The COLOUR OF MAGIC

Terry Pratchett

PROLOGUE

In a distant and second-hand set of dimensions, in

an astral plane that was never meant to fly, the

curling star-mists waver and part . . .

See . . .

Great A'Tuin the turtle comes, swimming slowly

through the interstellar gulf, hydrogen frost on his

ponderous limbs, his huge and ancient shell pocked

With meteor craters. Through sea-sized eyes that

are crusted with rheum and asteroid dust He stares

fixedly at the Destination.

In a brain bigger than a city, with geological

Slowness, He thinks only of the Weight.

Most of the weight is of course accounted for by

Berilia, Tubul, Great T'Phon and Jerakeen, the

four giant elephants upon whose broad and

startanned shoulders the disc of the World rests,

garlanded by the long waterfall at its vast

circumference and domed by the baby-blue vault of

Heaven.

Astropsychology has been, as yet, unable to

establish what they think about.

The Great Turtle was a mere hypothesis until the

day the small and secretive kingdom of Krull,

whose rim-most mountains project out over the

Rimfall, built a gantry 'and pulley arrangement at

the tip of the most precipitous crag and lowered

several oBservers over the Edge in a

quartzwindowed brass vessel to peer through the mist

veils.

The early astrozoologists, hauled back from theiR

long dangle by enormous teams of slaves, were

able to bring back much information about the

shape and nature of A'Tuin and the elephants but

this did not resolve fundamental questions about

the nature and purpose of the universe.

For example, what was Atuin's actual sex? This

vital question, said the Astrozoologists with

mounting authority, would not be answered until a larger

and more powerful gantry was constructed for a

deep-space vessel. In the meantime they could only

speculate about the revealed cosmos.

There was, for example, the theory that A'Tuin

had come from nowhere and would continue at a

uniform crawl, or steady gait, into nowhere, for all

time. This theory was popular among academics.

An alternative, favoured by those of a religiOUS

persuasion, was that A'Tuin was crawling from

the Birthplace to the Time of Mating, as were all

the stars in the sky which were, obviously, also

carried by giant turtles. When they arrived they

would briefly and passionately mate, for the first

and only time, and from that fiery union new

turtles would be born to carry a new pattern of

worlds. This was known as the Big Bang

hypothesis.

Thus it was that a young cosmochelonian of the

Steady Gait faction, testing a new telescope with

which he hoped to make measurements of the

precise albedo of Great A'Tuin's right eye, was on

this eventful evening the first outsider to see the

smoke rise hubward from the burning of the oldeSt

city in the world.

Later that night he became so engrossed in his

studies he completely forgot about it. Nevertheless,

he was the first.

There were others . . .

THE COLOUR OF MAGIC

Fire roared through the bifurcated city of

AnkhMorpork. Where it licked the Wizards' Quarter it

burned blue and green and was even laced with

strange sparks of the eighth colour, octarine; where

its outriders found their way into the vats and oil

stores all along Merchants Street it progressed in a

serieS of blazing fountainS and explosions; in the

Streets of the perfume blenders it burned with a

sweetness; where it touched bundles of rare and

dry herbs in the storerooms of the drugmasters it

made men go mad and talk to God.

By now' the whole of downtown Morpork was

alight, and the richer and worthier citizens of

Ankh on the far bank were bravely responding to

the situation by feverishly demolishing the bridges.

But already the ships in the Morpork docks - laden

with grain, cotton and timber, and coated with tar

- were blazing merrily and, their moorings burnt to

ashes, were breasting the river Ankh on the ebb

tide, igniting riverside palaces and bowers as they

drifted like drowning fireflies towards the sea. In

any case, sparks were riding the breeze and

touching down far across the river in hidden

gardens and remote rickyards. The smoke from the merry burning rose miles

high, in a wind-sculpted black column 'that could

be seen across the whole of the discworld.

It was certainly impressive from the cool, dark

hilltop a few leagues away, where two figures were

watching with considerable interest.

The taller of the pair was chewing on a chicken

leg and leaning on a sword that was only

Marginally shorter than the average man. If it wasn't for

the air of wary intelligence about him it might

have been supposed that he was a barbarian from

the hubland wastes.

His partner was much shorter and wrapped from

head to toe in a brown cloak. Later, when he has

occasion to move, it will be seen that he moves

lightly, cat-like.

The two had barely exchanged a word in the last

twenty minutes except for a short and inconclusive

argument as to whether a particularly powerful

explosion had been the oil bond store or the

workshop of Kerible the Enchanter. Money hinged

on the fact.

Now the big man finished gnawing at the bone

and tossed it into the grass, smiling ruefully.

"There go all those little alleyways,' he said. "I

liked them.'

"All the treasure houses,' said the small man. He

added thoughtfully, "Do gems burn, I wonder? 'Tis

said they're kin to coal.'

"All the gold, melting and running down the

gutters,' said the big one, ignoring him. "And all

the wine, boiling in the barrels.'

"There were rats,' said his brown companion.

"Rats, I'll grant you.'

'it was no place to be in high summer.'

"That, too. One can't help feeling, though, a

well, a momentary-'

He trailed off, then brightened. "We owed old

Fredor at the Crimson Leech eight silver pieces,' he

added. The little man nodded.

They were silent for a while as a whole new

series of explosions carved a red line across a

hitherto dark section of the greatest city in the

world. Then the big man stirred

"Weasel?'

"Yes?'

"I wonder who started it?'

The small swordsman known as the Weasel said

nothing. He was watching the road in the ruddy

light. Few had come that way since the

widershins gate

had been one of the first to collapse in a shower of

white-hot embers.

But two were coming up it now. The Weasel's

eyes always at their sharpest in gloom and

halflight, made out the shapes of two mounted men

and some sort of low beast behind them. Doubtless

a rich merchant escaping with as much treasure as

he could lay frantic hands on. The Weasel said as

much to his companion, who sighed.

"The status of footpad ill suits us,' said the

barbarian, "but as you say, times are hard and

there are no soft beds tonight.'

He shifted his grip on his sword and, as the

leading rider drew near, stepped out onto the road

with a hand held up and his face set in a grin

nicely calculated to reassure yet threaten.

"Your pardon, sir-' he began.

The rider reined in his horse and drew back his

hood. The big man looked into a face blotched with

superficial burns and punctuated by tufts of singed

beard. Even the eyebrows had gone.

"Bugger off,' said the face. "You're Bravd the

Hublander, aren't you?'

*The shape and cosmology of the disc system are

perhaps worthy of note at this point.

There are, of course, two major directions on the diSC:

Hubward and Rimward. But since the disc itself revolves

at the rate of once every eight hundred days (in order to

distribute the weight fairly upon its supportive

pachyderms, according to Reforgule of Krull) there are also two

lesser directions, which are Turnwise and Widdershins.

Since the disc's tiny orbiting sunlet maintains a fixed

orbit while the majestic disc turns slowly beneath it, it

will be readily deduced that a disc year consists of not

four but eight seasons. The summers are those times

when the sun rises or sets at the nearest point on the

Rim, the winters those occasions when it rises or sets at

a point around ninety degrees along the circumference.

Thus, in the lands around the Circle Sea, the year

begins on Hogs' Watch Night, progresses through a

Spring Prime to its first midsummer (Small Gods' Eve)

which is followed by Autumn Prime and, straddling the

half-year point of Crueltide, Winter Secundus (also

known as the Spindlewinter, since at this time the sun

rises in the direction of spin). Then comes Secundus

Spring with Summer Two on its heels, the three quarter

mark of the year being the night of Alls Fallow - the one

night of the year, according to legend, when witches and

warlocks stay in bed. Then drifting leaves and frosty

nights drag on towards Backspindlewinter and a new

Hogs' Watch Night nestling like a frozen jewel at its

heart.

Since the Hub is never closely warmed by the weak sun

the lands there are locked in permafrost. The Rim, on the

other hand, is a region of sunny islands and balmy days

There are, of course, eight days in a disc week and eight

colours in its light spectrum. Eight is a number of some

considerable occult significance on the disc and must

never, ever, be spoken by a wizard.

Precisely why all the above should be so is not clear, but

goes some way to explain why, on the disc, the Gods are

not so much worshipped as blamed.

Bravd became aware that he had fumbled the

initiatiVe.

"Just go away, will you?' said the rider. 'I just

haven't got time for you, do you understand?'

He looked around and added: "That goes for your

shadow-loving fleabag partner too, wherever he's

hiding.'

The Weasel stepped up to the horse and peered at

the dishevelled figure.

'Why, it's Rincewind the wizard, isn't it?' he said

in tones of delight, meanwhile filing the wizard's

description of him in his memory for leisurely

vengeance. 'I thought I recognized the voice.'

Bravd spat and sheathed his sword. It was

seldom worth tangling with wizards, they so rarely

had any treasure worth speaking of.

"he talks pretty big for a gutter wizard,' he

muttered.

"You don't understand at all,' said the wizard

wearily. "I'm so scared of you my spine has turned

to jelly, it's just that I'm suffering from an overdose

of terror right now. I mean, when I've got over that

then I'll have time to be decently frightened of you.'

The Weasel pointed towards the burning city.

'You've been through that?' he asked.

The wizard rubbed a red'-raw hand across his

eyes. 'i was there when it started. See him? Back

there?' He pointed back down the road to where his

travelling companion was still approaching,

having adopted a method of riding that involved

falling out of the saddle every few seconds.

'Well?' said Weasel.

"he started it,' said Rincewind simply.

Bravd and Weasel looked at the figure, now

hopping across the road with one foot in a stirrup.

"Fire-raiser, is he?' said Bravd at last.

'No,' said Rincewind. "Not precisely. Let's just

say that if complete and utter chaos was lightning,

then he'd be the sort to stand on a hilltop in a

thunderstorm wearing wet copper armour and

Shouting "All gods are bastards". Got any food?'

"There's some chicken,' said Weasel. "in exchange

for a story.' "What's his name?' said Bravd, who tended to

lag behind in conversations.

' Twoflower . '

"Twoflower?' said Bravd. "What a funny name.'

`You,' said' Rincewind, dismounting, "do not

know the half of it. Chicken, you say?'

"Devilled,' said Weasel. The wizard groaned.

'That reminds me,' added the Weasel, snapping

hiS fingers, "there was a really big explosion about,

oh, half an hour ago'

'That was the oil bond store going up,' said

Rincewind, wincing at the memory of the burning

rain.

Weasel turned and grinned expectantly at his

companion, who grunted and handed over a coin

from his pouch. Then there was a Scream from the

roadway, cut off abruptly. Rincewind did not look

up from his chicken.

"one of the things he can't do, he can't ride a

horse,' he said. Then he stiffened as if sandbagged

by a sudden recollection, gave a small yelp of terror

and dashed into the gloom. When he returned, the

being called Twoflower was hanging limply over

his shoulder. It was small and skinny, and dressed

very oddly in a pair of knee length britches and a

shirt in such a violent and vivid conflict of colours

that Weasel's fastidious eye was offended even in

the half-light.

"No bones broken, by the feel of things,' said

Rincewind. He was breathing heavily. Bravd winked

at the Weasel and went to investigate the shape

that they assumed was a pack animal.

'You'd be wise to forget it,' said the wizard,

without looking up from his examination of the

unconscious Twoflower. "Believe me. A power

protects it.'

"A spell?' said Weasel, squatting down.

'No-oo. 'But magic of a kind, I think. Not the

usual sort. I mean, it can turn gold into copper

while at the same time it is still gold, it makes men

rich by destroying their possessions, it allows the

weak to walk fearlessly among thieves, it passes

through the strongest doors to leach the most

protected treasuries. Even now it has me enslaved

- so that I must follow this madman willynilly and

protect him from harm. It's stronger than you,

Bravd. It is, I think, more cunning even than you,

Weasel.'

"What is it called then, this mighty magic?'

Rincewind shrugged. "in our tongue it is

reflected-sound-as-of-underground-spirits. Is there

any wine?'

"You must know that I am not without artifice

where magic is concerned,' said Weasel. "only last

year did i-assisted by my friend there - part the

notoriously powerful Archmage of Ymitury from

his staff, his belt of moon jewels and his life, in

that approximate order. I do not fear this

reflectedsound-of-underground-spirits of which you speak.

However,' he added, "you engage my interest.

Perhaps you would care to tell me more?'

Bravd looked at the shape on the road. It was

closer now, and clearer in the pre-dawn light. It

looked for all the world like

a"A box on legs?' he said.

"i'll tell you about it,' said Rincewind. "if there's

any wine, that is.'

Down in the valley there was a roar and a hiss.

Someone more thoughtful than the rest had ordered

to be shut the big river gates that were at the point

where the Ankh flowed out of the twin city. Denied

its usual egress, the river had burst its banks and

was pouring down the fire-ravaged streets. Soon

the continent of flame became a series of islands,

each one growing smaller as the dark tide rose.

And up from the city of fumes and smoke rose a

broiling cloud of steam, covering the stars. Weasel

thought that it looked like some dark fungus or

mushroom.

The twin city of proud Ankh and pestilent Morpork,

of which all the other cities of time and space are,

as it were, mere reflections, has stood many

asSaults in its long and crowded history and has

always risen to flourish again. So the fire and its

Subsequent flood, which destroyed everything left

that was not flammable and added a particularly

noisome flux to the survivors' problems, did not

mark its end. Rather it was a fiery punctuation

mark, a coal-like comma, or salamander

semicolon, in a continuing story.

Several days before these events a ship came up

the Ankh on the dawn tide and fetched up, among

many others, in the maze of wharves and docks on

the Morpork shore. It carried a cargo of pink

pearls, milk-nuts, pumice, some official letters for

the Patrician of Ankh, and a man.

It was the man who engaged the attention of

Blind Hugh, one of the beggars on early duty at

Pearl Dock. He nudged Cripple Wa in the ribs, and

pointed wordlessly.

Now the stranger was standing on the quayside

watching several straining seamen carry a large

brass-bound chest down the gangplank. Another

man, obviously the captain, was standing beside

him. There was about the seaman - every nerve in

Blind Hugh's body, which tended to vibrate in the

presence of even a small amount of impure gold at

fifty paces, screamed into his brain - the air of one

anticipating imminent enrichment.

Sure enough, when the chest had been deposited

on the cobbles, the stranger reached into a pouch

and there was the flash of a coin. Several coins

Gold. Blind Hugh, his body twanging like a hazel

rod in the presence of water, whistled to himself.

Then he nudged Wa again, and sent him scurrying

off down a nearby alley into the heart of the city.

When the captain walked back onto his ship,

leaving the newcomer looking faintly bewildered

on the quayside, Blind Hugh snatched up his

begging cup and made his way across the street

with an ingratiating leer. At the sight of him the

stranger started to fumble urgently with his money

pouch.

"Good day to thee, sire,' Blind Hugh began, and

found himself looking up into a face with four eyes

in it. He turned to run!

"!' said the stranger, and grabbed his arm. Hugh

was aware that the sailors lining the rail of the

ship were laughing at him. At the same time his

specialised senses detected an overpowering

impression of money. He froze. The stranger let go and

quickly thumbed through a small black book he

had taken from his belt. Then he said "Hallo.'

"What?' said Hugh. The man looked blank.

"Hallo?' he repeated, rather louder than necessary

and so carefully that Hugh could hear the vowels

tinkling into place.

"Hallo yourself,' Hugh riposted. The stranger

smiled widely fumbled yet again in the pouch. This

time his hand came out holding a large gold coin. It

was in fact slightly larger than an 8,000-dollar

Ankhian crown and the design on it was unfamiliar,

but it spoke inside Hugh's mind in a language he

understood perfectly. My current owner, it said, is

in need of succour and assistance; why not give it

to him, so you and me can go off somewhere and

enjoy ourselves?

Subtle changes in the beggar's posture made the

stranger feel more at ease. He consulted the small

book again.

"i wish to be directed to an hotel, tavern, lodging

house, inn, hospice, caravanserai,' he said.

'What, all of them?' said Hugh, taken aback.

"?' said the stranger.

Hugh was aware that a small crowd of fishwives,

shellfish diggers and freelance gawpers were

watching them with interest.

"look,' he said, "i know a good tavern, is that

enough?' He shuddered to think of the gold coin

escaping from his life. He'd keep that one, even if

Ymor confiscated all the rest. And the big chest

that comprised most of the newcomer's luggage

looked to be full of gold, Hugh decided.

The four-eyed man looked at his book.

I would like to be directed to an hotel, place of

repose, tavern, a-'

"yes, all right. Come on then,' said Hugh hurriedly.

He picked up one of the bundles and walked away

quickly. The stranger, after a moment's hesitation,

strolled after him.

A train of thought shunted its way through

Hugh's mind. Getting the newcomer to the Broken

Drum so easily was a stroke of luck, no doubt of it,

and Ymor would probably reward him. But for all

his new acquaintance's mildness there was

something about him that made Hugh uneasy, and for

the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was.

Not the two extra eyes, odd though they were.

There was something else. He glanced back.

The little man was ambling along in the middle

of the street, looking around him with an

expression of keen interest.

Something else Hugh saw nearly made him

gibber.

The massive wooden chest, which he had last

seen resting solidly on the quayside, was following

on its master's heels with a gentle rocking gait.

Slowly, in case a sudden movement on his part

might break his fragile control over his own legs,

Hugh bent slightly so that he could see under the

chest.

There were lots and lots of little legs.

Very deliberately, Hugh turned around and

walked very carefully towards the Broken Drum.

"Odd,' said Ymor.

"He had this big wooden chest,' added Cripple

Wa.

'He'd have to be a merchant or a spy,' said Ymor.

He pulled a scrap of meat from the cutlet in his

hand and tossed it into the air. It hadn't reached

the zenith of its arc ,before a black shape detached

itself from the shadows in the corner of the room

and swooped down, taking the morsel in mid-air.

"A merchant or a spy,' repeated Ymor. "i'd prefer

a spy. A spy pays for himself twice, because there's

always the reward when we turn him in. What do

you think, Withel?'

Opposite Ymor the second greatest thief in

Ankhmorpork half-closed his one eye and shrugged.

"i've checked on the ship,' he said. "it's a freelance

trader. Does the occasional run to the Brown

islands. People there are just savages. They don't

understand about spies and I expect they eat

merchants . '

"He looked a bit like a merchant,' volunteered

Wa. "Except he wasn't fat.'

There was a flutter of wings at the window. Ymor

shifted his bulk out of the chair and crossed the

room, coming back with a large raven. After he'd

unfastened the message capsule from its leg it flew

to join its fellows lurking among the rafters.

Withel regarded it without love. Ymor's ravens were

notoriously loyal to their master, to the extent that

Withel's one attempt to promote himself to the rank

of greatest thief in Ankh-Morpork had cost their

master's right hand man his left eye. But not his

life, however. Ymor never grudged a man hiS

ambitions.

"Gc?,' said Ymor, tossing the little phial aside and

unrolling the tiny scroll within.

"Gorrin the Cat,' said Withel automatically. "On

station up in the gong tower at the Temple of Small

GodS.'

he says Hugh has taken our stranger to the

Broken Drum. Well, that's good enough. Broadman

is a - friend of ours, isn't he?'

'Aye,' said Withel. "if he knows what's good for

trade.'

"Among his customers has been your man

Gorrin,' said Ymor pleasantly, "for he writes here

about a box on legs, if i read this scrawl correctly.'

He looked at Withel over the top of the paper.

Withel looked away. 'He will be disciplined,' he

said flatly. Wa looked at the man leaning back in

his chair, his black-clad frame resting as

nonchalantly as a Rimland puma on a jungle branch, and

decided that Gorrin atop Small Gods temple would

soon be joining those little deities in the multifold

dimensions of Beyond. And he owed Wa three

copper pieces.

Ymor crumpled the note and tossed it into a

corner. "i think we'll wander along to the Drum later

on, Withel. Perhaps, too, we may try this beer that

your men find so tempting.'

Withel said nothing. Being Ymor's right-hand

man was like being gently flogged to death with

scented bootlaces.

The twin city of Ankh-Morpork, foremost of all the

cities bounding the Circle Sea, was as a matter of

course the home of a large number of gangs, thieves'

guilds, syndicates and similar organisations. This

was one of the reasons for its wealth. Most of the

humbler folk on the widdershin side of the river, in

Morpork's mazy alleys, supplemented their meagre

incomes by filling some small role for one or other of

the competing gangs. So it was that by the time

Hugh and Twoflower entered the courtyard of the

Broken Drum the leaders of a number of them were

aware that someone had arrived in the city who

appeared to have much treasure. Some reports from

the more observant spies included details about a

book that told the stranger what to say, and a box

that walked by itself. These facts were immediately

discounted. No magician capable of such

enchantments ever came within a mile of Morpork docks.

It still being that hour when most of the city was

just rising or about to go to bed there were few

people in the Drum to watch Twoflower descend the

stairs. When the Luggage appeared behind him and

started to lurch confidently down the steps the

customers at the rough wooden tables, as one man,

looked suspiciously at their drinks.

Broadman was browbeating the small troll who

swept the bar when the trio walked past him. "What

in hell's that?' he said.

"Just don't talk about it,' hissed Hugh. Twoflower

was already thumbing through his book.

'What's he doing?' said Broadman, arms akimbo.

"it tells him what to say. I know it sounds

ridiculous,' muttered Hugh.

"How can a book tell a man what to say?'

"i wish for an accommodation, a room, lodgings,

the lodging house, full board, are your rooms clean,

a room with a view, what is your rate for one night?'

said Twoflower in one breath.

Broadman looked at Hugh. The beggar shrugged.

"He's got plenty money,' he said.

"Tell him it's three copper pieces, then. And that

Thing will have to go in the stable.'

"?' said the stranger. Broadman held up three

thick red fingers and the man's face was suddenly a

sunny display of comprehension. He reached into

his pouch and laid three large gold pieces on Broadman's palm.

Broadman stared at them. They represented

about four times the worth of the Broken Drum,

Staff included. He looked at Hugh. There was no

help there. He looked at the stranger. He swallowed.

"Yes,' he said, in an unnaturally high voice. "And

then there's meals, o'course. Uh. You understand,

yes? Food. You eat. No?' He made the appropriate

motions.

"Fut?' said the little man.

'Yes,' said Broadman, beginning to sweat. "Have

a look in your little book, I should.'

The man opened the book and ran a finger down

one page. Broadman, who could read after a

fashion, peered over the top of the volume. What he

saw made no sense.

'Fooood,' said the stranger. "Yes. Cutlet, hash

chop, stew, ragout, fricassee, mince, collops, souffle,

dumpling, blancmange, sorbet, gruel, sausage, not

to have a sausage, beans, without a hear, kickshaws,

.jelly, jam. Giblets.' He beamed at Broadman.

"All that?' said the innkeeper weakly.

"it's just the way he talks,' said Hugh, "Don't ask

me why. He just does.'

All eyes in the room were watching the

strangerexcept for a pair belonging to Rincewind the

wizard, who was sitting in the darkest corner

nursing a mug of very small beer.

He was watching the Luggage.

Watch Rincewind.

Look at him. Scrawny, like most wizards, and

clad in a dark red robe on which a few mystic sigils

were embroidered in tarnished sequins. Some might

have taken him for a mere apprentice enchanter

who had run away from his master out of defiance,

boredom, fear and a lingering taste for

heterosexuality. Yet around his neck was a chain bearing

the bronze octagon that marked him as an alumnus

of Unseen University, the high school of magic

whose time-and-space transcendent campus is

never precisely Here or There. Graduates were

usually destined for mageship at least, but

Rincewind - after an unfortunate event - had left

him knowing only one spell and made a living of sorts

around the town by capitalising on an innate gift

for languages. He avoided work as a rule, but had a

quickness of wit that put his acquaintances in mind

of a bright rodent. And he knew sapient pearwood

when he saw it. He was seeing it now, and didn't

quite believe it.

An archmage, by dint of great effort and much

expenditure of time, might eventually obtain a

small staff made from the timber of the sapient

peartree. It grew only on the sites of ancient magic

there were probably no more than two such staffs

in all the cities of the circle sea. A large chest of

it . . . Rincewind tried to work it out, and decided

that even if the box were crammed with star opals

and sticks of auricholatum the contents would not

be worth one-tenth the price of the container. A vein

started to throb in his forehead.

He stood up and made his way to the triO.

"May I be of assistance?' he ventured.

"Shove off, Rincewind,' snarled Broadman.

"i only thought it might be useful to address this

gentleman in his own tongue,' said the wizard

gently. 'He's doing all right on his own,' said the

innkeeper, but took a few steps backward.

Rincewind smiled politely at the stranger and

tried a few words of Chimeran. He prided himself on

his fluency in the tongue, but the stranger only

looked bemused.

"it won't work,' said Hugh knowledgeably. "it's

the book, you see. It tells him what to say. Magic.'

Rincewind switched to High Borogravian, to

Vanglemesht, Sumtri and even Black Oroogu, the

language with no nouns and only one adjective,

which is obscene. Each was met with polite

incomprehension. In desperation he tried heathen

Trob, and the little man's face split into a delighted

grin.

'At last! ' he said. "My good sir! This is remarkable! '

(Although in Trob the last word in fact became "a

thing which may happen but once in' the usable

lifetime of a canoe hollowed diligently by axe and

fire from the tallest diamondwood tree that grows

in the noted diamondwood forests on the lower

Slopes of Mount Awayawa, home of the firegods or

so it is said.').

"What was all that?' said Broadman suspiciously.

"What did the innkeeper say?' said the little man.

Rincewind swallowed. Broadman,' he said. "Two

mugs of your best ale, please.'

"You can understand him?'

"Oh, sure.'

"Tell him tell him he's very welcome. Tell him

breakfast is - uh - one gold piece.' For a moment

Broadman's face looked as though some vast

internal struggle was going on, and then he added

with a burst of generosity. "i'll throw in yours, too.'

"Stranger,' said Rincewind levelly. "if you stay

here you will be knifed or poisoned by nightfall. But

don't stop smiling, or so will I.'

"Oh, come now,' said the stranger, looking around.

"This looks like a delightful place. A genuine

Morporkean tavern. I've heard so much about

them, you know. All these quaint old beams. And so

reasonable, too.'

Rincewind glanced around quickly, in case some

leakage of enchantment from the Magician's

Quarter across the river had momentarily

transported them to some other place. No - this was still

the interior of the Drum, its walls stained with

smoke, its floor a compost of old rushes and

nameless beetles, its sour beer not so much

purchased as merely hired for a while. He tried to fit the

image around the word "quaint', or rather the

nearest Trob equivalent, which was "that pleasant

oddity of design found in the little coral houses of

the sponge-eating pigmies on the Orohai peninsular'.

His mind reeled back from the effort. The visitor

went on, "My name is Twoflower,' and extended his

hand. Instinctively, the other three looked down to

see if there was a coin in it.

'Pleased to meet you,' said Rincewind. "i'm

Rincewind. Look, I wasn't joking. This is a tough place.'

"GoodE Exactly what I wanted!'

"Eh?'

"What is this stuff in the mugs?'

"This? Beer. Thanks, Broadman. Yes. Beer. You

know. Beer.'

"Ah. the so-typical drink. A small gold piece will

be sufficient payment, do you think? I do not want

to cause offense.'

It was already half out of his purse.

"Yarrt,' croaked Rincewind. "i mean, no, it won't

cause OffenSe.'

'Good. You say this is a tough place. Frequented,

you mean, by heroes and men of adventure?'

Rincewind considered this. "Yes?' he managed.

"Excellent. I would like to meet some.'

An explanation occurred to the wizard. 'Ah,' he

said. "You've come to hire mercenaries ('warriors

who fight for the tribe with most milknut-meal')?'

"Oh no. I just want to meet them. So that when I

get home I can say that I did it.'

Rincewind thought that a meeting with most of

the Drum's clientele would mean that Twoflower

never went home again, unless he lived downriver

and happened to float paSt.

"Where is your home?' he inquired. "broadman

had slipped away into some back room, he noticed.

Hugh was watching them suspiciously from a

nearby table.

"Have you heard of the city of Des Palargic?'

'Well, I didn't spend much time in Trob. I was just

passing through, you know-'

"Oh, it's not in Trob. I speak Trob because there

are many beTrobi sailors in our ports. Des Palargic

iS the major seaport of the Agatean Empire.'

'Never heard of it, I'm afraid.'

Twoflower raised his eyebrows. "No? It is quite

big. You sail turnwise from the Brown Islands for

about a week and there it is. Are you all right?'

He hurried around the table and patted the

wizard on the back. Rincewind choked on his beer

The Counterweight Continent!

Three streets away an old man dropped a coin into a

saucer of acid and swirled it gently. Broadman

waited impatiently, ill at ease in a room made

noisome by vats and bubbling beakers and lined

with shelves containing shadowy shapes

suggestive of skulls and stuffed impossibilities.

"Well?' he demanded.

"one cannot hurry these things,' said the old

alchemist peevishly. "Assaying takes time. Ah.' He

prodded the saucer, where the coin now lay in a

SWirl of green colour. He made some calculations on

a scrap of parchment.

"Exceptionally interesting,' he said at last.

"is it genuine?'

The old man pursed his lips. "it depends on how

you define the term,' he said. "if you mean: is thiS

coin the same as, say, a fifty-dollar piece, then the

answer is no.'

"i knew' it,' screamed the innkeeper, and started

towards the door.

"i'm not sure that I'm making myself clear,' said

the alchemist. Broadman turned round angrily.

"What do you mean?'

"Well, you see, what with one thing and another

our coinage has been somewhat watered, over the

years. The gold content of the average coin is barely

four parts in twelve, the balance being made up of

silver, copper-'

"What of it?'

"i said this coin isn't like ours. It is pure gold.'

After Broadman had left, at a run, the alchemist

spent some time staring at the ceiling. Then he drew

out a very small piece of thin parchment, rummaged

for a pen amongst the debris on his workbench, and

wrote a very short, small, message. Then he went

over to his cages of white doves, black cockerels and

other laboratory animals. From one cage he

removed a glossy coated rat, rolled the parchment

into the phial attached to a hind leg, and let the

animal go.

It sniffed around the floor for a moment, then

disappeared down a hole in the far wall. ,

At about this time a hitherto unsucceSSful

fortune-teller living on the other side of the block

chanced to glance into her scrying bowl, gave a

small scream and, within the hour, had sold her

jewellery, various magical accoutrements, most of

her clothes and almost all her other possessions

that could not be conveniently carried on the fastest

horse she could buy. The fact that later on, when her

house collapsed in flames, she herself died in a

freak landslide in the Morpork Mountains, proves

that Death, too, has a sense of humour.

Also at about the same moment as the homing rat

disappeared into the maze of runs under the city,

scurrying along in faultless obedience to an ancient

instinct, the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork picked up

the letters delivered that morning by albatross. He

looked pensively at the topmost one again, and

summoned his chief of spies.

And in the Broken Drum Rincewind was listening

open-mouthed as Twoflower talked.

'So I decided to see for myself,' the little man was

saying. 'Eight years' saving up, this has cost me.

But worth every half-rhinu. I mean, here I am. In

ancmorpork. Famed in song and story, I mean.

In the streets that have known the tread of Hemic

Whiteblade. Hrun the Barbarian, and Bravd" the

Hublander and the Weasel . . . It's all just like I

imagined, you know.'

Rincewind's face was a mask of fascinated

horror.

"i just couldn't stand it any more back in Des

Pelargic,' Twoflower went on blithely, "sitting at a

desk all day, just adding up columns of figures, just

a pension to look forward to at the end of it

. . . where's the romance in that? Twoflower, I

thought, it's now or never. You don't just have to

listen to stories. You can go there. Now's the time to

stop hanging around the docks listening to sailors'

tales. So I compiled a phrase book and bought a

passage on the next ship to the Brown Islands.'

"No guards?' murmured Rincewind.

"No. Why? What have I got that's worth stealing?"

Rincewind coughed. "You have, uh, gold,' he said.

"Barely two thousand rhinu. Hardly enough to

keep a man alive for more than a month or two. At

home, that is. I imagine they might stretch a bit

further here.'

"Would a rhinu be one of those big gold coins?'

said Rincewind.

"Yes.' Twoflower looked worriedly at the wizard

over the top of his strange seeing-lenses. 'Will two

thousand be sufficient, do you think?'

'Yarrrt,' croaked Rincewind. "i mean, yes

sufficient . '

'Good.'

"Um. Is everyone in the Agatean Empire as rich

as you?'

"Me? Rich? Bless you, whatever put that idea into

your head? 'i am but a poor clerk! Did I pay the

innkeeper too much, do you think?' Twoflower

added.

"Uh. He might have settled for less,' Rincewind

conceded.

"Ah. I shall know better next time. I can see I have

a lot to learn. An idea occurs to me. Rincewind

would you perhaps consent to be employed as a, I

don't know, perhaps the word "guide" would fit the

circumstances? I think I could afford to pay you a rhinu a day.'

Rincewind opened his mouth to reply but felt the

words huddle together in his throat, reluctant to

emerge in a world that was rapidly going mad.

Twoflower blushed.

'i have offended you,' he said. it was an

impertinent request to make of a professional man

such as yourself. Doubtless you have many projects

you wish to return to-some works of high magic, no

doubt . . .'

"no,' said Rincewind faintly. 'Not just at present.

A rhinu, you say? One a day. Every day?'

"i think perhaps in the circumstances I should

make it one and one-half rhinu per day. Plus any

out-of-pocket expenses, of course.'

The wizard rallied magnificently. "That will be

fine,' he Said. "Great.'

Twoflower reached into his pouch and took out a

large round gold object, glanced at it for a moment,

and slipped it back. Rincewind didn't get a chance

tO see it properly.

"i think,' said the tourist, "that I would like a little

sleep now. It was a long crossing. And then perhaps

you would care to call back at noon and we can take

a look at the city.'

"Sure.'

"Then please be good enough to ask the innkeeper

tO Show me to my room.'

Rincewind did so, and watched the nervous

Broadman, who had arrived at a gallop from some

back room, lead the way up the wooden steps

behind the bar. After a few seconds the luggage got

up and pattered across the floor after them.

Then the wizard looked down at the six big coins

in his hand. Twoflower had insisted on paying his

first four days' wages in advance.

Hugh nodded and smiled encouragingly.

Rincewind snarled at him.

As a student wizard Rincewind had never

achieved high marks in precognition, but now

unused circuits in his brain were throbbing and the

future might as well have been engraved in bright

colours on his eyeballs. The space between his

shoulder blades began to itch. The sensible thing to

do, he knew, was to buy a horse. It would have to be

a faSt one, and expensive - offhand, RinCeWind

couldn't think of any horse-dealer he knew who was

rich enough to give' change out of almost a whole

ounce of gold.

And then, of course, the other five coins would

help him set up a useful practice at some safe

distance, say two hundred miles. That would be the

sensible thing.

But what would happen to Twoflower, all alone in

a city where even the cockroaches had an unerring

instinct for gold? A man would have to be a real heel

to leave him.

The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork smiled, but with

his mouth only.

"The Hub Gate, you say?' he murmured.

The guard captain saluted smartly. "Aye, lord. We

had to shoot the horse before he would stop.'

'Which, by a fairly direct route, brings you here,'

said the Patrician, looking down at Rincewind.

"And what have you got to say for yourself?'

It was rumoured that an entire wing of the

Patrician's palace was filled with clerks who spent

their days collating and updating all the

information collected by their maSter's exquisitely organized

spy system. Rincewind didn't doubt it. He' glanced

towards the balcony that ran down one side of the

audience room. A sudden run, a nimble jump - a

sudden hail of crossbow quarrels. He shuddered.

The Patrician cradled his chins in a beringed

hand, and regarded the wizard with eyes as small

and hard as beads.

"Let me see,' he said. "Oathbreaking, the theft of a

horse, uttering false coinage - yes, I think it's the

Arena for you, Rincewind.'

This was too much.

"i didn't steal the horse! I bought it fairly!'

"But with false coinage. Technical theft, you see.'

"But those rhinu are solid gold!'

"Rhinu?' The Patrician rolled one of them around

in his thick fingers. "is that what they are called?

How interesting. But, as you point out, they are not

very similar to dollars . . .'

.Well, of course they're not-'

'Ah you admit it, then?'

Rincewind opened his mouth to speak, thought

better of it, and shut it again.

.Quite so. And on top of these there is, of course, the

moral obloquy attendant on the cowardly betrayal

of a visitor to this shore. For shame, Rincewind! ' The Patrician waved a

hand vaguely. The guards

behind Rincewind backed away, and their captain

took a few paces to the right. Rincewind suddenly

felt very alone.

It is said that when a wizard is about to die Death

himself turns up to claim him ( instead of delegating

the task to a subordinate, such as Disease or

Famine, as is usually the case). Rincewind looked

around nervously for a tall figure in black( wizards,

even failed wizards, have in addition to rods and

cones in their eyeballs the tiny octagons that enable

them to see into the far octarine, the basic colour of

which all other colours are merely pale shadows

impinging on normal four-dimensional space. It is

said to be a sort of fluorescent greenish-yellow

purple).

Was that a flickering shadow in the corner?

'Of course,' said the Patrician, "i could be

merciful.' The shadow disappeared. Rincewind looked up

an expression of insane hope on his face.

'Yes?' he said.

The Patrician waved a hand again. Rincewind

saw the guards leave the chamber. Alone with the

"lord of the twin cities, he almost wished they

would come back.

"Come hither, Rincewind,' said the Patrician. He

indicated a bowl of savouries on a low onyx table by

the throne. "Would you care for a crystallised

jellyfish? No'. "Um ' said RinceWind,

"Now I want you to listen very carefully to what I

am about to say,' said the Patrician amiably,

'otherwise you will die. In an interesting fashion.

Over a period. Please stop fidgetting like that.

"Since you are a wizard of sorts, you are of course

aware that we live upon a world shaped, as it were,

like a disc? And that there is said to exist, towards

the far rim, a continent which though small is equal

in weight to all the mighty landmasses in this

hemicircle? And that this, according to ancient legend, is

because it is largely made of gold?'

Rincewind nodded. Who hadn't heard of the

Counterweight Continent? Some sailors even

believed the childhood tales and sailed in search of it.

Of course, they returned either empty handed or not

at all. Probably eaten by giant turtles, in the

opinion of more serious mariners. Because, of

course, the Counterweight Continent was nothing

more than a solar myth.

"it does, of course, exist,' said the Patrician

"Although it is not made of gold, it is true that gold is

a very common metal there. Most of the mass is

made up by vast deposits of octiron deep within the

crust. Now it will be obvious to an incisive mind like

yours that the existence of the Counterweight

Continent poses a deadly threat to our people

here' he paused, looking at Rincewind's open

mouth. He sighed. He said, do you by some chance

fail to follow me?'

"Yarrg, said Rincewind. He swallowed, and

licked his lips. "i mean, no. I mean - well, gold . . .'

"i see,' said the Patrician sweetly. "You feel,

perhaps, that it would be a marvellous thing to go to

the Counterweight Continent and bring back a

shipload of gold?'

Rincewind had a feeling that some sort of trap

was being set.

''Yes?' he ventured.

'And if' every man on the shores of the Circle Sea

had a mountain of gold of his own? Would that be a

good thing? What would happen? think carefully.'

Rincewind's brow furrowed. He thought. "We'd all

be rich?' The way the temperature fell at his remark told

him that it was not the correct one.

"i may as well tell you, Rincewind, that there is

some contact between the Lords of the Circle Sea

and the Emperor of the Agatean Empire, as it is

Styled,' the Patrician went on. it is only very slight

There is little common ground between us. We have

nothing they want, and they have nothing we can

afford. It is an old Empire, Rincewind. Old and

cunning and cruel and very, very rich. So we

exchange fraternal greetings by albatross mail. At

infrequent intervals.

"one such letter arrived this morning. A subject of

the Emperor appears to have taken it into his head

to visit our city. It appears he wishes to look at it.

Only a madman would possibly undergo all the

privationS of crossing the Turnwise Ocean in order

to merely look at anything. However.

he landed this morning. He might have met a

great hero, or the cunningest of thieves, or some

wise and great sage. He met you. He has employed

you as a guide. You will be a guide, Rincewind, to

thiS looker, this Twoflower. You will see that' he

returns home with a good report of our little

homeland. What do you say to that?'

"Er. Thank you, lord,' said Rincewind miserably.

"There iS another point, of course. It would be a

tragedy should anything untoward happen to our

little visitor. It would be dreadful if he were to die,

for example. Dreadful for the whole of our land,

because the Agatean Emperor looks after his own

and could certainly extinguish us at a nod. A mere

nod. And that would be dreadful for you, Rincewind,

because in the weeks that remained before the

Empire's huge mercenary fleet arrived certain of

my servants would occupy themselves about your

person in the hope that the avenging captains, on

their arrival, might find their anger tempered by

the sight of your still-living body. There are certain

spells that can prevent the life departing from a

body,be it never so abused, and-i see by your face

that understanding dawns?'

'Yarrg.'

"I beg your pardon?'

"Yes, lord. I'll, er, see to it, I mean, I'll endeavour to

see, I mean, well, I'll try to look after him and see he

comes to no harm.' And after that I'll get a job

juggling snowballs through Hell, he added bitterly

in the privacy of his own skull.

"Capital! I gather already that you and Twoflower

are on the best of terms. An excellent beginning

When he returns safely to his homeland you will not

find me ungrateful. I shall probably even dismiss

the charges against you. Thank you, Rincewind.

You may go.'

Rincewind decided not to ask for the return of his

five remaining rhinu. He backed away, cautiously.

"oh, and there is one other thing,' the Patrician

said, as the wizard groped for the door handles.

"Yes, lord?' he replied, with a sinking heart.

"i'm sure you won't dream of trying to escape from

your obligations by fleeing the city. I judge you to be

a born city person. But you may be sure that the

lords of the other cities will be appraised of these

conditions by nightfall.'

"i assure you the thought never even crossed my

mind, lord.'

"indeed? Then if I were you I'd sue my face for

slander

Rincewind reached the Broken Drum at a dead run

and was just in time to collide with a man who came

out backwards, fast. The stranger's haste was in

part accounted for by the spear in his chest. He

bubbled noisily and dropped dead at the wizard's

feet. Rincewind peered around the doorframe and

jerked back as a heavy throwing axe whirred past

like a partridge. It was probably a lucky throw, a second cautious

glance told him. The dark interior of the Drum was

a broil of fighting men, quite a number of them - a

third and longer glance confirmed - in bits.

Rincewind swayed back as a wildly thrown stool

sailed past and smashed on the far side of the street.

Then he dived in.

He was wearing a dark robe, made darker by

constant wear and irregular washings. In the

raging gloom no-one appeared to notice a shadowy

shape that shuffled desperately from table to table.

At one point a fighter, staggering back, trod on

what felt like fingers. A number of what felt like

teeth bit his ankle. He yelped shrilly and dropped

hiS guard just sufficiently for a sword, swung by a

surpriSed opponent, to skewer him.

Rincewind reached the stairway, sucking his

bruised hand and running with a curious, bent-over

gait. A crossbow quarrel thunked into the banister

rail above him, and he gave a whimper.

He made the stairs in one breathless rush,

expecting at any moment another, more accurate

shot.

In the corridor above he stood upright, gasping

and saw the floor in front of him scattered with

bodies. A big black-bearded man, with a bloody

sword in one hand, was trying a door handle.

'Hey!' screamed Rincewind. The man looked

around and then, almost absent-mindedly, drew a

short throwing knife from his bandolier and hurled

it. Rincewind ducked. There was a brief scream

behind him as the crossbow man, sighting down his

weapon, dropped it and clutched at his throat.

The big man was already reaching for another

knife. Rincewind looked around wildly, and then

with wild improvisation drew himself up into a

wizardly pose.

His hand was flung back. "Asoniti! Kyoruchal

Beazleblor! '

The man hesitated, his eyes flicking nervously

from side to side as he waited for the magic. The

conclusion that there was not going to be any hit

him at the same time as Rincewind, whirring wildly

down the passage, kicked him sharply in the groin.

As he screamed and clutched at himself the

wizard dragged open the door, sprang inside,

slammed it behind him and threw his body against

it, panting.

It was quiet in here. There was Twoflower,

sleeping peacefully on the bed. And there, at the

foot of the bed, was the Luggage.

Rincewind took a few steps forward, cupidity

moving him as easily as if he were on little wheels.

The chest was open. There were bags inside, and in

one of them he caught the gleam of gold. For a

moment greed overcame caution, and he reached

out gingerly . . . but what was the use? He'd never

live to enjoy it. Reluctantly he drew his hand back,

and was surprised to see a slight tremor in the

chest's open lid. Hadn't it shifted slightly, as

though rocked by the wind?

Rincewind looked at his fingers, and then at the

lid. It looked heavy, and was bound with brass

bands. It was quite still now.

What wind?

"Rincewind! '

Twoflower sprang off the bed. The wizard jumped

back, wrenching his features into a smile.

"My dear chap, right on time! We'll just have

lunch, and then I'm sure you've got a wonderful

programme lined up for this afternoon."

"That's great,'

Rincewind took a deep breath. "look,' he said

desperately, "let's eat somewhere else. There's been

a bit of a fight down below.

"a tavern brawl? Why didn't you wake me up?'

"Well, you see, I - what?'

"i thought I made myself clear this morning,

Rincewind. I want to see genuine Morporkian life

the slave market, the Whore Pits, the Temple of

Small Gods, the Beggars' Guild . . . and a genuine

tavern brawl.' A faint note of suspicion entered

Twoflower's voice. "You do have them, don't you?

You know, people swinging on chandeliers,

swordfightS over the table, the sort of thing Hrun the

Barbarian and the Weasel are always getting

involved in. You know - excitement.'

Rincewind sat down heavily on the bed.

"You want to see a fight?' he said.

"Yes. What's wrong with that?'

"for a Start, people get hurt.'

"oh, I wasn't suggesting we get involved. I just

want to see one, that's all. And some of your famous

heroes. You do have some, don't you? It's not all

dockSide talk?' And now, to the wizard's

astonishment, Twoflower was almost pleading.

"Oh, yeah. We have them all right,' said Rincewind

hurriedly. He pictured them in his mind, and

recoiled from the thought.

All the heroes of the Circle Sea passed through

the gates of Ankh-Morpork sooner or later. Most of

them were from the barbaric tribes nearer the frozen

Hub, which had a sort of export trade in heroes

AlmoSt all of them had crude magic swords, whose

Unsuppressed harmonics on the astral plane played

hell with any delicate experiments in applied

sorcery for miles around, but Rincewind didn't

object to them on that score. He knew himself to be a

magical dropout, so it didn't bother him that the

mere appearance of a hero at the city gates was

enough to cause retorts to explode and demons to

materialise all through the Magical Quarter. No,

what he didn't like about heroes was that they were

usually suicidally gloomy when sober and

homicidally insane when drunk. There were too many of

them, too. Some of the most notable questing

grounds near the city were a veritable hubbub in the

season. There was talk of organizing a rota.

He rubbed his nose. The only heroes he had much

time for were Bravd and the Weasel, who were out of

town at the moment, and Hrun the Barbarian, who

was practically an academic by Hub standards in

that he could think without moving his lips. Hrun

was said to be roving somewhere Turnwise.

"Look,' he said at last. "have you ever met a

barbarian?"

Twoflower shook his head.

"i was afraid of that,' said Rincewind. "Well.

they're'

There was a clatter of running feet in the street

outside and a fresh uproar from downstairs. It was

followed by a commotion on the stairs. The door was

flung open before Rincewind could collect himself

sufficiently to make a dash for the,window.

But instead of the greed-crazed madman he

expected, he found himself looking into the round

red face of a Sergeant of the Watch. He breathed

again. Of course. The Watch were always careful

not to intervene too soon in any brawl where the

odds were not heavily stacked in their favour. The

job carried a pension, and attracted a cautious,

thoughtful kind of man.

The Sergeant glowered at Rincewind, and then

peered at Twoflower with interest.

"Everything all right here, then?' he said.

"Oh, fine,' said Rincewind. "got held up, did you?'

The sergeant ignored him. "This the foreigner?"

he"" inquired.

"we" were just leaving,' said Rincewind quickly,

and switched to Trob. "Twoflower, I think we ought

to get lunch somewhere else. i know some places.'

He marched out into the corridor with as much

aplomb as he could muster. Twoflower followed,

and a few seconds later there was a strangling

sound from the sergeant as the luggage closed its

lid with a snap, stood up, stretched, and marched

after them.

Watchmen were dragging bodies out of the room

downstairs. There were no survivors. The Watch

had ensured this by giving them ample time to

escape via the back door, a neat compromise

between caution and justice that benefited all

parties.

"Who are all these men?' said Twoflower.

"oh, you know. Just men,' said Rincewind. And

before he could stop himself some part of his brain

that had nothing to do took control of his mouth

and added, "Heroes, in fact.'

"Really?'

When one foot is stuck in the Grey Miasma of

krull it is much easier to step right in and sink

rather than prolong the struggle. Rincewind let

himself go.

"Yes, that one over there is Frig Stronginthearm,

over there is Black Zenell-'

"is Hrun the Barbarian here?' said Twoflower,

looking around eagerly. Rincewind took a deep

breath.

"That's him behind us,' he said.

The enormity of this lie was so great that its

ripples did in fact spread out one of the lower astral

planes as far as the Magical Quarter across the

river, where it picked up tremendous velocity from

the huge standing wave of power that always

hovered there and bounced wildly across the Circle

Sea. A harmonic got as far as Hrun himself,

currently fighting a couple of gnolls on a crumbling

ledge high in the Caderack Mountains, and caused

him a moment's unexplained discomfort.

Twoflower, meanwhile, had thrown back the lid

of the Luggage and was hastily pulling out a heavy

black cube.

"This is fantastic, ' he said . "They're never going to

believe this at home. '

"What's he going on about?.' said the sergeant

doubtfully.

"He's pleased you rescued us,' said Rincewind. He

looked sidelong at the black box, half-expecting it to

explode or emit strange musical tones.

"Ah,' said the sergeant. He was staring at the box,

too

Twoflower smiled brightly at them.

'i'd like a record of the event,' he said. "Do you

think you could ask them all to stand over by the

window, please? This won't take a moment. And, er,

Rincewind? '

"Yes?'

Twoflower stood on tiptoe to whisper.

"i expect you know what this is, don't you?'

Rincewind stared down at the box. It had a round

glass eye protruding from the centre of one face,

and a lever at the back.

"Not wholly, ' he said.

"it's a device for making pictures quickly,' said

Twoflower. "Quite a new invention. I'm rather

proud of it but, look, I don't think these gentlemen

would - well, I mean they might be - sort of

apprehensive? Could you explain it to them? I'll

reimburse them for their time, of course.'

"He's got a box with a demon in it that draws

pictures,' said Rincewind shortly. "do what the

madman says and he will give you gold.'

The Watch smiled nervously.

'i'd like you in the picture, Rincewind. That's

fine.' Twoflower took out the golden disc that

Rincewind had noticed before, squinted at its

unseen face for a moment, muttered "Thirty seconds

should about do it,' and said brightly, "Smile please! '

"Smile,' rasped Rincewind. There was a whirr

from the box.

"Right.'

high above the disc the second albatross soared; so

high in fact that its tiny mad orange eyes could see

the whole of the world and the great, glittering,

girdling Circle Sea. There was a yellow message

capsule strapped to one leg. Far below it, unseen in

the clouds, the bird that had brought the earlier

message to the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork flapped

gently back to its home.

Rincewind looked at the tiny square of glass in

astonishment. There he was, all right - a tinY

figure, in perfect colour, standing in front of a group

of Watchmen whose faces were each frozen in a

terrified rictus. A buzz of wordless terror went up

from the men around him as they craned over his

shoulder to look.

Grinning, Twoflower produced a handful of the

Smaller coins Rincewind now recognized as

quarter-rhinu. He winked at the wizard.

"i had similar problems when I stopped over in

the Brown Islands,' he said. "They thought the

iconograph steals a bit of their souls. Laughable, isn't it? ' "Yarg,'

said Rincewind and then, because

some

how that was hardly enough to keep up his side of

the conversation, added, "i don't think it looks "er\

like me, though.'

"it's easy to operate,' said Twoflower, ignoring

him. "Look, all you have to do is press this button.

The iconograph does the rest. Now, I'll just stand

over here next to Hrun, and you can take the

picture.'

The coins quietened the men's agitation in the

way that gold can, and Rincewind was amazed to

find, half a minute later, that he was holding a little

glass portrait of Twoflower wielding a huge notched

sword and smiling as though all his dreams had

come true.

They lunched at a small eating-house near the

Brass Bridge, with the luggage nestling under the

table. The food and wine, both far superior to

Rincewind's normal fare, did much to relax him.

Things weren't going to be too bad, he decided. A bit

of invention and some quick thinking, that was all

that was needed.

Twoflower seemed to be thinking too. Looking

reflectively into his wine cup he said, "Tavern fights

are pretty common around here, I expect?'

"Oh, fairly.'

'No doubt fixtures and fittings get damaged?'

"Fixt - oh, I see. You mean like benches and

whatnot. Yes, I suppose so.'

'That must be upsetting for the innkeepers.'

"i've never really thought about it. I suppose it

must be one of the risks of the job.'

Twoflower regarded him thoughtfully.

"i might be able to help there.' he said. "Risks are

my business. I say, this food is a bit greasy, isn't it?'

"You did say you wanted to try some typical

Morporkean food,' said Rincewind. "What was that

about risks?'

"Oh, I know all about risks. They're my business.'

"i thought that's what you said. I didn't believe it

the first time either.'

"oh, I don't take risks. About the most exciting

thing that happened to me was knocking some ink

over. I assess risks. Day after day. Do you know

what the odds are against a house catching fire in

the Red Triangle district of des Pelargic? Five

hundred and thirty-eight to one. I calculated that,'

he added with a trace of pride.

.What"what for?

Rincewind tried to suppress a burp

Scuse me.' He helped himself to some more wine

twoflower paused. "i can't say it in Trob,'

I don't think the beTrobi have a word for it.

in our language we call it-' he said a collection of

syllables.

ensowrants,' repeated Rincewind. "That's a funny word

. Wossit mean?'

well suppose you have a ship loaded with, say, gold bars.

it might run into storms or be taken by pirates. You

don't want that to happen, so you take

out an ensewer-ants-pally-sey . I work out the odds

of the cargo being lost, based on weather and

piracy records for the last twenty years, then I add on a

bit, then you pay me some money based

on those odds-" "and' the bit-' Rincewind said, waggling a

finger solemnly.

then, if the cargo is lost, I reimburse you.'

"reeburs?" "pay you

the value of your cargo,' said Twoflower

patiently.

oh I get it. It's like a bet, right?'

"a wager? In a way, I suppose,'

"and you make money at this inn-sewer-ants?

"it offers a return on investment, certainly.'

wrapped in the warm yellow glow of the wine,

rincewind tried to think of inn-sewer-ants in circle

sea terms.

"I don't think I unnerstan' this inn-sewer-ants,' he

said firmly, idly watching the world spin by,

"magic now. Magic I unnerstan'.'

Twoflower grinned. 'Magic is one thing, and

reflected-sound-of-underground-spirits is another, he said.'

"whah?"

what!" "that funny word you used,' said Rincewind

impationtly.

"Reflected-sound-of-underground-spirits?

"Never heard of it.'

Twoflower tried to explain.

Rincewind tried to understand

In the long afternoon they toured the city Turn wise

of the river. Twoflower led the way, with the strange

picture-box slung on a strap round his neck,

Rincewind trailed behind, whimpering at intervals

and checking to see that his head was still there.

A few others followed, too. In a city where public

executions, duels, fights, magical feuds and strange

events regularly punctuated the daily round the

inhabitants had brought the profession of interested

bystander to a peak of perfection. They were, to a

man, highly skilled yawpers. In any case,

Twoflower was delightedly taking picture after picture

of people engaged in what he described as typical

activities, and since a quarter-rhinu would

subsequently change hands "for their trouble' a tail of

bemused and happy nouveux-riches was soon

following him in case this madman exploded in a

shower of gold.

At the Temple of the Seven-Handed Sek a hasty

convocation of priests and ritual heart-transplant

artisans agreed that the hundred-span high statue

of Sek was altogether too holy to be made into a

magic picture, but a payment of two rhinu left them

astoundedly agreeing that perhaps He wasn't as

holy as all that.

A prolonged session at the Whore Pits produced a

number of colourful and instructive pictures, a

number of which Rincewind concealed about his

person for detailed perusal in private. As the fumes

cleared from his brain he began to speculate

Seriously as to how the iconograph worked.

Even a failed wizard knew that some substances

were sensitive to light. Perhaps the glass plates

were treated by some arcane process that froze the

light, that passed through them: or Something like

that, anyway. Rincewind often suspected that there

was Something, somewhere, that was better than

magic. He was usually disappointed.

However, he soon took every opportunity to

operate the box. Twoflower was only too pleased to

allow this, since that enabled the little man to

appear in his own pictures. It was at this point that

Rincewind noticed something strange. Possession

of the box conferred a kind of power on the wielder

which was that anyone, confronted with the

hypnotic glass eye, would submissively obey the

most 'peremptory orders about stance and

expression. It was while he was thus engaged in the Plaza of

Broken Moons that disaster struck.

Twoflower had posed alongside a bewildered

charm-seller, his crowd of new-found admirers

watching him with interest in case he did

something humorously lunatic.

Rincewind got down on one knee, the better to

arrange the picture, and pressed the enchanted

lever.

The box said, "It's no good. I've run out of pink.'

A hitherto unnoticed door opened in front of his

eyeS. A small, green and hideously warty humanoid

figure leaned out, pointed at a colour-encrusted

palette in one clawed hand, and screamed at him.

'No pink, See?' screeched the homunculus."No

good you going on pressing the lever when there's

no pink, is there? If you wanted pink you shouldn't

of took all those pictures of young ladies, should

you? It's monochrome from now on, friend. Alright? '

"Alright. Yeah, Sure,' said Rincewind. In one dim

corner of the little box he thought he could see an

easle, and a tiny unmade bed. He hoped he couldn't.

"So long as that's understood,' said the imp, and

shut the door. Rincewind thought he could hear the

muffled sound of grumbling and the scrape of a

stool being dragged across the floor.

"Twoflower-' he began, and looked up.

Twoflower had vanished. As Rincewind stared at

the crowd, with sensations of prickly horror

traveling up his spine, there came a gentle prod in the

small of his back.

"turn without haste,' said a voice like black silk.

'Or kiss your kidneys goodbye.'

The crowd watched with interest. It was turning

out to be quite a good day.

Rincewind turned slowly, feeling the point of the

sword scrape along his ribs. At the other end of the

blade he recognized Siren Withel - thief, cruel

swordsman, disgruntled contender for the title of

worst man in the world.

" Hi , ' he said weakly . A few yards away he noticed

a couple of unsympathetic men raising the lid of the

Luggage and pointing excitedly at the bags of gold.

Withel smiled. It made an unnerving effect on his

scar-crossed face.

'I know you,' he said. "a gutter wizard. What is

that thing?'

Rincewind became aware that the lid of the

Luggage was trembling slightly, although there was no

wind. And he was still holding the picture-box.

"This? It makes pictures, ' he said brightly. "Hey.

just hold that smile, will you?' He backed away

quickly and pointed the box.

For a moment Withel hesitated. "What? he said.

'That's fine, hold it just like that . . .' said

Rincewind.

The thief paused, then growled and swung his

sword back.

There was a snap, and a duet of horrible screams

Rincewind did not glance around for fear of the

terrible things he might see, and by the time Withel

looked for him again he was on the other side of the plaza

and still accelerating.

The albatross descended in wide, slow sweeps that

ended in an undignified flurry of feathers and a

thump as it landed heavily on its platform in the

Patrician's bird garden.

The custodian of the birds, dozing in the sun and

hardly expecting a long-distance message so soon

after this morning's arrival, jerked to his feet and

looked up. A few moments later he was scuttling through the

palace's corridors holding the message capsule and

-sucking at the nasty beak wound on the back of his hand owing to

carelessness brought on by surpriSe

Rincewind pounded down an alley, paying no heed

to the screams of rage coming from the picture box

and cleared a high wall with his frayed robe

flapping around him like the feathers of a dishevelled

jackdaw. He landed in the forecourt of a carpet

shop, scattering the merchandise and customers

dived through its rear exit trailing apologies

skidded down another alley and stopped, teetering

dangerously, just as he was about to plunge

unthinkingly into the Ankh.

There are said to be some mystic rivers one drop

of which can steal a man's life away. After its turbid

paSsage through the twin cities the Ankh could

have been one of them.

In the distance the cries of rage took on a shrill

note of terror. Rincewind looked around desperately

for a boat, or a handhold up the sheer walls on

either Side of him.

He was trapped.

Unbidden, the Spell welled up in his mind. It was

perhaps untrue to say that he had learned it; it had

learned him. The episode had led to his expulsion

from Unseen University, because, for a bet, he had

dared to open the pages of the last remaining copy

of the creators own grimOire, The Octavo, while the

University librarian was otherwise engaged.. The

spell had leapt out of the page and instantly

burrowed deeply into his mind, from whence even

the combined talents of the Faculty of Medicine had

been unable to coax it. Precisely which one it was

they were also unable to ascertain, except that it

was one of the eight basic spells that were

intricately interwoven with the very fabric of time

and space itself.

Since then it had been showing a worrying

tendency, when Rincewind was feeling rundown or

especially threatened, to try to get itself said.

He clenched his teeth together but the first

syllable forced itself around the corner of his

mouth. His left hand raised involuntarily and, as

the magical force whirled him round, began to give

off octarine sparks . . .

The Luggage hurtled around the corner, its

several hundred knees moving like pistons.

Rincewind gaped. The spell died, unsaid.

The box didn't appear to be hampered in any way

by the ornamental rug draped roguishly over it, nor

by the thief hanging by one arm from the lid. It was

in a very real sense, a dead weight. Further along

the lid were the remains of two fingers, owner

unknown.

The Luggage halted a few feet from the wizard

and, after a moment, retracted its legs. It had no

eyes that Rincewind could see, but he was never

theless sure that it was staring at him. Expectantly.

"Shoo,' he said weakly. It didn't budge, but the lid

creaked open, releasing the dead thief.

Rincewind remembered about the gold.

Presumably the box had to have a master. In the absence of

Twoflower, had it adopted him?

The tide was turning and he could see debris

drifting downstream in the yellow afternoon light

towards the river gate, a mere hundred yards

downstream. It was the work of a moment to let the

dead thief join them. Even if it was found later it

would hardly cause comment. And the sharks in the

Ankh were used to solid, regular meals.

Rincewind watched the body drift away, and

considered his next move. The Luggage would

probably float. All he had to do was wait until dusk,

and then go out with the tide. There were plenty of

wild places downstream where he could wade

ashore, and then - well, if the Patrician really had

sent out word about him then a change of clothing

and a shave should take care of that. In any case,

there were other lands and he had a facility for

languages. Let him but get to Chimera or Gonim or

Ecalpon and half a dozen armies couldn't bring him

back. And then - wealth, comfort, security . . .

There was, of course, the problem of Twoflower.

Rincewind allowed himself a moment's sadness.

'it could be worse,' he said by way of farewell. "it

could be me.'

It was when he tried to move that he found hiS

robe was caught on some obstruction.

By craning his neck he found that the edge of it

was being gripped firmly by the Luggage's lid.

"Ah, Gorphal,' said the Patrician pleasantly. Come

in. Sit down. Can I press you to a candied starfish?'

"i am yours to command, master,' said the old

man calmly. "save, perhaps, in the matter of

preserved echinoderms . '

The Patrician shrugged, and indicated the scroll

on the table.

"Read that,' he said.

Gorphal picked up the parchment and raised one

eyebrow slightly when he saw the familiar

ideograms of the Golden Empire. He read in silence for

perhaps a minute, and then turned the scroll over to

examine minutely the seal on the obverse.

"you are faimed as a student of empire affairs,"

said the Patrician. "Can you explain this?"

'Knowledge in the matter of the Empire lies less

in noting particular events than in studying a

certain cast of mind,' said the old diplomat. "The

message is curious, yes, but not surprising.'

"This morning the Emperor instructed,' the

Patrician allowed himself the luxury of a scowl,

"instructed me, Gorphal, to protect this Two Flower

person. Now it seems I must have him killed. You

don't find that surprising?'

"No. The Emperor is no more than a boy. He is

idealiStic. Keen. A god to his people. Whereas this

afternoon's letter is, unless I am very much

mistaken, from Nine Turning mirrors, the Grand

Vizier. He has grown old in the service of several

Emperors. He regards them as a necessary but

tiresome ingredient in the successful running of the

Empire. He does not like things out of place. The

Empire was not built by allowing things to get out

of place. That is his vieW.'

'I begin to see' said the Patrician.

"quite so.' Gorphal smiled into his beard. "This

tourist is a thing that is out of place. After acceding

to his master's wishes Nine Turning Mirrors would,

I am quite sure, make his own arrangements with a

view to ensuring that one wanderer would not be

allowed to return home bringing, perhaps, the

disease of dissatisfaction. The Empire likes people

to stay where it puts them. So much more convenient,

then, if this Two Flower disappears for good in the

barbarian lands. meaning here, master.'

"And your advice?' said the Patrician.

Gorphal shrugged.

"Merely that you should do nothing. Matters will

undoubtedly resolve themselves. However,' he

scratched an ear thoughtfully, 'perhaps the Assassins'

Guild . . . ?'

"Ah yes,' said the Patrician. "The Assassins

guild. Who is their president at the moment?"

"Zlorf flannelfoot, master."

"have a word with him, will you?'

'Quite so, master.'

The Patrician nodded. It was all rather a relief.

He agreed with Nine Turning Mirrors - life was

difficult enough; People ought to stay where they

were put.

Brilliant constellations shone down on the

discworld. One by one the traders shuttered their shops.

One by one the gonophs, thieves, finewirers,

whores, illusionists, backsliders and second-storey

men awoke and breakfasted. Wizards went about

their polydimensional affairs. Tonight saw the

conjunction of two powerful planets, and already

the air over the Magical Quarter was hazy with

early spells.

"look,' Said Rincewind, "this isn't getting us

anywhere.' He inched sideways. The Luggage

followed faithfully, lid half open and menacing.

Rincewind briefly considered making a desperate

leap to safety. The lid smacked in anticipation.

In any case, he told himself with sinking heart,

the damn thing would only follow him again. It had

that dogged look about it. Even if he managed to get

to a horse, he had a nasty suspicion that it would

follow him at its own pace. Endlessly. Swimming

rivers and oceans. Gaining slowly every night,

while he had to stop to sleep. And then one day, in

some exotic city and years hence, he'd hear the

sound of hundreds of tiny feet accelerating down

the road behind him . . .

'You've got the wrong man!' he moaned. "it's not

my fault! I didn't kidnap him!'

The box moved forward slightly. Now there was

just a narrow strip of greasy jetty between

rincewind's heels and the river. A flash of precognition

told him that the box would be able to swim faster

than he could. he tried not to imagine what it would

be like to drown in the Ankh.

'it won't stop until you give in, you know,' said a

small voice conversationally.

Rincewind looked down at the iconograph, still

hanging around his neck. Its trapdoor was open

and the homunculus was leaning against the trap,

smoking a pipe and watching the proceedings with

amusement.

"i'll take you in with me, at least,' said RinCeWind

through gritted teeth.

The imp took the pipe out of his mouth. "What did

you say?' he said.

"i said i'll take you in with me, dammit!'

"Suit yourself.' The imp tapped the side of the box

meaningfully. "We'll see who sinks first.'

The luggage yawned, and moved forward a

fraction of an inch.

"oh all right,' said Rincewind irritably. "But

you'll have to give me time to think.'

The luggage backed off slowly. Rincewind edged

his way back onto reasonably safe land and sat

down with his back against a wall. Across the river

the lights of Ankh city glowed.

"You're a wizard,' said the picture imp. "You'll

think of some way to find him.'

"Not much of a wizard, I'm afraid.'

"You can just jump down on everyone and turn

them into worms,' the imp added encouragingly,

ignoring his last remark.

"No. Turning To Animals is an Eighth Level

spell. I never even completed my training. I only

know one spell.'

"Well, that'll do.'

"i doubt it,' said Rincewind hopelessly

"What does it do, then?'

"Can't tell you. Don't really want to talk about it.

But frankly,' he sighed , "no spells are much good . It

takes three months to commit even a simple one to

memory, and then once you've used it, pow it's

gone. that's what's so stupid about the whole magic

thing, You know. You spend twenty Years learning

the spell that makes nude virgins appear in your

bedroom, and then you're so poisoned by quicksilver

fumes and half-blind from reading old grimoires

that you can't remember what happens next.'

'I never thought of it like that,' said the imp.

'Hey, look - this is all wrong. When Twoflower

said they'd got better kind of magic in the empire I

thought-I thought . . .'

The imp looked at him expectantly. Rincewind

cursed to himself.

"Well, if you must know, I thought he didn't mean

magic. Not as such.'

"What else is there, then?'

Rincewind began to feel really wretched. "I don't

know,' he said. "A better way of doing things, I

suppose. Something with a bit of sense in it.

Harnessing - harnessing the lightning, or

something.

The imp gave him a kind but pitying look.

"Lightning is the spears hurled by the thunder

giants when they fight,' it said gently. "Established

meteorological fact. You can't harness it.'

"I know,' said Rincewind miserably. That's the

flaw in the argument, of course.'

The imp nodded. and disappeared into the depths

of the iconograph .' A few moments later Rincewind

smelled bacon frying. He waited until his stomach

couldn't Stand the strain any more, and rapped on

the box. The imp reappeared.

"I've been thinking about what you said," it said even

before Rincewind could open his mouth. "And even

if you could get a harness on it, how could you get it

to pull a cart?'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

'Lightning. It just goes up and down.'You'd want

it to go along, not up and down. Anyway, it'd

probably burn through the harnesS.'

"I don't care about the lightning! How can I think

on an empty stomach?'

"Eat something, then. That's logic.'

' How? Every time I move that damn box flexes itS

hinges at mei'

The luggage, on cue, gaped widely.

"See?'

"it's not trying to bite you,' said the imp. "There's

food in there. You're no use to it starved.'

Rincewind peered into the dark recesses of the

Luggage. There were indeed, among the chaos of

boxes and bags of gold, several bottles and

packages in oiled paper. He gave a cynical laugh,

mooched around the abandoned jetty until he found

a piece of wood about the right length, wedged it as

politely as poSSible in the gap between the lid and

the box, and pulled out one of the flat packages.

It held biscuits that turned out to be as hard as

diamond-wood.

'bloody hell he muttered, nursing his teeth.

"Captain Eightpanther's Travellers' Digestives

them,' said the imp from the doorway to his box

"Saved many a life at sea, they have.'

'Oh, sure. Do you use them as a raft, or just throw

them to the sharks and sort of watch them sink?

What's in the bottles? Poison?'

"Water.'

"But there's water everywhere! Why'd he want to

bring water?'

"Trust.'

"Trust?'

'Yes. That's what he didn't, the water here. See?

Rincewind opened a bottle. The liquid inside might

have been water. It had a flat, empty flavour, with

no trace of life. 'Neither taste nor smell.' he grumbled

The luggage gave a little creak, attracting his

attention. With a lazy air of calculated menace it

shut its lid slowly, grinding Rincewind's impromptu

wedge like a dry loaf.

"All right, all right,' he said. "i'm thinking.'

Ymor's headquarters were in the leaning Tower at

the junction of Rime Street and Frost Alley. At

midnight the solitary guard leaning in the shadows

looked up at the conjoining planets and wondered

idlly what change in his fortunes they might herald.

There was the faintest of sounds, as of a gnat

yawning. The guard glanced down the deserted street, and

now caught the glimmer of moonlight on something

lying in the mud a few yards away. He picked it up.

The lunar light gleamed on gold, and his intake of

breath was almost loud enough to echo down the

alleyway. There was a slight sound again, and another coin

rolled into the gutter on the other side of the street.

By the time he had picked it up there was another

one, a little way off and still spinning. Gold was, he

remembered, said to be formed from the crystallized

light of stars. Until now he had never believed it to

be true, that something as heavy as gold could fall

naturally from the sky.

As he drew level with the opposite alley mouth

some more fell. It was still in its bag, there was an

awful lot of it, and Rincewind brought it down

heavily onto his head.

When the guard came to he found himself looking

up into the wild-eyed face of a wizard, who was

menacing his throat with a sword. In the' darkness

tOO, Something was gripping his leg.

It was the disconcerting sort of grip that suggested

that the gripper could grip a whole lot harder, if he

wanted to.

"Where is he, the rich foreigner?'' hissed the

wizard. "Quickly!'

"What's holding my leg?' said the man, with a

note of terror in his voice. 'He tried to wriggle free.

The pressure increased

"You wouldn't want to know,' said Rincewind

"Pay attention, please. Where's the foreigner?'

"Not here. They've got him at Broadman's place.

"everyone's looking for him! You're Rincewind

aren't you? The box - the box that bites people

ononono . : . pleasssse . . .'

Rincewind had gone. The guard felt the unseen

leg-gripper release his - or, as he was beginning to

fear,it's-hold. Then, as he tried to pull himself to his

feet, something big and heavy and square cannoned

into him out of the dark and plunged off after the

wizard. Something with hundreds of tiny feet.

With only his home-made phrase book to help him

Twoflower was trying to explain the mysteries of

in-sour-ants to Broadman . The fat innkeeper was

listening intently, his little black eyes glittering.

From the other end of the table Ymor watched

with mild amusement, occasionally feeding one oF

his ravens with scraps from his plate. Beside him

Withel paced up and down.

"You fret too much,' said Ymor, without taking his

eyes from the two men opposite him. "i can feel it

Siren. Who would dare attack us' here? And the

gutter wizard will come. He's too much of a coward

not to. And he'll try to bargain. And we shall have

him. And the gold. And the chest.'

Withel's one eye glared, and he made a fist

into the palm of a black-gloved hand.

"Who would have thought there was so much

sapient pearwood in the whole of the disc?' he said.

'How could we have known?'

"You fret too much, Siren. I'm sure you can do

better this time,' said Ymor pleasantly.

The lieutenant snorted in disgust, and strode off

around the room to bully his men. Ymor carried on

watching the tourist.

It was strange, but the little man didn't seem to

realise the seriousness of his position. Ymer had on

several occasions seen him look around the room

With an expression of deep satisfaction.

he had also been talking for ages to broadman and Ymer had

seen a piece of paper change hands and Broadman

had given the foreigner some coins. It was strange.

When Broadman got up and waddled past Ymer's chair the thiefmasters

arm shot out like a steel spring and grabbed the

fat man by his apron.

"What was that all about friend?" asked ymer

quietly. oh-nothing, Ymor. Just private business, like.'

"There are no secrets between friends, Broadman.

"Yan. Well, I'm not sure about it myself, really. It's

a sort of bet, see?' said the innkeeper nervously

"inn-sewer-ans, it's called. It's like a bet that the

Broken Drum won't get burned down.'

Ymor held the man's gaze until Broadman

twitched in fear and embarrassment. Then the

thiefmaster laughed.

'This worm-eaten old tinder pile?' he said. "The

man must be mad! '

"Yes, but mad with money. He says now he's got

the - can't remember the word, begins with a P, it's

what you might call the stake money-the people he

workS for in the Agatean Empire will pay up. If the

Broken Drum burns down. Not that I hope it does.

Burn down. The Broken Drum, I mean. I mean, it's

like a home to me, is the Drum . . .'

"Not entirely stupid, are you?' said Ymor, and

pushed the innkeeper away.

The door slammed back on its hinges and

thudded into the wall.

"Hey, that's my door. ' screamed Broadman . Then

he realised who was standing at the top of the steps,

and ducked behind the table a mere shaving of time

before a short black dart sped across the room and

thunked into the woodwork.

Ymor moved his hand carefully, and poured out another flagon of beer.

"Won't you join me, Zlorf?' he said levelly. "and

put that sword away , Siren. Zlorf Flannelfoot is our

friend '

The president of the Assassins' Guild spun his

short blowgun dexterously and slotted it into its

holster in one smooth movement.

'Siren!' said Ymor.

The black-clad thief hissed, and sheathed his

sword. But he kept his hand on the hilt, and his eyes

on the assassin.

That wasn't easy. Promotion in the Assassins'

Guild was by competitive examination, the Practical

being the most important - indeed, the only - part

Thus Zlorf's broad, honest face was a welter of scar

tissue, the result of many a close encounter. It

probably hadn't been all that good-looking in any

case-it was said that Zlorf had chosen a profession

in which dark hoods, cloaks and nocturnal prowlings

figured largely because there was a day-fearing

trollish streak in his parentage. People who said

this in earshot of Zlorf tended to carry their ears

home in their hats.

He strolled down the stairs, followed by a number

of assassins. When he was directly in front of Ymor

he said: "i've come for the tourist.'

is it any of Your business, Zlorf?'

"Yes. Gringo, Urmond - take him.'

Two of the assassins stepped forward. Then Siren

was in front of them, his sword appearing to

materialise an inch from their throats without

having to pass through the intervening aiR.

"Possibly I could only kill one of you,' he

murmured, "but I suggest you ask yourselves

which one?'

"Look up, Zlorf,' said Ymor.

A row of yellow, baleful eyes looked down from

the darkness among the rafters.

"one step more and you'll leave here with fewer

eyes than you came with

So sit downn and have a drink

Said the thiefmaster.

, Zlorf, and let's talk about thiS Sensibly. I thought

we had an agreement.

You don't rob-I don't kill. Not for payment, that is,'

he added after a pause.

Zlorf took the proffered beer.

.So?' he said. "i'll kill him. Then you rob him. Is he

that funny looking one over there?'

"Yes.'

Zlorf Stared at Twoflower, who grinned at him.

He shrugged. He seldom wasted time wondering

why people wanted other people dead. It was just a

living. "Who is your client, may I ask?' said Ymor.

Zlorf held up a hand. "Please!' he protested.

"Professional etiquette.'

"of course. By the way-'

"Yes?'

'I believe I have a couple of guards outside'

"Had.'

"And some others in the doorway across the

street-"

"Formerly.'

"and two bowmen on the roof.'

A flicker of doubt passed across Zlorfs face, like

the last shaft of sunlight over a badly ploughed field.

The door flew open, badly damaging the assassin

who was standing beside it.

'Stop doing that!' shrieked Broadman, from

under his table.

Zlorf and Ymor stared up at the figure on the

threShold. It was short, fat and richly dressed. Very

richly dreSSed. There were a number of tall, big

shapes looming behind it. Very big, threatening

shapes.

'Who's that?' said Zlorf.

"I know him,' said Ymor. "His name's Rerpf. He

runS the Groaning Platter tavern down by Brass

Bridge. Siren - remove him.'

Rerpf held up a beringed hand. Siren Withel

hesitated halfway to the door as several very large

trolls ducked under the doorway and stood on either

side of the fat man, blinking in the light. Muscles

the size of melons bulged in forearms like flour

sacks. Each troll held a double-headed axe. Between

thumb and forefinger.

Broadman erupted from cover, his face Suffused

with rage.

"out!' he screamed. "Get those trolls out of here!' No-one moved. The

room was suddenly quiet.

Broadman looked around quickly. It began to dawn

on him just what he had said, and to whom. A

whimper escaped from hiS lips, glad to be free.

He reached the doorway to his cellars just as one

of the trolls, with a lazy flick of one ham-sized hand,

sent his axe whirling across the room. The slam of

the door and its subsequent splitting as the axe hit

it merged into one sound.

"Bloody hell!' exclaimed Zlorf Flannelfoot.

"What do you want?' said Ymor.

"I am here on behalf of the Guild of Merchants and

Traders,' said Rerpf evenly. "to protect our interests,

you might say. Meaning the little man.'

Ymor wrinkled his brows.

"i'm sorry,' he said. "i thought I heard you say the

Guild of Merchants?'

"And traders,' agreed Rerpf. Behind him now, in

addition to more trolls, were several humans that

Ymor vaguely recognized. He had seen them,

maybe, behind counters and bars. Shadowy figures,

usually - easily ignored, easily forgotten. At the

back of his mind a bad feeling began to grow. He

thought about how it might be to be, say, a fox

confronted with an angry sheep. A sheep, moreover,

that could afford to employ wolves.

'How long has this - Guild - been in existence,

may I ask?' he said.

"Since this afternoon,' said Rerpf. "I'm

viceguildmaster in charge of tourism, you know.'

"What is this touriSm of which you Speak?'

.Uh - we are not quite sure . . .' said Rerpf. An old

beaded man poked his head over the guildmaster's

shoulder and cackled, 'Speaking on behalf of the

winesellers of Morpork, Tourism means Business

See?' "Well?' said Ymor coldly.

"Well,' said Rerpf, "we're protecting our interests,

like I said.'

"Thieves OUT, Thieves OUT! ' cackled his elderly

companion. Several others took up the chant. Zlorf

grinned. "and assassins,' chanted the old man.

Zlorf growled.

"Stands to reason,' said Rerpf. 'People robbing

and murdering all over the place, what sort of

impression are visitors going to take away? You come all

the way to see our fine city with its many points of

historical and civic interest, also many quaint

customS, and you wake up dead in some back alley

or as it might be floating down the Ankh, how are

you going to tell all your friends what a great time

you're having? Let's face it, you've got to move with

the timeS.'

Zlorf and Ymor met each other's gaze.

"We have, have we?' said Ymor.

"Then let us move,'brother,' agreed Zlorf. In one

movement he brought his blowgun to his mouth

and sent a dart hissing towards the nearest troll. It

spun around, hurling its axe, which whirred over

the assassin's head and buried itself in a luckless

thief behind him.

Rerpf ducked, allowing a troll behind him to raise

itS huge iron crossbow and fire a spear-length

quarrel into the nearest assassin. That was the

start . . .

It has been remarked before that those who are

sensitive to radiations in the far octarine - the

eighth colour, the pigment of the imagination-can

see things that others cannot.

Thus it was that Rincewind, hurrying through

the crowded, flare-lit evening bazaars of Morpork

With the luggage trundling behind him, jostled a

tall dark figure, turned to deliver a few suitable

curses, and beheld Death.

It had to be Death. No-one else went around with

empty eye sockets and, of course, the scythe over

one shoulder was another clue. As Rincewind stared

in horror a courting couple, laughing at some

private joke, walked straight through the

apparition without appearing to notice it.

Death, insofar as it was possible in a face with no

movable features, looked surprised.

RINCEWIND? Death said, in tones as deep and

heavy as the slamming of leaden doors, far

underground.

"Um,' said Rincewind, trying to back away from

that eyeless stare.

BUT WHY ARE YOU HERE? ( Boom, boom went crypt

lids, in the worm-haunted fastnesses under old

mountains . . .)

"Um, why not?' said Rincewind. "Anyway, I'm

sure you've got lots to do, so if you'll just-'

I WAS SURPRISED THAT YOU JOSTLED ME,, RINCe

WIND. FOR I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH THEE THIS

VERY NIGHT.

"oh no, not-'

OF COURSE, WHAT'S SO BLOODY VEXING ABOUT THE

WHOlE BUSINESS IS THAT I WAS EXPECTING TO MEET

THEE IN PSUDOPOLIS.

"But that's five hundred miles away!'

YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME, THE WHOLE SYSTeM'S

GOT SCREWED UP AGAIN. I CAN SEE THAT. LOOK

THERE'S NO CHANCE OF YOU-?

Rincewind backed away, hands spread

protectively in front of him. The dried fish salesman on a

nearby stall watched this madman with interest.

"I COULD LEND YOU A VERY FAST HORSE.

IT WON'T HURT A BIT."

'No!' Rincewind turned and ran. Death watched

him go and shrugged bitterly.

SOD YOU, THEN, Death said. He turned, and

noticed the fish salesman. With a snarl Death

reached out a bony finger and stopped the man's

heart, but he didn't take much pride in it.

Then death remembered what was due to happen

later that night. It would not be true to say that

death smiled, because in any case His features were

perforce frozen in a calcareous grin. But He

hummed a little tune, cheery as a plague pit, and

pausing only to extract the life from a passing

mayfly, and one-ninth of the lives from a cat

cowering under the fish stall (all cats can see into

the octarine) - Death turned on His heel and set off

towards the Broken Drum.

ShortStreet,Morpork, is in fact one of the longest in

the city. Filigree Street crosses its turnwise end in

the manner of the crosspiece of a T, and the Broken

Drum is so placed that it looks down the full length

of the street.

At the furthermost end of Short Street a dark

oblong rose on hundreds of tiny legs, and started to

run. At first it moved at no more than a lumbering

trot, but by the time it was halfway up the street it

was moving arrow-fast . . .

A darker shadow inched its way along one of the

walls of the Drum, a few yards from the two trolls

who were guarding the door. Rincewind was

sweating. If they heard the faint clinking of the

specially-prepared bags at his belt . . .

One of the trolls tapped his colleague on the

Shoulder, producing a noise like two pebbles being

knocked together. He pointed down the starlit

street . . .

Rincewind darted from his hiding place, turned,

and hurled his burden through the Drum's nearest

window

Withel saw it arrive. The bag arced across the room,

turning slowly in the air, and burst on the edge of a

table. A moment later gold coins were rolling across

the floor, spinning, glittering.

The room was suddenly silent, save for the tiny

noises of gold and the whimpers of the wounded

With a curse Withel despatched the assassin he had

been fighting. "it's a trick!' he screamed. "No-one

mov Three score men and a dozen trolls froze in

mid-grope.

Then, for the third time, the door burst open. Two

trolls hurried through it, slammed it behind them

dropped the heavy bar across it and fled down the

stairs.

Outside there was a sudden crescendo of running

feet. And, for the last time, the door opened. In fact

it exploded, the great wooden bar being hurled far

across the room and the frame itself giving way.

Door and frame landed on a table, which flew into

splinters. It was then that the frozen fighters

noticed that there was something else in the pile of

wood. It was a box, shaking itself madly to free

itself of the smashed timber around it.

Rincewind appeared in the ruined doorway

hurling another of his gold grenades. It Smashed

into a wall, showering coins.

Down in the cellar Broadman looked up, muttered to

himself, and carried on with his work. His entire

spindlewinter's supply of candles had already been

strewn on the floor, mixed with his store of kindling

wood. Now he was attacking a barrel of lamp oil.

'innsewer-ants' he muttered. Oil gushed out and

swirled around his feet.

Withel stormed across the floor, his face a mask of

rage. Rincewind took careful aim and caught the

thief full in the chest with a bag of gold.

But now Ymor was shouting, and pointing an

accusing finger. A raven swooped down from its

perch in the rafters and dived at the wizard, talons

open and gleaming.

It didn't make it. At about the halfway point the

Luggage leapt from its bed of splinters, gaped

briefly in mid-air, and snapped shut.

It landed lightly. Rincewind saw its lid open

again, slightly. Just far enough for a tongue, large

as a palm leaf, red as mahogany, to lick up a few

errant feathers.

At the same moment the giant candlewheel fell

from the ceiling, plunging the room into gloom.

Rincewind, coiling himself like a spring, gave a

Standing jump and grasped a beam, swinging

himself up into the relative safety of the roof with a

strength that amazed him.

"Exciting, isn't it?' said a voice by his ear.

Down below, thieves, assassins, trolls and

merchants all realised at about the same moment that

they were in a room made treacherous of foothold

by gold coins and containing something, among

the Suddenly menacing shapes in the semi-darkness,

that waS absolutely horrible. As one they made for

the door, but had two dozen different recollections

of its exact position.

High above the chaos Rincewind stared at

Twoflower.

"Did you cut the lights down?' he hissed.

'Yes.'

'How come you're up here?'

'I thought I'd better not get in everyone's way

Rincewind considered this. There didn't seem to

be much he could say. Twoflower added: "A real

brawl! Better than anything I'd imagined! Do you

think I ought to thank them? Or did you arrange it? '

Rincewind looked at him blankly. "i think we

ought to be getting down now,' he said hollowly.

'Everyone's gone.'

He dragged Twoflower across the littered floor

and up the steps. They burst out into the tail end of

the night. There were still a few stars but the moon

was down, and there was a faint grey glow to

rimward. Most important, the street was empty.

Rincewind sniffed.

"Can you smell oil?' he said.

Then Withel stepped out of the shadows and

tripped him up.

At the top of the cellar steps Broadman knelt down

and fumbled in his tinderbox. It turned out to be

damp.

"i'll kill that bloody cat,' he muttered, and groped

for the spare box that was normally on the ledge by

the door. It was missing. Broadman said a bad

word.

A lighted taper appeared in mid-air, right beside

him.

HERE, TAKE THIS.

"Thanks,' said Broadman

DON'T MENTION IT.

Broadman went to throw the taper down the

steps. His hand paused in mid-air. He looked at the

taper, his brow furrowing. Then he turned around

and held the taper up to illuminate the scene. It

didn't shed much light, but it did give the darkness

a shape . . .

"Oh, no' he breathed.

BUTT YES, said Death.

Rincewind rolled.

for a moment he thought Withel was going to spit

him where he lay. But it was worse than that. He

was waiting for him to get up.

'I see you have a sword, wizard,' he said quietly. "I

suggest you rise, and we shall see how well you use

it.' Rincewind Stood up as slowly as he dared, and

drew from his belt the short sword he had taken

from the guard a few hours and a hundred years

ago. It was a short blunt affair compared to Withel 's

hair-thin rapier.

"But I don't know how to use a sword,' he wailed.

"Good.'

'You know that wizards can't be killed by edged

weapons?' Said Rincewind desperately.

Withel smiled coldly. "So I have heard,' he said. "i

look forward to putting it to the test.' He lunged.

Rincewind caught the thrust by sheer luck, jerked

his hand away in Shock, deflected the second stroke

by coincidence, and took the third one through his

robe at heart-height.

There was a clink.

Withel's Snarl of triumph died in his throat. He

drew the sword out and prodded again at the

wizard, who was rigid with terror and guilt. There

was another clink, and gold coins began to drop out

of the hem of the wizard's robe.

"So you bleed gold, do you?' hissed Withel. can't

have you got gold concealed in that raggedy beard,

you little'

As his Sword went back for his final sweep the

sullen glow that had been growing in the doorway

of the Broken Drum flickered, dimmed, and erupted

into a roaring fireball that sent the walls billowing

outward and carried the roof a hundred feet into the

air before bursting through it, in a gout of red-hot

tiles.

Withel stared at the boiling flames, unnerved.

And Rincewind leapt. He ducked under the thief's

sword arm and brought his own blade around in

an arc so incompetently misjudged that it hit the man

flat-first and jolted out of the wizard's hand. Sparks

and droplets of flaming oil rained down as Withel

reached out with both gauntleted hands and

grabbed Rincewind's neck, forcing him down.

"You did this!' he screamed. "You and your box of

triCkery. '

His thumb found Rincewind's windpipe. This is

it, the wizard thought. Wherever I'm going, it can't

be worse than here . . .

"Excuse me,' said Twoflower.

Rincewind felt the grip lessen. And now Withel

was slowly getting up, a look of absolute hatred on

his face.

A glowing ember landed on the wizard. He

brushed it off hurriedly, and scrambled to his feet.

Twoflower was behind Withel, holding the man's

own needle-sharp sword with the point resting in

the small of the thiefs back. Rincewind's eyes

narrowed. He reached into his robe, then withdrew

his hand bunched into a fist.

"Don't move,' he said.

"Am I doing this right?' asked Twoflower anxiously.

'He says he'll skewer your liver if you move,'

Rincewind translated freely.

"i doubt it,' said Withel.

"Bet?'

"no!.''

As Withel tensed himself to turn on the tourist

Rincewind lashed out and caught the thief on the

jaw. Withel stared at him in amazement for a

moment, and then quietly toppled into the mud.

The wizard uncurled his stinging fist and the roll

of gold coins slipped between his throbbing fingers.

He looked down at the recumbent thief.

"Good grief,' he gasped.

He looked up and yelled as another ember landed

on his neck. Flames were racing along the rooftops

on the other side of the street. All around him people

were hurling possessions from windows and dragging

horses from smoking stables. Another explosion in

the white-hot volcano that was the Drum sent a

whole marble mantelpiece scything overhead.

'The Widdershin Gate's the nearest!' Rincewind

shouted above the crackle of collapsing rafters.

"come on!'

He grabbed Twoflower's reluctant arm and

dragged him down the street.

"my luggage!'

"blast your luggage. Stay here much longer and

you'll go where you don't need luggage. Come on!'

screamed rincewind.

They jogged on through the crowd of frightened

people leaving the area, while the wizard took great

mouthfuls of cool dawn air. Something was

puzzling him.

"I'm sure all the candles went out,' he said. "So

how did the Drum catch fire?'

"i don't know,' moaned Twoflower. "it's terrible,

Rincewind. We were getting along so well, too.'

Rincewind stopped in astonishment, so that

another refugee cannoned into him and spun away

with an oath.

"Getting on?'

"Yes, a great bunch of fellows, I thought

language was a bit of a problem, but they were so

keen for me to join their party, they just wouldn't

take' no for an answer - really friendly people, I

thought . . .'

Rincewind started to correct him, then realised he

didn't know how to begin.

"it'll be a blow for old Broadman,' Twoflower

continued. "Still, he was wise. I've still got the rhinu

he paid as his first premium.'

Rincewind didn't know the meaning of the word

premium, but his mind was working fast.

"You inn-soered the Drum?' he said. "You bet

Broadman it wouldn't catch fire?'

'Oh yes. Standard valuation. Two hundred rhinu,

Why do you ask?'

Rincewind turned and stared at the flames racing

towards them, and wondered how much of Ankh

Morpork could be bought for two hundred rhinu.

Quite a large piece, he decided. Only not now, not

the way those flames were moving . . .

He glanced down at the tourist.

"You-' he began, and searched his memory for

the worst word in the Trob tongue; the happy little

beTrobi didn't really know how to swear properly.

"You,' he repeated. Another hurrying figure

bumped into him, narrowly missing him with the

blade over its shoulder. Rincewind's tortured

temper exploded.

"You little (such a one who, while wearing a

copper nose ring, stands in a footbath atop Mount

Raruaruaha during a heavy thunderstorm and

shouts that Alohura, Goddess of Lightning, has the

facial features of a diseased uloruaha root.'

JUST DOING MY JOB, said the figure, stalking off.

Every word fell as heavily as slabs of marble;

moreover, Rincewind was certain that he was the

only one who heard them.

He grabbed Twoflower again.

"Let's get out of here!' he suggested.

One interesting side effect of the fire in

AnkhMorpork concerns the inn-sewer-ants policy, which

left the city through the ravaged roof of the Broken

Drum, was wafted high into the discworld's

atmosphere on the ensuing thermal, and came to earth

several days and a few thousand miles away on an

uloruaha bush in the beTrobi islands. The simple,

laughing islanders subsequently worshipped it as a

god, much to the amusement of their more

sophisticated neighbours. Strangely enough the rainfall

and harvests in the next few years were almost

.supernaturally abundant, and this led to a research

team being despatched to the islands by the Minor

Religions faculty of Unseen University. Their

verdict was that it only went to show.

The fire, driven by the wind, spread out from the

Drum faster than a man could walk. The timbers of

the Widdershin Gate were already on fire when

Rincewind, his face blistered and reddened from the

flames, reached them. By now he and Twoflower

were on horseback - mounts hadn't been that hard

to obtain. A wily merchant had asked fifty times

their worth, and had been left gaping when one

thousand times their worth had been pressed into

hiS hands.

They rode through just before the first of the big

gate timbers descended in an explosion of sparks

Morpork was already a cauldron of flame.

As they galloped up the red-lit road Rincewind

glanced sideways at his travelling companion

currently trying hard to learn to ride a horse.

"Bloody hell,' he thought. "He's alive! Me too.

Who'd have thought it? Perhaps there is something

in this reflected-sound-of-underground-spirits?' It was a cumbersome

phrase. Rincewind tried to get

his tongue round the thick syllables that were the

word in Twoflower's own language.

"Ecornoex?'he tried. "Ecro-gnothics? Echo-gnomicS?

That would do. That sounded about right.

Several hundred yards downriver from the last

smouldering suburb of the city a strangely

rectangular and apparently heavily-waterlogged object

touched the mud on the widdershin bank.

Immediately it sprouted numerous legs and scrabbled for a

purchase.

Hauling itself to the top of the bank the

Luggage-Streaked with soot, stained with water and very

very angry - shook itself and took its bearings.

Then it moved away at a brisk trot, the small and

incredibly ugly imp that was perching on its lid

watching the scenery with interest.

Bravd looked at the Weasel and raised his

eyebrows.

"And that's it,' said Rincewind, "The Luggage

caught up with us, don't ask me how. Is there any

more wine?'

The Weasel picked up the empty wineskin.

"i think you have had just about enough wine this

night,' he said.

Bravd's forehead wrinkled.

'Gold is gold,' he said finally. 'How can a man

with plenty of gold consider himself poor? You're

either poor or rich. It stands to reason

Rincewind hiccupped. He was finding Reason

rather difficult to hold on to. "Well,' he said, "what I

think is, the point is, well, you know octiron?'

The two adventurers nodded. The strange

iridescent metal was almost as highly valued in the lands

around the Circle Sea as sapient pearwood, and was

about as rare. A man who owned a needle made of

octiron would never lose his way, since it always

pointed to the Hub of the discworld, being acutely

sensitive to the disc's magical field; it would also

miraculously darn his socks.

'Well, my point is, you see, that gold also has its

sort of magical field. Sort of financial wizardry.

Echo-gnomics.' Rincewind giggled.

The Weasel stood up and stretched. The sun was

well up now, and the city below them was wreathed

in mists and full of foul vapours. Also gold, he

decided. Even a citizen of Morpork would, at the

very point of death, desert his treasure to save his

skin. Time to move.

The little man called Twoflower appeared to be

asleep' the Weasel looked down at him and shook

his head. 'The city awaits, such as it is,' he said . "Thank you

for a pleasant tale, Wizard. What will you do now?'

He eyed the Luggage, which immediately backed

away and snapped its lid at him.

"Well, there are no ships leaving the city now,'

giggled Rincewind. "I suppose we'll take the coast

road to Quirm. I've got to look after him, you see.

But look, I didn't make it-'

"Sure, sure,' said the Weasel soothingly. He

turned away and swung himself into the saddle of the

horse that Bravd was holding. A few moments later

the two heroes were just specks under a cloud of

dust, heading down towards the charcoal city.

Rincewind stared muzzily at the recumbent

tourist. At two recumbent tourists. In his somewhat

defenceless state a stray thought, wandering

through the dimensions in search of a mind to

harbour it, slid into his brain.

"Here's another fine mess you've got me into,' he

moaned, and slumped backwards.

'Mad,' said the Weasel. Bravd, galloping along a

few feet away, nodded.

"All wizards get like that,' he said. "it's the

quicksilver fumes. Rots their brains. Mushrooms,

too '

HHowever-' said the brown-clad one. He reached

into his tunic and took out a golden disc on a short

chain. Bravd raised his eyebrows.

"The wizard said that the little man had some sort

of golden disc that told him the time,' said the

Weasel.

'ArouSing your cupidity, little friend? You always

were an expert thief, Weasel.'

"Aye,' agreed the Weasel modestly. He touched

the knob at the disc's rim, and it flipped open.

The very small demon imprisoned within looked

up from its tiny abacus and scowled. 'it lacks but

ten minutes to eight of the clock,' it snarled. The lid

slammed shut, almost trapping the Weasel's fingers

With an oath the Weasel hurled the time-teller far

out into the heather, where it possibly hit a stone.

Something, in any event, caused the case to split'.

there was a vivid octarine flash and a whiff of

brimstone as the time being vanished into whatever

demonic dimension it called home.

"What did you do that for?' said Bravd, who

hadn't been close enough to hear the words.

"do what?' said the Weasel. "i didn't do anything

Nothing happened at all. Come on - we're wasting

opportunities! '

Bravd nodded. Together they turned their steeds

and galloped towards ancient Ankh, and honest

enchantments.

tHE SENDING OF EIGHT

PROLOGUE

The discworld offers sights far more impressive

than those found in universes built by Creators with

less imagination but more mechanical aptitude.

Although the disc's sun is but an orbiting

moonlet, its prominences hardly bigger than croquet

hoops, this slight drawback must be set against the

tremendous sight of Great A'Tuin the Turtle, upon

Whose ancient and meteor-riddled shell the disc

ultimately rests. Sometimes, in His slow journey

acroSS the shores of infinity, He moves His

countrysized head to Snap at a passing comet.

But perhaps the most impressive sight of all - if

only because most brains, when faced with the

Sheer galactic enormity of A'Tuin, refuse to believe

it-is the endless Rimfall, where the seas of the disc

boil ceaselessly over the Edge into space. Or

perhapS it is the Rimbow, the eight-coloured,

worldgirdling rainbow that hovers in the mist-laden air

over the Fall. The eighth colour is octarine, caused

by the scatter-effect of strong sunlight on an

intense magical field.

Or perhaps, again, the most magnificent sight is

the Hub. There, a spire of green ice ten miles high

rises through the clouds and supports at its peak the

realm of Dunmanifestin, the abode of the disc gods.

The disc gods themselves, despite the splendour of

the world below them, are seldom satisfied. It is

embarrassing to know that one is a god of a world

that only exists because every improbability curve

must have its far end; especially when one can peer

into other dimensions at worlds whose Creators

had more mechanical aptitude than imagination

No wonder, then, that the disc gods spend more

time in bickering than in omnicognizance.

On this particular day Blind Io, by dint oF

constant vigilance the chief of the gods, sat with his

chin on his hand and looked at the gaming board on

the red marble table in front of him. Blind Io had got

his name because, where his eye sockets should

have been, there were nothing but two areas of

blank skin. His eyes, of which he had an

impressively large number, led a semi-independent life of

their own. Several were currently hovering above'

the table.

The gaming board was a carefully-carved map of

the disc world, overprinted with squares. A number

of beautifully modelled playing pieces were now

occupying some of the squares. A human onlooker

would, for example, have recognized in two of them

the likenesses of Bravd and the Weasel. Others

represented yet more heroes and champions, of

which the disc had a more than adequate supply. Still in the game were

Io, Offler the Crocodile God,

Zephyrus the god of slight breezes, Fate, and the

lady'. There was an air of concentration around the

board now that the lesser players had been removed

from the Game. Chance had been an early casualty,

running her hero into a full house of armed gnolls

(the result of a lucky throw by Offler) and shortly

afterwards Night had cashed his chips, pleading an"

appointment with Destiny. Several minor deitieS

had drifted up and were kibitzing over the shoulders

of the players.

Side bets were made that the Lady would be the

next to leave the board. Her last champion of any

standing was now a pinch of potash in the ruins of

still-smoking Ankh-Morpork. and there were hardly

any pieces that she could promote to first rank.

Blind Io took up the dice-box, which was a skull various orifices had

been stoppered with

rubies, and with several of his eyes on the lady he

rolled three fives.

She smiled This was the nature of the Lady's

eyes: they were bright green, lacking iris or pupil,

and they glowed from within.

The room was silent as she scrabbled in her box of

pieces and, from the very bottom, produced a couple

that she set down on the board with two decisive

clicks. The rest of the playerS, as one God, craned

forward to peer at them.

"A wenegad wiffard and tome fort of clerk,' said

Offler the Crocodile God, hindered as usual by hiS

tuskS. 'Well, weally! ' With one claw he pushed a pile

of bone-white tokens into the centre of the table.

The Lady nodded slightly. She picked up the

dicecup and held it as steady as a rock, yet all the Gods

could hear the three cubes rattling about inside.

And then She sent them bouncing across the table.

A six. A three. A five.

Something was happening to the five, however.

Battered by the chance collision of several billion

molecules, the die flipped onto a point, spun gently

and came down a seven.

Blind Io picked up the cube

and counted the sides. cCome on,' he

said wearily

play fair.'

THE SENDING OF EIGHT

The road from Ankh-Morpork to Quirm is high,

white and winding, a thirty-league stretch of

potholes and half-buried rocks that spirals around

mountains and dips into cool green valleys of citrus

trees, crosses liana-webbed gorges on creaking rope

bridges and is generally more picturesque than

Picturesque. That was a new word to Rincewind

the wizard (Being Unseen University failed.) It

was one of a number he had picked up since leaving

the charred ruins of Ankh-Morpork. Quaint was

another one. Picturesque meant - he decided after

careful observation of the scenery that inspired

Twoflower to use the word - that the landscape was

horribly precipitous. Quaint, when used to describe

the occasional village through which they passed,

meant fever-ridden and tumbledown.

Twoflower was a tourist, the first ever seen on the

discworld. Tourist, Rincewind had decided, meant

'idiot'.

As they rode leisurely through the thyme-scented

bee-humming air, Rincewind pondered on the

experiences of the last few days. While the little

foreigner was obviously insane, he was also

generous and considerably less lethal than half the

people the wizard had mixed with in the city

Rincewind rather liked him. Disliking him would have been

like kicking a puppy.

Currently Twoflower was showing a great interest

in the theory and practice of magic.

"it all seems, well, rather useless to me,' he said. 'I

always thought that, you know, a wizard just said

the magic words and that was that. Not all this

dioqe memorising.

Rincewind agreed moodily. He tried to explain

that magic had indeed once been wild and lawless,

but had been tamed back in the mists of time by the

Olden Ones, who had bound it to obey among other

things the Law of Conservation of Reality; this

demanded that the effort needed to achieve a goal

should be the same regardless of the means used . In

practical terms this meant that, say, creating the

illuSion of a glass of wine was relatively easy, since

it involved merely the subtle shifting of light

patterns. On the other hand, lifting a genuine

wineglass a few feet in the air by sheer mental

energY required several hours of systematic

preparation if the wizard wished to prevent the simple

principle of leverage flicking his brain out through

his ears.

He went on to add that some of the ancient magic

could still be found in its raw state, recognisable-to

the initiated - by the eightfold shape it made in the

crystalline Structure of space-time. There was the

metal octiron, for example, and the gas octogen

Both radiated dangerous amounts of raw

enchantment.

"it's all very depressing,' he finished.

"Depressing?"

rincewind turned in his saddle and glanced at

Twoflower's Luggage, which was currently ambling

along on itS little legs, occasionally snapping its lid

at butterflies. He sighed.

'Rincewind thinks he ought to be able to harness

the lightning,' said the picture-imp, who was

observing the passing scene from the tiny doorway

of the box slung around Twoflower's neck. He had

Spent the morning painting picturesque views and

quaint SceneS for his master, and had been allowed

to knock off for a smoke.

'When I said harness I didn't mean harness,

snapped Rincewind. 'I meant, well I just meant that

- I dunno,I just can't think of the right words. I just

think the world ought to be more sort of organised.'

"That's just fantasy,' said Twoflower.

"i know. That's the trouble.' Rincewind sighed

again. It was all very well going on about pure logic

and how the universe was ruled by logic and the

harmony of numbers, but the plain fact of the

matter was that the disc was manifestly traversing

space on the back of a giant turtle and the gods had

a habit of going round to atheists' houses and

smashing their windows.

There was a faint sound, hardly louder than the

noise of the bees in the rosemary by the road. It had

a curiously bony quality, as of rolling skulls or a

whirling dicebox. Rincewind peered around. There

was no-one nearby.

For some reason that worried him.

Then came a slight breeze, that grew and went in

the space of a few heartbeats. It left the world

unchanged save in a few interesting particulars.

There was now, for example, a five-metre tall

mountain troll standing in the road. It was

exceptionally angry. This was partly because trolls

generally are, in any case, but it was exacerbated

by the fact that the sudden and instantaneous

teleportation from its lair in the Rammerorck

Mountains three thousand miles away and a

thousand yards closer to the Rim had raised its

internal temperature to a dangerous level, in

accordance with the laws of conservation of energy.

So it bared its fangs and charged.

"What a strange creature,' Twoflower remarked,

'is it dangerous?'

"Only to people!' shouted Rincewind. He drew his

sword and, with a smooth overarm throw,

completely failed to hit the troll. The blade plunged on

into the heather at the side of the track

There was the faintest of sounds, like the rattle of

old teeth. The sword struck a boulder concealed in the

heather - concealed, a watcher might have

considered, so artfully that a moment before it had not

appeared to be there at all. It sprang up like a

leaping Salmon and in mid-ricochet plunged deeply

'into the back of the troll's grey neck.

The creature grunted, and with one swipe of a

claw gouged a wound in the flank of Twoflower's

horse, which screamed and bolted into the trees at

the roadside. The troll spun around and made a

grab for Rincewind.

Then its sluggish nervous system brought it the

message that it was dead. It looked surprised for a

moment, and then toppled over and shattered into

gravel (trolls being silicaceous lifeforms, their

bodies reverted instantly to stone at the moment of

death).

'Aaargh,' thought Rincewind as his horse reared

in terror. He hung on desperately as it staggered

two-legged across the road and then, screaming,

turned and galloped into the woods.

The sound of hoofbeats died away, leaving the air

to the hum of bees and the occasional rustle of

butterfly wingS. There was another sound, too, a

strange noiSe for the bright time of noonday.

It sounded like dice.

"Rincewind?'

The long aiSles of trees threw Twoflower's voice

from side to side and eventually tossed it back to

him, unheeded. He sat down on a rock and tried to

think.

FirStly, he was lost. That was vexing, but it did

not worry him unduly. The forest looked quite

interesting and probably held elves or gnomes,

perhaps both. In fact on a couple of occasions he

had thought he had seen strange green faces

peering down at him from the branches. Twoflower

had always wanted to meet an elf. In fact what he

really wanted to meet was a dragon, but an elf

would do. Or a real goblin.

His Luggage was missing, and that was

annoying. It was also starting to rain. He squirmed

uncomfortably on the damp stone, and tried to look

on the bright side. for example, during its mad

dash his plunging horse had burst through some

rushes and disturbed a she-bear with her cubs, but

had gone on before the bear could react. Then it had

suddenly been galloping over the sleeping bodies of

a large wolf pack and, again, its mad speed had

been such that the furious yelping had been left far

behind. Nevertheless, the day was wearing on and

perhaps it would be a good idea - Twoflower

thought - not to hang about, in the open. Perhaps

there was a...he racked his brains trying to

remember what sort of accommodation forests

traditionally offered . . . perhaps there was a ginger

bread house or something?

The stone really was uncomfortable. Twoflower

looked down and, for the first time, noticed the

strange carving.

It looked like a spider. Or was it a squid? Moss and

lichens rather blurred the precise details. But they

didn't blur the runes carved below it. Twoflower

could read them clearly, and they said: Traveller

the hospitable temple of Bel-Shamharoth lies one

thousand paces Hubwards. Now this was strange,

Twoflower realized, because although he could read

the message the actual letters were completely

unknown to him. Somehow the message was

arriving in his brain without the tedious necessity

of passing through his eyes.

He stood up and untied his now-riddable horse

from a sapling. He wasn't sure which way the Hub

lay. but there seemed to be an old track of sorts

leading away between the trees. This

Bel-Shamharoth seemed prepared to go out of his way to help

stranded travellers. In any case, it was that or the

wolves. Twoflower nodded decisively.

It is interesting to note that, several hours later, a

couple of wolves who were following Twoflower's

scent arrived in the glade. Their green eyes fell on

the strange eight-legged carving - which may

indeed have been a spider, or an octopus, or may yet

again have been something altogether more strange

- and they immediately decided that they weren't so

hungry, at that.

About three miles away a failed wizard was

hanging by his hands from a high branch in a

beech tree.

This was the end result of five minutes of crowded

activity. First, an enraged she-bear had barged

through the undergrowth and taken the throat out

of his horse with one swipe of her paw. Then, as

Rincewind had fled the carnage, he had run into a

glade in which a number of irate wolves were

milling about. His instructors at Unseen

University, who had despaired of Rincewind's inability to

maSter levitation, would have then been amazed at

the speed with which he reached and climbed the

nearest tree, without apparently touching it.

Now there was just the matter of the snake. '

It waS large and green, and wound itself along the

branch with reptilian patience. Rincewind

wondered if it was poisonous, then chided himself for

aSking Such a silly question. Of course it would be

poiSonous.

"What are you grinning for?' he asked the figure

on the next branch.

I CAN'T HELP IT, said Death. NOW WOULD YOU BE SO

KIND AS TO LET GO? I CAN'T HANG AROUND AlL DAY.

"i can,' said Rincewind defiantly.

The wolves clustered around the base of the tree

looked up with interest at their next meal talking to

himself.

IT WON'T HURT, said Death. If words had weight, a

single sentence from Death would have anchored a

ship.

Rincewind's arms screamed their agony at him.

He scowled at the vulture-like, slightly transparent

figure.

"Won't hurt? ' he said. ' Being torn apart by wolves

won't hurt?'

He noticed another branch crossing his

dangerously narrowing one a few feet away. If he coUld

just reach it . . .

He swung himself forward, one hand outstretched.

The branch, already bending, did not break. It

simply made a wet little sound and twisted.

Rincewind found that he was now hanging on to

the end of a tongue of bark and fibre, lengthening aS

it peeled away from the tree. He looked down, and

with a sort of fatal satisfaction realized that he

would land right on the biggest wolf.

Now he was moving slowly as the bark peeled

back in a longer and longer strip. The snake

watched him thoughtfully.

But the growing length of bark held. Rincewind

began to congratulate himself until, looking up, he

saw what he had hitherto not noticed. There was

the largest hornets' nest he had ever seen, hanging

right in his path.

He shut his eyes tightly.

Why the troll? he asked himself. Everything else

is just my usual luck, but why the troll? What the

hell is going on?

Click. It may have been a twig snapping, except

that the sound appeared to be inside Rincewind's

head. Click, click. And a breeze that failed to set a

single leaf atremble.

.The hornets' nest was ripped from the branch as

the strip passed by. It shot past the wizard's head

and he watched it grow smaller as it plummeted

towards the circle of upturned muzzles.

The circle suddenly closed.

The circle suddenly expanded.

The concerted yelp of pain as the pack fought to

escape the furious cloud echoed among the trees.

Rincewind grinned inanely.

Rincewind's elbow nudged something. It was the

tree trunk. The strip had carried him right to the

end of the branch. But there were no other branches.

The smooth bark beside him offered no handholds.

It offered hands, though. Two were even now

thrusting through the mossy bark beside him; slim

hands, green as young leaves. Then a shapely arm

followed, and then the hamadryad leaned right out

and graSped the astonished wizard firmly and, with

that vegetable strength that can send roots

queSting into rock, drew him into the tree. The solid

bark parted like a mist, closed like a clam.

Death watched impassively.

He glanced at the cloud of mayflies that were

dancing their joyful zigzags near His skull. He

snapped His fingers. The insects fell .out of the air.

But, Somehow, it wasn't quite the same.

Blind Io pushed his stack of chips across the table,

glowered through such of his eyes that were

currently in the room, and strode out. A few

demigods tittered. At least Offler had taken the loss

of a perfectly good troll with precise, if somewhat

reptilian, grace.

The Lady's last opponent shifted his seat until he

faced her across the board.

"lord,' She said, politely.

"Lady,' he acknowledged. Their eyes met.

He was a taciturn god. It was said that he had

arrived in the Discworld after some terrible and

mysterious incident in another Eventuality. It iS Of

course the pri vilege of gods to control their apparent

outward form, even to other gods; the Fate of the

discworld was currently a kindly man in late

middle age, greying hair brushed neatly around

features that a maiden would confidently proffer a

glass of small beer to, should they appear at her

back door. It was a face a kindly youth would gladly

help over a stile. Except for his eyes, of course.

No deity can disguise the manner and nature of

his eyes. The nature of the two eyes of the Fate of the

discworld was this: that while at a mere glance they

were simply dark, a closer look would reveal - too

late! - that they were but holes opening on to a

blackness so remote, so deep that the watcher would

feel himself inexorably drawn into the twin pools of

infinite night and their terrible, wheeling stars . . .

The lady coughed politely, and laid twenty-one

white chips on the table. Then from her robe she

took another chip, silvery and translucent and

twice the size of the others. The soul of a true Hero

always finds a better rate of exchange, and is

valued highly by the gods.

Fate raised an eyebrow.

"And no cheating, Lady.' he said.

'But who could cheat Fate?' she asked. He

shrugged.

"No-one. Yet everyone tries.'

"And yet, again, I believe I felt you giving me a

little assistance against the others?'

"But of course. So that the endgame could be the

sweeter, lady. And now . . .'

He reached into his gaming box and brought

forth a piece, setting it down on the board with a

satisfied air. The watching deities gave a collective

Sigh. Even the Lady was momentarily taken aback.

it was certainly ugly. The carving was uncertain,

as if the craftsman's hands were shaking in horror

of the thing taking shape under his reluctant

fingers. It seemed to be all suckers and tentacles.

And mandibles, the lady observed. And one great

eye.

"I thought such as He died out at the beginnings

of Time,' she said.

"Mayhap our necrotic friend was loathe even to go

near this one,' laughed Fate. He was enjoying

himself.

"it should never have been spawned.'

"Nevertheless,' said Fate gnomically. He scooped

the dice into their unusual box, and then glanced up

at her.

"Unless,' he added, "you wish to resign

She shook her head.

"Play,' she said.

"You can match my stake

Rincewind knew what was inside trees: wood, sap,

posSibly squirrels. Not a palace.

Still-the cushions underneath him were definitely

softer than wood, the wine in the wooden cup beside

him was much tastier than sap, and there could be

absolutely no comparison between a squirrel and

the girl sitting before him, clasping her knees and

watching him thoughtfully, unless mention was

made of certain hints of furriness.

The room was high, wide and lit with a soft yellow

light which came from no particular source that

Rincewind could identify. Through gnarled and

knotted archways he could see other rooms, and

what looked like a very large winding staircase.

And it had looked a perfectly normal tree from the

OUtSide, too.

The girl was green-flesh green. Rincewind could

be absolutely certain about that, because all she

was wearing was a medallion around her neck. Her

long hair had a faintly mossy look about it. Her eyes

had no pupils and were a luminous green.

Rincewind wished he had paid more attention to

anthropology lectures at University.

She had said nothing. Apart from indicating the

couch and offering him the wine she had done no

more than sit watching him, occasionally rubbing a

deep scratch on her arm.

Rincewind hurriedly recalled that a dryad was so

linked to her tree that she suffered wounds in

sympathy"Sorry about that,' he said quickly. "it was just an

accident. I mean, there were these wolves, and-'

"You had to climb my tree, and I rescued you,' said

the dryad smoothly. "How lucky for you. And for

your friend, perhaps?'

'Friend?'

"The little man with the magic box,' said the

dryad.

"Oh, sure, him,' said Rincewind vaguely. "Yeah

hope he's okay.'

"He needs your help.'

"He usually does. Did he make it to a tree too?'

"He made it to the Temple of Bel-Shamharoth.'

Rincewind choked on his wine. His ears tried to

crawl into his head in terror of the syllables they

had just heard. The Soul Eater before he could stop

them the memories came galloping back. Once,

while a student of practical magic at Unseen

University, and for a bet, he'd slipped into the little

room off the main library - the room with walls

covered in protective lead pentagrams, the room

no-one was allowed to occupy for more than four

minutes and thirty-two seconds, which was a figure

arrived at after two hundred years of cautious

experimentation

He had gingerly opened the Book, which was

chained to the octiron pedestal in the middle of the

rune-strewn floor not lest someone steal it, but lest it

escape for it was the Octavo, so full of magic that it

had its own vague sentience. One spell had indeed

leapt from the crackling pageS and lodged itself in

the dark recesses of his brain. And, apart from

knowing that it was one of the Eight Great Spells,

no-one would know which one until he said it. Even

Rincewind did not. But he could feel it sometimes,

sidling out of sight behind his Ego, biding itS

time . . .

On the front of the Octavo had been a

representation of Bel-Shamharoth. He was not Evil, for even

EVIl has a certain vitality - Bel-Shamharoth was

the,flip Side of the coin of which Good and evil are

but one side.

"The Soul Eater. His number lyeth between seven

and nine; it is twice four,' Rincewind quoted, his

mind frozen with fear. "Oh no. Where's the Temple?' "Hubwards, towards

the centre of the forest,' said

the dryad. "it is very old.'

"But who would be so stupid as to worship

Belhim? I mean, devils yes, but he's the Soul Eater-'

'There were - certain advantages. And the race

that used to live in these parts had strange notions.'

'What happened to them, then?'

"i did 'say they used to live in these parts."the

dryad stood up and stretched out her hand. "Come. I

am Druellae. Come with me and watch your friend's

fate. It should be interesting.'

"i'm not sure that-' began Rincewind.

The dryad turned her green eyes on him.

"do you believe you have a choice?' she asked

A staircaSe broad as a major highwaY wound up

through the tree, with vast rooms leading off at

every landing. The sourceless yellow light was

everywhere. There was also a sound like -

Rincewind concentrated, trying to identify it-like far off

thunder, or a distant waterfall.

"it's the tree,' said the dryad shortly.

"What's it doing?' said Rincewind.

"Living.'

" I wondered about that. I mean, are we really in a

tree? Have I been reduced in size? From outside it

looked narrow enough for me to put my arms

around.'

"it iS.'

"Um, but here I am inside it?

'You are.'

"I'm,' said Rincewind.

Druellae laughed.

"i can see into your mind, false wizard! am I not a

dryad? Do you not know that, what you belittle by

the name tree is but the mere four-dimensional

analogue of a whole multidimensional universe

which - no, I can see you do not. I should have

realised that you weren't a real wizard when I saw

you didn't have a staff.'

"Lost it in a fire,' lied Rincewind automatically

"No hat with magic sigils embroidered on it.

it blew off.'

no familiar.

"it died. Look, thanks for rescuing me, but if you

don't mind I think I ought to be going. If you could

show me the way out-'

Something in her expression made him turn

around. There were three he-dryads behind him.

They were as naked as the woman, and unarmed.

That last fact was irrelevant, however. They didn't

look as though they would need weapons to fight

Rincewind. They , looked as though they could

shoulder their way through solid rock and beat up a

regiment of trolls into the bargain. The three

handsome giants looked down at him with wooden

menace.' Their Skins were the colour of walnut

husks, and under it muscles bulged like sacks of

melons. He turned around again and grinned weakly at

Druellae. Life was beginning to take on a familiar

shape again. 'i'm not rescued, am I?' he said. 'i'm captured,

right?' "Of course.'

"And you're not letting me go?' It was a

statement. Druellae shook her head. "You hurt the Tree. But

you are lucky. Your friend is going to meet

BelShamharoth. You will only die.'

From behind two hands gripped his shoulders in

much the same way that an old tree root coils

relentlessly around a pebble.

"With a certain amount of ceremony, of course,'

the dryad went on. "After the Sender of Eight has

finished with your friend.'

All Rincewind could manage to say was, "You

know, I never imagined there were he-dryads. Not

even in an oak tree.'

One of the giants grinned at him.

Druellae snorted. "Stupid! Where do you think

acorns come from?'

There was a vast empty space like a hall, its roof

loSt in the golden haze. The endless stair ran right

through it.

Several hundred dryads were clustered at the

other end of the hall. They parted respectfully

when Druellae approached, and stared through

Rincewind as he was propelled firmly along behind.

Most of them were females, although there were a

few of the giant males among them. They stood like

god-shaped statues among the small, intelligent

females. Insects, thought Rincewind. The Tree is

like a hive.

But why were there dryads at all? As far as he

could recall, the tree people had died out centuries

before. They had been out-evolved by humans, like

most of the other Twilight Peoples. only elves and

trolls had survived the coming of Man to the

discworld; the elves because they were altogether

too clever by half, and the troller-folk because they

were at least as good as humans at being nasty,

spiteful and greedy. Dryads were supposed to have

died out, along with gnomes and pixies.

The background roar was louder here.

Sometimes a pulsing golden glow would race up the

translucent walls until it was lost in the haze

overhead. Some power in the air made it vibrate.

"now incompetent wizard,' said Druellae, "see some

magic. Not your weasel-faced tame magic, but root

and -branch magic, the old magic. Wild magic.

Watch.'

Fifty or so of the females formed a tight cluster,

joined hands and walked backwards until they

formed the circumference of a large circle. The rest

of the dryads began a low chant. Then, at a nod

from Druellae, the circle began to spin

widderShinS.

As the pace began to quicken and the complicated

threads of the chant began to rise Rincewind found

himself watching fascinated. He had heard about

the Old Magic at University, although it was

forbidden to wizards. He knew that when the circle

was spinning fast enough against the standing

magical field of the discworld itself in its slow

turning, the resulting astral friction would build up

a vast potential difference which would earth itSelf

in a vast discharge of the Elemental Magical Force,

the circle was a blur now, and the walls of the

Tree rang with the echoes of the

chantRincewind felt the familiar sticky prickling in the

scalp that indicated the build-up of a heavy charge

of raw enchantment in the vicinity, and so he was

not utterly amazed when, a few seconds later, a

shaft of vivid octarine light speared down from the

invisible ceiling and focused, crackling, in the

centre of the circle.

There it formed an image of a storm-swept,

treegirt hill with a temple on its crest. Its shape did

unpleasant things to the eye. Rincewind knew that

if it was a temple to Bel-Shamharoth it would have

eight sides. (Eight was also the Number of

BelShamharoth, which was why a sensible wizard

would never mention the number if he could avoid

it. Or you'll be eight alive, apprentices were

jocularly warned. Bel-Shamharoth was especially

attracted to dabblers in magic who, by being as it

were beachcombers on the shores of the unnatural

were already half-enmeshed in his nets.

Rincewind's room number in his hall of residence had

been 7a. He hadn't been surprised).

Rain streamed off the black walls of the temple. The

only sign of life was the horse tethered outside, and

it wasn't Twoflower's horse. For one thing, it was

too big. It was a white charger with hooves the size

of meat dishes and leather harness aglitter with

ostentatious gold ornamentation. It was currently

enjoying a nosebag. There was something familiar about it.

Rince

wind tried to remember where he had seen it before.

It looked as though it was capable of a fair turn of

speed,' anyway. A speed which, once it had

lumbered up to it, it could maintain for a long time.

All Rincewind had to do was shake off his guards,

fight his way out of the Tree. find the temple and

Steal the horse out from under whateVer it was that

Belshamharoth used for a nose.

'The Sender of "'eight has two for dinner, it seems.' said Druellae,

looking hard at Rincewind. 'Who

does that steed belong to, false wizard?'

"I've no idea.'

"No? Well, it does not matter. We shall see soon

enough.'

She waved a hand. The focus of the image moved

inwards, darted through a great octagonal arch

way and sped along the corridor within.

There was a figure there, sidling along stealthily

with its back against one wall. Rincewind saw the

gleam of gold and bronze.

There was no mistaking that shape. He'd seen it

many times. The wide chest, the neck like a

treetrunk, the surprisingly small head under its wild

thatch of black hair looking like a tomato on a

coffin . . . he could put a name to the creeping

figure, and that name was Hrun the Barbarian.

Hrun was one of the Circle Sea's more durable

heroes: a fighter of dragons, a despoiler of temples,

a hired sword, the kingpost of every street brawl,

He could even - and unlike many heroes of

Rincewind's acquaintance - speak words of more

than two syllables, if given time and maybe a hint

or two.

There was a sound on the edge of Rincewind's

hearing. It sounded like several skulls bouncing

down the steps of some distant dungeon. He looked

sideways at his guards to see if they had heard it.

They had all their limited attention focused on

Hrun, who was admittedly built on the same lines

as themselves. Their hands were resting lightly on

the wizard's shoulders.

Rincewind ducked, jerked backwards like a

tumbler, and came up running. Behind him he

heard Druellae shout, and he redoubled his speed.

Something caught the hood of his robe, which

tore off. A he-dryad waiting at the stairs spread his arms.

hurtling towards him. Without breaking his stride

Rincewind ducked again, so low that his chin was

on a level with his knees, while a fist like a log

sizzled through the air by his ear.

Ahead of him a whole spinney of the tree men

awaited. He spun around, dodged another blow

from the puzzled guard, and sped back towards the

circle, passing on the way the dryads who were

pursuing him and leaving them as disorganized as

a set of skittles.

But there were still more in front, pushing their

way through the crowds of females and smacking

their fists into the horny palms of their hands with

anticipatory concentration.

"Stand still, false wizard,' said Druellae, stepping

forward. Behind her the enchanted dancers spun

on, the focus of the circle was now drifting along a

violet-lit corridor.

Rincewind cracked.

"Will you knock that off ' he snarled . " "let's just get

this Straight, right? I am, a real wizard! ' He stamped

a foot petulantly. '

'indeed?' said the dryad. "Then let us see you pass

a Spell.'

"uh-' began Rincewind. The fact was that, since

the ancient and mysterious spell had squatted in

his mind, he had been unable to remember even the

Simplest cantrap for, say, killing cockroaches 'or

Scratching the small of his back without using his

hands. The mages at Unseen University had tried

to explain this by suggesting that the involuntary

memorising of the spell had, as it were, tied up all

his spell-retention cells. In his darker moments

Rincewind had come up with his own explanation

as to why even minor Spells refused to stay in hiS

head for more than a few seconds.

They were scared, he decided.

"Um-' he repeated.

'A small one would do,' said Druellae, watching

him curl his lips in A frenzy of anger and

emberrassment. She signalled, and a couple of he-dryads

closed in.

The Spell chose that moment to vault into the

temporarily-abandoned saddle of Rincewind's

conSCiousness. He felt it sitting there, leering defiantly

at him.

"i do know a spell,' he said wearily.

"Yes? Pray tell,' said Druellae.

Rincewind wasn't sure that he dared, although

the Spell was trying to take control of his tongue. He

fought it.

'You sed you could read my mind,' he said

indistinctly. "Read it.'

She stepped forward, looking mockingly into his

eyes.

Her smile froze. Her hands raised protectively,

she crouched back. From her throat came a sound of

pure terror.

Rincewind looked around. The rest of the dryads

were also backing away. What had he done?

Something terrible, apparently.

But in his experience it was only a matter of time

before the normal balance of the universe restored

itself and started doing the usual terrible things to

him. He backed away, ducked between the

stillspinning dryads who were creating the magic

circle, and watched to see what Druellae would do

next.

"Grab him,' she screamed. "Take him a long way

from the Tree and kill him!'

Rincewind turned and bolted.

Across the focus of the circle.

There was a brilliant flash.

There was a sudden darkness.

There was a vaguely Rincewind-shaped violet

shadow, dwindling to a point and winking out.

, There was nothing at all.

Hrun the Barbarian crept soundlessly along the

corridors, which were lit with a light so violet that

it was almost black. His earlier confusion was

gone. ThiS was obviously a magical temple, and

that explained everything.

It explained why, earlier in the afternoon, he had

espied a chest by the side of the track while riding

through this benighted forest. Its top was invitingly

open, displaying much gold. But when he had

leapt off hiS horse to approach it the cheSt had

sprouted legs and had gone trotting off into the

foreSt, stopping again a few hundred yards away.

Now, after several hours of teasing pursuit, he

had lost it in these hell-lit tunnels. On the whole,

the unpleasant carvings and occasional disjointed

skeletons he paSSed held no fears for Hrun. This

was partly because he was not exceptionally bright

while being at the Same time exceptionally

unimaginative, but it was also because odd carvings

and perilous tunnels were all in a day's work. He

Spent a great deal of time in similar Situations,

seeking gold or demons or distressed virgins and

relieving them respectively of their owners, their

lives and at least one cause of their distress.

Observe Hrun, as he leaps cat-footed across a

sUspicious tunnel mouth. Even in thiS violet light

hiS Skin gleams coppery. There is much gold about

hiS person, in the form of anklets and wristlets, but

otherwise he is naked except for a leopardskin

loincloth. He took that in the steaming forests of

Howondaland, after killing its owner with his

teeth. In hiS right hand he carried the magical black

sword Kring, which was forged from a thunderbolt

and haD a soul but suffers no scabbard. Hrun had

stolen it only three days before from the impregnable

palace of the Archmandrite of Be Ituni, and he

was already regretting it. It was beginning to get

on his nerves.

"i tell you it went down that last passage on the

right,' hissed Kring in a voice like the scrape of a

blade over stone.

"Be silent, '

"All I said

was"Shut up!'

And Twoflower . .

He was lost, he knew that. Either the building

was much bigger than it looked, or he was now on

some wide underground level without having gone

down any steps, or - as he was beginning to

suspect - the inner dimensions of the place

disobeyed a fairly basic rule of architecture by

being bigger than the outside. And why all these

strange lights? They were eight-sided crystals set

at regular intervals in the walls and ceiling, and

they shed a rather unpleasant glow that didn't so

much illuminate as outline the darkness.

And whoever had done those carvings on the

wall, Twoflower thought charitably, had probably

been drinking too much. For years.

On the other hand, it was certainly a fascinating

building. Its builders had been obsessed with the

number eight. The floor was a continuous mosaic

of eight-sided tiles, the corridor walls and ceilings

were angled to give the corridors eight sides if the

walls and ceilings were counted and, in those

places where part of the masonry had fallen in

Twoflower noticed that even the stones themselves

had eight sides.

"i don't like it,' said the picture imp, from his box

around Twoflower's neck.

'Why not?' inquired Twoflower.

"it's weird.

'.but you're a demon. Demons can't call things

weird.'I mean, what's weird to a demon? '

"oh, you know,' said the demon cautiously,

glancing around nervously and shifting from claw

to claw. "Things. Stuff.'

Twoflower looked at him sternly. "What things?'

The demon coughed nervously (demons do not

breathe, however, every intelligent being, whether

it breathes or not, coughs nervously at some time

in its life. And this was one of them as far as the

demon was concerned).

.Oh, things,' it said wretchedly. "Evil things.

Things we don't talk about is the point I'm broadly

trying to get across, master.'

Twoflower shook his head wearily. "I wish

Rincewind was here,' he said. "He'd know what to

do.' 'Him?' sneered the demon. "Can't see a wizard

coming' here. They can't have anything to do with

the number eight.' The demon slapped a hand

across hiS mouth guiltily.

Twoflower looked up at the ceiling.

"What was that?' he asked. "Didn't you hear

something?'

"Me? Hear? No! not a thing,' the demon insisted

It jerked back into its box and slammed the door

Twoflower tapped on it. The door opened a crack.

"it sounded like a stone moving,' he explained

The door banged shut. Twoflower shrugged. "The place is probably falling

to bits,' he said to

himself. He stood up.

'I say!' he Shouted. Is anyone there?' AIR, Air, air, replied the dark

tunnels.

'Hullo?' he tried. lo, Lo, lo.

"I know there's someone here, I just heard you

playing dice! '

ICE, Ice, ice.

"Look, I had just-'

Twoflower stopped. The reason for this was the

bright point of light that had popped into existence

a few feet from his eyes. It grew rapidly, and after a

few seconds was the tiny bright shape of a man. At

this stage it began to make a noise, or, rather

Twoflower started to hear the noise it had been

making all along. It sounded like a sliver of a

Scream, caught in one long instant of time. The iridescent man was dollsized now, a

tortured shape tumbling in slow motion while

hanging in mid-air. Twoflower wondered why he

had thought of the phrase "a sliver of a scream' . .

and began to wish he hadn't.

It was beginning to look like Rincewind. The

wizard's mouth was open, and his face was brilliantly

lit by the light of - what? Strange suns,

Twoflower found himself thinking.'Suns men don't

usually see. He shivered.

Now the turning wizard was half man-size. At

that point the growth was faster, there was a

sudden crowded moment, a rush of air, and an

explosion of sound. Rincewind tumbled out of the

air, screaming. He hit the floor hard, choked, then

rolled over with his head cradled in hiS arms and

his body curled up tightly.

When the dust had settled Twoflower reached

out gingerly and tapped the wizard on the shoulder.

The human ball rolled up tighter.

"it's me,' explained Twoflower helpfully. The

wizard unrolled a fraction.

"What?' he said.

"Me."

In one movement Rincewind unrolled and bounced

up in front of the little man, his hands gripping his

shoulders desperately. His eyes were wild and

wide.

"Don't say it!' he hissed. "Don't say it and we

might get out! '

.Get out? How did you get in? Don't you

know'Don't say it!' Twoflower backed away from thiS madman

'Don't say it!'

'Don't say what?'

"the number.'

"Number?' said Twoflower. "ey, Rincewind-'

'Yes, number! Between seven and nine. Four plus

four' "What, ei-'

Rincewind's hands clapped over the man's

mouth. "Say it and we're doomed. Just don't think

about, right. Trust me! '

"I don't understand,' wailed Twoflower.

Rincewind relaxed slightly; which was to say that he

Still made a violin string look like a bowl of jelly.

"Come on,' he said. "Let's try and get out. And I'll

try and tell you.'

After the first Age of Magic the disposal of

grimoires began to become a severe problem on the

discworld. A spell is still a spell even when

imprisoned temporarily in parchment and ink. It

has potency. This is not a problem while the book's

owner still lives, but on hiS death the Spell book

becomes a source of uncontrolled power that

cannot eaSily be defused.

In short, spell books leak magic. Various

solutions have been tried. Countries near the Rim

simply loaded down the books of dead mages with

leaden pentagrams and threw them over the Edge.

Near the Hub leSs satisfactory alternativeS were

available. Inserting the offending books in

canisters of negatively polarized octiron and sinking

them in the fathomless depths of the sea was one

(burial in deep caves on land was earlier ruled out

after some districts complained of walking trees

and five-headed cats) but before long the magic

seeped out and eventually fishermen complained

of shoals of invisible fish or psychic clams.

A temporary solution was the construction, in

various centres of magical lore, of large rooms

made of denatured octiron, which is impervious to

most forms of magic. Here the more critical

grimoires could be stored until their potency had

attenuated.

That was how there came to be at Unseen

University the Octavo, greatest of all grimoires,

formerly owned by the Creator of the Universe. It

was this book that Rincewind had once opened for

a bet. He had only a second to stare at a page

before setting off various alarm spells, but that

was time enough for one spell to leap from it and

settle in his memory like a toad in a stone.

"Then what?' said Twoflower.

"oh, they' dragged me out. Thrashed me, of

course.'

"And no-one knows what the spell does?'

Rincewind shook his head.

"it'd vanished from the page,' he said. 'No-one

will know until I say it. Or until I die, of course.

Then it will sort of say itSelf. For all I know it stops

the universe, or ends Time, or anything.'

Twoflower patted him on the shoulder.

"No sense in brooding,' he Said cheerfully. "Let's

have another look for a way out.'

Rincewind shook his head. All the terror had

been spent now. He had broken through the terror

barrier, perhaps, and was in the dead calm state of

mind that lies on the other side. Anyway, he had

ceased to gibber.

"We're doomed,' he stated. 'We've been walking

around all night. I tell you, this place is a

spiderweb. It doesn't matter which way we go,

we're heading twoards the centre.'

'it was very kind of you to come looking for me,

said Twoflower. "How did you manage it

it was very impreSSive.'

'well,' began the wizard awkwardly. "I just

couldn't leave old Twoflower there"

and"So what we've got to do now is find this Bel

Shamharoth person and explain things to him and

perhaps he'll let us out,' said Twoflower.

Rincewind ran a finger around his ear.

'it must be the funny echoes in here, ' he said. "I

thought I heard you use words like find and

explain.

'That's right.' Rincewind glared at him in the hellish purple

glow. 'Find Bel-Shamharoth?' he said.

"Yes. We don't have to get involved.'

"Find the Soul Render and not get involved? Just

give him a nod, I suppose, and ask the way to the

exit?

explain things to the Sender of Eignnnngh,' Rincewind bit off the end of

the word just in time

and finished, "You're insane. Hey! Come back!'

He darted down the passage after Twoflower,

and after a few moments came to a halt with a

groan.

The violet light was intenSe here, giving

everything new and unpleasant colours. This wasn't a

paSSage, it was a wide room with walls to a number

that Rincewind didn't dare to contemplate, and

7a pasSageS radiating from it.

Rincewind saw, a little way off, a low altar with

the Same number of sides as four times two. It

didn't occupy the centre of the room, however. The

centre was occupied by a huge stone slab with

twice as many sides as a square. It looked masSive.

In the Strange light it appeared to be slightly tilted

with one edge standing proud of the slabs around

it.

Twoflower waS standing on it.

"Hey. Rincewind! Look what's here!

The Luggage came ambling down one of the

other passages that radiated from the room.

"That's great,' said Rincewind. 'Fine. It can lead

us out of here. Now.'

Twoflower was already rummaging in the chest

"Yes,' he said. "After I've taken a few pictures

Just let me fit the attachment-'

'I said now-'

Rincewind stopped. Hrun the Barbarian was

standing in the passage mouth directly opposite

him, a great black sword held in one ham-sized

fist.

"You?' said Hrun uncertainly.

"Ahaha. Yes,' said Rincewind. "Hrun, isn't it?

Long time no see. What brings you here?'

Hrun pointed to the luggage.

"That,' he said. This much conversation seemed

to exhaust Hrun. Then he added, in a tone that

combined statement, claim, threat and ultimatum:

'Mine.'

"It belongs to Twoflower here,' said Rincewind.

"Here's a tip. Don't touch it.'

It dawned on him that this was precisely the

wrong thing to say, but Hrun had already pushed

Twoflower away and was reaching for the

Luggage

. . . which sprouted legs, backed away, and raised

its lid threateningly. In the uncertain light

Rincewind thought he could see rows of enormous teeth,

white as bleached beechwood.

"Hrun,' he said quickly, "there's something I

ought to tell you.'

Hrun turned a puzzled face to him.

"What?' he said.

"it's about numbers. Look, you know if you add

seven and one, or three and five, or take two from

ten. You get a number. While you're here don't say it

and we might all stand a chance of getting out

of here alive. Or merely just dead.'

"Who is he?' asked Twoflower. He was holding a

cage in his hands, dredged from the bottom-most

depths of the Luggage. It appeared to be full of

sulking pink lizardS.

'I am Hrun,' said Hrun proudly. Then he looked

at Rincewind.

"What?' he said.

"Just don't say it, okay?' said Rincewind.

He looked at the sword in Hrun's hand. It was

black, the sort of black that is leSs a colour than a

graveyard of colours, and there was a

highlyornate runic inscription up the blade. More

noticeable still was the faint octarine glow that

surrounded it. The sword must have noticed him, too,

because it suddenly spoke in a voice like a claw

being scraped across glass.

"Strange,' it Said. "Why can't he say eight?'

EIGHT, hate, ate said the echoes. There was the

faintest of grinding noises, deep under the earth.

And the echoes, although they became softer,

refused to die away. They bounced from wall to

wall, crossing and recrossing, and the violet light

flickered in time with the sound.

"You did it!' sCreamed Rincewind. "i said you

shouldn't say eight!'

He Stopped, appalled at himself. But the word

was out now, and joined its colleagues in the

general BUBBuration.

Rincewind turned to run, but the air suddenly

Seemed to be thicker than treacle. A charge of

magic bigger than he had ever seen was building

up; when he moved, in painful slow motion, his

limbs left trails of golden sparks that traced their

shape in the air.

Behind him there was a rumble as the great

octagonal slab rose into the air, hung for a moment

on one edge, and crashed down on the floor.

Something thin and black snaked out of the pit

and wrapped itself around his ankle. He screamed

as he landed heavily on the vibrating flagstones.

The tentacle started to pull him across the floor.

Then Twoflower was in front of him, reaching

out for hiS hands. He grasped the little man's arms

desperately and they lay looking into each other's

faces. Rincewind slid on, even so.

"What's holding you?' he gasped.

"N-nothing!' said Twoflower. "What's happening?'

"i'm being dragged into this pit, what do you

think?'

"Oh Rincewind, I'm sorry-'

"You're sorry-'

There was a noise like a singing saw and the

pressure on Rincewind's legs abruptly ceased. He

turned his head and saw Hrun crouched by the pit,

his sword a blur as it hacked at the tentacles

racing out towards him.

Twoflower helped the wizard to his feet and they

crouched by the altar stone, watching the manic

figure as it battled the questing arms.

"it won't work,' said Rincewind. "The Sender can

materialise tentacles. What are you doing?'

Twoflower was feverishly attaching the cage of

subdued lizards to the picture box, which he had

mounted on a tripod.

"i've just got to get a picture of this,' he muttered.

"It's stupendous! Can you hear me, imp?'

The picture imp opened his tiny hatch, glanced

momentarily at the scene around the pit, and

vanished into the box. Rincewind jumped as

something touched his leg, and brought his heel

down on a questing tentacle.

cCome on,' he said. "Time to go zoom.' He

grabbed Twoflower's arm, but the tourist reSisted.

run away and leave Hrun with that thing?' he

Said. Rincewind looked blank. 'Why not?' he said. "it's

his job.'

"But it'll kill him,'

"It could be worse,' said Rincewind.

"What?' 'it could be us,' Rincewind pointed out logically.

cCome on!'

Twoflower pointed. "Hey' he said. "It's got my

Luggage! '

Before Rincewind could restrain him Twoflower

ran around the edge of the pit to the box, which

was being dragged across the floor while its lid

snapped ineffectually at the tentacle that held it.

The little man began to kick at the tentacle in fury.

Another one snapped out of the melee around

Hrun and caught him around the waist. Hrun

himself was already an indistinct shape amid the

tightening coilS. Even as Rincewind stared in

horor the Hero's sword was wrenched from his

graSp and hurled against a wall.

"Your spell!' shouted Twoflower.

Rincewind' did not move. He was looking at the

Thing rising out of the pit. It was an enormous eye,

and it was staring directly at him. He whimpered

as a tentacle fastened itself around his waiSt.

The words of the spell rose unbidden in his

throat. He opened his mouth as in a dream,

shaping it around the first barbaric syllable.

Another tentacle shot out like a whip and coiled

around his throat, choking him. Staggering and

gaSping, Rincewind was dragged across the floor.

One flailing arm caught Twoflower's picture box

as it skittered past on its tripod. He snatched it up

instinctively, as hiS ancestors might have snatched

up a stone when faced with a marauding tiger. If

only he could get enough room to swing it against

. . . the Eye filled the whole universe in front of

him. Rincewind felt his will draining away like

water from a sieve.

In front of him the torpid lizards stirred in their

cage on the picture box. Irrationally, as a man

about to be beheaded notices every scratch and

stain on the executioner's block, Rincewind saw

that they had overlarge tails that were

bluishwhite and, he realized, throbbing alarmingly.

As he was drawn towards the Eye the

terrorstruck Rincewind raised the box protectively, and

at the same time heard the picture imp say

"They're about ripe now, can't hold them any

longer. Everyone smile, please.'

There was

a flash of light so white and so

brightit didn't seem like light at all.

Bel-Shamharoth screamed, a sound that started

in the far ultrasonic and finished somewhere in

Rincewind's bowels. The tentacles went

momentarily as stiff as rods, hurling their various cargoes

around the room, before bunching up protectively

in front of the abused Eye. The whole mass

dropped into the pit and a moment later the big

slab was snatched up by several dozen tentacles

and slammed into place, leaving a number of

thrashing limbs trapped around the edge.

Hrun landed rolling, bounced off a wall and

came up on his feet. He found his sword and

started to chop methodically at the doomed arms

Rincewind lay on the floor, concentrating on not

going mad. A hollow wooden noise made him turn

his head.

The Luggage had landed on its curved lid. Now

it was rocking angrily and kicking its little legs in

the air.

Warily, Rincewind looked around for Twoflower

The little man was in a crumpled heap against the

wall, but at least he was groaning.

The wizard pulled himself across the floor

painfully, and whispered, "What the hell was that?

"Why were they so bright?' muttered Twoflower

"God, my head . . .'

"Too bright?' said Rincewind. He looked across

the floor to the cage on the picture box. The lizards

inside, now noticeably thinner, were watching him

with intereSt.

"The salamanders,' moaned Twoflower. "The

picture'll be over-exposed, I know it . . .'

"They're salamanders?' asked Rincewind

incredulously.

"Of course. Standard attachment.'

Rincewind staggered across to' the box and

picked it up. He'd seen salamanders before, of

course, but they had been small specimens. They

had also been floating in a jar of pickle in the

curiobiological museum down in the cellars of

Unseen University, since live salamanders were

extinct around the Circle Sea.

He tried to remember the little he knew about

them. They were magical creatures. They also had

no mouths, since they subsisted entirely on the

nourishing quality of the octarine wavelength in

the discworld's sunlight, which they absorbed

through their skins. Of course, they also absorbed

the rest of the sunlight as well, storing it in a

Special sac until it was excreted in the normal way.

A deSert inhabited by discworld salamanders was

a veritable lighthouse at night.

Rincewind put them down and nodded grimly.

With all the octarine light in this magical place the

creatures had been gorging themselves, and then

nature had taken its course.

The picture box sidled away on its tripod.

Rincewind aimed a kick at it, and missed. He was

beginning to diSlike Sapient pearwood.

Something small stung his cheek. He brushed it

away irritably.

He looked around at a sudden grinding noise,

and a voice like a carving knife cutting through

silk said, "This is very undignified.'

"Shuddup,' Said Hrun. He was using Kring to

lever the top off the altar. He looked up at

Rincewind and grinned. Rincewind hoped that

rictus-strung grimace was a grin.

"Mighty magic,' commented the barbarian, pushing

down heavily on the complaining blade with a

hand the size of a ham. "Now we share the treasure

eh?'

Rincewind grunted as something small and hard

struck his ear. There was a gust of wind, hardly

felt.

"How do you know there's treasure in there?' he

said.

Hrun heaved, and managed to hook his fingers

under the stone. "You find chokeapples under a

chokeapple tree,' he said. "You find treasure under

altars. Logic.'

He gritted his teeth. The stone swung up and

landed heavily on the floor.

This time something struck Rincewind's hand

heavily. He clawed at the air and looked at the

thing he had caught. It was a piece of Stone with

five-plus-three sides. He looked up at the ceiling

Should it be sagging like that? Hrun hummed a

little tune as he began to pull crumbling leather

from the desecrated altar.

The air crackled, fluoresced, hummed. Intangible

winds gripped the wizard's robe, flapping it out in

eddies of blue and green sparks. Around

Rincewind's head mad, half-formed Spirits howled and

gibbered as they were sucked past.

He 'tried raising a hand. It was immediately

surrounded by a glowing 'octarine corona as the

rising magical wind roared past. The gale raced

through the room without stirring one iota of dust,

yet it was blowing Rincewind's eyelids inside out.

It screamed along the tunnels, its banshee-wail

bouncing madly from stone to stone.

Twoflower staggered up, bent double in the teeth

of the astral gale.

"What the hell is this?' he shouted.

Rincewind half-turned. Immediately the howling

wind caught him, nearly pitching him over.

Poltergeist eddies, spinning in the rushing air,

snatched at his feet.

Hrun's arm Shot out and caught him. A moment

later he and Twoflower had been dragged into the

lee of the ravaged altar, and lay panting on the

floor. Beside them the talking sword Kring sparkled,

its magical field boosted a hundredfold by the

storm.

"Hold on!' screamed Rincewind.

"The wind!' shouted Twoflower. "Where's it

coming from? Where's it blowing to?' He looked

into Rincewind's mask of sheer terror, which made

him redouble his own grip on the stones.

'We're doomed,' murmured Rincewind, while

overhead the roof cracked and shifted. 'Where do

ShadowS come from? That's where the wind is

blowing. '

What was in fact happening, as the wizard knew,

was that as the abused spirit of Bel-Shamharoth

sank through the deeper chthonic planes his

brooding spirit was being sucked out of the very

stones into the region which, according to the

discworld's moSt reliable prieSts, was both under

the ground and Somewhere Else. In consequence

his temple was being abandoned to the ravages of

Time, who for thousands of shamefaced years had

been reluctant to go near the place. Now the

suddenly released, accumulated weight of all those

pent-up seconds was bearing down heavily on the

unbraced stones.

Hrun glanced up at the widening cracks and

sighed. Then he put two fingers into his mouth and

whistled.

Strangely the real sound rang out loudly over the

pseudosound of the widening astral whirlpool that

was forming in the middle of the great octagonal

slab. It was followed by a hollow echo which

sounded, he fancied, strangely like the bouncing of

strange bones. Then came a noise with no hint of

strangeness. it was hollow hoofbeats.

Hrun's warhorse cantered through a creaking

archway and reared up by its master, its mane

streaming in the gale. The barbarian pulled

himself to his feet and slung his treasure bags into

a sack that hung from the saddle, then hauled

himSelf onto the beast's back. He reached down

and grabbed Twoflower by the scruff of his neck

dragging him acroSs the saddle tree. As the horse

turned around Rincewind took a desperate leap

and landed behind Hrun, who raised no objection.

The horse pounded surefooted along the tunnels

leaping sudden slides of rubble and adroitly side

stepping huge stones as they thundered down from

the straining roof. Rincewind, clinging on grimly

looked behind them.

No wonder the horse was moving so swiftly

Close behind, speeding through the flickering

violet light, were a large ominous-looking chest

and a picture box that skittered along dangerously

on its three legs. So great was the ability of sapient

pearwood to follow its master anywhere, the grave

goods of dead emperors had traditionally been

made of it...

They reached the outer air a moment before the

octagonal arch finally broke and smashed into the

flags.

The sun waS rising. Behind them a column of

dust rose as the temple collapsed in on itself, but

they did not look back. That was a shame, because

Twoflower might have been able to obtain pictures

unusual even by discworld standards.

There was movement in the smoking ruins. They

seemed to be growing a green carpet. Then an oak

tree spiralled up, branching out like an exploding

green rocket, and was in the middle of a venerable

copse even before the tips of its aged branches had

stopped quivering. A beech burst out like a fungus,

matured, rotted, and fell in a cloud of tinder dust

amid its struggling offspring. Already the temple

Was a half-buried heap of mossy stones.

But Time, having initially gone for the throat,

Was now setting out to complete the job. The

boiling interface between decaying magic and

ascendant entropy roared down the hill and

overtook the galloping horse, whose riders, being

themselves creatures of Time, completely failed to

notice it. But it lashed into the enchanted forest

with the whip of centuries.

"impressive, isn't it?' observed a voice by

Rincewind's knee as the horse cantered through the haze

of decaying timber and falling leaves.

The voice had an eerie metallic ring to it.

Rincewind looked down at Kring the sword. It had

a couple of rubies set in the pommel. He got the

impression they were watching him.

From the moorland rimwards of the wood they

watched the battle between the trees and Time,

which could only have one ending. It was a sort of

cabaret to the main business of the halt, which

Was the consumption of quite a lot of a bear which

had incautiously come within bowshot of Hrun.

Rincewind watched Hrun over the top of his slab

of greaSy meat. Hrun going about the business of

being a hero, he realised, was quite different to the

wine-bibbing, carousing Hrun who occasionally

came to Ankh-Morpork. He was cat-cautious, lithe

as a panther, and thoroughly at home.

And I've survived Bel-Shamharoth, Rincewind

reminded himself. Fantastic.

Twoflower was helping the hero sort through the

treasure stolen from the temple. It was mostly

silver set with unpleasant purple stones.

Representations of spiders, octopi and the tree-dwelling

octarsier of the hubland wastes figured largely in

the heap.

Rincewind tried to shut his ears to the grating

voice beside him. It was no use.

" and then I belonged to the Pasha of Re'durat

and played a prominent part in the battle of the

Great Nef, which is where I received the slight nick

you may have noticed some two-thirds of the way

up my blade,' Kring was saying from its temporary

home in a tussock. "Some infidel was wearing an

octiron collar, most unsporting, and of course I

was a lot sharper in those days and my maSter

used to use me to cut silk handkerchiefs in mid-air

and - am I boring you?'

'Huh? Oh, no, no, not at all. It's all very

interesting,' said Rincewind, with his eyes still on

Hrun. How trustworthy would he be? Here they

were, out in the wilds, there were trolls about . . .

"I could see you were a cultured person,' Kring

went on. " seldom do I get to meet really

interesting people, for any length of time, anyway.

What I'd really like is a nice mantelpiece to hang

over, somewhere nice and quiet. I spent a couple of

hundred years on the bottom of a lake once.'

"That must have been fun,' said Rincewind

absently.

"Not really,' said Kring.

"No, I suppose not.'

"What I'd really like is to be a ploughshare. I

don't know what that is, but it sounds like an

existence with some point to it.

Twoflower hurried over to the wizard

"I had a great idea,' he burbled.

"Why don't we

'Yah,' said Rincewind, wearily.

get Hrun to accompany us to Quirm?'

Twoflower looked amazed. "How did you know?'

he said. "I just thought you'd think it,' said Rincewind.

Hrun ceased stuffing silverware into his

saddlebagS and grinned encouragingly at them. Then his

eyeS Strayed back to the Luggage.

.if we had him with us, who'd attack us?' said

Twoflower.

Rincewind scratched his chin. "Hrun?' he

suggested.

"But we saved his life in the Temple!'

.Well, if by attack you mean kill,'' said

Rincewind, "i don't think he'd do that. He's not that sort.

He'd just rob us and tie us up and leave us for the

wolves, I expect.'

"Oh, come on.'

"Look, this is real life,' snapped Rincewind. 'I

mean, here you are, carrying around a box full of

gold, don't you think anyone in their right minds

would jump at the chance of pinching it?' I would

he added mentally - if I hadn't seen what the

Luggage does to prying fingers.

Then the answer hit him. He looked from Hrun

to the picture box. The picture imp was doing itS

laundry in a tiny tub, while the salamanders dozed

in their cage.

"I've got an idea,' he said. "i mean, what is it

heroeS really want?'

'Gold?' said Twoflower.

gNo. I mean really want.'

Twoflower frowned. "i don't quite understand

he Said. Rincewind picked up the picture box.

"Hrun,' he Said. cCome over here, will you?

The dayS passed peacefully. True, a small band of

bridge trolls tried to ambush them on one occasion,

and a party of brigands nearly caught them

unawares one night (but unwisely tried to

investigate the Luggage before slaughtering the

sleepers). Hrun demanded, and got, double pay for both

occasions.

"if any harm comes to us,' said Rincewind, "then

there will be no-one to operate the magic box. No

more pictures of Hrun, you understand?'

Hrun nodded, his eyes fixed on the latest picture.

It showed Hrun striking a heroic pose, with one

foot on a heap of slain trolls.

"Me and you and little friend Two Flowers, we all

get on hokay,' he said. "Also tomorrow, may we get

a better profile, hokay?'

He carefully wrapped the picture in trollskin and

stowed it in his saddlebag, along with the others.

'it seems to be working,' said Twoflower

admiringly, as Hrun rode ahead to scout the road.

"Sure,' said Rincewind. "What heroes like best is

themselves . '

"You're getting quite good at using the picture

box, you know that?'

"Yar'

"So you might like to have this.' Twoflower held

out a picture.

"What is it?' asked Rincewind.

"oh, just the picture you took in.the temple.'

Rincewind looked in horror. There, bordered by a

few glimpses of tentacle, was a huge, whorled,

calloused, potion-stained and unfocused thumb.

'That's the story of my life,' he said wearily.

"You win,' said Fate, pushing the heap of souls

across the gaming table. The assembled gods

relaxed. "There will be other games,' he added.

The Lady smiled into two eyes that were like

holes in the universe.

and then there was nothing but the ruin of the

forests 'and a cloud of dust on the horizon, which

drifted away on the breeze. And, sitting on a pitted

and mosS-grown milestone, a black and raggedy

figure. His was the air of one who is unjustly put

upon, who is dreaded and feared, yet who is the

only friend of the poor and the best doctor for the

!mortally wounded.

Death, although of course completely eyeless,

watched Rincewind disappearing with what would,

had His face possessed any mobility at all, have

been a frown. Death, although exceptionally busy

at all times, decided that He now had a hobby

There was something about the wizard that irked

Him beyond measure. He didn't keep appointments

for one thing.

I'LL GET YOU YET, CULLY. said Death, in the voice

like the slamming of leaden coffin lids.

THE LURE OF THE WYRM

It was called the Wyrmberg and it rose almost one

half of a mile above the green valley; a mountain

huge, grey and upside down.

At its base it was a mere score of yards across.

Then it rose through clinging cloud, curving

gracefully outward like an upturned trumpet until it was

truncated by a plateau fully a quarter of a mile

across. There was a tiny forest up there, its

greenery cascading over the lip. There were

buildings. There was even a small river, tumbling over

the edge in a waterfall so wind-whipped that it

reached the ground as rain.

There were also a number of cave mouths, a few

yards below the plateau. They had a

crudely-carved, regular look about them, so that on this

crisp autumn morning the Wyrmberg hung over

the clouds like a giant's dovecote.

This would mean that the "doves' had a

wingspan slightly in excess of forty yards.

'I knew it,' said Rincewind. "We're in a strong

magical field.'

Twoflower and Hrun looked around the little

hollow where they had made their noonday halt.

Then they looked at each other.

The horses were quietly cropping the rich grass

by the stream. Yellow butterflies skittered among

the bushes. There was a smell of thyme and a

buzzing of bees. The wild pigs on the spit sizzled

gently.

Hrun shrugged and went back to oiling his

biceps. They gleamed.

"Looks alright to me,' he said.

"Try tossing a coin,' said Rincewind.

."what? Go on. Toss a coin.'

"Hokay,' Said Hrun. "if it gives you any pleasure.'

He reached into hiS pouch and withdrew a handful

of loose change plundered from a dozen realms.

With Some care he selected a Zchloty leaden

quarter-iotum and balanced it on a purple

thumb

"You call,' he said. "Heads or-' he inspected the

obverse with an air of intense concentration, "some

sort of a fish with legs.'

"When it's in the air,' said Rincewind. Hrun

grinned and flicked his thumb.

The iotum rose, spinning.

"Edge,' Said Rincewind, without looking at it.

Magic never dies. It merely fades away.

Nowhere was this more evident on the wide blue

expanse of the discworld than in those areas that

had been the scene of the great battles of the Mage

Wars, which had happened very shortly after

Creation. In those days magic in its raw state had

been widely available, and had been eagerly

utilized by the First Men in their war against the

Gods.

The precise origins of the Mage Wars have been

lost in the fogS of Time, but disc philosophers agree

that the First Men, shortly after their creation,

understandably lost their temper. And great and

pyrotechnic were the battles that followed - the

sun wheeled across the sky, the seas boiled, weird

Storms ravaged the land, small white pigeons

mysteriously appeared in people's clothing, and

the very Stability of the disc (carried as it was

through space on the backs of four giant

turtle-riding elephants) was threatened. This resulted in

Stern action by the Old High Ones, to whom even

the Gods themselves are answerable. The Gods

were banished to high places, men were re-created

a good deal smaller, and much of the old wild

magic was sucked out of the earth.

That did not solve the problem of those places on

the disc which, during the wars, had suffered a

direct hit by a spell. The magic faded away

slowly, over the millenia, releasing as it decayed

myriads of sub-astral particles that severely

distorted the reality around it . . .

Rincewind, Twoflower and Hrun stared at the

coin.

"Edge it is,' said Hrun. 'Well, you're a wizard. So

what?'

"i don't do - that sort of spell.

"You mean you can't.'

Rincewind ignored this, because it was true. "Try

it again,' he suggested.

Hrun pulled out a fistful of coins.

The first two landed in the usual manner. So did

the fourth. The third landed on its edge and

balanced there. The fifth turned into a small yellow

caterpillar and crawled away. The sixth, upon

reaching its zenith, vanished with a sharp "spang!'

A moment later there was a small thunder clap.

"Hey, that one was silver,' exclaimed Hrun,

rising to his feet and staring upwards. "Bring it

"i don't know where it's gone, said Rincewind

wearily. "it's probably still accelerating. The ones I

tried this morning didn't come down, anyway.'

Hrun was still staring into the sky.

"What?' said Twoflower.

Rincewind sighed. He had been dreading this.

'We've strayed into a zone with a high magical

index,' he said. "Don't ask me how. Once upon a

time a really powerful magic field must have been

generated here, and we're feeling the after-effects.'

"precisely,' said a passing bush

hruns head jerked down.

"You mean this is one of those places?' he asked.

'Let's get out of here!'

"Right,' agreed Rincewind. "if we retrace our

steps we might make it. We can stop every mile or

so and toss a coin.'

He stood up urgently and started stuffing things

into his saddlebags.

"What?' Said Twoflower.

Rincewind stopped. "look,' he snapped. "Just

don't argue' . Come on.'

"It looks alright,' said Twoflower. "Just a bit

underpopulated that's all . . .'

'Yes,' said Rincewind. "odd, isn't it? Come on!'

There was a noise high above them, like a strip

of leather being slapped on a wet rock. Something

glaSSy and indiStinct passed over Rincewind's

head, throwing up a cloud of ashes from the fire,

and the pig carcass took off from the spit and

rocketed into the sky.

It banked to avoid a clump of trees, righted itself,

roared around in a tight circle, and headed

hubwards leaving a trail of hot pork-fat droplets.

'What are they doing now?' asked the old man.

The young woman glanced at the scrying glass.

"Heading rimwards at speed,' she reported. "By

the way - they've still got that box on legs.' The old man chuckled, an

oddly disturbing

sound in the dark and dusty crypt. 'Sapient

pearwood,' he said. "Remarkable. Yes, I think we

will have that. Please see to it, my dear - before

they go beyond your power, perhaps?'

"Silence! Or-'

"or what, Liesa?' said the old man (in this dim

light there was something odd about the way he

was Slumped in the stone chair). "You killed me

once already, remember?'

She snorted and stood up, tossing back her hair

scornfully. It was red, flecked with gold. Erect,

Liessa Wyrmbidder was entirely a magnificent

sight. She was also almost naked, except for a

couple of mere scraps of the lightest chain mail

and riding boots of iridescent dragonhide. In one

boot was thrust a riding crop, unusual in that it

was as long as a spear and tipped with tiny steel

barbs.

"My power will be quite sufficient,' she said

The indistinct figure appeared to nod, or at least

to wobble.""so you keep assuring me,' he said.

Liessa snorted, and strode out of the hall.

Her father did not bother to watch her go. One

reason for this was, of course, that since he had

been dead for three months his eyes were in any

case not in the best of condition. The other was

that as a wizard - even a dead wizard of the

fifteenth grade, his optic nerves had long since

become attuned to seeing into levels and

dimensions far removed from common reality, and were

therefore somewhat inefficient at observing the

merely mundane. (During his life they had appeared

to others to be eight-faceted and eerily insectile.)

Besides, since he was now suspended in the

narrow space between the living world and the

dark shadow-world of Death he could survey the

whole of Causality itself. That was why, apart

from a mild hope that this time his wretched

daughter would get herself killed, he did not devote

his considerable powers to learning more about the

three travellers galloping desperately out of his

realm

Several hundred yards away, Liessa was in a

strange humour as she strode down the worn steps

that led into the hollow heart of the Wyrmberg

followed by half a dozen Riders. Would this be the

opportunity? Perhaps here was the key to break the

deadlock, the key to the throne of the Wyrmberg. It

was rightfully hers, of course; but tradition said

that only a man could rule the Wyrmberg. That

irked Liesa, and when she was angry the Power

flowed stronger and the dragons were especially

big and ugly.

If she had a man, things would be different

Someone who, for preference, was a big strapping

lad but short on brains. Someone who would do

what he was told.

The biggest of the three now fleeing the

dragonlands might do. And if it turned out that he

wouldn't, then dragons were always hungry and

needed to be fed regularly. She could see to it that

they got ugly.

Uglier than usual, anyway

, The stairway passed through a stone arch and

ended in a narrow ledge near the roof of the great

cavern where the Wyrms roosted.

Sunbeams from the myriad entrances around

the walls cries-crossed the dusty gloom like amber

rods in which a million golden insects had been

preserved. Below, they revealed nothing but a thin

haze. Above . . .

The walking rings started so close to Liessa's

head that she could reach up and touch one. They

stretched away in their thousands across the

upturned acres of the cavern roof. It had taken a

Score of masons a score of years to hammer the

pitonS for all those, hanging from their work as

they progressed. Yet they were as nothing compared

to the eighty-eight major rings that clustered near

the apex of the dome. A further fifty had been lost

in the old days, as they were swung into place by

teams of sweating slaves (and there had been

SlaveS aplenty, in the first days of the Power) and

the great rings had gone crashing into the depths,

dragging their unfortunate manipulators with

them.

But eighty-eight had been installed, huge as

rainbows, rusty as blood. From them .

The dragons sense Liessa's presence. Air swishes

around the cavern as eighty-eight pairs of wings

unfold like a complicated puzzle. Great heads with

green, multi-faceted eyes peer down at her.

The beasts were still faintly transparent. While the

men around her take their hookboots from the rack.

Liessa bends her mind to the task of full

visualisation; about her in the musty air the dragons become

fully visible, bronze scales dully reflecting the

sunbeam shafts. Her mind throbs, but now that the

Power is flowing fully she can, with barely a wnuer

of concentration, think of other things.

Now she too buckles on the hookboots and turns

a graceful cartwheel to bring their hooks, with a

faint clung, against a couple of the walking rings

in the ceiling.

Only now it is the floor. The world has changed.

Now she is standing on the edge of a deep bowl or

crater, floored with the little rings across which the

dragonriders are already strolling with a pendulum

grit. In the centre of the bowl their huge mounts

wait among the herd. Far above are the distant

rocks of the cavern floor, discoloured by centuries

of dragon droppings.

Moving with the easy gliding movement that is

second nature Liessa sets off towards her own

dragon, Lnolith, who turns his great horsey head

towards' her. His jowls are greasy with pork fat.

It was very enjoyable, he says in her mind.

'I thought I said there were to be no

unaccompanied flights?' she snaps.

I was hungry' , Liessa.

'Curb your hunger. Soon there will be horses to

eat. '

The reins stick in our teeth. Are there any

warriors? We like warriors.

Liessa swings down the mounting ladder and

lands with her legs locked around Lnolith's

leathery neck.

"The warrior is mine. There are a couple of others

you can have. One appears to be a wizard of sorts,

she adds by way of encouragement.

Oh, you know how it is with wizards. Half an

hour afterwards you could do with another one, the

dragon grumbles.

He spreads his wings and drops.

"They're gaining.' screamed Rincewind. He bent

even lower over his horse's neck and groaned.

Twoflower was trying to keep up while at the same

time craning round to look at the flying beasts.

"You don't underStand!' screamed the tourist,

above the terrible noise of the wingbeats. "All my

life I've wanted to see dragons!'

"From the inSide?' shouted Rincewind. "Shut up

and ride!' He whipped at his horse with the reins

and stared at the wood ahead, trying to drag it

closer by Sheer willpower. Under those trees they'd

be safe. Under thoSe trees no' dragons could fly . . .

He heard the clap of wingS before shadows

folded around him. Instinctively he rolled in the

saddle and felt the white-hot stab of pain as

something Sharp scored a line across his shoulderS.

Behind him Hrun screamed, but it sounded more

like a bellow of rage than a cry of pain. The

barbarian had vaulted down into the heather and

had drawn the black sword, Kring. He flourished it

as one of the dragons curved in for another low

%

"No bloody lizard does that to me! ' he roared

Rincewind leaned over and grabbed Twoflower's

reins.

"Come on,' he hissed.

"But, the dragons-' said Twoflower, entranced.

'Blast the-' began the wizard, and froze.

Another dragon had peeled off from the circling

dots overhead and was gliding towards them.

Rincewind let go of Twoflower's horse, swore

bitterly, and spurred his own mount towards the

trees, alone. He didn't look back at the sudden

commotion behind him and, when a shadow

passed over him, merely gibbered weakly and tried

to burrow into the horse's mane.

Then, instead of the searing, piercing pain he

had expected, there was a series of stinging blows

as the terrified animal passed under the eaves of

the wood. The wizard tried to hang on but another

low branch, stouter than the others, knocked him

out of the saddle. The last thing he heard before

the flashing blue lights of unconsciousness closed

in was a high reptilian scream of frustration, and

the thrashing of talons in the treetops.

When he awoke a dragon was watching him; at

least, it was staring in his general direction.

Rincewind groaned and tried to dig his way into

the moss with his shoulderblades, then gasped as

the pain hit him.

Through the mists of agony and fear he looked

back at the dragon.

The creature was hanging from a branch of a

large dead oak tree, several hundred feet away. Its

bronze-gold wings were tightly wrapped around its

body but the long equine head turned this way and

that at the end of a remarkably prehensile neck. It

was scanning the forest.

It was also semi-tranSparent. Although the sun

glinted off its scales, Rincewind could clearly make out the outlines of

the branches behind it.

On one' of them a man was sitting, dwarfed by

the hanging reptile. He appeared to be naked

except for a pair of high boots, a tiny leather

holdall in the region of his groin, and a high-crested

helmet. He was swinging a short sword back and

forth idly, and stared out across the tree tops with

the air of one carrying out a tedious and

unglamorous aSSignment.

A beetle began to crawl laboriously up

Rincewind's leg.

The wizard wondered how much damage a

half solid dragon could do. Would it only half-kill him?

He decided not to stay and find out.

Moving on heels, fingertips and shoulder muscles,

Rincewind wriggled sideways until foliage masked

the oak and its occupants. Then he scrambled to

his feet and hared off between the trees.

He had no destination in mind, no provisions,

and no horse'. But while he still had legs he could

run. Ferns and brambles whipped at him, but he

didn't feel them at all.

When ,he had put about a mile between him and

the dragon he Stopped and collapsed against a

tree, which then spoke to him.

"PSst,' it said.

Dreading what he might see, Rincewind let his

gaze slide upwards. It tried to fasten on innocuous

bits of bark and leaf, but the scourge of curiosity

forced it to leave them behind. Finally it fixed on a

black sword thrust straight through the branch

above Rincewind's head.

"Don't just Stand there,' said the sword (in a

voice like the sound of a finger dragged around the

rim of a large empty wine glass). "Pull me out.'

"What?' said Rincewind, his chest still heaving.

"Pull me out,' repeated Kring. "It's either that or

I'll be spending the next million years in a coal

measure. Did I ever tell you about the time I was

thrown into a lake up in th-'

"What happened to the others?' said Rincewind,

still clutching the tree desperately.

"Oh, the dragons got them. And the horses. And

that box thing. Me too, except that Hrun dropped

me. What a stroke of luck for you.'

"Well-' began Rincewind. Kring ignored him.

"I expect you'll be in a hurry to rescue them, it

added.

"Yes, well-'

"So if you'll just pull me out we can be off.'

Rincewind squinted up at the sword. A rescue

attempt had hitherto been so far at the back of his

mind that, if some advanced speculations on the

nature and shape of the many-dimensioned

multiplexity of the universe were correct, it was right at

the front; but a magic sword was a valuable

item . . .

And it would be a long trek back home, wherever

that was . . .

He scrambled up the tree and inched along the

branch. Kring was buried very firmly in the wood.

He gripped the pommel and heaved until lights

flashed in front of his eyes.

"Try again,' said the sword encouragingly.

Rincewind groaned and gritted his teeth.

'Could be worse,' said Kring. "This could have

been an anvil.'

"Yaargh,' hissed the wizard, fearing for the

future of his groin.

'I have had a multidimensional existence,' said

the sword.

"Ungh?'

"I have had many names, you know.'

"Amazing,' said Rincewind. He swayed backwards

as the blade slid free. It felt strangely light.

back on the ground again he decided to break

the news. "I really don't think rescue is a good idea,' he

said. "I think we'd better head back to a city, you

know. To raise a search party.'

"The dragons headed hubwards,' said Kring.

"However, I Suggest we start with the one in the

trees over there.'

.Sorry, but-'

"You can't leave them to their fate!'

Rincewind looked surprised. "I can't?' he said.

"No. You can't. Look, I'll be frank. 'i've worked

with better material than you, but it's either that or

have you ever spent a million years in a coal

meaSUre?'

'Look,I-'"So if you don't stop arguing I'll chop your head

off.

Rincewind saw his own arm snap up until the

shimmering blade was humming a mere inch from

his throat. He tried to force his fingers to let go.

They wouldn't.

"I don't know how to be a hero!' he shouted

"I propose to teach you.'

Bronze Psepha rumbled deep in his throat.

Kfedra the dragonrider leaned forward andsquinted across the clearing.

"I see him,' he Said. He swung himself down

easily from branch to branch and landed lightly

on the tusSocky grass, drawing his sword.

He took a long look at the approaching man,

who waS obviously not keen on leaving the shelter

of the trees. He was armed, but the dragonrider

observed with some interest the strange way in

which the man held the sword in front of him at

arm's length, as though embarrassed to be seen in

itS company.

Kfedra hefted his own sword and grinned expansively as the wizard

shuffled towards him. Then he

leapt.

Later, he remembered only two things about the

fight. He recalled the uncanny way in which the

wizard's sword curved up and caught his own

blade with a shock that jerked it out of his grip.

The other thing - and it was this, he averred, that

led to his downfall - was that the wizard was

covering his eyes with one hand.

Ksedra jumped back to avoid another thrust and fell 'full length on the

turf. With a snarl Psepha

unfolded his great wings and launched himself

from his tree.

A moment later the wizard was standing over

him, shouting, "Tell it that if it singes me I'll let the

sword go. I will. I'll let it go! So tell it! ' the tip of the

black sword was hovering over Kisdra's throat,

What was odd was that the wizard was obviously

struggling with it, and it appeared to be singing to

itself.

"Psepha!' K'sdra shouted.

The dragon roared in defiance, but pulled out of

the dive that would have removed Rincewind's

head, and flapped ponderously back to the tree.

"Talk!' screamed Rincewind.

Ksdra squinted at him up the length of the sword.

"What would you like me to say?' he asked.

'What?'

"I said what would you like me to say?'

"Where are my friends? The barbarian and the

little man is what I mean.'

"I expect they have been taken back to the

Wyrmberg.'

Rincewind tugged desperately against the surge

of the sword, trying to shut his mind to Kring's

%bloodthirsty humming.

r~k st'8 e Wy

home. "And I suppose you were waiting to take me

there, eh? Ktsdra

gulped involuntarily as the tip of the

sword pued a bead of blood from his adam's

apple. "Don't want people to know you've got dragons

here, eh? snarled Rincewind. The dragonrider

forgot himself enough to nod, and came within a

quarter-inch of cutting his own throat.

Rincewind looked around desperately, and realized

that this was Something he was really going to

have to go through with.

'Right then,' he said as diffidently as he could manage.

"you'd better take me to this Wyrmberg of

yours, hadn't you?'

'I was supposed to take you in dead,' muttered

Ksdra sullenly.

'Rincewind looked down at him and grinned

slowly. It was a wide, manic and utterly

humourless rictus that was the sort of grin that is normally

accompanied by small riverside birds wandering

in and out picking scraps out of the teeth.

"Alive will do,' said Rincewind. "if we're talking

about anyone being dead, remember whose sword

iS in which hand.'

"If you kill me nothing will prevent Psepha

killing you Shouted the prone dragonrider.

"So what I'll do is, I'll chop bits off,' agreed the

wizard. He tried the effect of the grin again.

"Oh, all right,' said K'sdra sulkily. "Do you think I've got an

imagination?'

He wrigled out from under the sword and

waved at the dragon, which took wing again and

glided in towards them. Rincewind swallowed.

'You mean we've got to go on that?' he said.

Wyrmberg?' he said.

mberg. There is only one. It is

DragonK! sdra looked at him scornfully, the point of Kring

still aimed at his neck.

"How else would anyone get to the Wyrmberg?'

'I don't know,' said Rincewind. "How else?'

"I mean, there is no other way. It's flying or

nothing.'

Rincewind looked again at the dragon before

him. He could quite clearly see through it to the

crushed grass on which it lay but, when he

gingerly touched a scale that was a mere golden

sheen on thin air, it felt solid enough. Either

dragons should exist' completely or fail to exist at

all, he felt. A dragon only half-existing was worse

than the extremes.

"i didn't know dragons could be seen through,' he

said.

He swung himself astride the dragon awkwardly, K!sdra shrugged. "Didn't

you?' he said.

because Rincewind was hanging on to his belt.

Once uncomfortably aboard the wizard moved his

white-knuckle grip to a convenient piece of harness

and prodded k'sdra lightly with the sword.

"Have you ever flown before?' said the

dragonrider, without looking round.

"Not as such, no.'

"Would you like something to suck?'

Rincewind gazed at the back of the man's head,

then dropped to the bag of red and yellow sweets

that was being proffered.

"Is it necessary?' he asked.

"it is traditional,' said K!sdra. "Please yourself.'

The dragon stood up, lumbered heavily across

the meadow, and fluttered into the air.

Rincewind occasionally had nightmares about

teetering on some intangible but enormously high

place, and seeing a blue-distanced, cloud-punctuated

landscape reeling away below him (this usually

woke him up with his ankles sweating; he would

have been even more worried had he known that

the nightmare was not, as he thought, just the

. usual discworld vertigo. It was a backwards

memory of an event in his future so terrifying that

it had generated harmonics of fear all the way

along his lifeline).

This was not that event, but it was good practise

for it. Psepha clawed its way into the air with a series

of vertebrae-shattering bounds. At the top of its

last leap the wide wings unfolded with a snap and

spread out with a thump which shook the trees.

Then the ground was gone, dropping away in a

Series of gentle jerks. Psepha was suddenly rising

gracefully, the afternoon sunlight gleaming off

wings that were still no more than a golden film.

Rincewind made the mistake of glancing

downwards, and found himself looking through the

dragon to the treetops below. Far below. His

Stomach Shrank at the sight.

Closing his eyes wasn't much better, because it

gave his imagination full rein. He compromised by

gazing fixedly into the middle distance, where

moorland and forest drifted by and could be

contemplated almost casually.

Wind Snatched at him. K!sdra half turned and

shouted into his ear.

"Behold the Wyrmberg!'

Rincewind turned his head slowly, taking care to

keep Kring resting lightly on the dragon's back.

His streaming eyes saw the impossibly inverted

mountain rearing out of the deep forested valley

like a trumpet in a tub of nose. Even at this

distance he could make out the faint octarine glow

in the air that must be indicating a stable magic

aura of at least - he gasped - several milliPrime?

At least

'Oh no,' he said

Even looking at the ground was better than that.

He averted his eyes quickly, and realized that he

could now no longer see the ground through the

dragon. As they glided around in a wide circle

towards the Wyrmberg it was definitely taking on

a more solid form, as if the creature's body was

filling with a gold mist. By the time the Wyrmberg

was in front of them, swinging wildly across the

sky, the dragon was as real as a rock.

Rincewind thought he could see a faint streak in

the air, as if something from the mountain had

reached out and touched the beast. He got the

strange feeling that the dragon was being made

more genuine.

Ahead of it the Wyrmberg turned from a distant

toy to several billion tons of rock poised between

heaven and earth. He could see small fields, woods

and a lake up there, and from the lake a river

spilled out and over the edge . . .

He made the mistake of following the thread of

foaming water with his eyes, and jerked himself

back just in time.

The flared plateau of the upturned mountain

drifted towards them. The dragon didn't even slow.

As the mountain loomed over Rincewind like the

biggest fly-swatter in the universe he saw a cave

mouth. Psepha skimmed towards it, shoulder

muscles pumping.

The wizard screamed as the dark spread and

enfolded him. There was a brief vision of rock

flashing past, blurred by speed. Then the dragon

was in the open again.

It was inside a cave, but bigger than any cave

had a right to be. The dragon, gliding across its

vast emptiness, was a mere gilded fly in a

banqueting hall.

There were other dragons - gold, silver, black,

white - flapping across the sun-shafted air on

erands of their own or perched on outcrops of

rock. high in the domed roof of the cavern scores of

others hung from huge rings, their wings wrapped

bat-like around their bodies. There were men up

there, too. Rincewind swallowed hard when he saw

them, because they were walking on that broad

expanse of ceiling like flies.

Then he made out the thousands of tiny rings

that studded the ceiling. A number of inverted men

were watching Psepha's flight with interest.

rincewind swallowed again. For the life of him he

couldn't think of what to do next.

"Well?' he asked, in a whisper. "Any suggestions?

"Obviously you attack,' said Kring scornfully.

'Why didn't I think of that?' said Rincewind

.Could it be because they all have crossbows?'

'You're a defeatist.'

"Defeatist? That's because I'm going to be

defeated! '

"You're your own worst enemy, Rincewind,' said

the sword.

Rincewind looked up at grinning men.

"Bet?' he said wearily.

Before Kring could reply Psepha reared in

midair and alighted on one of the large rings, which

rocked alarmingly.

"Would you like to die now, or surrender first?'

asked Kfsdra calmly.

Men were converging on the ring from "all

directions, walking with a swaying motion as their

hooked boots engaged the ceiling rings.

There were more boots on a rack that hung in a

Small platform built on the side of the perch-ring.

Before Rincewind could stop him the dragonrider

had leapt from the creature's back to land on the

platform, where he stood grinning at the wizard's

diScomfiture.

There waS a small expressive sound made by a

number of crossbows being cocked. Rincewind

looked up at a number of impassive, upside down

faces. The dragonfolk's taste in clothing didn't run

to anything much more imaginative than a leather

harness, studded with bronze ornaments. Knives

and sword sheaths were worn inverted. Those who

were not wearing helmets let their hair flow freely,

so that it moved like seaweed in the ventilation

breeze near the roof. There were several women

among them. The inversion did strange things to

their anatomy. Rincewind stared.

"Surrender,' said K!sdra again.

Rincewind opened' his mouth to do so. Kring

hummed a warning, and agonising waves of pain

shot up his arm. "Never,' he squeaked. The pain

stopped.

"Of course he won't!' boomed an expansive voice

behind him. "He's a hero, isn't he?'

Rincewind turned and looked into a pair of hairy

nostrils. They belonged to a heavily built young'

man, hanging nonchalantly from the ceiling by

his boots.

"What is your name, hero?' said the man. 'So that

we know who you were.'

Agony shot up Rincewind's arm. "I-I'm

Rincewind of Ankh,' he managed to gasp.

"And I am Liofrt Dragonlord,' said the hanging

man, pronouncing the word with the harsh click in

the back of the throat that Rincewind could only

think of as a kind of integral punctuation. "You

have come to challenge me in mortal combat.'

"Well, no, I didn't-'

"You are mistaken. Kfsdra, help our hero into a

pair of hookboots. I am sure he is anxious to get

started.'

"No, look, I just came here to find my friends. I'm

sure there's no-' Rincewind began, as the

dragonrider guided him firmly onto the platform, pushed

him onto a seat, and proceeded to strap hookboots

to his feet.

"Hurry up, K!sdra. We mustn't keep our hero

from his destiny,' said Lie!tt.

'Look, I expect my friends are happy enough

here, so if you could just, you know, set me down

somewhere

"You will see your friends soon enough,' said the

dragonlord airily. "If you are religious, I mean.

None who enter the Wyrmberg ever leave again.

Except metaphorically, of course. Show him how

to reach the rings, Kfsdra.'

"Look what you've got me into!' Rincewind

hissed.

Kring vibrated in his hand. "Remember that I

am a magic sword,' it hummed.

"How can I forget?'

'Climb the ladder and grab a ring,' said the

dragonrider, "then bring your feet up until the

hooks catch.' He helped the protesting wizard

climb until he was hanging upside down, robe

tucked into his britches, Kring dangling from one

hand. At this angle the dragonfolk looked

reasonably bearable but the dragons themselves, hanging

from their perches, loomed over the scene like

immense gargoyles. Their eyes glowed with interest.

'Attention, please,' said Lie!tt. A dragonrider

handed him a long shape, wrapped in red silk.

'We fight to the death,' he said. 'Yours

"And I Suppose I earn my freedom if I win?' said

Rincewind, without much hope.

Lie!tt indicated the assembled dragonriders with

a tilt of hiS head.

%'Don't be naive, he said.

Rincewind took a deep breath

"I suppose I should warn you,' he said, his

voice hardly

quavering at all, "that this is a magic sword.'

Lie!tt let the red silk wrapping drop away into

the gloom and flourished a jet-black blade. Runes rudder night of frosty

Stars, it swung two-handed

b' 1 h

glowed on its surface.

"What a coincidence,' he said, and lunged.

Rincewind went rigid with fright, but his arm

swung out as Kring shot forward. The swords met

in an explosion of octarine light.

Lie!tt swung himself backwards, his eyes narrowing

. Crring leapt past his guard and, although the

dragonlord's sword jerked up to deflect most of the

force, the result was a thin red line across its

master's torso.

With a growl he launched himself at the wizard

boots clattering as he slid from ring to ring. The

swords met again in another violent discharge of

magic and, at the same time, Lio'rt brought his

other hand down against Rincewind's head, jarring

him so hard that one foot jerked out of its ring and

flailed desperately.

Rincewind knew himself to be almost certainly the

worst wizard on the discworld since he knew but

one spell; yet for all that he was still a wizard, and

thus by the inexorable laws of magic this meant

that upon his demise it would be Death himself

who appeared to claim him (instead of sending one

of his numerous servants, as is usually the case).

Thus it was that, as a grinning Lie!tt swung

back and brought his sword around in a lazy arc,

time ran into treacle.

To Rincewind's eyes the world was suddenly lit

by a flickering octarine light, tinged with violet as

photons impacted on the sudden magical aura.

Inside it the dragonlord was a ghastly-hued statue,

his sword moving at a snail's pace in the glow.

Beside Liofrt was another figure, visible only to

those who can see into the extra four dimensions of

magic. It was tall and dark and thin and, against a

%mud I

a Boy h6 of proverbial sharpness . . .

Rincewind ducked. The blade hissed coldly through the air beSide his head

and entered the

rock of the cavern roof without slowing. Death

screamed a curse in his cold crypt voice. The scene

vanished. What passed for reality on the discworld

reasserted itself with a rush of sound. Lio'rt gasped

at the sudden turn of speed with which the wizard

had dodged his killing stroke and, with that

desperation only available to the really terrified,

Rincewind uncoiled like a snake and launched

himself across the space between them. He locked

both hands around the dragonlord's sword arm,

and wrenched.

It was at that moment that Rincewind's one

remaining ring, already overburdened, slid out of

the rock with a nasty little metal sound.

He plunged down, swung wildly, and ended up

dangling over a bone-splintering death with his

hands gripping the dragonlord's arm so tightly

that the man screamed.

Lio'rt looked up at his feet. Small flakes of rock

were dropping out of the roof around the ring

pitons.

"Let go, damn you.' he screamed. "Or we'll both

die! '

Rincewind said nothing. He was concentrating

on maintaining his grip and keeping his mind

closed to the pressing images of his fate on the

rockS below.

"Shoot him!' bellowed Liotrt.

Out of the corner of his eye Rincewind saw

several crossbows levelled at him. Lie!tt chose that

moment to flail down with his free hand, and a

fistful of rings stabbed into the wizard's fingers.

He let go.

Twoflower grabbed the bars and pulled himself up.

"See anything?' said Hrun, from the region of his

feet.

"Just clouds.'

Hrun lifted him down again, and sat on the edge

of one of the wooden beds that were the only

furnishings in the cell. "Bloody hell,' he said.

"Don't despair,' said Twoflower.

"I'm not despairing.'

"I expect it's all some sort of misunderstanding. I

expect they'll release us soon. They seem very

civilised . '

Hrun stared at him from under bushy eyebrows.

He started to say something, then appeared to

think better of it. He sighed instead.

"And when we get back we can say we've seen

dragons,' Twoflower continued. 'What about that,

eh?'

"Dragons don't exist,' said Hrun flatly. 'Codice of

Chimeria killed the last one two hundred years

ago. I don't know what we're seeing, but they

aren't dragons.'

"But they carried us up in the air! In that hall

there must have been hundreds-'

"I expect it was just magic,' said Hrun,

dismissivly."

'Well, they looked like dragons,' said Twoflower,

an air of defiance about him. "I always wanted to

see dragons, ever since I was a little lad. Dragons

flying around in the sky, breathing flames . . .'

"They just used to crawl around in swamps and

stuff, and all they breathed was stink,' said Hrun

lying down in the bunk. "They weren't very big

either. They used to collect firewood.'

"I heard they used to collect treasure,' said

Twoflower.

"And firewood. Hey,' Hrun added, brightening

'did you notice all those rooms they brought us

throUgh? Pretty impressive, I thought. Lot of good

stuff about, plus some of those tapestries have got

to be worth a fortune.' He scratched his chin

thoughtfully, making a noise like a porcupine

shouldering its way through gorse.

"What happens next?' asked Twoflower.

Hrun screwed a finger in his ear and inspected it

absently. .Oh,' he said, "I expect in a minute the door will

be flung back and I'll be dragged off to some sort of

temple arena where I'll fight maybe a couple of

giant spiders and an eight-foot slave from the

jungles of Klatch and then I'll rescue some kind of

a princess from the altar and then kill off a few

guards or whatever and then this girl will show me

the secret passage out of the place and we'll

liberate a couple of horses and escape with the

treasure.' Hrun leaned his head back on his hands

and looked at the ceiling, whistling tunelessly.

"All that?' said Twoflower.

"Usually: '

Twoflower sat down on his bunk and tried

to think. This proved difficult, because his mind was

awaSh with dragons.

Dragons!

Ever Since he was two years old he had been

captivated by the pictures of the fiery beasts in The

Octarine Fairy Book. His sister had told him they

didn't really exist, and he recalled the bitter

disappointment. If the world didn't contain those

beautiful creatures, he'd decided, it wasn't half the world

it ought to be. And then later he had been bound

apprentice to Ninereeds the Masteraccount, who in

hiS grey-mindedness was everything that dragons

were not, and there was no time for dreaming.

But there was something wrong with these dragons. They were too small and

sleek, compared

to the ones in his mind's eye. Dragons ought to be

big and green and clawed and exotic and

firebreathing - big and green with long sharp . . .

Something moved at the edge of his vision, in the

furthest, darkest corner of the dungeon. When he

turned his head it vanished, although he thought

he heard the faintest of noises that might have

been made by claws scrabbling on stone.

"Hrun?' he said.

There was a snore from the other bunk.

Twoflower padded over to the corner, peering

gingerly at the stones in case there was a secret

panel. At that moment the door was flung back

thumping against the wall. Half a dozen guards

hurtled through it, spread out and flung them

selves down on one knee. Their weapons were

aimed exclusively at Hrun. When he thought about

this later, Twoflower felt quite offended.

Hrun snored.

A woman strode into the room. Not many

women can stride convincingly, but she managed

it. She glanced briefly at Twoflower, as one might

look at a piece of furniture, then glared down at the

man on the bed.

She was wearing the same sort of leather

harness that the dragonriders had been wearing

but in her case it was much briefer. That, and the

magnificent mane of chestnut-red hair that fell to

her waist, was her only concession to what even on

the discworld passed for decency. She was also

wearing a thoughtful expression.

Hrun made a glubbing noise, turned over, and

slept on.

With a careful movement, as though handling

some instrument of rare delicacy, the woman drew

a slim black dagger from her belt and stabbed

downward.

before it was halfway through its arc Hrun's

right hand moved so fast that it appeared to travel

between two points in space without at any time

occupying the intervening air. It closed around the

.woman's wrist with a dull smack. His other hand

groped feverishly for a sword that wasn't there . . .

Hrun awoke.

'Gngh?' he said, looking up at the woman with a

puzzled 'frown. Then he caught sight of the

bowmen.

"Let go,' said the woman, in a voice that was

calm and quiet and edged with diamonds. Hrun

released his grip slowly.

She stepped back, massaging her wrist and

looking at Hrun in much the same way that a cat

watches a mousehole.

"So,' she said at last. "You pass the first test.

What is your name, barbarian?'

"Who are you calling a barbarian?' snarled

Hrun.

"That is what I want to know.'

Hrun counted the bowmen slowly and made a

brief calculation. His shoulders relaxed

"I am Hrun of Chimeria. And you?'

"Lieasa Dragonlady.'

"You are the lord of this place?'

"That remains to be seen. You have the look

about you of a hired sword, Hrun of Chimeria. I

could use you - if you pass the tests, of course.

There are three of them. You have passed the first.'

'What are the other-' Hrun paused, his lips

moved soundlessly and then he hazarded, "two?'

"Perilous.'

'And the fee?'

"Valuable.'

'Excuse me,' said Twoflower

'And if I fail these tests?' said Hrun, ignoring

him. The air between Hrun and Liessa crackled

with small explosions of charisma as their gazes

sought for a hold.

'if you had failed the first test you would now be

dead. This may be considered a typical penalty.'

"Um, look,' began Twoflower. Liessa spared him

a brief glance, and appeared actually to notice him

for the first time.

'Take that away,' she said calmly, and turned

back to Hrun. Two of the guards shouldered their

bows, grasped Twoflower by the elbows and lifted

him off the ground. Then they trotted smartly

through the doorway.

"Hey,' said Twoflower, as they hurried down the

corridor outside, "where' (as they stopped in front

of another door) "is my' (as they dragged the door

open) ""Luggage?' He landed in a heap of what

might once have been straw. The door banged

shut, its echoes punctuated by the sound of bolts

being slammed home.

In the other cell Hrun had barely blinked.

"okay,' he said, "what is the second test?'

"You must kill my two brothers.' Hrun considered

thiS.

"Both at the same time, or one after the other?' he

said.

cConsecutively or concurrently,' she assured him

"What?'

"Just kill them,' she said sharply

"Good fighters, are they?'

'Renowned.'

"So in return for all this...?'

""You will wed me and become Lord of the

Wyrmberg.'

There was a long pause. Hrun's eyebrows twisted

themselves in unaccustomed calculation.

"I get you and this mountain?' he said at last.

'Yes.' She looked him squarely in the eye, and

her lips twitched. "The fee is worthwhile, I assure you."

"Hrun dropped his gaze to the rings on her hand

The stones were large, being the incredibly rare

blue milk diamonds from the clay basins of

sithoe. When he managed to turn his eyes from

them he saw Liessa glaring down at him in fury.

"So calculating? ' she rasped . Hrun the Barbarian

who would boldly walk into the jaws of Death

Himself'

Hrun shrugged. "Sure,' he said, "the only reason

for walking into the jaws of Death is so's you can

steal His gold teeth.' He brought one arm around

expansively, and the wooden bunk was at the end

of it. It cannoned into the bowmen and Hrun

followed it joyously, felling one man with a blow

and snatching the weapon from another. A

moment later it was all over.

Liessa had not moved.

"Well?' she said.

"Well what?' said Hrun, from the carnage

"Do you intend to kill me?'

"What? Oh no. No, this is just, you know, kind of

a habit.' Just keeping in practice. So where are

these brothers?' He grinned.

Twoflower sat on his straw and stared into the

darkneSS. He wondered how long he had been

there. Hours, at least. Days, probably. He

speculated that perhaps it had been years, and he had

Simply forgotten.

No, that sort of thinking wouldn't do. He tried to

think of something else - grass, trees, fresh air,

dragons. Dragons . . .

There was the faintest of scrabblings in the

darkneSs. Twoflower felt the sweat prickle on his

forehead.

Something was in the cell with him. Something

that made small noises, but even in the pitch

blackness gave the impression of hugeness. He felt

the air move.

When he lifted his arm there was the greasy feel

and faint shower of sparks that betokened a

localised magical field. Twoflower found himself

fervently wishing for light.

A gout of flame rolled past his head and struck

the far wall. As the rocks flashed into furnace heat

he looked up at the dragon that now occupied more

than half the cell.

"I obay, lord said a voice in his head.

By the glow of the crackling, spitting stone

Twoflower looked into his own reflection in two

enormous green eyes. Beyond them the dragon

was as multi-hued, horned, spiked and lithe as the

one in his memory - a real dragon. Its folded wings

were nevertheless still wide enough to scrape the

wall on both sides of the room. It lay with him

between its talons.

"obey?' he said, his voice vibrating with terror

and delight.

%CJfrcrur~9e, lord.

The glow faded away. Twoflower pointed a

trembling finger at where he remembered the door

to be and said, 'Open it!'

The dragon raised its huge head. Again the ball

of flame rolled out but this time, as the dragon's

neck muscles contracted, its colour faded from

orange to yellow, from yellow to white, and finally

to the faintest of blues. By that time the flame was

also very thin, and where it touched the wall the

molten rock spat and ran. When it reached the door

the metal exploded into a shower of hot droplets.

Black shadows arced and jiggered over the walls.

The metal bubbled for an eye-aching moment, and

then the door fell in two pieces in the passage

beyond. The flame winked out with a suddenness

that was almost as startling as its arrival.

Twoflower stepped gingerly over the cooling door

and looked up and down the corridor. It was empty.

the dragon followed. The heavy door frame

caused it some minor difficulty, which it overcame

with a swing of its shoulders that tore the timber

out and tossed it to one side. The creature looked

expectantly at Twoflower, its skin rippling and

twitching as it sought to open its wings in the

confines of the passage.

'How did you get in there?' said Twoflower. You summoned me, master.

'I don't remember doing that.'

In your mind. You. Called me up, in, your mind

thought the dragon, patiently.

"You mean I just thought of you and there You

were?' Yes .

'it was magic?'

Yes.

"But I've thought about dragons all my life.'

In this place the frontier between thought and

reality is probably a little confused. All I know' is

that once I was not, and then you thought of me, and

then I was. Therefore, of course, I am yours to

command.

" Good grief'

Half a dozen guards chose that moment to turn

the bend in the corridor. They stopped,

openmouthed. Then one remembered himself sufficiently

to raiSe his crossbow and fire.

The dragon's chest heaved. The quarrel exploded

into flaming fragments in mid-air. The guards

scurried out of sight. A fraction of a second later a

Wash of flame played over the stones where they

had been standing.

Twoflower looked up in admiration

cCan you fly too?' he said.

Of course.

Twoflower glanced up and down the corridor,

and decided against following the guards. Since he

knew himself to be totally lost already, any

direction was probably an improvement. He edged

past the dragon and hurried away, the huge Least

turning with difficulty to follow him.

They padded down-a series of passages that

cries-crossed like a maze. At one point Twoflower

thought he heard shouts, a long way behind them

but they soon faded away. Sometimes the dark

arch of a crumbling doorway loomed past them in

the gloom. Light filtered through dimly from

various shafts and, here and there, bounced off big

mirrors that had been mortared into angles of the

passage. Sometimes there was a brighter glow

from a distant light-well.

What was odd, thought Twoflower as he strolled

down a wide flight of stairs and kicked up

billowing clouds of silver dust motes, was that the

tunnels here were much wider. And better con

structed, too. There were statues in niches set in

the walls, and here and there faded but interesting

tapestries had been hung. They mainly showed

dragons - dragons by the hundreds in flight or

hanging from their perch rings, dragons with men

on their backs hunting down deer and, sometimes

other men. Twoflower touched one tapestry

gingerly. The fabric crumbled instantly in the hot dry

air, leaving only a dangling mesh where some

threads had been plaited with fine gold wire.

"I wonder why they left all this?' he said.

I don't know said a polite voice in his head.

He turned and looked up into the scaley horse

face above him.

"What is your name, dragon?' said Twoflower.

I don't know.

"I think I shall call you Ninereeds.

That is my name, then .

They waded through the all-encroaching dust %fU

aerie-s of huge, dark-pillared halls which had been

delved out of the solid rock. With some cunning

too, from floor to ceiling the walls were a mass of

statues, gargoyles, bas-reliefs and fluted columns

that cast weirdly-moving shadows when the dragon

gave an obliging illumination at Twoflower's

request. They crossed the lengthy galleries and

vast carven amphitheatres, all awash with deep

soft dust and completely uninhabited. No-one had

come to these dead caverns in centurieS.

Then he saw the path, leading away into yet

another dark tunnel mouth. Someone had been

using it regularly, and recently. It was a deep

narrow trail in the grey blanket.

Twoflower followed it. It led through still more

lofty halls and winding corridors quite big enough

for a dragon (and dragons had come this way once,

it Seemed; there was a room full of rotting harness,

dragon-giTed, and another room containing plate

and chain mail big enough for elephants). They

ended in a pair of green bronze doors, each so high

that they disappeared into the gloom. In front of

Twoflower, at chest height, was a small handle

shaped like a brass dragon.

When he touched it the doors swung open instantlY

and with a disconcerting noiselessness.

Instantly sparks crackled in Twoflower's hair

and there was a sudden gust of hot dry wind that

didn't disturb the dust in the way that ordinary

wind should but, instead, whipped it up

momentarily into unpleasantly half-living shapes before

it settled again. In Twoflower's ears came the

Strange shrill twittering of the Things locked in

the distant dungeon Dimensions, out beyond the

fragile lattice of time and space. Shadows appeared

where there was nothing to cause them. The air

buzzed like a hive.

In short, there was a vast discharge of magic

going on around him.

The chamber beyond the door was lit by a pale

green glow. Stacked around the walls, each on its

own marble shelf, were tier upon tier of coffins. In

the centre of the room was a stone chair on a raised

dais, and it contained a slumped figure which did

not move but said, in a brittle old voice, "Come in,

young man.'

Twoflower stepped forward. The figure in the

seat was human, as far as he could make out in the

murky light, but there was something about the

awkward way it was sprawled in the chair that

made him glad he couldn't see it any clearer.

"I'm dead, you know,' came a voice from what

Twoflower fervently hoped was a head, in

conversational tones. "I expect you can tell.'

"Um,' said Twoflower. "Yes.' He began to back

away.

'Obvious, isn't it?' agreed the voice. 'You'd be

Twoflower, wouldn't you? Or is that later?'

'later?' said Twoflower. "Later than what?' He

stopped.'

Well,' said the voice. "You see, one of the

disadvantages of being dead is that one is released as

it were from the bonds of time and therefore I can

see everything that has happened or will happen,

all at the same time except that of course I now

know that Time does not, for all practical purposes,

exist.'

"That doesn't sound like a disadvantage,' said"

Twoflower.

'You don't think so? Imagine every moment

being at one and the same time a distant memory

and a nasty surprise and you'll see what I mean.

Anyway, I now recall what it was I am about to tell

you. Or have I already done so? That's a fine

looking dragon, by the way. Or don't I say that,

yet?"

"It is rather good. It just turned up,' said

twOflower. 'It turned up?' said the voice. "You summoned it!

'Yes, well, all I did-'

'You have the Power! '

"All I did was think of it.'

"That's what the Power is. Have I already told

you that I am Greicha the First? Or is that next?

i'm Sorry, but I haven't had too much experience oF

transcendence. Anyway, yes - the Power. It

summons dragons, you know.'

"I think you already told me that,' said

Twoflower. "Did I? I certainly intended to,' said the dead

man. 'But how does it? I've been thinking about

dragons all my life, 'but this is the first time one

has turned up.'

"oh well, you see, the truth of the matter is that

dragons have never existed as you (and, until I

was poiSoned some three months ago,) I understand

existence. I'm talking about the true dragon,

draconis nobilis, you understand; the swamp

dragon, draconis vulgaris, is a base creature and

not worth our consideration. The true dragon, on

the other hand, is a creature of such refinement of

spirit that they can only take on form in this world

if they are conceived by the most skilled

imagination. And even then the said imagination must be

in some place heavily impregnated with magic

which helps to weaken the walls between the world

of the seen and unseen. Then the dragons pop

through, as it were, and impress their form' on this

world's possibility matrix. I was very good at it

when I was alive. I could imagine up to, oh, five

hundred dragons at a time. Now liessa, the most

Skilled of my children, can barely imagine fifty

rather nondescript creatures. So much for a

progreSSive education. She doesn't really believe in

them. That's why her dragons are rather boring

while yours,' said the voice of Greicha, "is almost

as good as some of mine used to be. A sight for sore

eyes, not that I have any to speak of now.'

Twoflower said hurriedly, "You keep saying

you're dead . . .'

"Well?'

"Well, the dead, er, they, you know, don't talk

much. As a rule.'

"I used to be an exceptionally powerful wizard.

My daughter poisoned me, of course. It is the

generally accepted method of succession in our

family, but,' the corpse sighed, or at 'least a sigh

came from the air a few feet above it, "it soon

became obvious that none of my three children is

sufficiently powerful to wrest the lordship of the

Wyrmberg from the other two. A most unsatis

factory arrangement. A kingdom like ours has to

have one ruler. So I resolved to remain alive in an

unofficial capacity, which of course annoys them

all immensely. I won't give my children the

satisfaction of burying me until there is only one of

them left to perform the ceremony.' There was a

nasty wheezing noise. Twoflower decided that it

was meant to be a chuckle.

"So it was one of them that kidnapped us?' said

Twoflower.

"liesa,' said the dead wizard's voice. "My

daughter. Her power is strongest, you know. My'

sons' dragons are incapable of flying more than a

few miles before they fade.'

"Fade? I did notice that we could see through the

one that brought us here,' said Twoflower. 'I

thought that was a bit odd.'

"Of course,' said Greicha. "The Power only works

near the Wyrmberg. It's the inverse square law

you know. At least, I think it is. As the dragons fly

further away they begin to dwindle. Otherwise my"

little Liesaa would be ruling the whole world by

now, if I know anything about it. But I can see I

mUStn't keep you. I expect you'll be wanting to

rescue your friend.'

Twoflower gaped. "Hrun?' he said.

"not him. The skinny wizard. My son T)iofrt is

trying to hack him to pieces. I admired the way' you

reScued him. Will, I mean.'

Twoflower drew himself up to his full height, an

easy task. "Where is he?' he said, heading towards

the door with what he hoped was an heroic stride.

"Just follow the pathway in the dust,' said the

voice. "Liessa comes to see me sometimes. She still

comes to see her old dad, my little girl. She was the

only one with the strength of character to murder

me. A chip off the old block. Good luck, by the way.

I seem to recall I said that. Will say it now, I mean.'

The rambling voice got lost in a maze of tenses

as Twoflower ran along the dead tunnels, with the

dragon loping along easily behind him. But soon

he was leaning against a pillar, completely out of

breath. It seemed ages since he'd had anything to

eat.

Why 'don't you fly? said Ninereeds, inside his

head. The dragon spread its wings and gave an

experimental flap, which lifted it momentarily off

the ground. Twoflower stared for a moment, then

ran forward and clambered quickly on to the

beast's neck. Soon they were airborne, the dragon

skimming along easily a few feet from the floor

and leaving a billowing cloud of dust in its wake.

Twoflower hung on as best he could as Ninereeds

swooped through a succession of caverns and

soared around a spiral staircase that could easily

have accommodated a retreating army. At the top

they emerged into the more inhabited regions, the

mirrors at every corridor corner brightly polished

and reflecting a pale light.

I .smell other dragon's.

The wings became a blur and Twoflower was

jerked back as the dragon veered and sped off

down a side corridor like a gnat-crazed swallow.

Another sharp turn sent them soaring out of a

tunnel mouth in the side of a vast cavern. There

were rocks far below, and up above were broad

shafts of light from great holes near the roof. A lot

of activity on the ceiling, too . . . as Ninereeds

hovered, thumping the air with his wings, two

flower peered up at the shapes of roosting beastS

and tiny men-shaped dots that were somehow

walking upside down.

This is a roosting hall, said the dragon in

a satisfied tone.

As Twoflower watched, one of the shapes far

above detached itself from the roof and began to

grow larger . ,

Rincewind watched as I,io'rt's pale face dropped

away from him. This is funny, gibbered a small

part of his mind, why am I rising?

Then he began to tumble in the air and reality

took over. He was dropping to the distant,

guano"speckled rocks.

His brain reeled with the thought. The words of

the Spell picked just that moment to surface from

the depths of his mind, as they always did in time

of crisis. Why not say us, they seemed to urge.

What have you got to lose?

Rincewind waved a hand in the gathering

slipstream.

"Ashonai,' he called. The word formed in front of

him in a cold blue flame that streamed in the wind.

He waved the other hand, drunk with terror and

magic.

"Ehiris,' he intoned. The sound froze into a

flickering orange word that hung beside its

companion. ,,""Urshoring, Kvanti. Pythan. N'gurad.

Ferin

gomalee.' As the words blazed their rainbow

colours around him he flung his hands back and

prepared to say the eighth and final word that

would appear in corruscating octarine and seal the

spell. The imminent rocks were forgotten.

The breath was knocked out of him, the spell ' he began,

scattered and snuffed out. A pair of arms locked

around hiS waist and the whole world jerked

sideways as the dragon rose out of its long dive

claws grazing just for a moment the topmost rock

on the Wyrmberg's noisome floor. Twoflower

laughed triumphantly.

"Got him!'

.And the dragon, curving gracefully at the trip of

his hight, gave a lazy flip of his wings and soared

through a cavemouth into the morning air.

At noon, in a wide green meadow on the lush

tableland that was the top of the

impossibly-balanced Wyrmberg, the dragons and their riders

formed a wide circle. There was room beyond them

for a rabble of servants and slaves and others who

scratched a living here on the roof of the world,

and they were all watching the figures clustered in

the centre of the grassy arena. The group contained a number of senior

dragon

lords, and among them were Lie!tt and his brother

LiarteB. The former was still rubbing his legs, with

Small grimaces of pain. Slightly to one side stood

Liessa and Hrun, with some of the woman's own

followerS. Between the two factions stood the

Wyrmberg's hereditary Loremaster.

"As you know,' he said uncertainly, "the

not-fully-late Lord of the Wyrmberg, Greicha the First, has

stipulated that there will be no succession until one

of his children feels himself - or as it might be,

herself - powerful enough to challenge and defeat

his or her siblings in mortal combat.'

"Yes', yes, we know all that. Get on with it,' said a

thin peevish voice from the air beside him.

The loremaster swallowed. He had never come

to terms with his former master's failure to expire

properly. Is the old buzzard dead or isn't he? he

wondered.

"It is not certain,' he quavered, "whether it is

allowable to issue a challenge by proxy-'

"It is, it is,' snapped Greicha's disembodied voice.

'It shows intelligence. Don't take all day about it.'

'I challenge you,' said Hrun, glaring at the

brothers, "both at once.'

Lie!tt and Liartes exchanged looks.

"You'll fight us both together?' said l'iartes, a

tall, wiry man with long black hair.

"Yah.'

"That's pretty uneven odds, isn't it?

"Yah. I outnumber you one to two.'

Liofrt scowled. "You arrogant barbarian-'

"That just about does it,' growled Hrun. "I'll-'

The Loremaster put out a blue-veined hand to

restrain him.

"It is forbidden to fight on the Killing Ground,'

he said, and paused while he considered the sense

of this. "You know what I mean, anyway,' he

hazarded, giving up, and added "As the challenged

parties my lords Lie!tt and Liartes have choice of

weapons.'

"Dragons,' they said together. Liessa snorted.

"Dragons can be used offensively, therefore they

are weapons,' said Lie!tt firmly. 'if you disagree we

can fight over it.'

"Yah,' said his brother, nodding at Hrun.

The Loremaster felt a ghostly finger prod him in

the chest 'Don't stand there with your mouth open,' said

Greicha's graveyard voice. "Just hurry up, will

you?" Hrun stepped back, shaking his head.

"oh no,' he said. 'Once was enough. I'd rather be

dead than fight on one of those things.'

"Die, then,' said the Loremaster, as kindly as he

could manage.

Lie!tt and Liartes were already striding back

across the turf to where the servants stood waiting

with their mounts. Hrun 'turned to Liessa. She

Shrugged. "don't I even get a sword?' he pleaded. "A knife,

even?'

"No,' she said. "I didn't expect this.' She suddenly

looked smaller, all defiance gone. 'i'm sorry.'

"You're sorry?'

"Yes. I'm sorry.'

"Yes, I thought you said you're sorry.'

'Don't glare at me like that! I can imagine you

the finest dragon to ride'

"NO!'

The Loremaster wiped his nose on a

handkerchief, held the little silken square aloft for a

moment, then let it fall.

A boom of wings made Hrun spin around.

Liofrt's dragon was already airborne and circling

around towards them. As it swooped low over the

turf a billow of flame shot from its mouth, scoring

a black Streak across the grass that rushed towards

Hrun.

At the last minute he pushed Liessa aside, and

felt the wild pain of the flame on his arm as he

dived for Safety. He rolled as he hit the ground, and

flipped on to his feet again while he looked around

frantically for the other dragon. It came in from

one side, and Hrun was forced to take a

badly-judged standing jump to escape the flame. The

dragon's tail whipped around as it passed and

caught him a stinging blow across the forehead.

He pushed himself upright, shaking his head to

maKe the wheeling stars go away. His blistered

back screamed pain at him.

Lio'rt came in for a second run, but slower this

time to allow for the big man's unexpected agility.

As the ground drifted up he saw the barbarian

standing stock still, chest heaving, arms hanging

loosely by his sides. An easy target.

As his dragon swooped away Lio'rt turned his

head, expecting to see a dreadfully big cinder.

There was nothing there. Puzzled, Lie!tt turned

back.

Hrun, heaving himself over the dragon's shoulder

scales with one hand and beating out his flaming

hair with the other, presented himself to his view.

Lie!rt's hand flew to his dagger, but pain had

sharpened Hrun's normally excellent reflexes to

needle point. A backhand blow hammered into the

dragonlord's wrist, sending the dagger arcing

away towards the ground, and another caught the

man full on the chin.

The dragon, carrying the weight of two men, was

only a few yards above the grass. This turned out

to be fortunate, because at the moment Lie!tt lost

consciousness the dragon winked out of existence.

Liessa hurried across the grass and helped Hrun

stagger to his feet. He blinked at her.

"What happened? What happened?' he said

thickly.

'That was really fantastic,' she said. "The way

you turned that somersault in mid-air and

everything.'

"Yah, but what happened?'

"it's rather difficult to explain-'

Hrun peered up at the sky. Liartes

by far the

most cautious of the two brothers, was circling

high above them.

"Well, you've got about ten seconds to try,' he

said "The dragons-'

'Yah?'

"They're imaginary.'

''Like all these imaginary burns on my arm, you

mean?' "Yes. No!' she shook her head violently. "I'll have

to tell you later! '

'Fine, if you can find a really good medium,

snapped Hrun. He glared up at Liartes, who was

beginning to descend in wide sweeps.

"Just listen, will you? Unless my brother is

conscious his dragon can't exist, it's got no

pathway through to this-'

'Run!' shouted Hrun. He threw her away from

him and flung himself flat on the ground as

Liartes' dragon thundered by, leaving another

smoking scar across the turf.

While the creature sought height for another

Sweep Hrun scrambled to his feet and set off at a

dead run for the woods at the edge of the arena.

They were sparse, little more than a wide and

overgrown hedge, but at least no dragon would be

able to fly through them.

It didn't try. Liartes brought his mount in to

land on the turf a few yards away and dismounted

casually. The dragon folded its wings and poked

its head in among the greenery, while its master

leaned against a tree and whistled tunelessly.

"I can burn you out,' said Liartes, after a while.

The bushes remained motionless.

'Perhaps you're in that holly bush over there?'

The holly buSh became a waxy ball of flame.

"I'm sure I can see movement in those ferns.'

The ferns became mere skeletons of white ash.

"You're only prolonging it, barbarian. Why not

give in now? I've burned lots of people; it doesn't

hurt a bit,' said L)iartes, looking sideways at the

bushes.

The dragon continued through the spinney,

incinerating every likely-looking bush and clump of ferns. L)iartes drew

his sword and waited.

Hrun dropped from a tree and landed running.

Behind him the dragon roared and crashed

through the bushes as it tried to turn around, but

Hrun was running, running, with his gaze fixed on

Liartes and a dead branch in his hands.

It is a little known but true fact that a two legged

creature can usually beat a four legged creature

over a short distance, simply because of the time it

takes the quadruped to get its legs sorted out. Hrun

heard the scrabble of claws behind him and then

an ominous thump. The dragon had half-opened

its wings and was trying to fly.

As Hrun bore down on the dragonlord Liartes'

sword came up wickedly, to be caught on the

branch. Then Hrun cannoned into him and the two

men sprawled on the ground.

The dragon roared.

liartes screamed as Hrun brought a knee

upwards with anatomical precision, but managed

a wild blow that rebroke the barbarian's nose for

him.

Hrun kicked away and scrambled to his feet, to

find himself looking up into the wild horse-face of

the dragon, its nostrils distended.

He lashed out with a foot and caught Liartes,

who was trying to stand up, on the side of his head.

The man slumped.

The dragon vanished. The ball of fire that was

billowing towards Hrun faded until, when it

reached him, it was no more than a puff of warm

air. Then there was no sound but the crackle of

burning bushes

, , Hrun slung the unconscious dragonlord over his

shoulder and set off at a trot back to the arena.

Halfway there he found IJio!tt sprawled on the

ground, one leg bent awkwardly. He stooped and,

with a grunt, hoisted the man on to his vacant

shoulder.

Liessa and the Loremaster were waiting on a

raised dais at one end of the meadow. The

dragonwoman had quite recovered her composure now,

and looked levelly at Hrun as he threw the two

men down on the steps before her. The people

around her were standing in deferential poses, like

a court.

cKill them,' she said.

'I kill in my own time,' he said. "In any case,

killing unconscious people isn't right.'

"I can't think of a more opportune time,' said the

Loremaster. Liessa snorted.

"Then I shall banish them,' she said. "Once they

are beyond the reach of the Wyrmberg's magic

then they'll have no Power. They'll be simply

brigands. Will that satisfy you?'

"Yes.'

"I am surprised that you are so merciful,

haHrun.'

Hrun shrugged. "A man in my position, he can't

afford to be anything else, he's got to consider his

image.' He looked around. "Where's the next teSt,

then?'

"I warn you that it is perilous. If you wish, you

may leave now. If you pass the test, however, you

will become lord of the Wyrmberg and, of course,

my lawful husband.'

Hrun met her gaze. He thought about his life, to

date. It suddenly seemed to him to have been full of

long damp nights sleeping under the stars,

desperate fights with trolls, city guards, countless bandits and evil

priests and, on at least' three

occasions, actual demigods - and for what? Well, for quite a lot of

treasure, he had to admit - but

where had it all gone? Rescuing beleagured

maidens had a certain passing reward, but most of

the time he'd finished up by setting them up in

some city somewhere with a handsome dowry,

because after a while even the most agreeable

exmaiden became possessive and had scant sympathy

for his efforts to rescue her sister sufferers. In

short, life had really left him with little more than

a reputation and a network of scars. Being a lord

might be fun. Hrun grinned. With a base like this,

all these dragons and a good bunch of fighting

men, a man could really be a contender.

Besides, the wench was not uncomely.

"The third test?' she said.

"Am I to be weaponless again?' said Hrun.

Liessa reached up and removed her helmet

letting the coils of red hair tumble out. Then she

unfastened the brooch of her robe. Underneath, she

was naked.

As Hrun's gaze swept over her his mind began to

operate two notional counting machines. One

assessed the gold in her bangles, the tiger-rubies

that ornamented her toe-rings, the diamond spangle

that adorned her navel, and two highly individual

whirligigs of silver filigree. The other was plugged

straight into his libido. Both produced tallies that

pleased him mightily.

As she raised a hand and proffered a glass of

wine she smiled, and said, "I think not.'

'He didn't attempt to rescue you,' Rincewind

pointed out as a last resort.

He clung desperately to Twoflower's waist as the

dragon circled slowly, tilting the world at a

dangerous angle. The new knowledge that the

scaley back he was astride only existed as a sort of

threedimensional daydream did not, he had soon

realised, do anything at all for his ankle-wrenching

sensations of vertigo. His mind kept straying

towards the posSible results of Twoflower losing

his concentration.

"Not even Hrun could have prevailed against

those crossbows,' said Twoflower stoutly.

As the dragon rose higher above the patch of

woodland, where the three of them had slept a

damp and uneasy sleep, the sun rose over the edge

of the disc. Instantly the gloomy blues and greys of

pre-dawn were transformed into a bright bronze

river that flowed across the world, flaring into gold

where it struck ice or water or a light-dam. (Owing

to the denSity of the magical field surrounding the

disc, light itself moved at sub-sonic speeds; this

interesting property was well utilized by the Sorca

people of the Great Nef, for example, who over the

centuries had constructed intricate and delicate

dams, and valleys walled with polished silica, to

catch the slow sunlight and sort of store it. The

Scintillating reservoirs of the Nef, overflowing

after several weeks of uninterrupted sunlight, were

a truly magnificent sight from the air and it is

therefore unfortunate that Twoflower and

Rincewind did not happen to glance in that direction.)

In front of them the billion-ton impossibility that

was the magic-wrought Wyrmberg hung against

the sky and that was not too bad, until Rincewind

turned his head and saw the mountain's shadow

Slowly unroll itself across the cloudscape of the

world . . .

'What can you see?' said Twoflower to the

dragon.

I see fighting on the top of the mountain came

the gentle reply. 'See?'

said Twoflower. "Hrun's probably fighting

for his life at this very moment.'

Rincewind was silent. After a moment

Twoflower looked around. The wizard was staring

intently at nothing at all, his lips moving

soundlessly.

"Rincewind?.'

The wizard made a small croaking noise.

"I'm sorry,' said Twoflower. 'What did you say?'

all the way . . . the great fall . . . muttered

Rincewind, His eyes focused, looked puzzled for a

moment, then widened in terror. He made the

mistake of looking down.

"Aargh,' he opined, and began to slide.

Twoflower grabbed him.

"What's the matter?'

Rincewind tried shutting his eyes, but there were

no eyelids to his imagination and it was staring

widely.

"Don't you get scared of heights?' he managed to

say.

Twoflower looked down at the tiny landscape,

mottled with cloud shadows. The thought of fear

hadn't actually occurred to him.

"No,' he said. "Why should I? You're just as dead

if you fall from forty feet as you are from four

thousand fathoms, that's what I say.'

Rincewind tried to consider this dispassionately,

but couldn't see the logic of it. It wasn't the actual

falling, it was the hitting he . . .

Twoflower grabbed him quickly.

"Steady on,' he said cheerfully. "We're nearly

there '

'I wish I was back in the city,' moaned

Rincewind. "I wish I was back on the ground.'

'I wonder if dragons can fly all the way to the

stars?' mused Twoflower. 'Now that would be

something . .

'you're mad,' said Rincewind flatly. There was

no reply from the tourist, and when the wizard

craned around he was horrified to see Twoflower

looking up at the paling stars with an odd smile on

his face.

"Don't" you even think about it,' added

rincewind, menacingly.

the man you seek is talking to the

dragon-woman said the dragon.

'Hmm?' said Twoflower, still looking at the

paling stars.

"What?' said Rincewind urgently.

"Oh yes. Hrun,' said Twoflower. "i hope we're in

time. Dive now. "go low.'

Rincewind opened his eyes as the wind increased

to a whistling gale. Perhaps they were blown open

- the wind certainly made them impossible to shut.

The flat summit of the Wyrmberg rose up at

them, lurched alarmingly, then somersaulted into

a green blur that flashed by on either side. Tiny

WOods and fields blurred into a rushing patchwork.

A brief silvery flash in the landscape may have

been the little river that overflowed into the air at

the plateau's rim. Rincewind tried to force the

memory out of his mind , but it was rather enjoying

itself there, terrorizing the other occupants and

kicking over the furniture.

"I think not,' said Liessa.

Hrun took the wine cup, slowly. He grinned like a

pumpkin.

Around the arena the dragons started to bay.

Their riders looked up. And something like a green

blur flashed across the arena, and Hrun had gone.

The winecup hung momentarily in the air, then

crashed down on the steps. Only then did a single

drop spill.

This was because, in the instant of enfolding

Hrun gently in his claws, Ninereeds the dragon

had momentarily synchronized their bodily rhythms.

Since the dimension of the imagination is much

more complex than those of time and space, which

are very junior dimensions indeed, the effect of this

was to instantly transform a stationary and

priapic Hrun into a Hrun moving sideways at

eighty miles an hour with no ill-effects whatsoever,

except for a few wasted mouthfuls of wine. Another

effect was to cause Liessa to scream with rage and

summon her dragon. As the gold beast materialised

in front of her she leapt astride it, still naked, and

snatched a crossbow from one of the guards. Then

she was airborne, while the other dragonriders

swarmed towards their own beasts.

The Loremaster, watching from the pillar he had

prudently slid behind in the mad scramble

happened at that moment to catch the cross

dimensional echoes of a theory being at the same

instant hatched in the mind of an early psychiatrist

in an adjacent universe, possibly because the

dimension-leak was flowing both ways, and for a

moment the psychiatrist saw the -girl on the

dragon. The loremaster smiled.

"Want to bet that she won't catch him?' said

Greicha, in a voice of worms and sepulchres, right

by his ear.

The loremaster shut his eyes and swallowed

hard.

"i thought that my Lord would now be residing

fully in the Dread Land,' he managed.

"I am a wizard,' said Greicha. "Death Himself

must claim a wizard. And, aha, He doesn't appear

to be in the neighbourhood . . .'

SHAL WE GO? asked Death.

He was on a white horse, a horse of flesh and

blood but red of eye and fiery of nostril, and He

stretched out a bony hand and took Greicha's soul

out of the air and rolled it up until it was a point of

painful light, and then He swallowed it.

Then He clapped spurs to his steed and it sprang

into the air, sparks corruscating from its hooves.

"Lord Greicha!' whispered the old Loremaster, as

the universe flickered around him.

'That was a mean trick,' came the wizard's voiCe,

a mere speck of sound disappearing into the

infinite black dimensions.

"My Lord . . . what is "death 'like?' called the old

man tremulously.

"When I have investigated it fully, I will let you

know,' came the faintest of modulations on the

breeze.

"Yes,' murmured the loremaster. A thought

Struck him. "During daylight, please,' he added.

'You clowns,' screamed Hrun, from his perch on

Ninereed's foreclaws.

"What did he say?' roared Rincewind, as the

dragon ripped its way through the air in the race

for the heights.

"Didn't hear.' bellowed Twoflower, his voice torn

away by the gale. As the dragon banked slightly he

looked down at the little toy spinning top that was

the mighty Wyrmberg and saw the swarm of

creatures rising in pursuit. Ninereed's wings

pounded and flicked the air away contemptuously.

Thinner air, too. Twoflower's ear popped for the

third time.

Ahead of the swarm, he noticed, was a golden

dragon. Someone on it, too.

"Hey, are you all right?' said Rincewind urgently.

He had to drink in several lungfuls of the strangely

distilled air in order to get the words out.

"i could have been a lord, and you clowns had to

go and-' Hrun gasped. as the chill thin air drew

the life even out of his mighty chest

"Wass happnin to the air?' muttered Rincewind

Blue lights appeared in front of his eyes.

"Unk,' said Twoflower, and passed out.

The dragon vanished.

For a few seconds the three men continued

upwards. Twoflower and the wizard presenting an

odd picture as they sat one in front of the other

with their legs astride something that wasn't there,

Then what passed for gravity on the Disc recovered

from the surprise, and claimed them.

At that moment Liassa's dragon flashed by, and

Hrun landed heavily across its neck. Liassa

leaned over and kissed him.

This detail was lost to Rincewind as he dropped

away, with his arms still clasped around

Twoflower's waist. The disc was a little round map

pinned against the sky. It didn't appear to be

moving, but Rincewind knew that it was. The

whole world was coming towards him like a giant

custard pie.

"Wake up!' he shouted, above the roar of the

wind. "Dragons! Think of dragons!'

There was a flurry of wings as they plummeted

through the host of pursuing creatures, which fell

away and up. Dragons screamed and wheeled

across the sky.

No answer came from Twoflower. Rincewind's

robe whipped around him, but he did not wake.

Dragons, thought Rincewind in a panic. He tried

to concentrate his mind, tried to envisage a really

lifelike dragon. If he can do it, he thought, then so

can I. But nothing happened.

The disc was bigger now, a cloud-swirled circle

rising gently underneath them.

Rincewind tried again, screwing up his eyes and

straining every nerve in his body. A dragon. HiS

imagination, a somewhat battered and over-used

%Srpn, reached out for a dragon . . . any dragon.

IT WON'T WORK, laughed a voice like the dull

tolling of a funereal bell, YOU DON'T BELIEVE IN

THEM.

rincewind looked at the terrible mounted

apparition grinning at him, and his mind bolted in terror.

There was a brilliant flash .

There was utter darkness.

There was a soft floor under Rincewind's feet, a

pink light around him, and the sudden shocked

cries of many people.

He looked around wildly. He was standing in

some kind of tunnel, which was mostly filled with

seats in which outlandishly-dressed people had

been strapped. They were all shouting at him.

'Wake up,' he hissed. "Help me!'

Dragging the still-unconscious tourist with him

he backed away from the mob until his free hand

found an oddly-Shaped door handle. He twisted it

and ducked through, then slammed it hard.

He stared around the new room in which he

found himself and met the terrified gaze of a young

woman who dropped the tray she was holding and

Screamed.

It sounded like the sort of scream that brings

muscular help. Rincewind, awash with fear-distilled

adrenalin, turned and barged past her. There were

more seats here, and the people in them ducked as

he dragged Twoflower urgently along the central

gangway. Beyond the rows of seats were little

windows. Beyond the windows, against a

background of fleecy clouds, was a dragon's wing. It

Was silver.

I've been eaten by a dragon, he thought. That's

ridiculous, he replied, you can't see out of dragons.

Then hiS shoulder hit the door at the far end of the

tunnel, and he followed it through into a

cone-shaped room that was even stranger than the

tunnel.

It was full of tiny glittering lights. Among the

lights, in contoured chairs, were four men who

were now staring at him open-mouthed. As he

stared back he saw their gazes dart sideways.

Rincewind turned slowly. Beside him was a fifth

man - youngish, bearded, as swarthy as the nomad

folk of the Great Nef.

"Where am I?' said the wizard. "in the belly of a

dragon?'

The young man crouched back and shoved a

small black box in the wizard's face. The men in

the chairs ducked down.

"What is it?' said Rincewind. 'A picture box?' He

reached out and took it, a movement which

appeared to surprise the swarthy man, who

shouted and tried to snatch it back. There was

another shout, this time from one of the men in the

chairs. Only now he wasn't sitting. He was

standing up, pointing something small and metallic at

the young man.

It had an amazing effect. The man crouched

back with his hands in the air.

"Please give me the bomb, sir,' said the man with

the metallic thing. 'Carefully, please.'

"This thing?' said Rincewind. "You have it' I

don't want it!' the man took it very carefully and

put it on the floor. The seated men relaxed, and one

of them started speaking urgently to the wall. The

wizard watched him in amazement.

"Don't move.' snapped the man with the metal

an amulet, Rincewind decided, it must be an

amulet. The swarthy man backed into the corner.

"That was a very brave thing you did,' said

Amulet-holder to Rincewind. 'You know that?

"What?'

"What's the matter with your friend

'friend?'

rincewind looked down at Twoflower, who was

still slumbering peacefully. That was no surprise.

What was really surprising was that 'twoflower

was wearing new clothes. Strange clothes. His

britches now ended just above his knees. Above

that he wore some sort of vest of brightly-striped

material. On his head was a ridiculous little straw

hat. With a feather in it.

An awkward feeling around the leg regions made

Rincewind look down. His clothes had changed

too. Instead of the comfortable old robe, so

marvellously well-adapted for speed into action in all

poSSible contingencies, his legs were encased in

cloth tubes. He was wearing a jacket of the same

grey material . . .

Until now he'd never heard the language the

man with the amulet was using. It was uncouth

and vaguely Hublandish - so why could he

understand every word?

.Let's see, they'd suddenly appeared in this

dragon after, they'd materialised in this drag,

they'd sudd, they'd, they'd - they had struck 'up a

conversation in the airport so naturally they had

chosen to sit together on the plane, and he'd

promised to show Jack zueiblumen around when

they got back to the States. Yes, that was it. And

then Jack had been taken ill and he'd panicked

and come through here and surprised this hijacker.

Of course. What on earth was "Hublandish'?

Dr Rjinswand rubbed his forehead. What he

could do with was a drink.

Ripples of paradox spread out across the sea of

causality.

PoSsibly the most important point that would

have to be borne in mind by anyone outside the

sum totality of the multiverse was that although

the wizard and the tourist had indeed only recently

appeared in an aircraft in mid-air, they had also at

one and the same time been riding on that

aeroplane in the normal course of things. That is to

say: 'while it was true that they had just appeared

in this particular set of dimensions, it was also true

that they had been living in them all along. It is at

this point that normal language gives up, and goes

and has a drink.

The point is that several quintillion atoms had

just materialized (however, they had not. See

below) in a universe where they should not strictly

have been. The usual upshot of this sort of thing iS

a vast explosion but, since universes are fairly

resilient things, this particular universe had saved

itself by instantaneously unravelling its

spacetime continuum back to a point where the surplus

atoms could safely be accommodated and then

rapidly rewinding back to that circle of firelight

which for want of a better term its inhabitants

were wont to call The Present. This had of course

changed history - there had been a few less wars, a

few extra dinosaurs and so on - but on the whole

the episode passed remarkably quietly.

Outside of this particular universe, however, the

repercussions of the sudden double-take bounced to

and fro across the face of The Sum of Things,

bending whole dimensions and sinking galaxies

without a trace.

All this was however totally lost on Dr

Rjinswand, 35, a bachelor, born in Sweden, raised in

New Jersey, and a specialist in the breakaway

oxidation phenomena of certain nuclear reactors.

Anyway, he probably would not have believed any

of it.

Zweiblumen still seemed to be unconscious. The

stewardess, who had helped Rjinswand to his seat

to the applause of the rest of the passengers, was

bering over him anxiously.

i radioed ahead,' she told Rjinswand

"there'll be an ambulance waiting when we land

Uh, it says on the passenger list that you're a

doctor' "I don't know what's wrong with him,' said

Rincewand hurriedly. it might be a different

matter if he was a Magnox reactor of course. Is it

shock of some kind?'

"I've never'

Her sentence terminated in a tremendous crash

from the rear of the plane. Several passengers

screamed. A sudden gale of air swept every loose

magazine and newspaper into a screaming

whirlwind that twisted madly down the aisle.

Something else was coming up the aisle.

Something big and oblong and wooden and

brassbound. It had hundreds of legs. If it was what it

seemed - a walking chest of the kind that appeared

in pirate stories brim full of ill-gotten gold and

jewels - then what would have been its lid suddenly

gaped open.

There were no jewels. But there were lots of big

square teeth, white as sycamore, and a pulsating

tongue, red as mahogany.

An ancient suitcase was coming to eat him.

Rjinswand clutched at the unconscious

Zweiblumen for what little comfort there was there, and

gibbered. He wished fervently that he was

somewhere else . . .

There was a sudden darkness.

There was a brilliant flash.

The sudden departure of several quintillion

atoms from a universe that they had no right to be

in anyway caused a wild imbalance in the

harmony of the Sum Totality which it tried

frantically to retrieve, wiping out a number of

subrealities in the process. Huge surges of raw magiC

boiled uncontrolled around the very foundations of

the multiverse itself, welling up through every

crevice into hitherto peaceful dimensions and

causing novas, supernovas, stellar collisions, wild

flights of geese and drowning of imaginary

continents. Worlds as far away as the other end of time

experienced brilliant sunsets of corruscating

octarine as highly-charged magical particles roared

through the atmosphere. In the cometary hBlo

around the fabled Ice System of Zeret a noble

comet died as a prince flamed across the sky.

All this was however lost on Rincewind as,

clutching the inert Twoflower around the waist, he

plunged towards the Disc's sea several hundred

feet below. Not even the convulsions of all the

dimensions could break the iron Law of the

Conservation of Energy, and Rjinswand's brief journey

in the plane had sufficed to carry him several

hundred miles horizontally and seven thousand

feet vertically.

The word ''plane' flamed and died in Rincewind's

mind.

Was that a ship down there?

The cold waters of the Circle Sea roared up at

him and sucked him down into their green,

suffocating embrace. A moment later there was

another splash as the luggage, still bearing a label

carrying the powerful travelling rune TWA, also

hit the sea.

Later on, they used it as a raft.

CLOSE TO THE EDGE

It had been a long time in the making. Now it was

almost' completed, and the slaves hacked away at

the last clay remnants of the mantle.

Where other slaves were industriously rubbing

its metal flanks with silver sand it was already

beginning to gleam in the sun with the silken

organic sheen of young bronze. It was still warm

even after a week of cooling in the casting pit.

The Arch-astronomer of Krull motioned lightly

with his hand and his bearers set the throne down

in the .shadow of the hull.

Like a fiSh, he thought. A great flying fish. And

of what seas?

"it is indeed magnificent,' he whispered. "A work

of true art.'

"Craft,' said the thickset man by his side. The

Arch-astronomer turned slowly and looked up at

the man's impassive face. It isn't particularly hard

for a face to look impassive-when there are two

golden 'Spheres where the eyes should be. They

glowed disconcertingly.

"Craft, indeed,' said the astronomer, and smiled

"I would imagine that there is no greater craftsman

on the entire disc than you, Goldeneyes. Would I be

right?'

The craftsman paused, his naked body - naked

at least, were it not for a toolbelt, a wrist abacus

and a deep tan - tensing as he considered the

implicationS of this last remark. The golden eyes

appeared to be looking into some other world.

"The anSwer is both yes and no,' he said at last

Some of the lesser astronomers behind the throne

gasped at this lack of etiquette, but the Arch

astronomer appeared not to have noticed it.

cContinue,' he said

"There are some essential skills that I lack. Yet I

am Goldeneyes Silverhand Dactylos,' said the

craftsman. "I made the Metal Warriors that guard

the Tomb of Pitchiu, I designed the Light Dams of

the Great Nef, I built the Palace of the Seven

Deserts. And yet-' he reached up and tapped one

of his eyes, which rang faintly, 'when I built the

golem army for Pitchiu he loaded me down with

gold and then, so that I would create no other work

to rival my work for him, he had my eyes put out.'

"Wise but cruel,' said the Arch-astronomer

sym

pathetically.

"Yah. So I learned to hear the temper of metals

and to see with my fingers. I learned how to

distinguish ores by taste and smell. I made these

eyes, but I cannot make them see.

"Next I was summoned to build the Palace of the

Seven Deserts, as a result of which the Emir

showered me with silver and then, not entirely to

my surprise, had my right hand cut off.'

"A grave hindrance in your line of business,'

nodded the Arch-astronomer.

"I used some of the silver to make myself this new

hand, putting to use my unrivalled knowledge of

levers and fulcrums. It suffices. After I created the

first great Light Dam, which had a capacity of

,r)0,000 daylight hours, the tribal councils of the Nef

loaded me down with fine silks and then

hamstrung me so that I could not escape. As a result I

was put to some inconvenience to use the silk and

some bamboo to build a flying machine from which

I could launch myself from the top-most turret of

my prison.'

"Bringing you, by various diversions, to Krull,'

said the Arch-astronomer. "And one cannot help

feeling that some alternative occupation - lettuce

farming, say - would offer somewhat less of a risk

of being put to death by instalments. Why do you

continue in it? Goldeneyes Dactylos shrugged.

"I'm good at it,' he said.

The Arch-astronomer looked up again

bronze fish, shining now like a gong in the

noontime sun.

"Such beauty,' he murmured. "And unique. Come,

Dactylos. Recall to me what it was that I promised

should be your reward?'

'You asked me to design a fish that would swim

through the seas of space that lie between the

worlds,' intoned the master craftsman. "In return

for which - in return-'

'Yes? My memory is not what it used to be,'

purred the Arch-astronomer, stroking the warm

bronze.

"in return,' continued Dactylos, without much

apparent hope, "you would set me free, and refrain

from chopping off any appendages. I require no

treasure.'

"Ah, yes. I recall now.' The old man raised a

blueveined hand, and added, "I lied.'

There waS the merest whisper of sound, and the

goldeneyed man rocked on his feet. Then he looked

down at the arrowhead protruding from his chest,

and nodded wearily. A speck of blood bloomed on

his lips.

There was no sound in the entire square (save for

the buzzing of a few expectant flies) as his silver

hand came up, very slowly, and fingered the

arrowhead.

Dactylos grunted.

'Sloppy workmanship,' he said, and toppled

backwards.

The Arch-astronomer prodded the body with his

toe, and sighed.

'There will be a short period of mourning, as

befits a master craftsman,' he said. He watched a

bluebottle alight on one golden eye and fly away

puzzled . . . "That would seem to be long enough,'

said the Arch-astronomer, and beckoned a couple

of slaves to carry the corpse away.

"Are the chelonauts ready?' he asked.

The master launchcontroller hustled forward.

"indeed, your prominence,' he said.

"The correct prayers are being intoned?

"quite so, your prominence.'

"How long to the doorway?'

"The launch window,' corrected the master

launchcontroller carefully. "Three days, your

prominence. Great A'Tuin's tail will be in an unmatched

position.'

'Then all that remains,' concluded the

Arch-astronomer, "is to find the appropriate sacrifiCe.'

The master launchcontroller bowed.

"The ocean shall provide,' he said.

The old man smiled. it always does,' he said

"if only you could navigate'

"if only you could steer-'

A wave washed over the deck. Rincewind and

Twoflower looked at each other. "keep bailing!'

they screamed in unison, and reached for the

buckets.

After a while Twoflower's peevish voice filtered

up from the waterlogged cabin.

"I don't see how it's my fault,' he said. He handed

up another bucket, which the wizard tipped over

the side.

"You were supposed to be on watch,' snapped

Rincewind.

'I saved us from the slavers, remember,' said

Twoflower.

'i'd rather be a slave than a corpse,' replied the

wizard. He straightened up and looked out to sea.

He appeared puzzled.

He was a somewhat different Rincewind from

the one that escaped the fire of Ankh-Morpork

six months before. More scarred, for one

thing. And much more travelled. He had visited the

,Hublands, discovered the curious folkways of

many colourful peoples - invariably obtaining

more scars in the process - and had even, for a

never-to-be-forgotten few days, sailed on the

legendary Dehydrated Ocean at the heart of the

incredibly dry desert known as the Great Nef. On a

colder and wetter sea he had seen floating

mountains of ice. He had ridden on an imaginary

dragon. He had very nearly said the most powerful

spell on the disc. He

had-there was definitely less horizon than there

ought to be.

'Hmm' Said Rincewind.

'I said nothing's worse than slavery,' said

Twoflower. His mouth opened as the wizard flung

his bucket far out to sea and sat down heavily on

the waterlogged deck, his face a grey mask.

"look, I'm sorry I steered us into the reef, but this

boat doesn't seem to want to sink and we're bound

to strike land sooner or later,' said Twoflower

comfortingly. 'This current must go somewhere.'

'Look at the horizon,' Said Rincewind, in a

monotone.

Twoflower squinted.

"it looks all right,' he said after a while.

'Admittedly, there seems to be less than there

usually is, but-' 'That's because of the Rimfall,' said Rincewind.

'We're being carried over the edge of the world.'

There was a long silence, broken only by the

lapping of the waves as the foundering ship spun

slowly in the current. It was already quite strong.

'That'S probably why we hit that reef,'

Rincewind added. "we got pulled off course during the

night.'

"Would you like something to eat?' asked

Twoflower. He began to rummage through the bundle

that he had tied to the rail, out of the damp.

'Don't you understand?' snarled Rincewind. "We

are going over the Edge, 'godsdammit!'

"Can't we do anything about it?'

'No!'

"Then I can't see the sense in panicking,' said

Twoflower calmly.

"I knew we shouldn't have come this far

Edgewise,' complained Rincewind to the skye 'I

wish-'

"I wish I had my picture-box,' said Twoflower,

'but it's back on that slaver ship with the rest of the

Luggage and-'

"You won't need luggage where we're going,' said

Rincewind. He sagged, and stared moodily at a

distant whale that had carelessly strayed into the

rimward current and was now struggling against

it.

There was a line of white on the foreshortened

horizon, and the wizard fancied he could hear a

distant roaring.

"What happens after a ship goes over the

Rim

fall?' said Twoflower.

"Who knows?'

"Well, in that case perhaps we'll just sail on

through space and land on another world.' A

faraway look came into the little man's eyes. "i'd

like that,' he said.

Rincewind snorted.

The sun rose in the sky, looking noticeably

bigger this close to the Edge. They stood with their

backs against the mast, busy with their own

thoughts. Every so often one or other would pick up

a bucket and do a bit of desultory bailing, for no

very intelligent reason.

The sea around them seemed to be getting

crowded. Rincewind noticed several tree trunks

keeping station with them, and just below the

surface the water was alive with fish of all Sorts. Of

the, current must be teeming with food washed "from the continents near

the Hub. He

wondered what kind of life it would be, having to

keep swimming all the time to stay exactly in the

same place. Pretty similar to his own, he decided.

He spotted a small green frog which was paddling

desperately in the grip of the inexorable current. To

Twoflower's amazement he found a paddle and

carefully extended it towards the little amphibian,

which scrambled onto it gratefully. A moment later

a pair of jaws broke the water and snapped

impotently at the spot where it had been swimming.

The frog looked up at Rincewind from the cradle

of his hands, and then bit him thoughtfully on the

thumb. Twoflower giggled. Rincewind tucked the

frog away in a pocket, and pretended he hadn't

heard.

'All very humanitarian, but why?' said

TwoflOWer. "it'll all be the same in an hour.'

'Because,' Said Rincewind vaguely, and did a bit

of bailing. Spray was being thrown up now and the

current waS sO Strong that waves were forming and

breaking all around them. It all seemed unnaturally

warm. There was a hot golden haze on the sea.

The roaring waS louder now. A squid bigger than

anything Rincewind had seen before broke the

sUrfaCe a few hundred yards away and thrashed

madly with itS tentacles before sinking away.

Something else that was large and fortunately

unidentifiable howled in the mist. A whole

squadron of flying fish tumbled up in a cloud of

rainbowedged droplets and managed to gain a few yards

before dropping back and being swept in an eddy.

They were running out of world. Rincewind

dropped hiS bucket and snatched at the mast as the

roaring, final end of everything raced towards

them.

"I must see this' said Twoflower, half falling

and half diving towards the prow.

Something hard and unyielding smacked into

the hull, which spun ninety degrees and came side

on to the invisible obstacle. Then it stopped suddenly

and a wash of cold sea foam cascaded over

the' deck, so that for a few seconds Rincewind was

under several feet of boiling green water. He began

to scream and then the underwater world became

the deep clanging purple colour of fading consciousness

, because it was at about this point that

Rincewind started to drown.

He awoke with his mouth full of burning liquid

and, when he swallowed, the searing pain in his

throat jerked him into full consciousness.

The boards of a boat pressed into his back and

Twoflower was looking down at him with an

expression of deep concern. Rincewind groaned

and sat up.

This turned out to be a mistake. The edge of the

world was a few feet away.

Beyond it, at a level just below that of the lip of

the endless Rimfall, was something altogether

magical.

Some seventy miles away, and well beyond the tug

of the rim current, a scow with the red sails typical

of a freelance slaver drifted aimlessly through the

velvety twilight. The crew - such as remained

were clustered on the foredeck, surrounding the

men working feverishly on the raft.

The captain, a thickset man who wore the

elbowturbans typical of a Great Nef tribesman, was

much travelled and had seen many strange peoples

and curious things, many of which he had

subsequently enslaved or stolen. He had begun his

career as a sailor on the Dehydrated Ocean in the

heart of the disc's driest desert. (Water on the disc

has an uncommon fourth state, caused by intense

magic combined with the strange desiccating effects

of octarine light') it dehydrates, leaving a silvery

mildue like free-flowing sand through which a

welldesigned hull can glide with ease. The

Dehydrated Ocean is a strange place, but not so

strange as its fish.) The captain had never before

been really frightened. Now he was terrified.

'I can't hear anything,' he muttered to the fiRSt

mate. The mate peered into the gloom.

gPerhaps it fell overboard?' he suggested

hopefully. As if in answer there came a furious

pounding from the oar deck below their feet, and the

sound of splintering wood. The crewmen drew

together fearfully, brandishing axes and torches.

They probably wouldn't dare to use them, even if

the Monster came rushing towards them. Before its

terrible nature had 'been truly understood several

men had attacked it with axes, whereupon it had

turned aside from its single-minded searching of

the ship and had either chased them overboard or

had - eaten them? The captain was not quite

certain. The Thing looked like an ordinary wooden

sea chest. A bit larger than usual, maybe, but not

SUSpiciously so. But while it sometimes seemed to

contain things like .old socks and miscellaneous

luggage, at other times - and he shuddered - it

seemed to be, seemed to have . . . He tried not to

think about it. It was just that the men who Had

been drowned overboard had probably been more

fortunate than those it had caught. He tried not to

think about it. There had been teeth, teeth like

white wooden gravestones, and a tongue red as

mahogany . . .

He tried not to think about it. It didn't work.

But he thought bitterly about one thing. This

was going to be the last time he rescued ungrateful

drowning men in mysterious circumstances. Slavery

was better than Sharks, wasn't it? And then they

had escaped and when his sailors had investigated

their big chest - how had they appeared in the

middle of an untroubled ocean sitting on a big

chest, anyway? - and it had bitt . . . He tried not to

think about it again, but he found himself

wondering what would happen when the damned

thing realized that its owner wasn't on hoard any

longer . . .

"Raft's ready, lord,' said the first mate.

"Into the water with it,' shouted the captain, and

cGet aboard, and cFire the ship!'

After all, another ship wouldn't be too hard to

come by, he philosophised, but a man might have

to wait a long time in that Paradise the mullahs

advertised before he was granted another life. Let

the magical box eat lobsters.

Some pirates achieved immortality by great

deeds of cruelty or derring-do. Some achieved

immortality by amassing great wealth. But the

captain had long ago decided that he would, on the

whole, prefer to achieve immortality by not dying.

"What the hell is that?' demanded Rincewind.

"It's beautiful,' said Twoflower beatifically. '

"I'll decide about that when I know what it is,

said the wizard.

"It is the Rimbow,' said a voice immediately

behind his left ear, "And you are fortunate indeed to

be looking at it. From above, at any rate.' and

The voice was accompanied by a gust of cold and

fishy breath, Rincewind sat quite still.

"Twoflower?' he said.

"YeS?'

"If I turn around, what will I see?'

"His name is Tethis. He says he's a sea troll. This

is his boat. He rescued us,' explained Twoflower

'Will you look around now?'

cNot just at the moment,, thank you. So why

aren't we going over the Edge, then?' asked

rIncewind with glassy calmness.

"Because your boat hit the Circumfence,' said the

voice behind him (in tones that made Rincewind

imagine Submarine chasms and lurking Things in

coral reefs).

"the Circumfence?' he repeated.

'Yes. It runs along the edge of the world,' said the

unseen troll. Above the roar of the waterfall

Rincewind thought he could make out the splash of

oars. He hoped they were oars.

'Ah. You mean the circumference,' said

Rincewind. "The circumference makes the edge of

things." "So does the Circumfence,' said the troll.

"He means this,' said Twoflower, pointing down

Rincewind's eyes followed the finger, dreading

what they might see . . .

Hubwards of the boat was a rope suspended a

few feet above the surface of the white water. The

boat was attached to it, moored yet mobile, by a

complicated arrangement of pulleys and little

wooden wheels. They ran along the rope as the

unseen rower propelled the craft along the very lip

of the Rimfall. That explained one mystery - but

what Supported the rope?

Rincewind peered along its length and saw a

stout wooden post sticking up out of the water a

few yards ahead. As he watched the boat neared it

and then passed it, the little wheels clacking neatly

around it in a groove obviously cut for the purpose.

Rincewind also noticed that smaller ropes hung

down from the main rope at intervals of a yard or

sO.

He turned back to Twoflower.

"I can see what it is,' he said, "But what is it?'

Twoflower shrugged. Behind Rincewind the sea

troll said, "Up ahead is my house. We will talk more

when we are there. Now I must row.'

Rincewind found that looking ahead meant that

he would have to turn and find out what a sea troll

actually looked like, and he wasn't sure he wanted

to do that yet. He looked at the Rimbow instead.

It hung in the mists a few lengths beyond the

edge of the world, appearing only at morning and

evening when the light of the Disc's little orbiting sun shone past the

massive bulk of Great A'tuin

the World Turtle and struck the Disc's magical

field at exactly the right angle.

A double rainbow corruscated into being. Close

into the lip of the Rimfall were the seven lesser

colours, sparkling and dancing in the spray of the

dying seas.

But they were pale in comparison to the wider

band that floated beyond them, not deigning to

share the same spectrum.

It was the King Colour, of which all the lesser

colours are merely partial and wishy-washy reflections

. It was octarine, the colour of magic. It was

alive and glowing and vibrant and it was the

undisputed pigment of the imagination, because

wherever it appeared it was a sign that mere

matter was a servant of the powers of the magical

mind. It was enchantment itself.

But Rincewind always thought it looked a sort of

greenish-purple.

After a while a small speck on the rim of the world

resolved itself into a eyot or crag, so perilously

perched that the waters of the fall swirled around it

at the start of their long drop. A driftwood shanty

had been built on it, and Rincewind saw that the

top rope of the Circumfence climbed over the rocky

island on a number of iron stakes and actually

passed through the shack by a small round

window. He learned later that this was so that the

troll could be alerted to the arrival of any salvage

on his stretch of the Circumfence by means of a

series of small bronze bells, balanced delicately on

al'rOpea A'cif e floating stockade had been built out of

rerrSh timber on the hubward side of the island. It

contained one or two hulks and quite a large

amount of floating wood in the form of planks,

baulks and even whole natural tree trunks, some

still sporting green leaves. This close to the Edge

the disc's magical field was so intense that a hazy

corona flickered across everything as raw illusion

spontaneously discharged itself.

With a last few squeaky jerks the boat slid up

against a small driftwood jetty. As it grounded

itself and formed a circuit Rincewind felt all the

familiar senSations of a huge occult aura - oily,

bluish-tasting, and smelling of tin. All around

them pure, unffocused magic was sleeting

soundlessly into the world.

The wizard and Twoflower scrambled onto the

planking and for the first time Rincewind saw the

troll.

It wasn't half so dreadful as he had imagined.

Umm, said his imagination after a while.

It wasn't that' the troll was horrifying. Instead of

the rotting, betentacled monstrosity he had been

expecting Rincewind found himself looking at a

rather Squat but not particularly ugly old man who

would quite easily have passed for normal on any

city street, always provided that other people on

the Street were used to seeing old men who were

apparently composed of water and very little else.

It was as if the ocean had decided to create life

without going through all that tedious business of

evolution, and had Simply formed a part of itself

into a biped and sent it walking squishily up the

beach. The troll was a pleasant translucent blue

colour. As Rincewind stared a small shoal of silver

fish flashed across its chest.

'It'sB rude to stare,' said the troll. Its mouth

opened with a little creSt of foam, and shut again in

exactly the same way that water closes over a

stone.

"Is it? Why?' asked Rincewind. How does he hold

himselb together, his mind screamed at him. Why doesn't he spill?

"If you will follow me to my house I will find you

food and a change of clothing,' said the troll

solemnly. He set off over the rocks without turning

to see if they would follow him. After all, where else

could they go? It was getting dark, and a chilly

damp breeze was blowing over the edge of the

world. Already the transient Rimbow had faded

and the mists above the waterfall were beginning

tO thin.

"Come on,' said Rincewind, grabbing Twoflower's

elbow. But the tourist didn't appear to want to

move.

"Come on,' the wizard repeated.

'When it gets really dark, do you think we'll be

able to look down and see Great A'tuin the World

Turtle?' asked Twoflower, staring at the rolling clouds.

"I hope not,' said Rincewind, "I really do. Now

let's go, shall we?'

Twoflower followed him reluctantly into the

shack. The troll had lit a couple of lamps and was

sitting comfortably in a rocking chair. He got to his

feet as they entered and poured two cups of a green

liquid from a tall pitcher. In the dim light he

appeared to phosphoresce, in the manner of warm

seas on velvety summer nights. Just to add a

baroque gloss to Rincewind's dull terror he seemed

to be several inches taller, too.

Most of the furniture in the room appeared to be

boxes.

cUh. Really great place you've got here,' said

Rincewind. "Ethnic.'

He reached for a cup and looked at the green pool

shimmering inside it. It'd better be drinkable. he

thought.' Because I'm going to drink it. He

swallowed. It was the same stuff Twoflower had given him

in the rowing boat but, at the time, his mind had

ignored it because there were more pressing

matters. Now it had the leisure to savour the taste.

Rincewind's mouth twisted. He whimpered a

little. One of his legs came up convulsively and

caught him painfully in the chest.

Twoflower swirled his own drink thoughtfully

while he considered the flavour.

"Ghlen Livid,' he said. "The fermented vul nut

drink they freeze-distil in my home country. A

certain smokey quality . . . Piquant. From the western

plantationS in, ah, Rehigreed Province, yes? Next year's harvest, I

fancy, from the colour. May' I ask

how you came by it?'

(Plants on the disc, while including the categories

known commonly as annuals, which were sown

this year to come up later this year, rieanuals, sown

this year to grow next year, and perennials, sown

this year to grow until further notice, also included

a few rare re-annuals which, because of an unusual

four-dimenSional twist in their genes, could be

planted thiS year to come up last year. The Vul nut

vine was particularly exceptional in that it could

flourish as many as eight years prior to its seed

actually being sown. Vul nut wine was reputed to

give certain drinkers an insight into the future

which was, from the nut's point of view, the past.

Strange but true.)

"All things drift into the Circumfence in time,'

said the troll, gnomically, gently rocking in his

chair. 'My job iS to recover the flotsam. Timber, of

course, and ships. Barrels of wine. Bales of cloth.

You.'

Light dawned inside Rincewind's head.

'It's a net, isn't it? You've got a net right on the

edge of the Sea! '

"The circumfence,' nodded the troll. Ripples radiating

across his chest.

Rincewind looked out into the phosphorescent

darkness that surrounded the island, and grinned

inanely.

"Of course,' he said. "Amazing! You could sink

piles and attach it to reefs and - good grief The net

would have to be very Strong.'

"It is,' Said TethiS.

"It could be extended for a couple of miles, if you

found enough rocks and things,' said the wizard.

'Ten thousands of miles. I just patrol this length,'

"That's a third of the way around the disC!. '

Tethis sloshed a little as he nodded again. While

the two men helped themselves to some more of the

green wine, he told them about the Circumfence,

the great effort that had been made to build it, and

the ancient and wise Kingdom of Krull which had

constructed it several centuries before, and the

seven navies that patrolled it constantly to keep it

in repair and bring its salvage back to Krull, and

the manner in which Krull had become a land of

leisure ruled by the most learned seekers after

knowledge, and the way in which they sought

constantly to understand in every possible

particular the wondrous complexity of the universe, and

the way in which sailors marooned on the

Circumfence were turned into slaves, and usually had

their tongues cut out. After some interjections at

this point he spoke, in a friendly way, on the

futility of force, the impossibility of escaping from

the island except by boat to one of the other three

hundred and eighty isles that lay between the

island and Krull itself, or by leaping over the Edge

and the high merit of muteness in comparison to

for' example, death.

There was a pause. The muted night-roar of the

Rimfall only served to give the silence a heavier

texture.

the rocking chair started to creak again.

Tethis Seemed to have grown alarmingly during

the monologue. "there iS nothing personal in all this,' he added.

''I'too am' a Slave. If you try to overpower me I shall

have to kill you, of course, but I won't take any

particular pleasure in it.'

Rincewind looked at the shimmering fists that

rested lightly in the troll's lap. He suspected they

could strike with all the force of a tsunami.

"I don't think you understand,' explained

Twoflower. "I am a citizen of the "golden Empire. I'm

sure Krull would not wish to incur the displeasure

of the Emperor' "How will the emperor know?' asked the troll.

'Do you think you're the first person from the

Empire who has ended up on the Circumfence?'

"I won't be a slave,' shouted Rincewind. "I'd - I'd

jump over the Edge first!' He was amazed at the

sound in his own voice.

cWould you, though?' asked the troll. The rocking

chair flicked back against the wall and one blue

arm caught the wizard around the waist. A moment

later the troll was striding out of the shack with

Rincewind gripped carelessly in one fist.

He did not stop until he came to the Rimward

edge of the island. Rincewind squealed.

"Stop that or I really will throw you over the

edge,' snapped the troll. 'i'm holding you. aren't I?

Look.'

Rincewind looked.

In front of him was a soft black night whose

mist-muted stars glowed peacefully. But his eyes

turned downwards, drawn by some irresistible

fascination.

It was midnight on the Disc and so, therefore, the

sun was far, far below, swinging slowly under

Great A'Tuin's vast and frosty plastron.

Rincewind tried a last attempt to fix his gaze on the tips

of hiS boots, which were protruding over the rim of

the rock, but the sheer drop wrenched it away.

On either side of him two glittering curtains of

water hurtled towards infinity as the sea swept

around the island on its way to the long fall.

a hundred yards below the wizard the largest sea

salmon he had ever seen flicked itself out of the

foam in a wild, jerky and ultimately hopeless leap.

Then it fell back, over and over, in the golden

underworld light.

Huge shadows grew out of that light like pillars

supporting the roof of the universe. Hundreds of

miles below him the wizard made out the shape of

something, the edge of

something-Like those curious little pictures where the

silhouette of an ornate glass suddenly becomes the

outline of two faces, the scene beneath him flipped

into a whole, new, terrifying perspective. Because

down there was the head of an elephant as big as a

reasonably-sized continent. One mighty tusk cut

like a mountain against the golden light, trailing a

widening shadow towards the stars. The head was

slightly tilted, and a huge ruby eye might almost

have been a red super-giant that had managed to

shine at noonday.

Below the

elephant-Rincewind swallowed and tried not to

think-Below the elephant there was nothing but the

distant, painful disc of the sun. And, sweeping

slowly past it, was something that for all its

city-sized scales, its crater-pocks, its lunar cragginess,

was indubitably a flipper.

'Shall I let go?' suggested the troll

'Gaah,' said Rincewind, straining backwards.

"I have lived here on the Edge for five years and I

have not had the courage,' boomed Tethis. 'Nor

have you, if I'm any judge.' He stepped back.

allowing Rincewind to fling himself onto the

ground.

twoflower strolled up to the rim and peered over.

'fantastic,' he said. 'If only I had my picture

box.'

what else is down there? I mean, if you

fell off, what would you see? '

,Tethis sat down on an outcrop. High over the

disc the moon came out from behind a cloud , giving

him the appearance of ice.

"My home is down there, perhaps,' he said

slowly. 'Beyond your silly elephants and that

ridiculous turtle. A real world. Sometimes I come

out here and look, but somehow I can never bring

myselfto take that extra step . . . A real world, with

real people. I have wives and little ones, somewhere

down there . . .' He stopped, and blew his nose. "You

soon learn what you're made of, here on the Edge.'

.Stop saying that. Please,' moaned Rincewind

He turned over and saw Twoflower standing

unconcernedly at the very lip of the rock. "Gaah,

he said, and tried to burrow into the stone.

"There's another world down there?' said

Twoflower, peering'over. cWhere, exactly?"

The troll waved an arm vaguely. cSomewhere,' he

Said. "That's all I know. It was quite a small world.

Meetly blue.'

cSo why are you here?' said Twoflower.

'isn't it obvious?' snapped the troll. "I fell off the

edge! '

He told them of the world of Bathys, somewhere

among the Stars, where the seafolk had built a

number of thriving civilisations in the three large

OCeans that sprawled across its disc. He had been a

meatman, one of the caste which earned a perilous

living in large, sail-powered land yachts that

ventured far out to land and hunted the shoals of

deer and buffalo that abounded in the

stormhaunted continents. His particular yacht had been

blown into uncharted lands by a freak gale. The

C(Yet of the crew had taken the yacht's little rowing

trolley and had struck out for a distant lake, but

Tethis, as master, had elected to remain with his

Vessel. The storm had carried it right over the

rocky rim of the world, smashing it to matchwood

in the process.

'At first I fell,' said Tethis, "but falling isn't so

bad, you know. It's only the landing that hurts,

and there was nothing below me. As I fell I saw the

world spin off into space until it was lost against

the stars.'

"What happened next?' said Twoflower

breathlessly, glancing towards the misty universe.

"I froze solid,' said Tethis simply. "Fortunately it

is something my race can survive. But I thawed out

occasionally when I passed near other worlds.

There was one, I think it was the one with what, I

thought was this strange ring of mountains around

it that turned out to be the biggest dragon you

could ever imagine, covered in snow and glaciers

and holding its tail in its mouth - well, I came

within a few leagues of that, I shot over the

landscape like a comet, in fact, and then I was off

again. Then there was a time I woke up and there

was your world coming at me like a custard pie

thrown by the Creator and, well, I landed in the sea

not far from the Circumfence widdershins of Krull.

All sorts of creatures get washed up against the

Fence, and at the time they were looking for slaves

to man the way stations, and I ended up here.' He

stopped and stared intently at rinCeWind. "every

night I come out here and look down.' he finished

"and I never jump. Courage is hard to come by. here

on the Edge.'

Rincewind began to crawl determinedly towards

the shack. He gave a little scream as the troll

picked him up, not unkindly, and set him on his

feet.

"Amazing,' said 'Fwoflower, and leaned further

out over the Edge. 'There are lots of other worlds

out there?'

'Quite a number, I imagine,' said the troll.

'I suppose one could contrive some sort of, I don't

know, some sort of a thing that could preserve one

against the cold,' said the little man thoughtfully.

'Some sort of a ship that one could sail over the

Edge and sail to far-off worlds, too. I wonder . . .'

'Don't even think about it!' moaned Rincewind.

'Stop talking like that, do you hear?'

'They all talk like that in Krull,' said Tethis.

'Those with tongues, of course,' he added.

'Are you awake?'

Twoflower snored on. Rincewind jabbed him

viciously in the ribs.

'I said, are you awake?' he snarled.

'Scrdfngh . . .'

'We've got to get out of here before this salvage

fleet comes!'

The dishwater light of dawn oozed through the

shack's one window, slopping across the piles of

salvaged boxes and bundles that were strewn

around the interior. Twoflower grunted again and

tried to burrow into the pile of furs and blankets

that Tethis had given them.

'Look, there's all kinds of weapons and stuff in

here,' said Rincewind. 'He's gone out somewhere.

When he comes back we could overpower him and and

well, then we can think of something. How

about it?'

'That doesn't sound like a very good idea,' said

Twoflower 'Anyhow, it's a bit ungracious isn't it?'

'Tough buns,' snapped Rincewind. 'This is a

rough universe.'

He rummaged through the piles around the walls

and selected a heavy, wavy-bladed scimitar that

had probably been some pirate's pride and joy. It

looked the sort of weapon that relied as much on its

weight as its edge to cause damage. He raised it

awkwardly.

'Would he leave that sort of thing around if it

could hurt him?' Twoflower wondered aloud.

Rincewind ignored him and took up a position

beside the door. When it opened some ten minutes

later he moved unhesitatingly, swinging it across

the opening at what he judged was the troll's head

height. It swished harmlessly through nothing at

all and struck the doorpost, jerking him off his feet

and on to the floor.

There was a sigh above him. He looked up into

Tethis' face, which was shaking sadly from side to

side.

'It wouldn't have harmed me,' said the troll,'but

nevertheless I am hurt. Deeply hurt.' He reached

over the wizard and jerked the sword out of the

wood. With no apparent effort he bent its blade into

a circle and sent it bowling away over the rocks

until it hit a stone and sprang, still spinning, in a

silver arc that ended in the mists forming over the

Rimfall.

'Very deeply hurt'' he concluded. He reached

down beside the door and tossed a sack towards

Twoflower.

'It's the carcase of a deer that is just about how you

humans like it, and a few lobsters, and a sea salmon.

The Circumfence provides,' he said casually.

He looked hard at the tourist, and then down

again at Rincewind.

'What are you staring at?' he said.

'It's just that-' said Twoflower.

'-compared to last night-' said Rincewind.

'You're so small,' finished Twoflower.

'I see, said the troll carefully.'Personal remarks

now.' He drew himself up to his full height, which

was currently about four feet. 'Just because I'm

made of water doesn't mean I'm made of wood, you

know.'

'I'm sorry,' said Twoflower, climbing hastily out

of the furs.

'You're made of dirt,' said the troll,'but I didn't

pass comments about things you can't help, did I?

Oh, no. We can't help the way the Creator made us,

that's my view. but if you must know, your moon

here is rather more powerful than the ones around

my own world.'

"the moon?' said Twoflower.'I don't under-'

'If I've got to spell it out,' said the troll. testily,

'I'm suffering from chronic tides.'

A bell jangled in the darkness of the shack.

Tethis strode across the creaking floor to the

complicated devices of levers, strings and bells

that was mounted on the Circumfence's topmost

strand where it passed through the hut.

The bell rang again, and then started to clang

away in an odd jerky rhythm for several minutes.

The troll stood with his ear pressed close to it.

When it stopped he turned slowly and looked at

them with a worried frown.

'You're more important than I thought,' he said.

'You're not to wait for the salvage fleet. You're to be

collected by a flyer. That's what they say in Krull.'

He shrugged. 'And I hadn't even sent a message

that you're here, yet. Someone's been drinking vul

nut wine again.'

He picked up a large mallet that hung on a pillar

beside the bell and used it to tap out a brief carillon.

'That'll be passed from lengthman to lengthman

all the way back to Krull,' he said. 'Marvellous

really, isn't it?'

It came speeding across the sea, floating a manlength

above it, but still leaving a foaming wake as

whatever power that held it up smacked brutally

into the water. Rincewind knew what power held it

up. He was, he would be the first to admit, a

coward, an incompetent, and not even very good at

being a failure; but he was still a wizard of sorts, he

knew one of the Eight Great Spells, he would be

claimed by Death himself when he died' and he

recognized really finely honed magic when he saw

it.

The lens skimming towards the island was

perhaps twenty feet across, and totally transparent

Sitting around its circumference were a large

number of black-robed men, each one strapped

securely to the disc by a leather harness and each

one staring down at the waves with an expression

so tormented, so agonising, that the transparent

disc seemed to be ringed with gargoyles.

Rincewind sighed with relief. This was such an

unusual sound that it made Twoflower take his eyes

off the approaching disc and turn them on him.

'We're important, no lie,' explained Rincewind.

"They wouldn't be wasting all that magic on a

couple of potential slaves.' He grinned.

'What is it?' said Twoflower.

'Well, the disc itself would have been created by

Fresnel's Wonderful Concentrator,' said Rincewind,

authoritatively. 'That calls for many rare

and unstable ingredients, such as demon's breath

and so forth, and it takes at least eight fourthgrade

wizards a week to envision. Then there's

those wizards on it, who must all be gifted hydrophobes-'

'

You mean they hate water?' said Twoflower.

'NO, that wouldn't work,' said Rincewind.'Hate

is an attracting force, just like love. They really

loathe it, the very idea of it revolts them. A really

good hydrophobe has to be trained on debydrated

water from birth. I mean, that costs a fortune in

magic alone. But they make great weather magicians.

Rain clouds just give up and go away.'

'It sounds terrible,' said the water troll behind

them.

'And they all die young,' said Rincewind,

ignoring him. 'They just can't live with themselves.'

'

Sometimes I think a man could wander across

the disc all his life and not see everything there is

to see,' said Twoflower. 'And now it seems there are

lots of other worlds as well. When I think I might

die without seeing a hundredth of all there is to see

it makes me feel,' he paused, then added, 'well,

humble, I suppose. And very angry, of course.'

The flyer halted a few yards hubward of the

island, throwing up a sheet of spray. It hung there,

spinning slowly. A hooded figure standing by the

stubby pillar at the exact centre of the lens

beckoned to them.

'You'd better wade out,' said the troll. 'It doesn't

do to keep them waiting. It has been nice to make

your acquaintance.' He shook them both, wetly, by

the hand. As he waded out a little way with them

the two nearest loathers on the lens shied away

with expressions of extreme disgust.

The hooded figure reached down with one hand

and released a rope ladder. In its other hand it held

a silver rod, which had about it the unmistakable

air of something designed for killing people.

Rincewind's first impression was reinforced when

the figure raised the stick and waved it carelessly

towards the shore. A section of rock vanished,

leaving a small grey haze of nothingness.

'That's so you don't think I'm afraid to use it,'

said the figure.

'Don't think you're afraid?' said Rincewind. The

hooded figure snorted.

'We know all about you, Rincewind the magician.

You are a man of great cunning and artifice. You

laugh in the face of Death. Your affected air of

craven cowardice does not fool me.'

It fooled Rincewind. 'I-' he began, and paled as

the nothingness-stick was turned towards him. 'I

see you know all about me,' he finished weakly,

and sat down heavily on the slippery surface. He

and Twoflower, under instructions from the hooded

commander, strapped themselves down to rings set

in the transparent disc.

'If you make the merest suggestion of weaving a

spell,' said the darkness under the hood, 'you die.

Third quadrant reconcile, ninth quadrant redouble,

forward all!'

A wall of water shot into the air behind

Rincewind and the disc jerked suddenly. The

dreadful presence of the sea troll had probably

concentrated the hydrophobes' minds wonderfully,

because it then rose at a very steep angle and

didn't begin level flight until it was a dozen

fathoms above the waves. Rincewind glanced

down through the transparent surface and wished

he hadn't.

'Well, off again then,' said Twoflower cheerfully.

He turned and waved at the troll, now no more

than a speck on the edge of the world.

Rincewind glared at him. 'Doesn't anything

ever worry you?' he asked.

'We're still alive; aren't we?' asked Twoflower.

'And you yourself said they wouldn't be going to all

this trouble if we were just going to be slaves. I

expect Tethis was exaggerating. I expect it's all a

misunderstanding. I expect we'll be sent home.

After we've seen Krull, of course. And I must say it

all sounds fascinating.'

'Oh yes,' said Rincewind, in a hollow voice.

'Fascinating.' He was thinking: I've seen excitement,

and I've seen boredom. And boredom was

best.

Had either of them happened to look down at

that moment they would have noticed a strange

v-shaped wave surging through the water far

below them, its apex pointing directly at Tethis'

island. But they weren't looking. The twenty-four

hydrophobic magicians were looking, but to them

it was just another piece of dreadfulness, not really

any different from the liquid horror around it. They

were probably right.

Sometime before all this the blazing pirate ship

had hissed under the waves and started the long

slow slide towards the distant ooze. It was more

distant than average, because directly under the

stricken keel was the Gorunna Trench - a chasm in

the Disc's surface that was so black, so deep and so

reputedly evil that even the krakens went there

fearfully, and in pairs. In less reputedly evil

chasms the fish went about with natural lights on

their heads and on the whole managed quite well.

In Gorunna they left them unlit and, insofar as it is

possible for something without legs to creep, they

crept; they tended to bump into things, too.

Horrible things.

The water around the ship turned from green to

purple, from purple to black, from black to a

darkness so complete that blackness itself seemed

merely grey by comparison. Most of its timbers had

already been crushed into splinters under the

intense pressure.

It spiralled past groves of nightmare polyps and

drifting forests of seaweed which glowed with

faint, diseased colours. Things brushed it briefly

with soft, cold tentacles as they darted away into

the freezing silence.

Something rose up from the murk and ate it in

one mouthful.

Some time later the islanders on a little rimward

atoll were amazed to find, washed into their little

local lagoon, the wave-rocked corpse of a hideous

sea monster, all beaks, eyes and tentacles. They

were further astonished at its size, since it was

rather larger than their village. But their surprise

was tiny compared to the huge, stricken expression

on the face of the dead monster, which appeared to

have been trampled to death.

Somewhat further rimward of the atoll a couple

of little boats, trolling a net for the ferocious freeswimming

oysters which abounded in those seas,

caught something that dragged both vessels for

several miles before one captain had the presence

of mind to sever the lines.

But even his bewilderment was as nothing

compared to that of the islanders on the last atoll

in the archipelago. During the following night they

were awakened by a terrific crashing and splintering

noise coming from their minute jungle; when

some of the bolder spirits went to investigate in the

morning they found that the trees had been

smashed in a broad swathe that started on the

hubmost shore of the atoll and made a line of total

destruction pointing precisely Edgewise, littered

with broken lianas, crushed bushes and a few

bewildered and angry oysters.

They were high enough now to see the wide curve

of the Rim sweeping away from them, lapped by

the fluffy clouds that mercifully hid the waterfall

for most of the time. From up here the sea, a deep

blue dappled with cloud-shadows, looked almost

inviting. Rincewind shuddered.

'Excuse me,' he said. The hooded figure turned

from its contemplation of the distant haze and

raised its wand threateningly.

'I don't want to use this,' it said.

'You don't?' said Rincewind.

'What is it, anyway?' said Twoflower.

'Ajandurah's Wand of Utter Negativity,' said

Rincewind. 'And I wish you'd stop waving it about.

It might go off,' he added, nodding at the wand's

glittering point. 'I mean, it's all very flattering, all

this magic being used just for our benefit, but

there's no need to go quite that far. And-'

'Shut up.' The figure reached up and pulled back

its hood, revealing itself to be a most unusually

tinted young woman. Her skin was black. Not the

dark brown of Urabewe, or the polished blue-black

of monsoon-haunted Klatch, but the deep black of

midnight at the bottom of a cave. Her hair and

eyebrows were the colour of moonlight. There was

the same pale sheen around her lips. She looked

about fifteen, and very frightened.

Rincewind couldn't help noticing that the hand

holding the wand was shaking, this was because a

piece of sudden death, wobbling uncertainly a-mere

five feet from your nose, is very hard to miss. It

dawned on him - very slowly, because it was a

completely new sensation - that someone in the

world was frightened of him. The complete reverse

was so often the case that he had come to think of it

as a kind of natural law.

'What is your name?' he said, as reassuringly as

he could manage. She might be frightened, but she

did have the wand. If I had a wand like that, he

thought, I wouldn't be frightened of anything. So

what in Creation can she imagine I could do?

'My name is immaterial,' she said.

'That's a pretty name,' said Rincewind. 'Where

are you taking us, and why? I can't see any harm

in your telling us.'

'You are being brought to Krull,' said the girl.

'And don't mock me, hublander. Else I'll use the

wand. I must bring you in alive, but no-one said

anything about bringing you in whole. My name is

Marchesa, and I am a wizard of the fifth level. Do

you understand?'

'Well, since you know all about me then you

know that I never even made it to Neophyte,' said

Rincewind. 'I'm not even a wizard, really.' He

caught Twoflower's astonished expression, and

added hastily,'Just a wizard of sorts.'

'You can't do magic because one of the Eight

Great Spells is indelibly lodged in your mind,' said

Marchesa, shifting her balance gracefully as the

great lens described a wide arc over the sea. 'That's

why you were thrown out of Unseen University.

We know.'

'But you said just now that he was a magician of

great cunning and artifice,' protested Twoflower.

'Yes, because anyone who survives all that he

has survived - most of which was brought on

himself by his tendency to think of himself as a

wizard - well, he must be some kind of a magician,'

said Marchesa. 'I warn you, Rincewind. If you give

me the merest suspicion that you are intoning the

Great Spell I really will kill you.' She scowled at

him nervously.

'Seems to me your best course would be to just,

you know, drop us off somewhere,' said Rincewind.

'I mean, thanks for rescuing us and everything, so ,

if you'd just let us get on with leading our lives I'm '

sure we'd all-'

'I hope you're not proposing to enslave us,' said

Twoflower. '

Marchesa looked genuinely shocked. 'Certainly

not! Whatever could have given you that idea?

Your lives in Krull will be rich, full and comfortable-'

'

Oh, good,' said Rincewind.

'-just not very long.'

Krull turned out to be a large island, quite

mountainous and heavily wooded, with pleasant

white buildings visible here and there among the

trees. The land sloped gradually up towards the

rim, so that the highest point in Krull in fact

slightly overhung the Edge. Here the Krullians

had built their major city, also called Krull, and

since so much of their building material had been

salvaged from the Circumfence the houses of Krull

had a decidedly nautical persuasion.

To put it bluntly, entire ships had been mortic

artfully together and converted into buildings,

Triremes, chows and caravels protruded at strange

angles from the general wooden chaos. Painted

figureheads and hublandish dragonprows

reminded the citizens of Krull that their good

fortune stemmed from the sea; barquentines and

carracks lent a distinctive shape to the larger

buildings. And so the city rose tier on tier between

the blue-green ocean of the Disc and the soft clo

sea of the Edge, the eight colours of the Rimbow

reflected in every window and in the many telescope

lenses of the city's multitude of astronomers.

'It's absolutely awful,' said Rincewind gloomily

The lens was approaching now along the very I

of the rimfall. The island not only got higher as it

neared the Edge. It got narrower too, so that the

lens was able to remain over water until it was very

near the city. The parapet along the edgewise cliff

was dotted with gantries projecting into nothingness

. The lens glided smoothly towards one of

them and docked with it as smoothly as a boat

might glide up to a quay. Four guards, with the

same moonlight hair and nightblack faces as

Marchesa, were waiting. They did not appear to be

armed, but as Twoflower and Rincewind stumbled

on to the parapet they were each grabbed by the

arms and held quite firmly enough for any thought"

of escape to be instantly dismissed.

Then Marchesa and the watching hydrophobic

wizards were quickly left behind and the guards

and their prisoners set off briskly along a lane that

wound between the ship-houses. Soon it lead

downwards, into what turned out to be a palace of

some sort, half-hewn out of the rock of the clif

itself. Rincewind was vaguely aware of brightly-lit

tunnels, and courtyards open to the distant sky. a

few elderly men, their robes covered in mysterious

occult symbols, stood aside and watched with

interest as the sextet passed. Several times Rincewind

noticed hydrophobes - their ingrained

expressions of self-revulsion at their own body-fluids

was distinctive-and here and there trudging

men who could only be slaves. He didn't have

much time to reflect on all this before a door was

opened ahead of them and they were pushed,

gently but firmly, into a room. Then the door

slammed behind them.

Rincewind and Twoflower regained their balance

and stared around the room in which they

now found themselves.

'Gosh,' said Twoflower ineffectually, after a

pause during which he had tried unsuccessfully to

find a better word.

'This is a prison cell?' wondered Rincewind

aloud.

'All that gold and silk and stuff,' Twoflower

added. 'I've never seen anything like it!'

In the centre of the richly-decorated room, on a

carpet that was so deep and furry that Rincewind

trod on it gingerly lest it be some kind of shaggy,

floor-loving beast, was a long gleaming table laden

with food. Most were fish dishes, including the

biggest and most ornately-prepared lobster Rincewind

had ever seen, but there were also plenty of

bowls and platters piled with strange creations

that he had never seen before. He reached out

cautiously and picked up some sort of purple fruit

crusted with green crystals.

'Candied sea urchin,' said a cracked, cheerful

voice behind him. 'A great delicacy.'

He dropped it quickly and turned around. An old

man had stepped out from behind the heavy

curtains. He was tall, thin and looked almost

benign compared to some of the faces Rincewind

had seen recently.

'The puree of sea cucumbers is very good too,'

said the face, conversationally. 'Those little green

bits are baby starfish.'

'Thank you for telling me,' said Rincewind

weakly.

'Actually, they're rather good,' said Twoflower,

his mouth full. 'I thought you liked seafood?'

'Yes, I thought I did,' said Rincewind. 'What's

this wine-crushed octopus eyeballs?'

'Sea "rape,' said the old man.

'Great,' said Rincewind, and swallowed a glassful. '

Not bad. A bit salty, maybe.'

'Sea grape is a kind of small jellyfish,' explained

the stranger. 'And now I really think I should

introduce myself. Why has your friend gone that

strange colour?'

'Culture shock, I imagine,' said Twoflower. 'What

did you say your name was?'

'I didn't. It's Garhartra. I'm the Guestmaster,

you see. It is my pleasant task to make sure that

your stay here is as delightful as possible.' He

bowed. 'If there is anything you want you have

only to say.'

Twoflower sat down on an ornate mother-of-pearl

chair with a glass of oily wine in one hand

and a crystallised squid in the other. He frowned.

'I think I've missed something along the way,' he

said. 'First we were told we were going to be

slaves-'

'A base canard!' interrupted Garhartra.

'What's a canard?' said Twoflower.

'I think it's a kind of duck,' said Rincewind from

the far end of the long table. 'Are these biscuits

made of something really nauseating, do you

suppose?'

'-and then we were rescued at great magical

expense-'

'They're made of pressed seaweed,' snapped the

Guestmaster.

'-but then we're threatened, also at a vast

expenditure of magic-'

'Yes, I thought it would be something like

seaweed,' agreed Rincewind. 'They certainly taste

like seaweed would taste if anyone was masochistic

enough to eat seaweed.'

'-and then we're manhandled by guards and

thrown in here-'

'Pushed gently,' corrected Garhartra.

'-which turned out to be this amazingly rich

room and there's all this food and a man saying

he's devoting his life to making us happy,' Twoflower

concluded. 'What I'm getting at is this sort

of lack of consistency.'

'Yar,' said Rincewind. 'What he means is, are

you about to start being generally unpleasant

again? Is this just a break for lunch?'

Garhartra held up his hands reassuringly.

'Please, please,' he protested. 'It was just necessary

to get you here as soon as possible. We

certainly do not want to enslave you. Please be

reassured on that score.'

'Well, fine,' said Rincewind.

'Yes, you will in fact be sacrificed,' Garhartra

continued placidly.

'Sacrificed? You're going to kill us?' shouted the

wizard.

'Kill? Yes, of course. Certainly! It would hardly

be a sacrifice if we didn't, would it? But don't worry

- it'll be comparatively painless.'

'Comparatively? Compared to what?' said Rincewind.

He picked up a tall green bottle that was full

of sea grape jellyfish wine and hurled it hard at the

Guestmaster, who flung up a hand as if to protect

himself.

There was a crackle of octarine flame from his

fingers and the air suddenly took on the thick,

greasy feel that indicated a powerful magical

discharge. The flung bottle slowed and then stopped

in mid-air, rotating gently.

At the same time an invisible force picked

Rincewind up and hurled him down the length of

the room, pinning him awkwardly halfway up the

far wall with no breath left in his body. He hung

there with his mouth open in rage and astonishment.

Garhartra lowered his hand and brushed it

slowly on his robe

'I didn't enjoy doing that, you know,' he said.

'I could tell,' muttered Rincewind.

'but what do you want to sacrifice us for?' asked

Twoflower.'You hardly know us!'

'That's rather the point, isn't it? It's not very

good manners to sacrifice a friend. Besides, you

were, um, specified. I don't know a lot about the

god in question, but He was quite clear on that

point. Look, I must be running along now. So much

to organise, you know how it is,' the Guestmaster

opened the door, and then peered back around it.

'Please make yourselves comfortable, and don't

worry.'

'But you haven't actually told us anything!'

wailed Twoflower.

'It's not really worth it, is it? What with you

being sacrificed in the morning,' said Garhartra

'it's hardly worth the bother of knowing, really.

Sleep well. Comparatively well, anyway.'

He shut the door. A brief octarine flicker of

balefire around it suggested that it had now been

sealed beyond the skills of any earthly locksmith.

Gling, clang, tang went the bells along the Circumfence

in the moonlit, rimfall-roaring night.

Terton, lengthman of the 40th Length, hadn't

heard such a clashing since the night a giant

kraken had been swept into the Fence five years

ago. He leaned out of his hut, which for the lack of

any convenient eyot on this Length had been built

on wooden piles driven into the sea bed, and stared

into the darkness. Once or twice he thought he

could see movement, far off. Strictly speaking, he

should row out to see what was causing the din

But here in the clammy darkness it didn't seem like

an astoundingly good idea, so he slammed the

door, wrapped some sacking around the madly

jangling bells, and tried to get back to sleep.

That didn't work, because even the top strand of

the Fence was thrumming now, as if something big

and heavy was bouncing on it. After staring at the

ceiling for a few minutes, and trying hard not to

think of great long tentacles and pond-sized eyes,

Terton blew out the lantern and opened the door a

crack.

Something was coming along the Fence, in giant

loping bounds that covered metres at a time. It

loomed up at him and for a moment Terton saw

something rectangular, multi-legged, shaggy with

seaweed and - although it had absolutely no

features from which he could have deduced this - it

was also very angry indeed.

The hut was smashed to fragments as the

monster charged through it, although Terton

survived by clinging to the Circumfence; some

weeks later he was picked up by a returning

salvage fleet, subsequently escaped from Krull on a

hijacked lens (having developed hydrophobia to an

astonishing degree) and after a number of adventures

eventually found his way to the Great Nef, an

area of the Disc so dry that it actually has negative

rainfall, which he nevertheless considered uncomfortably

damp.

'Have you tried the door?'

'Yes,' said Twoflower. 'And it isn't any less

locked than it was last time you asked. There's the

window, though.'

'A great way of escape,' muttered Rincewind,

from his perch halfway up the wall. 'You said it

looks out over the Edge. Just step out, eh, and

plunge through space and maybe freeze solid or hit

some other world at incredible speeds or plunge

wildly into the burning heart of a sun?'

'Worth a try,' said Twoflower. 'Want a seaweed

biscuit?'

'No!'

'When are you coming down?'

Rincewind snarled. This was partly in embarrassment.

Garhartra's spell had been the little-used

and hard-to-master Atavarr's Personal Gravitational

Upset, the practical result of which was

that until it wore off Rincewind's body was

convinced that'down' lay at ninety degrees to that

direction normally accepted as of a downward

persuasion by the majority of the Disc's inhabitants.

He was in fact standing on the wall.

Meanwhile the flung bottle hung supportless in

the air a few yards away. In its case time had well,

not actually been stopped, but had been

slowed by several orders of magnitude, and its

trajectory had so far occupied several hours and a

couple of inches as far as Twoflower and Rincewind

were concerned. The glass gleamed in the

moonlight. Rincewind sighed and tried to make

himself comfortable on the wall.

'Why don't you ever worry?' he demanded

petulantly. 'Here we are, going to be sacrificed to

some god or other in the morning, and you just sit

there eating barnacle canapes.'

'I expect something will turn up,' said Twoflower.

'I mean, it's not as if we know why we're going to

be killed,' the wizard went on.

You'd like to, would you?

'Did you say that?' asked Rincewind.

'Say what?

Twoflower gave him a worried look.

'I'm Twoflower,'he said.'Surely you remember?'

Rincewind put his head in his hands.

'It's happened at last,' he moaned.'I'm going out

of my mind.'

Good idea said the voice. It's getting pretty

crowded in here

The spell pinning Rincewind to the wall vanished

with a faint 'pop'. He fell forward and landed in a

heap on the floor.

Careful-you nearly squashed me

Rincewind struggled to his elbows and reached

into the pocket of his robe. When he withdrew his

hand the green frog was sitting on it, its eyes oddly

luminous in the half-light.

'You?' said Rincewind.

Put me down on the floor and stand back The

frog blinked.

The wizard did so, and dragged a bewildered

Twoflower out of the way.

The room darkened. There was a windy, roaring

sound. Streamers of green, purple and octarine

cloud appeared out of nowhere and began to spiral

rapidly towards the recumbent amphibian, shedding

small bolts of lightning as they whirled. Soon

the frog was lost in a golden haze which began to

elongate upwards, filling the room with a warm

yellow light. Within it was a darker, indistinct

shape, which wavered and changed even as they

watched. And all the time there was the high,

brain-curdling whine of a huge magical field . . .

As suddenly as it had appeared, the magical

tornado vanished. And there, occupying the space

where the frog had been, was a frog.

'Fantastic,' said Rincewind.

The frog gazed at him reproachfully.

'Really amazing,' said Rincewind sourly.'A frog

magically transformed into a frog. Wondrous.'

'Turn around,' said a voice behind them. It was a

soft, feminine voice, almost an inviting voice, the

sort of voice you could have a few drinks with, but

it was coming from a spot where there oughtn't to

be a voice at all. They managed to turn without

really moving, like a couple of statues revolving on

plinths.

There was a woman standing in the pre-dawn

light. She looked - she was - she had a - in point of

actual fact she . . .

Later Rincewind and Twoflower couldn't quite

agree on any single fact about her, except that she

had appeared to be beautiful (precisely what

physical features made her beautiful they could

not, definitively, state) and that she had green

eyes. Not the pale green of ordinary eyes, eitherthese

were the green of fresh emeralds and as

iridescent as a dragonfly. And one of the few

genuinely magical facts that Rincewind knew was

that no god or goddess, contrary and volatile as

they might be in all other respects, could change

the colour or nature of their eyes . . .

'L-'he began. She raised a hand.

'You know that if you say my name I must

depart,' she hissed. 'Surely you recall that I am the

one goddess who comes only when not invoked?'

'Uh. Yes, I suppose I do,' croaked the wizard,

trying not to look at the eyes. 'You're the one they

call the Lady?'

'Yes.'

'Are you a goddess then?' said Twoflower

excitedly.'I've always wanted to meet one.'

Rincewind tensed, waiting for the explosion of

rage. Instead, the Lady merely smiled.

'Your friend the wizard should introduce us,' she

said.

Rincewind coughed. 'Uh, yar,' he said. 'This is

Twoflower, Lady, he's a tourist-'

'-I have attended him on a number of occasions-'

'and, Twoflower, this is the Lady. Just the

Lady, right? Nothing else. Don't try and give her

any other name, okay?' he went on desperatelY, his

eyes darting meaningful glances that were totally

lost on the little man.

Rincewind shivered. He was not, of course, an

atheist; on the Disc the gods dealt severely with

atheists. On the few occasions when he had some

spare change he had always made a point of

dropping a few coppers into a temple coffer

somewhere, on the principle that a man needed all

the friends he could get. But usually he didn't

bother the Gods, and he hoped the Gods wouldn't

bother him. Life was quite complicated enough.

There were two gods, however, who were really

terrifying. The rest of the gods were usually only

sort of large-scale humans, fond of wine and war

and whoring. But Fate and the Lady were chilling.

In the Gods' Quarter, in Ankh-Morpork, Fate

had a small, heavy, leaden temple, where hollowey-ed

and gaunt worshippers met on dark nights for

their predestined -and fairly pointless rites. There

were no temples at all to the Lady, although she

was arguably the most powerful goddess in the

entire history of Creation. A few of the more daring

members of the Gamblers' Guild had once experimented

with a form of worship, in the deepest

cellars of Guild headquarters, and had all died of

penury, murder or just Death within the week. She

was the Goddess Who Must Not Be Named; those

who sought her never found her, yet she was

known to come to the aid of those in greatest need.

And, then again, sometimes she didn't. She was

like that. She didn't like the clicking of rosaries,

but was attracted to the sound of dice. No man

knew what She looked like, although there were

many times when a man who was gambling his

life on the turn of the cards would pick up the hand

he had been dealt and stare Her full in the face. Of

course, sometimes he didn't. Among all the gods

she was at one and the same time the most courted

and the most cursed.

'We don't have gods where I come from,' said

Twoflower.

'You do, you know,' said the Lady.'Everyone has

gods. You just don't think they're gods.'

Rincewind shook himself mentally.

'look,' he said. 'I don't want to sound impatient,

but in a few minutes some people are going to come

through that door and take us away and kill us.'

'Yes,' said the Lady.

'I suppose you wouldn't tell us why?' said

Twoflower.

'Yes,' said the Lady. 'The Krullians intend to

launch a bronze vessel over the edge of the Disc.

Their prime purpose is to learn the sex of A'tuin the

World Turtle.'

'Seems rather pointless,' said Rincewind.

'No. Consider. One day Great A'tuin may

encounter another member of the species chelys

galactica, somewhere in the vast night in which we

move. Will they fight? Will they mate? A little

imagination will show you that the sex of Great

A'tuin could be very important to us. At least, so

the Krullians say.'

Rincewind tried not to think of World Turtles

mating. It wasn't completely easy.

!'SO,' continued the goddess, 'they intend to

launch this ship of space, with two voyagers

aboard. It will be the culmination of decades of

research. It will also be very dangerous for the

travellers. And so, in an attempt to reduce the

risks, the Arch-astronomer of Krull has bargained

with Fate to sacrifice two men at the moment of

launch. Fate, in His turn, has agreed to smile on

the space ship. A neat barter, is it not?'

'And we're the sacrifices,' said Rincewind.

'Yes.'

'I thought Fate didn't go in for that sort of

bargaining. I thought Fate was implacable,' said

Rincewind.

'Normally, yes. But you two have been thorns in

his side for some time. He specified that the

sacrifices should be you. He allowed you to escape

from the pirates. He allowed you to drift into the

Circumfence. Fate can be one mean god at times.'

There was a pause. The frog sighed and wandered

off under the table.

'But you can help us?' prompted Twoflower.

'You amuse me,' said the Lady. 'I have a

sentimental streak. You'd know that, if you were

gamblers. So for a little while I rode in a frog's

mind and you kindly rescued me, for, as we all

know, no-one likes to see pathetic and helpless

creatures swept to their death.'

'Thank you,' said Rincewind.

'The whole mind of Fate is bent against you,'

said the Lady. 'But all I can do is give you one

chance. Just one, small chance. The rest is up to

you.'

She vanished.

'Gosh,' said Twoflower, after a while. 'That's the

first time I've ever seen a goddess.'

The door swung open. Garhartra entered, holding

a wand in front of him. Behind him were two

guards, armed more conventionally with swords.

'Ah,' he said conversationally.'You are ready, I

see.'

Ready, said a voice inside Rincewind's head.

The bottle that the wizard had flung some eight

hours earlier had been hanging in the air,

imprisoned by magic in its own personal time-field.

But during all those hours the original mane of the

spell had been slowly leaking away until the total

magical energy was no longer sufficient to hold it

against the Universe's own powerful normality

field, and when that happened Reality snapped

back in a matter of microseconds. The visible sign

of this was that the bottle suddenly completed the

last part of its parabola and burst against the side

of the Guestmaster's head, showering the guards

with glass and jellyfish wine.

Rincewind grabbed Twoflower's arm, kicked the

nearest guard in the groin, and dragged the

startled tourist into the corridor. Before the

stunned Garhartra had sunk to the floor his two

guests were already pounding across distant flagstones.

Rincewind skidded around a corner and found

himself on a balcony that ran around the four sides

of a courtyard. Below them, most of the floor of the

yard was taken up by an ornamental pond in

which a few terrapins sunbathed among the lily

leaves.

And ahead of Rincewind were a couple of very

surprised wizards wearing the distinctive dark

blue and black robes of trained hydrophobes. One

of them, quicker on the uptake than his companion,

raised a hand and began the first words of a spell.

There was a short sharp noise by Rincewind's

side. Twoflower had spat. The hydrophobe

screamed and dropped his hand as though it had

been stung.

The other didn't have time to move before Rincewind

was on him, fists swinging wildly. One stiff

punch with the weight of terror behind it sent

the man tumbling over the balcony rail and into

the pond, which did a very strange thing; the water

smacked aside as though a large invisible balloon

had been dropped into it, and the hydrophobe hung

screaming in his own revulsion field.

Twoflower watched him in amazement until

Rincewind snatched at his shoulder and indicated

a likely looking passage. They hurried down it,

leaving the remaining hydrophobe writhing on the

floor and snatching at his damp hand.

For a while there was some shouting behind

them, but they scuttled along a cross corridor and

another courtyard and soon left the sounds of

pursuit behind. Finally Rincewind picked a safe

looking door, peered around it, found the room

beyond to be unoccupied, dragged Twoflower

inside, and slammed it behind him. Then he leaned

against it, wheezing horribly.

'We're totally lost in a palace on an island we

haven't a hope of leaving,' he panted.'And what's

more we-hey!' he finished, as the sight of the

contents of the room filtered up his deranged optic

nerves.

Twoflower was already staring at the walls.

Because what was so odd about the room was, it

contained the whole Universe.

Death sat in His garden, running a whetstone

along the edge of His scythe. It was already so

sharp that any passing breeze that blew across it

was sliced smoothly into two puzzled zephyrs,

although breezes were rare indeed in Death's silent

garden. It lay on a sheltered plateau overlooking

the Disc world's complex dimensions, and behind

it loomed the cold, still, immensely high and

brooding mountains of Eternity.

Swish! went the stone. Death hummed a dirge,

and tapped one bony foot on the frosty flagstones.

Someone approached through the dim orchard

where the nightapples grew, and there came the

sickly sweet smell of crushed lilies. Death looked

up angrily, and found Himself staring into eyes

that were black as the inside of a cat and full of

distant stars that had no counterpart among the

familiar constellations of the Realtime universe.

Death and Fate looked at each other. Death

grinned - He had no alternative, of course, being

made of implacable bone. The whetstone sang

rhythmically along the blade as He continued His

task.

'I have a task for you,' said Fate. His words

drifted across death's scythe and split tidily into

two ribbons of consonants and vowels.

I HAVE TASKS ENOUGH THIS DAY, said Death in a

voice as heavy as neutronium, THE WHITE PLAGUE

ABIDES EVEN NOW IN PSEUDOPOLIS AND I AM BOUND

THERE TO RESCUE MANY OF ITS CITIZENS FROM HIS

GRASP. SUCH A ONE HAS NOT BEEN SEEN THESE

HUNDRED YEARS. I AM EXPECTED TO STALK THE

STREETS, AS IS MY DUTY.

'I refer to the matter of the little wanderer and

the rogue wizard,' said Fate softly, seating himself

beside Death's black-robed form and staring down

at the,distant, multifaceted jewel which was the

Disc universe as seen from this extra-dimensional

vantage point.

The scythe ceased its song.

'They die in a few hours,' said Fate. 'It is fated.'

Death stirred, and the stone began to move again.

'I thought you would be pleased,' said Fate.

Death shrugged, a particularly expressive gesture

for someone whose visible shape was that of a

skeleton.

I DID INDEED CHASE THEM MIGHTILY. ONCE, he

said, BUT AT LAST THE THOUGHT CAME TO ME THAT

SOONER OR LATER AlL MEN MUST DIE. EVERYTHING

DIES IN THE END. I CAN BE ROBBED BUT NEVER

DENIED, I TOLD MYSELF. WHY WORRY?

'I too cannot be cheated,' snapped Fate.

SO I HAVE HEARD, said Death, still grinning.

'Enough!' shouted Fate, jumping to his feet.

'They will die!' He vanished in a sheet of blue fire.

Death nodded to Himself and continued at His

work. After some minutes the edge of the blade

seemed to be finished to His satisfaction. He stood

up and levelled the scythe at the fat and noisome

candle that burned on the edge of the bench and

then, with two deft sweeps, cut the flame into three

bright slivers. Death grinned.

A short while later he was saddling his white

stallion, which lived in a stable at the back of

Death's cottage. The beast snuffled at him in a

friendly fashion; though it was crimson-eyed and

had flanks like oiled silk, it was nevertheless a real

flesh-and-blood horse and, indeed, was in all

probability better treated than most beasts of

burden on the Disc. Death was not an unkind

master. He weighed very little and, although He

often rode back with His saddlebags bulging, they

weighed nothing whatsoever.

'All those worlds!' said Twoflower.'It's fantastic!'

Rincewind grunted, and continued to prowl

warily around the star-filled room. Twoflower

turned to a complicated astrolabe, in the centre of

which was the entire Great A'Tuin-Elephant-Disc

system wrought in brass and picked out with tiny

jewels. Around it stars and planets wheeled on fine

silver wires.

'Fantastic!' he said again. On the walls around

him constellations made of tiny phosphorescent

seed pearls had been picked out on vast tapestries

made of jet-black velvet, giving the room's occupants

the impression of floating in the interstellar

gulf. Various easels held huge sketches of Great

A'Tuin as viewed from various parts of the Circumfence,

with every mighty scale and cratered

pock-mark meticulously marked in. Twoflower

stared about him with a faraway look in his eyes.

Rincewind was deeply troubled. What troubled

him most of all were the two suits that hung from

supports in the centre of the room. He circled them

uneasily.

They appeared to be made of fine white leather,

hung about with straps and brass nozzles and

other highly unfamiliar and suspicious contrivances

. The leggings ended in high, thick-soled

boots, and the arms were shoved into big supple

gauntlets. Strangest of all were the big copper

helmets that were obviously supposed to fit on

heavy collars around the neck of the suits. The

helmets were almost certainly useless for protection

a light sword would have no difficulty in

splitting them, even if it didn't hit the ridiculous

little glass windows in the front. Each helmet had

a crest of white feathers on top, which went

absolutely no way at all towards improving their

overall appearance.

Rincewind was beginning to have the glimmerings

of a suspicion about those suits.

In front of them .was a table covered with

celestial charts and scraps of parchment covered

with figures. Whoever would be wearing those

suits, Rincewind decided, was expecting to boldly

go where no man - other than the occasional

luckless sailor, who didn't really count - had boldly

gone before, and he was now beginning to get not

just a suspicion but a horrible premonition.

He turned round and found Twoflower looking

at him with a speculative expression.

'No-' began Rincewind, urgently. Twoflower

ignored him.

'The goddess said two men were going to be sent

over the Edge,' he said, his eyes gleaming, 'and you

remember Tethis the troll saying you'd need some

kind of protection? The Krullians have got over

that. These are suits of space armour.'

'They don't look very roomy to me,' said

Rincewind hurriedly, and grabbed the tourist by

the arm, 'so if you'd just come on, no sense in

staying here-'

'Why must you always panic?' asked Twoflower

petulantly.

'Because the whole of my future life just flashed

in front of my eyes, and it didn't take very long,

and if you don't move now I'm going to leave

without you because any second now you're going

to suggest that we put on-'

The door opened.

Two husky young men stepped into the room. All

they were wearing was a pair of woollen pants

apiece. One of them was still towelling himself

briskly. They both nodded at the two escapees with

no apparent surprise.

The taller of the two men sat down on one of the

benches in front of the seats. He beckoned to

Rincewind, and said:

'? Ty0 yur atl h0 sooten gatrunen?'

And this was awkward, because although Rincewind

considered himself an expert in most of the

tongues of the western segments of the Disc it was

the first time that he had ever been addressed in

Krullian, and he did not understand one word of it.

Neither did Twoflower, but that did not stop him

stepping forward and taking a breath.

The speed of light through a magical aura such

as the one that surrounded the Disc was quite slow,

being not much faster than the speed of sound in

less highly-tuned universes. But it was still the

fastest thing around with the exception, in moments

like this, of Rincewind's mind.

In an instant he became aware that the tourist

was about to try his own peculiar brand of

linguistics, which meant that he would speak

loudly and slowly in his own language.

Rincewind's elbow shot back, knocking the

breath from Twoflower's body. When the little man

looked up in pain and astonishment Rincewind

caught his eye and pulled an imaginary tongue out

of his mouth and cut it with an imaginary pair of

scissors.

The second chelonaut-for such was the profession

of the men whose fate it would shortly be to

voyage to Great A'Tuin - looked up from the chart

table and watched this in puzzlement. His big

heroic brow wrinkled with the effort of speech.

'? Hor yu latruin nor u?' he said.

Rincewind smiled and nodded and pushed

Twoflower in his general direction. With an inward

sigh of relief he saw the tourist pay sudden

attention to a big brass telescope that lay on the

table.

'! Sooten u!' commanded the seated chelonaut.

Rincewind nodded and smiled and took one of the

big copper helmets from the rack and brought it

down on the man's head as hard as he possibly

could. The chelonaut fell forward with a soft grunt.

The other man took one startled step before

Twoflower hit him amateurishly but effectively

with the telescope. He crumpled on top of his

colleague.

Rincewind and Twoflower looked at each other

over the carnage.

'All right!' snapped Rincewind, aware that he

had lost some kind of contest but not entirely

certain what it was. 'Don't bother to say it.

Someone out there is expecting these two guys to

come out in the suits in a minute. I suppose they

thought we were slaves. Help me hide these behind

the drapes and then, and then-'

'-we'd better suit up,' said Twoflower, picking

up the second helmet.

'Yes,' said Rincewind. 'You know, as soon as I

saw the suits I just knew I'd end up wearing one.

Don't ask me how I knew - I suppose it was

because it was just about the worst possible thing

that was likely to happen.'

'Well, you said yourself we have no way of

escaping,' said Twoflower, his voice muffled as he

pulled the top half of a suit over his head.

'Anything's better than being sacrificed.'

'As soon as we get a chance we run for it,' said

Rincewind. 'Don't get any ideas.'

He thrust an arm savagely into his suit and

banged his head on the helmet. He reflected briefly

that someone up there was watching over him.

'Thanks a lot,' he said bitterly.

At the very edge of the city and country of Krull

was a large semicircular amphitheatre, with seating

for several tens of thousands of people. The

arena was only semi-circular for the very elegant

reason that it overlooked the cloud sea that boiled

up from the Rimfall, far below, and now every seat

was occupied. And the crowd was growing restive.

It had come to see a double sacrifice and also the

launching of the great bronze space ship. Neither

event had yet materialised.

The Arch-Astronomer beckoned the Master

Launchcontroller to him.

'Well?' he said, filling a mere four letters with a

full lexicon of anger and menace. The Master

Launchcontroller went pale.

'No news, lord,' said the Launchcontroller, and

added with a brittle brightness, 'except that your

prominence will be pleased to hear that Garhartra

has recovered.'

'That is a fact he may come to regret,' said the

Arch-Astronomer.

'Yes, lord.'

'How much longer do we have?'

The Launchcontroller glanced at the rapidly-climbing

sun.

'Thirty minutes, your prominence. After that

Krull will have revolved away from Great A'Tuin's

tail and the Potent Voyager will be doomed to spin

away into the interterrapene gulf. I have already

set the automatic controls, so-'

'All right, all right,' the Arch-Astronomer said,

waving him away. 'The launch must go ahead.

Maintain the watch on the harbour, of course.

When the wretched pair are caught I will personally

take a great deal of pleasure in executing them

myself.'

'Yes, lord. Er-'

The Arch-Astronomer frowned. 'What else have

you got to say, man?'

The Launchcontroller swallowed. All this was

very unfair on him, he was a practical magician

rather than a diplomat, and that was why some

wiser brains had seen to it that he would be the one

to pass on the news.

'A monster has come out of the sea and it's

attacking the ships in the harbour,' he said. 'A

runner just arrived from there.'

'A big monster?' said the Arch-Astronomer.

'Not particularly, although it is said to be

exceptionally fierce, lord.'

The ruler of Krull and the Circumfence considered

this for a moment, then shrugged.

'The sea is full of monsters,' he said.'It is one of

its prime attributes. Have it dealt with. AndMaster

Launchcontroller?'

'Lord?'

'If I am further vexed, you will recall that two

people are due to be sacrificed. I may feel generous

and increase the number.'

'Yes, lord.'The Master Launchcontroller scuttled

away, relieved to be out of the autocrat's sight.

The Potent Voyager, no longer the blank bronze

shell that had been smashed from the mould a few

days earlier, rested in its cradle on top of a wooden

tower in the centre of the arena. In front of it a

railway ran down towards the Edge, where for the

space of a few yards it turned suddenly upwards.

The late Dactylos Goldeneyes, who had designed

the launching pad as well as the Potent Voyager

itself, had claimed that this last touch was merely

to ensure that the ship would not snag on any

rocks as it began its long plunge. Maybe it was

merely coincidental that it would also, because of

that little twitch in the track, leap like a salmon

and shine theatrically in the sunlight before disappearing

into the cloud sea.

There was a fanfare of trumpets at the edge of

the arena. The chelonauts' honour guard appeared,

to much cheering from the crowd. Then the whitesuited

explorers themselves stepped out into the

light.

It immediately dawned on the Arch-Astronomer

that something was wrong. Heroes always walked

in a certain way, for example. They certainly didn't

waddle, and one of the chelonauts was definitely

waddling.

The roar of the assembled people of Krull was

deafening. As the chelonauts and their guards

crossed the great arena, passing between the many

altars that had been set up for the various wizards

and priests of Krull's many sects to ensure the

success of the launch, the Arch-Astronomer frowned.

By the time the party was halfway across the floor

his mind had reached a conclusion. By the time the

chelonauts were standing at the foot of the ladder

that led to the ship-and was there more than a

hint of reluctance about them? - the Arch-Astronomer

was on his feet, his words lost in the noise of

the crowd. One of his arms shot out and back

fingers spread dramatically in the traditional

spell-casting position, and any passing lip-reader

who was also familiar with the standard texts on

magic would have recognized the opening words of

Vestcake's Floating Curse, and would then have

prudently run away.

Its final words remained unsaid, however. The

Arch-Astronomer turned in astonishment as a

commotion broke out around the big arched

entrance to the arena. Guards were running out

into the daylight, throwing down their weapons as

they scuttled among the altars or vaulted the

parapet into the stands.

Something emerged behind them, and the crowd

around the entrance ceased its raucous cheering

and began a silent, determined scramble to get out

of the way.

The something was a low dome of seaweed,

moving slowly but with a sinister sense of purpose.

One guard overcame his horror sufficiently to

stand in its path and hurl his spear, which landed

squarely among the weeds. The crowd cheered then

went deathly silent as the dome surged

forward and engulfed the man completely.

The Arch-Astronomer dismissed the half-formed

shape of Vestcake's famous Curse with a sharP

wave of his hand, and quickly spoke the words of

one of the most powerful spells in his repertoire: the

Infernal Combustion Enigma.

Octarine fire spiralled around and between his

fingers as he shaped the complex rune of the spell

in mid-air and sent it, screaming and trailing blue

smoke, towards the shape.

There was a satisfying explosion and a gout of

flame shot up into the clear morning sky, shedding

flakes of burning seaweed on the way. A cloud of

smoke and steam concealed the monster for several

minutes, and when it cleared the dome had completely

disappeared.

There was a large charred circle on the flagstones,

however, in which a few clumps of kelp and

bladderwrack still smouldered.

And in the centre of the circle was a perfectly

ordinary, if somewhat large, wooden chest. It was

not even scorched. Someone on the far side of the

arena started to laugh, but the sound was broken

off abruptly as the chest rose up on dozens of what

could only be legs and turned to face the Arch-Astronomer.

A perfectly ordinary if somewhat

large wooden chest does not, of course, have a face

with which to face, but this one was quite definitely

facing. In precisely the same way as he understood

that, the Arch-Astronomer was also horribly aware

that this perfectly normal box was in some

indescribable way narrowing its eyes.

It began to move resolutely towards him. He

shuddered.

'Magicians!' he screamed. 'Where are my magicians?'

Around the arena pale-faced men peeped out

from behind altars and under benches. One of the

bolder ones, seeing the expression on the Arch-Astronomer's

face, raised an arm tremulously and

essayed a hasty thunderbolt. It hissed towards the

chest and struck it squarely in a shower of white

sparks.

That was the signal for every magician,

enchanter and thaumaturgist in Krull to leap up

eagerly and, under the terrified eyes of their

master, unleash the first spell that came to each

desperate mind. Charms curved and whistled

through the air.

Soon the chest was lost to view again in an

expanding cloud of magical particles, which billowed

out and wreathed it in twisting, disquieting

shapes. Spell after spell screamed into the melee.

Flame and lightning bolts of all eight colours

stabbed out brightly from the seething thing that

now occupied the space where the box had been.

Not since the Mage Wars had so much magic

been concentrated on one small area. The air itself

wavered and glittered. Spell ricocheted off spell,

creating short-lived wild spells whose brief half-life

was both weird and uncontrolled. The stones under

the heaving mass began to buckle and split. One of

them in fact turned into something best left

undescribed and slunk off into some dismal

dimension. Other strange side-effects began to

manifest themselves. A shower of small lead cubes

bounced out of the storm and rolled across the

heaving floor, and eldritch shapes gibbered and

beckoned obscenely; four-sided triangles and double-ended

circles existed momentarily before merging

again into the booming, screaming tower of runaway

raw magic that boiled up from the molten

flagstones and spread out over Krull. It no longer

mattered that most of the magicians had ceased

their spell casting and fled - the thing was now

feeding on the stream of octarine particles that

were always at their thickest near the Edge of the

Disc. Throughout the island of Krull every magical

activity failed as all the available mana in the area

was sucked into the cloud, which was already a

quarter of a mile high and streaming out into

mind-curdling shapes; hydrophobes on their seaskimming

lenses crashed screaming into the waves,

magic potions turned to mere impure water in their

phials, magic swords melted and dripped from

their scabbards.

But none of this in any way prevented the thing

at the base of the cloud, now gleaming mirrorbright

in the intensity of the power storm around

it, from moving at a steady walking pace towards

the Arch-Astronomer.

Rincewind and Twoflower watched in awe from

the shelter of Potent Voyager's launch tower. The

honour party had long since vanished, leaving

their weapons scattered behind them.

'Well,' sighed Twoflower at last, 'there goes the

Luggage.' He sighed.

'Don't you believe it,' said Rincewind. 'Sapient

pearwood is totally impervious to all known forms

of magic. It's been constructed to follow you

anywhere. I mean, when you die, if you go to

Heaven, you'll at least have a clean pair of socks in

the afterlife. But I don't want to die yet, so let's just

get going, shall we?'

'Where?' said Twoflower.

Rincewind picked up a crossbow and a handful

of quarrels. 'Anywhere that isn't here,' he said.

'What about the Luggage?'

'Don't worry. When the storm has used up all the

free magic in the vicinity it'll just die out.'

In fact that was already beginning to happen.

The billowing cloud was still flowing up from the

area but now it had a tenuous, harmless look about

it. Even as Twoflower stared, it began to flicker

uncertainly.

Soon it was a pale ghost. The luggage was now

visible as a squat shape among the almost

invisible flames. Around it the rapidly cooling

stones began to crack and buckle.

Twoflower called softly to his luggage. It

stopped its stolid progression across the tortured

flags and appeared to be listening intently; then,

moving its dozens of feet in an intricate pattern, it

turned on its length and headed towards the Potent

Voyager. Rincewind watched it sourly. The Luggage

had an elemental nature, absolutely no brain,

a homicidal attitude towards anything that threatened

its master, and he wasn't quite sure that its

inside occupied the same space-time framework as

its outside.

'Not a mark on it,' said Twoflower cheerfully, as

the box settled down in front of him. He pushed

open the lid.

'This is a fine time to change your underwear,'

snarled Rincewind. 'In a minute all those guards

and priests are going to come back, and they're

going to be upset, man!'

'Water,' murmured Twoflower. 'The whole box is

full of water!'

Rincewind peered over his shoulder. There was

no sign of clothes, moneybags, or any other of the

tourist's belongings. The whole box was full of

water.

A wave sprang up from nowhere and lapped over

the edge. It hit the flagstones but, instead of

spreading out, began to take the shape of-a foot.

Another foot and the bottom half of a pair of legs

followed as more water streamed down as if filling

an invisible mould. A moment later Tethis the sea

troll was standing in front of them, blinking.

'I see,' he said at last. 'You two. I suppose I

shouldn't be surprised.'

He looked around, ignoring their astonished

expressions.

'I was just sitting outside my hut, watching the

sun set, when this thing came roaring up out of the

water and swallowed me,' he said. 'I thought it was

rather strange. Where is this place?'

'Krull,' said Rincewind. He stared hard at the

now closed luggage, which was managing to

project a smug expression. Swallowing people was

something it did quite frequently, but always when

the lid was next opened there was nothing inside

but Twoflower's laundry. Savagely he wrenched

the lid up. There was nothing inside but Twoflower's

laundry. It was perfectly dry.

'Well, well,' said Tethis. He looked up.

'Hey!' he said. 'Isn't this the ship they're going to

send over the Edge? Isn't it? It must be!'

An arrow zipped through his chest, leaving a

faint ripple. He didn't appear to notice. Rincewind

did. Soldiers were beginning to appear at the edge

of the arena, and a number of them were peering

around the entrances.

Another arrow bounced off the tower behind

Twoflower. At this range the bolts did not have a

lot of force, but it would only be a matter of time . . .

'Quick!' said Twoflower. 'Into the ship! They

won't dare fire at that!'

'I knew you were going to suggest that,' groaned

Rincewind. 'I just knew it!'

He aimed a kick at the Luggage. It backed off a

few inches, and opened its lid threateningly.

A spear arced out of the sky and trembled to a

halt in the woodwork by the wizard's ear. He

screamed briefly and scrambled up the ladder after

the others.

Arrows whistled around them as theY came out

on to the narrow catwalk that led along the spine

of the Potent Voyager. Twoflower led the way,

jogging along with what Rincewind considered to

be too much suppressed excitement.

Atop the centre of the ship was a large round

bronze hatch with hasps around it. The troll and

the tourist knelt down and started to work on them.

In the heart of the Potent Voyager fine sand had

been trickling into a carefully designed cup for

several hours. Now the cup was filled by exactly

the right amount to dip down and upset a carefully-balanced

weight. The weight swung away, pulling

a pin from an intricate little mechanism. A chain

began to move. There was a clonk . . .

'What was that?' said Rincewind urgently. He

looked down.

The hail of arrows had stopped. The crowd of

priests and soldiers were standing motionless,

staring intently at the ship. A small worried man

elbowed his way through them and started to shout

something.

'What was what?' said Twoflower, busy with a

wing-nut.

'I thought I heard something,' said Rincewind.

'Look,' he said,'we'll threaten to damage the thing

if they don't let us go, right? That's all we're going

to do, right?'

'Yah,' said Twoflower vaguely. He sat back on

his heels. 'That's it,' he said. 'It ought to lift off

now.'

Several muscular men were swarming up the

ladder to the ship. Rincewind recognized the two

chelonauts among them. They were carrying swords.

'I-' he began.

The ship lurched. Then, with infinite slowness, it

began to move along the rails.

In that moment of black horror Rincewind saw

that Twoflower and the troll had managed to pull

the hatch up. A metal ladder inside led into the

cabin below. The troll disappeared.

'We've got to get off,' whispered Rincewind.

Twoflower looked at him, a strange mad smile on

his face.

'Stars,' said the tourist.'Worlds. The whole damn

sky full of worlds. Places no-one will ever see.

Except me.' He stepped through the hatchway.

'You're totally mad,' said Rincewind hoarsely,

trying to keep his balance as the ship began to

speed up. He turned as one of the chelonauts tried

to leap the gap between the Voyager and the tower,

landed on the curving flank of the ship, scrabbled

for an instant for purchase, failed to find any, and

dropped away with a shriek.

The Voyager was travelling quite fast now. Rincewind

could see past Twoflower's head to the sunlit

cloud sea and the impossible Rimbow, floating

tantalisingly beyond it, beckoning fools to venture

too far . . .

He also saw a gang of men climbing desperately

over the lower slopes of the launching ramp and

manhandling a large baulk of timber on to the

track, in a frantic attempt to derail the ship before

it vanished over the Edge. The wheels slammed

into it, but the only effect was to make the ship

rock, Twoflower to lose his grip on the ladder and

fall into the cabin, and the hatch to slam down

with the horrible sound of a dozen fiddly little

catches snapping into place. Rincewind dived

forward and scrabbled at them, whimpering.

The cloud sea was much nearer now. The Edge

itself, a rocky perimeter to the arena, was startlingly

close.

Rincewind stood up. There was only one thing to

do now, and he did it. He panicked blindly, just as

the ship's bogeys hit the little upgrade and flung it

sparkling like a salmon, into the sky and over the

Edge.

A few seconds later there was a thunder of little

feet and the Luggage cleared the rim of the world,

legs still pumping determinedly, and plunged down

into the Universe.

THE END

Rincewind woke up and shivered. He was freezing

cold.

So this is it, he thought. When you die you go to a

cold, damp, misty freezing place. Hades, where the

mournful spirits of the Dead troop forever across

the sorrowful marshes, corpse-lights flickering fit

fully in the encircling-hang on a minute . . .

Surely Hades wasn't this uncomfortable? And he

was very uncomfortable indeed. His back ached

where a branch was pressing into it, his legs and

arms hurt where the twigs had lacerated them and,

judging by the way his head was feeling, something

hard had recently hit it. If this was Hades it sure

was hell-hang on a minute . . .

Tree. He concentrated on the word that floated up

from his mind, although the buzzing in his ears and

the flashing lights in front of his eyes made this an

unexpected achievement. Tree. Wooden thing. That

was it. Branches and twigs and things. And

Rincewind, lying in it. Tree. Dripping wet. Cold

white cloud all around. Underneath, too. Now that

was odd.

He was alive and lying covered in bruises in a

small thorn tree that was growing in a crevice in a

rock that projected out of the foaming white wall

that was the Rimfall. The realization hit him in

much the same way as an icy hammer. He shuddered.

The tree gave a warning creak.

Something blue and blurred shot past him, dipped

briefly into the thundering waters, and whirred

back and settled on a branch near Rincewind's

head. It was a small bird with a tuft of blue and

green feathers. It swallowed the little silver fish

that it had snatched from the Fall and eyed him

curiously.

Rincewind became aware that there were lots of

similar birds around.

They hovered, darted and swooped easily across

the face of the water, and every so often one would

raise an extra plume of spray as it stole another

doomed morsel from the waterfall. Several of them

were perching in the tree. They were as iridescent as

jewels. Rincewind was entranced.

He was in fact the first man ever to see the

rimfishers, the tiny creatures who had long ago

evolved a lifestyle quite unique even for the Disc.

long before the Krullians had built the Circumfence

the rimfishers had devised their own efficient

method of policing the edge of the world for a living.

They didn't seem bothered about Rincewind. He

had a brief but chilling vision of himself living the

rest of his life out in this tree, subsisting on raw

birds and such fish as he could snatch as they

plummeted past.

The tree moved distinctly. Rincewind gave a

whimper as he found himself sliding backwards,

but managed to grab a branch. Only, sooner or

later, he would fall asleep . . .

There was a subtle change of scene, a slight

purplish tint to the sky. A tall, black-cloaked figure

was standing on the air next to the tree. It had a

scythe in one hand. Its face was hidden in the

shadows of the hood.

I HAVE COME FOR THEE, said the invisible mouth,

in tones as heavy as a whale's heartbeat.

The trunk of the tree gave another protesting

creak, and a pebble bounced off Rincewind's helmet

as one root tore loose from the rock.

Death Himself always came in person to harvest

the souls of wizards.

'What am I going to die of?' said Rincewind.

The tall figure hesitated.

PARDoN? it said.

'Well, I haven't broken anything, and I haven't

drowned, so what am I about to die of-? You can't just

be killed by Death; there has to be a reason,' said

Rincewind. To his utter amazement he didn't feel

terrified any more. For about the first time in his life

he wasn't frightened. Pity the experience didn't look

like lasting for long.

Death appeared to reach a conclusion. !

YOU COUlD DIE OF TERROR, the hood intoned. The

voice still had its graveyard ring, but there was a

slight tremor of uncertainty.

'Won't work,' said Rincewind smugly.

THERE DOESN'T HAVE TO BE A REASON, said Death,

I CAN JUST KILL YOU.

'Hey, you can't do that! It'd be murder!'

The cowled figure sighed and pulled back its . hood. Instead of the

grinning death's head that

Rincewind had been expecting he found himself

looking up into the pale and slightly transparent

face of a rather worried demon, of sorts.

'I'm making rather a mess of this, aren't I?' it

said wearily.

'You're not Death! Who are you?' cried Rincewind.

'

Scrofula.'

'Scrofula ?'

'Death couldn't come,' said the demon wretchedly.

'There's a big plague on in Pseudopolis. He had to

go and stalk the streets. So he sent me.'

'No-one dies of scrofula! I've got rights. I'm a

wizard!'

'All right, all right. This was going to be my big

chance,' said Scrofula, 'but look at it this way - if I

hit you with this scythe you'll be just as dead as

you would be if Death had done it. Who'd know?'

'I'd know!' snapped Rincewind.

'You wouldn't. You'd be dead,' said Scrofula

logically.

'Piss off,' said Rincewind.

'That's all very well,' said the demon, hefting the

scythe' 'but why not try to see things from my

point of view? This means a lot to me, and you've

got to admit that your life isn't all that wonderful.

Reincarnation can only be an improvement-uh.'

His hand flew to his mouth but Rincewind was

already pointing a trembling finger at him.

'Reincarnation!' he said excitedly. 'So it is true

what the mystics say!'

'I'm admitting nothing,' said Scrofula testily.'It

was a slip of the tongue. Now-are you going to die

willingly or not?'

'No,' said Rincewind.

'Please yourself,' replied the demon. He raised

the scythe. It whistled down in quite a professional

way, but Rincewind wasn't there. He was in fact

several metres below, and the distance was increasing

all the time, because the branch had chosen

that moment to snap and send him on his interrupted

journey towards the interstellar gulf.

'Come back!' screamed the demon.

Rincewind didn't answer. He was lying belly

down in the rushing air, staring down into the

clouds that even now were thinning.

They vanished.

Below, the whole Universe twinkled at Rincewind.

There was Great A'Tuin, huge and ponderous

and pocked with craters. There was the little

Disc moon. There was a distant gleam that could

only be the Potent Voyager. And there were all the

stars, looking remarkably like powdered diamonds

spilled on black velvet, the stars that lured and

ultimately called the boldest towards them. . .

The whole of Creation was waiting for Rincewind

to drop in.

He did so.

There didn't seem to be any alternative.

THE END