was right in front his mouth, and said hoarsely, ‘I’m afraid of nothing, understand? This wizard stuff, I spit on it.’
‘They all say that until they hear the footsteps,’ said Rincewind. He stopped. A knifepoint was pricking his ribs.
Nothing happened for the rest of the day but, to Rincewind’s satisfaction and Weems’ mounting paranoia, the Luggage showed itself several times. Here it would be perched incongruously on a crag, there it would be half- hidden in a ditch with moss growing over it.
By late afternoon they came to the crest of a hill and looked down on the broad valley of the upper Smarl, the longest river on the Disc. It was already half a mile across, and heavy with the silt that made the lower valley the most fertile area on the continent. A few wisps of early mist wreathed its banks.
‘Shlup,’ said Rincewind. He felt Weems jerk upright in the saddle.
‘Eh?’
‘Just clearing my throat,’ said Rincewind, and grinned. He had put a lot of thought into that grin. It was the sort of grin people use when they stare at your left ear and tell you in an urgent tone of voice that they are being spied on by secret agents from the next galaxy. It was not a grin to inspire confidence. More horrible grins had probably been seen, but only on the sort of grinner that is orange with black stripes, has a long tail and hangs around in jungles looking for victims to grin at.
‘Wipe that off,’ said Herrena, trotting up.
Where the track led down to the river bank there was a crude jetty and a big bronze gong.
‘It’ll summon the ferryman,’ said Herrena. ‘If we cross here we can cut off a big bend in the river. Might even make it to a town tonight.’
Weems looked doubtful. The sun was getting fat and red, and the mists were beginning to thicken.
‘Or maybe you want to spend the night this side of the water?’
Weems picked up the hammer and hit the gong so hard that it spun right around on its hanger and fell off.
They waited in silence. Then with a wet clinking sound a chain sprang out of the water and pulled taut against an iron peg set into the bank. Eventually the slow flat shape of the ferry emerged from the mist, its hooded ferryman heaving on a big wheel set in its centre as he winched his way towards the shore.
The ferry’s flat bottom grated on the gravel, and the hooded figure leaned against the wheel panting.
‘Two at a time,’ it muttered. ‘That’sh all. Jusht two, with horshesh.’
Rincewind swallowed, and tried not to look at Twoflower. The man would probably be grinning and mugging like an idiot. He risked
Twoflower was sitting with his mouth open.
‘You’re not the usual ferryman,’ said Herrena. ‘I’ve been here before, the usual man is a big fellow, sort of —’
‘It’sh hish day off.’
‘Well, okay,’ she said doubtfully. ‘In that case—
Twoflower’s shoulders were shaking, his face had gone red, and he was emitting muffled snorts. Herrena glared at him, then looked hard at the ferryman.
‘Two of you—grab him!’
There was a pause. Then one of the men said, ‘What, the ferryman?’
‘Yes!’
‘Why?’
Herrena looked blank. This sort of thing wasn’t supposed to happen. It was accepted that when someone yelled something like ‘Get him!’ or ‘Guards!’ people jumped to it, they weren’t supposed to sit around discussing things.
‘Because I said so!’ was the best she could manage. The two men nearest to the bowed figure looked at each ther, shrugged, dismounted, and each took a shoulder. The ferryman was about half their size.
‘Like this?’ said one of them. Twoflower was choking for breath.
‘Now I want to see what he’s got under that robe.’ The two men exchanged glances. ‘I’m not sure that—’ said one.
He got no further because a knobbly elbow jerked into his stomach like a piston. His companion looked down incredulously and got the other elbow in the kidneys.
Cohen cursed as he struggled to untangle his sword from his robe while hopping crabwise towards Herrena. Rincewind groaned, gritted his teeth, and jerked his head backwards hard. There was a scream from Weems and Rincewind rolled sideways, landed heavily in the mud, scrambled up madly and looked around for somewhere to hide.
With a cry of triumph Cohen managed to free his sword and waved it triumphantly, severely wounding a man who had been creeping up behind him.
Herrena pushed Twoflower off her horse and fumbled for her own blade. Twoflower tried to stand up and caused the horse of another man to rear, throwing him off and bringing his head down to the right level for Rincewind to kick it as hard as possible. Rincewind would be the first to call himself a rat, but even rats fight in a corner.
Weems’ hands dropped onto his shoulder and a fist like a medium-sized rock slammed into his head.
As he went down he heard Herrena say, quite quietly, ‘Kill them both. I’ll deal with this old fool.’
‘Roight!’ said Weems, and turned towards Twoflower with his sword drawn.
Rincewind saw him hesitate. There was a moment of silence, and then even Herrena could hear the splashing as the Luggage surged ashore, water pouring from it.
Weems stared at it in horror. His sword fell from his hand. He turned and ran into the mists. A moment later he Luggage bounded over Rincewind and followed him.
Herrena lunged at Cohen, who parried the thrust and grunted as his arm twinged. The blades clanged wetly, and then Herrena was forced to back away as a cunning upward sweep from Cohen nearly disarmed her.
Rincewind staggered towards Twoflower and tugged at him ineffectually.
‘Time to be going,’ he muttered.
‘This is great!’ said Twoflower. ‘Did you see the way he—’
‘Yes, yes, come on.’
‘But I want—I say, well done!’
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
