyond the light spilling out into the road. He might as well have tried to see through white velvet. There was mist coming off the river and it was a cloudy night. A man opened it and peered out into the street. It was a warm spring night when a fist knocked at the door so hard that the hinges bent.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |