The druids were looking at Twoflower with the kind of expression
normally reserved for mad sheep or the sudden appearance of a rain of frogs.
Rincewind couldn’t quite hear what Twoflower was saying, but a few phrases
like ‘ethnic folkways’ and ‘nuts and flowers’ floated across the hushed circle.
Then fingers like a bunch of cheese straws clamped over the wizard’s
mouth and an extremely sharp cutting edge pinked his Adam’s apple and a
damp voice right by his ear said,
‘Not a shound, or you ish a dead man.
’
Rincewind’s eyes swivelled in their sockets as if trying to find a way out.
‘If you don’t want me to say anything, how will you know I understand
what you just said?’ he hissed.
‘Shut up and tell me what that other idiot ish doing!’‘No, but look, if I’ve got to shut up, how can I—
’ The knife at his throat
became a hot streak of pain and Rincewind decided to give logic a miss.