Sourcery - Страница 29

‘Funny,’ he said, ‘it always did that at home, too. I wonder what I’m doing wrong.’

‘Search me.’

‘Gosh, I’m sorry,’ said Nijel, as the guards seemed to realise that the entertainment was over and closed in for the kill.

‘Don’t blame yourself—’ said Rincewind, as Nijel reached up and tried unsuccessfully to free the blade.

‘Thank you.’

‘—I’ll do it for you.’

Rincewind considered his next step. In fact, he considered several steps. But the door was too far away and anyway, by the sound of it, things were not a lot healthier out there.

There was only one thing for it. He’d have to try magic.

He raised his hand and two of the men fell over. He raised his other hand and the other two fell over.

Just as he was beginning to wonder about this, Conina stepped daintily over the prone bodies, idly rubbing the sides of her hands.

‘I thought you’d never turn up,’ she said. ‘Who’s your friend?’

———

As has already been indicated, the Luggage seldom shows any sign of emotion, or at least any emotion less extreme than blind rage and hatred, and therefore it is hard to gauge its feelings when it woke up, a few miles outside Al Khali, on its lid in a dried-up wadi with its legs in the air.

Even a few minutes after dawn the air was like the breath of a furnace. After a certain amount of rocking the Luggage managed to get most of its feet pointing the right way, and stood doing a complicated slow-motion jig to keep as few of them on the burning sand as possible.

It wasn’t lost. It always knew exactly where it was. It was always here.

It was just that everywhere else seemed to have been temporarily mislaid.

After some deliberation the Luggage turned and walked very slowly, into a boulder.

It backed away and sat down, rather puzzled. It felt as though it had been stuffed with hot feathers, and it was dimly aware of the benefits of shade and a nice cool drink.

After a few false starts it walked to the top of a nearby sand dune, which gave it an unrivalled view of hundreds of other dunes.

Deep in its heartwood the Luggage was troubled. It had been spurned. It had been told to go away. It had been rejected. It had also drunk enough orakh to poison a small country.

If there is one thing a travel accessory needs more than anything else, it is someone to belong to. The Luggage set off unsteadily across the scorching sand, full of hope.

———

‘I don’t think we’ve got time for introductions,’ said Rincewind, as a distant part of the palace collapsed with a thump that vibrated the floor. ‘It’s time we were—’

He realised he was talking to himself.

Nijel let go of the sword.

Conina stepped forward.

‘Oh, no,’ said Rincewind, but it was far too late. The world had suddenly separated into two parts – the bit which contained Nijel and Conina, and the bit which contained everything else. The air between them crackled. Probably, in their half, a distant orchestra was playing, bluebirds were tweeting, little pink clouds were barrelling through the sky, and all the other things that happen at times like this. When that sort of thing is going on, mere collapsing palaces in the next world don’t stand a chance.

‘Look, perhaps we can just get the introductions over with,’ said Rincewind desperately. ‘Nijel—’

‘—the Destroyer—’ said Nijel dreamily.

‘All right, Nijel the Destroyer,’ said Rincewind, and added, ‘Son of Harebut the—’

‘Mighty,’ said Nijel. Rincewind gaped a bit, and then shrugged.

‘Well, whoever,’ he conceded. ‘Anyway, this is Conina. Which is rather a coincidence, because you’ll be interested to know that her father was mmph.’

Conina, without turning her gaze, had extended a hand and held Rincewind’s face in a gentle grip which, with only a slight increase in finger pressure, could have turned his head into a bowling ball.

‘Although I could be mistaken,’ he added, when she took her hand away. ‘Who knows? Who cares? What does it matter?’

They didn’t take any notice.

‘I’ll just go and see if I can find the hat, shall I?’ he said.

‘Good idea,’ murmured Conina.

‘I expect I shall get murdered, but I don’t mind,’ said Rincewind.

‘Jolly good,’ said Nijel.

‘I don’t expect anyone will even notice I’m gone,’ said Rincewind.

‘Fine, fine,’ said Conina.

‘I shall be chopped into small pieces, I expect,’ said Rincewind, walking towards the door at the speed of a dying snail.

Conina blinked.

‘What hat?’ she said, and then, ‘Oh, that hat.’

‘I suppose there’s no possible chance that you two might be of some assistance?’ Rincewind ventured.

Somewhere inside Conina and Nijel’s private world the bluebirds went to roost, the little pink clouds drifted away and the orchestra packed up and sneaked off to do a private gig at a nightclub somewhere. A bit of reality reasserted itself.

Conina dragged her admiring gaze away from Nijel’s rapt face and turned it on to Rincewind, where it grew slightly cooler.

She sidled across the floor and grabbed the wizard by the arm.

‘Look,’ she said, ‘you won’t tell him who I really am, will you? Only boys get funny ideas and – well, anyway, if you do I will personally break all your—’

‘I’ll be far too busy,’ said Rincewind, ‘what with you helping me get the hat and everything. Not that I can imagine what you see in him,’ he added, haughtily.

‘He’s nice. I don’t seem to meet many nice people.’

‘Yes, well—’

‘He’s looking at us!’

‘So what? You’re not frightened of him, are you?’

‘Suppose he talks to me!’

Rincewind looked blank. Not for the first time in his life, he felt that there were whole areas of human experience that had passed him by, if areas could pass by people. Maybe he had passed them by. He shrugged.

‘Why did you let them take you off to the harem without a fight?’ he said.

‘I’ve always wanted to know what went on in one.’

There was a pause. ‘Well?’ said Rincewind.

‘Well, we all sat round, and then after a bit the Seriph came in, and then he asked me over and said that since I was new it would be my turn, and then, you’ll never guess what he wanted me to do. The girls said it’s the only thing he’s interested in.’

‘Er.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Fine, fine,’ Rincewind muttered.

‘Your face has gone all shiny.’

‘No, I’m fine, fine.’

‘He asked me to tell him a story.’

‘What about?’ said Rincewind suspiciously.

‘The other girls said he prefers something with rabbits in it.’

‘Ah. Rabbits.’

‘Small fluffy white ones. But the only stories I know are the ones father taught me when I was little, and I don’t think they’re really suitable.’

‘Not many rabbits?’

‘Lots of arms and legs being chopped off,’ said Conina, and sighed. ‘That’s why you mustn’t tell him about me you see? I’m just not cut out for a normal life.’

‘Telling stories in a harem isn’t bloody normal,’ said Rincewind. ‘It’ll never catch on.’

‘He’s looking at us again!’ Conina grabbed Rincewind’s arm.

He shook her off. ‘Oh, good grief,’ he said, and hurried across the room to Nijel, who grabbed his other arm.

‘You haven’t been telling her about me, have you?’ he demanded. ‘I’ll never live it down if you’ve told her that I’m only just learning how—’

‘Nonono. She just wants you to help us. It’s a sort of quest.’

Nijel’s eyes gleamed.

‘You mean a geas?’ he said.

‘Pardon?’

‘It’s in the book. To be a proper hero it says you’ve got to labour under a geas.’

Rincewind’s forehead wrinkled. ‘Is it a sort of bird?’

‘I think it’s more a sort of obligation, or something,’ said Nijel, but without much certainty.

‘Sounds more like a kind of bird to me,’ said Rincewind. ‘I’m sure I read it in a bestiary once. Large. Couldn’t fly. Big pink legs, it had.’ His face went blank as his ears digested what they had just heard his lips say.

Five seconds later they were out of the room, leaving behind four prone guards and the harem ladies themselves, who settled down for a bit of storytelling.

———

The desert rimwards of Al Khali is bisected by the river Tsort, famed in myth and lies, which insinuates its way through the brown landscapes like a long damp descriptive passage punctuated with sandbanks. And every sandbank is covered with sunbaked logs, and most of the logs are the kind of logs that have teeth, and most of the logs opened one lazy eye at the distant sounds of splashing from upstream, and suddenly most of the logs had legs. A dozen scaly bodies slipped into the turbid waters, which rolled over them again. The dark waters were unruffled, except for a few inconsequential V-shaped ripples.

The Luggage paddled gently down the stream. The water was making it feel a little better. It spun gently in the weak current, the focus of several mysterious little swirls that sped across the surface of the water.

The ripples converged.

The Luggage jerked. Its lid flew open. It shot under the surface with a brief, despairing creak.

The chocolate-coloured waters of the Tsort rolled back again. They were getting good at it.