He looked blankly at the book while Twoflower bustled around unheeded and Cohen tried in vain to lever the rings off the stone wizards.
He had to do something, he reminded himself. What was it, now?
He opened the book at the first page and began to read, his lips moving and his forefinger tracing the outline of each letter. As he mumbled each word it appeared soundlessly in the air beside him, in bright colours that streamed away in the night wind. He turned over the page.
Other people were coming up the steps now—star people, citizens, even some of the Patrician’s personal guard. A couple of star people made a half-hearted attempt to approach Rincewind, who was surrounded now by a rainbow swirl of letters and took absolutely no notice of them, but Cohen drew his sword and looked nonchalantly at them and they thought better of it.
Silence spread out from Rincewind’s bent form like ripples in a puddle. It cascaded down the tower and spread out through the milling crowds below, flowed over the walls, gushed darkly through the city, and engulfed the lands beyond.
The bulk of the star loomed silently over the Disc. In the sky around it the new moons turned slowly and noiselessly.
The only sound was Rincewind’s hoarse whispering as he turned page after page.
‘Isn’t this exciting!’ said Twoflower. Cohen, who was rolling a cigarette from the tarry remnants of its ancestors, looked at him blankly, paper halfway to his lips.
‘Isn’t what exciting?’ he said.
‘All this magic!’
‘It’s only lights,’ said Cohen critically. ‘He hasn’t even produced doves out of his sleeves.’
‘Yes, but can’t you sense the occult potentiality?’ said Twoflower.
Cohen produced a big yellow match from somewhere in his tobacco bag, looked at Wert for a moment, and with great deliberation struck the match on his fossilised nose.
‘Look,’ he said to Twoflower, as kindly as he could manage. ‘What do you expect? I’ve been around a long time, I’ve seen the whole magical thing, and I can tell you that if you go around with your jaw dropping all the time people hit it. Anyway, wizard’s die just like anyone else when you stick a—’
There was a loud snap as Rincewind shut the book. He stood up, and looked around.
What happened next was this:
Nothing.
It took a little while for people to realise it. Everyone had ducked instinctively, waiting for the explosion of white light or scintillating fireball or, in the case of Cohen, who had fairly low expectations, a few white pigeons, possibly a slightly crumpled rabbit.
It wasn’t even an interesting nothing. Sometimes things can fail to happen in quite impressive ways, but as far as non-events went this one just couldn’t compete.
‘Is that it?’ said Cohen. There was a general muttering from the crowd, and several of the star people were looking angrily at Rincewind.
The wizard stared wearily at Cohen.
‘I suppose so,’ he said.
‘But nothing’s happened.’
Rincewind looked blankly at the Octavo.
‘Maybe it has a subtle effect?’ he said hopefully. ‘After all, we don’t know exactly what is supposed to happen.’
‘We knew it!’ shouted one of the star people. ‘Magic doesn’t work! It’s all illusion!’
A stone looped over the roof and hit Rincewind on the shoulder.
‘Yeah,’ said another star person. ‘Let’s get him!’
‘Let’s throw him off the tower!’
‘Yeah, let’s get him and throw him off the tower!’
The crowd surged forward. Twoflower held up his hands.
‘I’m sure there’s just been a slight mistake—’ he began, before his legs were kicked from underneath him.
‘Oh bugger,’ said Cohen, dropping his dogend and grinding it under a sandalled foot. He drew his sword and looked around for the Luggage.
It hadn’t rushed to Twoflower’s aid. It was standing in front of Rincewind, who was clutching the Octavo to his chest like a hot-water bottle and looking frantic.
A star man lunged at him. The Luggage raised its lid threateningly.
‘I know why it hasn’t worked,’ said a voice from the back of the crowd. It was Bethan.
‘Oh yeah?’ said the nearest citizen. ‘And why should we listen to you?’
A mere fraction of a second later Cohen’s sword was pressed against his neck.
‘On the other hand,’ said the man evenly, ‘perhaps we should pay attention to what this young lady has got to say.’
As Cohen swung around slowly with his sword at the ready Bethan stepped forward and pointed to the swirling shapes of the spells, which still hung in the air around Rincewind.
‘That one can’t be right,’ she said, indicating a smudge of dirty brown amidst the pulsing, brightly coloured flares.
You must have mispronounced a word. ‘Let’s have a look.’
Rincewind passed her the Octavo without a word.
She opened it and peered the pages.
‘What funny writing,’ she said. ‘It keeps changing. What’s that crocodile thing doing to the octopus?’
Rincewind looked over her shoulder and, without thinking, told her. She was silent for a moment.
‘Oh,’ she said levelly. ‘I didn’t know crocodiles could do that.’
‘It’s just ancient picture writing,’ said Rincewind hurriedly. ‘It’ll change if you wait. The Spells can appear in every known language.’
‘Can you remember what you said when the wrong colour appeared?’
Rincewind ran a finger down the page.
‘There, I think. Where the two-headed lizard is doing—whatever it’s doing.’
Twoflower appeared at her other shoulder. The Spell flowed into another script.
‘I can’t even pronounce it,’ said Bethan. ‘Squiggle, squiggle, dot, dash.’
‘That’s Cupumuguk snow runes,’ said Rincewind. ‘I think it should be pronounced “zph”.’
‘It didn’t work, though. How about “sph”?’
They looked at the word. It remained resolutely off-colour.
‘Or “sff”?’ said Bethan.
‘It might be “tsff”,’ said Rincewind doubtfully. If anything the colour became a dirtier shade of brown.
‘How about “zsff”?’ said Twoflower.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Rincewind. ‘With snow runes the—’
Bethan elbowed him in the stomach and pointed.
The brown shape in the air was now a brilliant red.
The book trembled in her hands. Rincewind grabbed her around the waist, snatched Twoflower by the collar, and jumped backwards.
Bethan lost her grip on the Octavo, which tumbled towards the floor. And didn’t reach it.
* * *
The air around the Octavo glowed. It rose slowly, flapping its pages like wings.
Then there was a plangent, sweet twanging noise and it seemed to explode in a complicated silent flower of light which rushed outwards, faded, and was gone.
But something was happening much further up in the sky…
* * *
Down in the geological depths of Great A’Tuin’s huge brain new thoughts surged along neural pathways the size of arterial roads. It was impossible for a sky turtle to change its expression, but in some indefinable way its scaly, meteor-pocked face looked quite expectant.
It was staring fixedly at the eight spheres endlessly orbiting around the star, on the very beaches of space.
The spheres were cracking.
Huge segments of rock broke away and began the long spiral down to the star. The sky filled with glittering shards.
From the wreckage of one hollow shell a very small sky turtle paddled its way into the red light. It was barely bigger than an asteroid, its shell still shiny with molten yolk.
There were four small world-elephant calves on there, too. And on their backs was a discworld, tiny as yet, covered in smoke and volcanoes.
The young turtles followed, orbiting their parent.{30}
* * *
Twoflower stared raptly at the display overhead. He probably had the best view of anyone on the Disc.
Then a terrible thought occurred to him.
‘Where’s the picture box?’ he asked urgently.
‘What?’ said Rincewind, eyes fixed on the sky.
‘The picture box,’ said Twoflower. ‘I must get a picture of this!’
‘Can’t you just remember it?’ said Bethan, not looking at him.
‘I might forget.’
‘I won’t ever forget,’ she said. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’
‘Much better than pigeons and billiard balls,’ agreed Cohen. ‘I’ll give you that, Rincewind. How’s it done?’
‘I dunno,’ said Rincewind.
‘The star’s getting smaller,’ said Bethan.
Rincewind was vaguely aware of Twoflower’s voice arguing with the demon who lived in the box and painted the pictures. It was quite a technical argument, about field depths and whether or not the demon still had enough red paint.
It should be pointed out that currently Great A’Tuin was very pleased and contented, and feelings like that in a brain the size of several large cities are bound to radiate out. In fact most people on the Disc were currently in a state of mind normally achievable only by a lifetime of dedicated meditation or about thirty seconds of illegal herbage.
That’s old Twoflower, Rincewind thought. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate beauty, he just appreciates it in his own way. I mean, if a poet sees a daffodil he stares at it and writes a long poem about it, but Twoflower wanders off to find a book on botany. And treads on it. It’s right what Cohen said. He just looks at things, but nothing he looks at is ever the same again. Including me, I suspect.
The Disc’s own sun rose. The star was already dwindling, and it wasn’t quite so much competition. Good reliable Disc light poured across the enraptured landscape, like a sea of gold.
Or, as the more reliable observers generally held, like golden syrup.
* * *
That is a nice dramatic ending, but life doesn’t work like that and there were other things that had to happen.
There was the Octavo, for example.
As the sunlight hit it the book snapped shut and started to fall back to the tower. And many of the observers realised that dropping towards them was the single most magical thing on the Discworld.
The feeling of bliss and brotherhood evaporated along with the morning dew. Rincewind and Twoflower were elbowed aside as the crowd surged forward, struggling and trying to climb up one another, hands outstretched.
The Octavo dropped into the centre of the shouting mass. There was a snap. A decisive snap, the sort of snap made by a lid that doesn’t intend to be opening in a hurry.
Rincewind peered between someone’s legs at Twoflower.
‘Do you know what I think’s going to happen?’ he said, grinning.
‘What?’
‘I think that when you open the Luggage there’s just going to be your laundry in there, that’s what I think.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘I think the Octavo knows how to look after itself. Best place for it, really.’
‘I suppose so. You know, sometimes I get the feeling that the Luggage knows exactly what it’s doing.’
‘I know what you mean.’
They crawled to the edge of the milling crowd, stood up, dusted themselves off and headed for the steps. No-one paid them any attention.
‘What are they doing now?’ said Twoflower, trying to see over the heads of the throng.
‘It looks as though they’re trying to lever it open,’ said Rincewind.
There was a snap and a scream.
‘I think the Luggage rather enjoys the attention,’ said Twoflower, as they began their cautious descent.
‘Yes, it probably does it good to get out and meet people,’ said Rincewind, ‘and now I think it’d do me good to go and order a couple of drinks.’
‘Good idea,’ said Twoflower. ‘I’ll have a couple of drinks too.’
* * *
It was nearly noon when Twoflower awoke. He couldn’t remember why he was in a hayloft, or why he was wearing someone else’s coat, but he did wake up with one idea right in the forefront of his mind.
He decided it was vitally important to tell Rincewind about it.
He fell out of the hay and landed on the Luggage.
‘Oh, you’re here, are you?’ he said. ‘I hope you’re ashamed of yourself.’
The Luggage looked bewildered.
‘Anyway, I want to comb my hair. Open up,’ said Twoflower.
The Luggage obligingly flipped its lid. Twoflower rooted around among the bags and boxes inside until he found a comb and mirror and repaired some of the damage of the night. Then he looked hard at the Luggage.
‘I suppose you wouldn’t like to tell me what you’ve done with the Octavo?’
The Luggage’s expression could only be described as wooden.
‘All right. Come on, then.’
Twoflower stepped out into the sunlight, which was slightly too bright for his current tastes, and wandered aimlessly along the street. Everything seemed fresh and new, even the smells, but there didn’t seem to be many people up yet. It had been a long night.
He found Rincewind at the foot of the Tower of Art, supervising a team of workmen who had rigged up a gantry of sorts on the roof and were lowering the stone wizards to the ground. He seemed to be assisted by a monkey, but Twoflower was in no mood to be surprised at anything.
‘Will they be able to be turned back?’ he said.
Rincewind looked around. ‘What? Oh, it’s you. No, probably not. I’m afraid they dropped poor old Wert, anyway. Five hundred feet onto cobbles.’
‘Will you be able to do anything about that?’
‘Make a nice rockery.’ Rincewind turned and waved at the workmen.
‘You’re very cheerful,’ said Twoflower, a shade reproachfully. ‘Didn’t you go to bed?’
‘Funny thing, I couldn’t sleep,’ said Rincewind. ‘I came out for a breath of fresh air, and no-one seemed to have any idea what to do, so I just sort of got people together,’ he indicated the librarian, who tried to hold his hand, ‘and started organising things. Nice day, isn’t it? Air like wine.’
‘Rincewind, I’ve decided that—’
‘You know, I think I might re-enroll,’ said Rincewind cheerfully. ‘I think I could really make a go of things this time. I can really see myself getting to grips with magic and graduating really well. They do say if it’s summa cum laude, then the living is easy—.’{31}
‘Good, because—’
‘There’s plenty of room at the top, too, now all the big boys will be doing doorstop duty, and—’
‘I’m going home.’
‘—a sharp lad with a bit of experience of the world could—what?’
‘Oook?’
‘I said I’m going home,’ repeated Twoflower, making polite little attempts to shake off the librarian, who was trying to pick lice off him.
‘What home?’ said Rincewind, astonished.
‘Home home. My home. Where I live,’ Twoflower explained sheepishly. ‘Back across the sea. You know. Where I came from. Will you please stop doing that?’
‘Oh.’
‘Oook?’
There was a pause. Then Twoflower said, ‘You see, last night it occurred to me, I thought, well, the thing is, all this travelling and seeing things is fine but there’s also a lot of fun to be had from having been. You know, sticking all your pictures in a book and remembering things.’
>
‘There is?’
‘Oook?’
‘Oh, yes. The important thing about having lots of things to remember is that you’ve got to go somewhere afterwards where you can remember them, you see? You’ve got to stop. You haven’t really been anywhere until you’ve got back home. I think that’s what I mean.’
Rincewind ran the sentence across his mind again. It didn’t seem any better second time around.
‘Oh,’ he said again. ‘Well, good. If that’s the way you look at it. When are you going, then?’
‘Today, I think. There’s bound to be a ship going part of the way.’
‘I expect so,’ said Rincewind awkwardly. He looked at his feet. He looked at the sky. He cleared his throat.
‘We’ve been through some times together, eh?’ said Twoflower, nudging him in the ribs.
‘Yeah,’ said Rincewind, contorting his face into something like a grin.
‘You’re not upset, are you?’
‘Who, me?’ said Rincewind. ‘Gosh, no. Hundred and one things to do.’
‘That’s all right, then. Listen, let’s go and have breakfast and then we can go down to the docks.’
Rincewind nodded dismally, turned to his assistant, and took a banana out of his pocket.
‘You’ve got the hang of it now, you take over,’ he muttered.
‘Oook.’
* * *
In fact there wasn’t any ship going anywhere near the Agatean Empire, but that was an academic point because Twoflower simply counted gold pieces into the hand of the first captain with a halfway clean ship until the man suddenly saw the merits of changing his plans.
Rincewind waited on the quayside until Twoflower had finished paying the man about forty times more than his ship was worth.
‘That’s settled, then,’ said Twoflower. ‘He’ll drop me at the Brown Islands and I can easily get a ship from there.’
‘Great,’ said Rincewind.
Twoflower looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he opened the Luggage and pulled out a bag of gold.
‘Have you seen Cohen and Bethan?’ he said.
‘I think they went off to get married,’ said Rincewind. ‘I heard Bethan say it was now or never.’
‘Well, when you see them give them this,’ said Twoflower, handing him the bag. ‘I know it’s expensive, setting up home for the first time.’
The Light Fantastic d-2 Page 21
