Read Online Truckers by Terry Pratchett - Free Book Online

anyone to drag them out,” said Dorcas. “Usually they just try to frighten people. They’re really just a bit of a nuisance.”
    â€œWhy’d that one have his knife in his mouth?” said Grimma.
    â€œIt’s supposed to make him look tough and devil-may-care, I think.”
    â€œI think it makes him look silly,” said Grimma flatly.
    â€œHe’ll feel the back of my hand if he comes back here,” said Granny Morkie.
    â€œI don’t think they’ll be back. I think they were a bit shocked to have people hit them, in fact,” said Dorcas. He laughed. “You know, I’m really looking forward to seeing what effect you lot have on the Abbot. I don’t think we’ve ever seen anything like you. You’ll be like a— a—what’s that stuff you said there’s a lot of Outside?”
    â€œFresh air?” said Masklin.
    â€œThat’s right. Fresh air.”
    And so they came, eventually, to the Stationeri.
    Go to the Stationeri or go Outside, the Duke had said, meaning that he didn’t see a lot of difference between the two. And there was no doubt that the other great families distrusted the Stationeri, who they reckoned had strange and terrifying powers.
    After all, they could read and write. Anyone who can tell you what a piece of paper is saying must be strange.
    They also understood Arnold Bros (est. 1905)’s messages in the sky.
    But it is very hard to meet someone who believes you don’t exist.
    Masklin had always thought that Torrit looked old, but the Abbot looked so old that he must have been around to give Time itself a bit of a push. He walked with the aid of two sticks, and a couple of younger nomes hovered behind him in case he needed support. His face was a bag of wrinkles, out of which his eyes stared like two sharp black holes.
    The tribe clustered up behind Masklin, as they always did now when they were worried.
    The Abbot’s guest hall was an area walled with cardboard, near one of the lifts. Occasionally one went past, shaking down some dust.
    The Abbot was helped to his chair and sat down slowly, while his assistants fussed around him. Then he leaned forward.
    â€œAh,” he said, “del Icatessen, isn’t it? Invented anything lately?”
    â€œNot lately, my lord,” said Dorcas. “My lord, I have the honor to present to you—”
    â€œI can’t see anyone,” said the Abbot, smoothly.
    â€œMust be blind,” sniffed Granny.
    â€œAnd I can’t hear anyone, either,” said the Abbot.
    â€œBe quiet,” Dorcas hissed. “Someone’s told him about you! He won’t let himself see you! My lord,” he said loudly, turning back, “I bring strange news. The Store is going to be demolished!”
    It didn’t have quite the effect Masklin had expected. The Stationeri priests behind the Abbot sniggered to themselves, and the Abbot permitted himself a faint smile.
    â€œDear me.” He said, “And when is this terrible event likely to occur?”
    â€œIn twenty-one days, my lord.”
    â€œWell, then,” said the Abbot in a kindly voice. “You run along now and, afterward, tell us what it was like.”
    This time the priests grinned.
    â€œMy lord, this is no—”
    The Abbot raised a gnarled hand. “I’m sure you know a great deal about electricity, Dorcas, but you must know that every time there is a Grand Final Sale, excitable people say, ‘The end of the Store is nigh.’ And, strangely enough, life goes on.”
    Masklin felt the Abbot’s gaze on him. For someone who was invisible, he seemed to be attracting considerable attention.
    â€œMy lord, it is rather more than that,” said Dorcas stiffly.
    â€œOh? Did the electricity tell you?” said the Abbot mockingly.
    Dorcas nudged Masklin in the ribs. “Now,” he said.
    Masklin stepped forward and put the Thing down on the