The Light Fantastic

Herrena’s sword spun out of her hand and stood quivering in the dirt. With a snort of satisfaction Cohen brought his own sword back, went momentarily crosseyed, gave a little yelp of pain, and stood absolutely motionless.

Herrena looked at him, puzzled. She made an experimental move in the direction of her own sword and when nothing happened she grasped it, tested its balance, and stared at Cohen. Only his agonised eyes moved to follow her as she circled him cautiously.

‘His back’s gone again!’ whispered Twoflower. ‘What can we do?’

‘We can see if we can catch the horses?’

‘Well,’ said Herrena, ‘I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, and there’s nothing personal about this, you understand.’

She raised her sword in both hands.

There was a sudden movement in the mists and the dull thud of a heavy piece of wood hitting a head. Herrena looked bewildered for a moment, and then fell forward.

Bethan dropped the branch she had been holding and looked at Cohen. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders, stuck her knee in the small of his back, gave a businesslike twist and let him go.

An expression of bliss passed across his face. He gave an experimental bend.

‘It’s gone!’ he said. ‘The back! Gone!’

Twoflower turned to Rincewind.

‘My father used to recommend hanging from the top of a door,’ he said conversationally.

Weems crept very cautiously through the scrubby, mist-laden trees. The pale damp air muffled all sounds, but he was certain that there had been nothing to hear for the past ten minutes. He turned around very slowly, and then allowed himself the luxury of a long, heartfelt sigh. He stepped back into the cover of the bushes.

Something nudged the back of his knees, very gently. Something angular.

He looked down. There seemed to be more feet down there than there ought to be.

There was a short, sharp snap.

The fire was a tiny dot of light in a dark landscape. The moon wasn’t up yet, but the star was a lurking glow on the horizon.

‘It’s circular now,’ said Bethan. ‘It looks like a tiny sun. I’m sure it’s getting hotter, too.’

‘Don’t,’ said Rincewind. ‘As if I hadn’t got enough to worry about.’

‘What I don’t understand,’ said Cohen, who was having his back massaged, ‘ish how they captured you without ush hearing it. We wouldn’t have known at all if your Luggage hadn’t kept jumping up and down.’

‘And whining,’ said Bethan. They all looked at her.

‘Well, it looked as if it was whining,’ she said. ‘I think it’s rather sweet, really.’

Four pairs of eyes turned towards the Luggage, which was squatting on the other side of the fire. It got up, and very pointedly moved back into the shadows.

‘Eashy to feed,’ said Cohen.

‘Hard to lose,’ agreed Rincewind.

‘Loyal,’ suggested Twoflower.

‘Roomy,’ said Cohen.

‘But I wouldn’t say sweet,’ said Rincewind.

‘I shuppose you wouldn’t want to shell it?’ said Cohen.

Twoflower shook his head. ‘I don’t think it would understand,’ he said.

‘No, I shupposhe not,’ said Cohen. He sat up, and bit his lip. ‘I wash looking for a preshent for Bethan, you shee. We’re getting married.’

‘We thought you ought to be the first to know,’ said Bethan, and blushed.

Rincewind didn’t catch Twoflower’s eye.

‘Well, that’s very, er —’

‘Just as soon as we find a town where there’s a priest,’ said Bethan. ‘I want it done properly.’

‘That’s very important,’ said Twoflower seriously. ‘If there were more morals about we wouldn’t be crashing into stars.’

They considered this for a moment. Then Twoflower said brightly, ‘This calls for a celebration. I’ve got some biscuits and water, if you’ve still got some of that jerky.’

‘Oh, good,’ said Rincewind weakly. He beckoned Cohen to one side. With his beard trimmed the old man could easily have passed for seventy on a dark night.

‘This is, uh, serious?’ he said. ‘You’re really going to marry her?’

‘Share thing. Any objections?’

‘Well, no, of course not, but—I mean, she’s seventeen and you’re, you’re, how can I put it, you’re of the elderly persuasion.’

‘Time I shettled down, you mean?’

Rincewind groped for words. ‘You’re seventy years older than her, Cohen. Are you sure that —’

‘I have been married before, you know. I’ve got quite a good memory,’ said Cohen reproachfully.

‘No, what I mean is, well, I mean physically, the point is, what about, you know, the age difference and everything, t’s a matter of health, isn’t it, and —’

‘Ah,’ said Cohen slowly, ‘I shee what you mean. The strain. I hadn’t looked at it like that.’

‘No,’ said Rincewind, straightening up. ‘No, well, that’s only to be expected.’

‘You’ve given me something to think about and no mishtake,’ said Cohen.

‘I hope I haven’t upset anything.’

‘No, no,’ said Cohen vaguely. ‘Don’t apologishe. You were right to point it out.’

He turned and looked at Bethan, who waved at him, and then he looked up at the star that glared through the mists.

Eventually he said, ‘Dangerous times, these.’

‘That’s a fact.’

‘Who knows what tomorrow may bring?’

‘Not me.’