Interesting Times

'When the people see the power of the Great Wizard they will speak of it for ever!' said Lotus Blossom.

'Probably,' muttered Rincewind.

The cadre stopped talking, although it was only possible to notice this by watching their closed mouths. The hole left by their silence was soon filled by the babble of the market.

Rincewind rolled up his sleeves.

He wasn't even certain about a spell for blowing things up…

He waved a hand vaguely.

'I should stand well back, everyone,' said Herb, grinning unpleasantly.

'Quanti canicula ilia in fenestre?' said Rincewind. 'Er…'

He stared desperately at the wall and, with that heightened perception that comes to those on the edge of terror, noticed a cauldron half hidden in the timber. There seemed to be a little glowing string attached to it.

'Er,' he said, 'there seems to be—'

'Having problems?' said Herb, nastily.

Rincewind squared his shoulders.

'—' he said.

There was a sound like a marshmallow gently landing on a plate, and everything in front of him went white.

Then the white turned red, streaked with black, and the terrible noise clapped its hands across his ears.

A crescent-shaped piece of something glowing, scythed the top off his hat and embedded itself in the nearest house, which caught fire.

There was a strong smell of burning eyebrows.

When the debris settled Rincewind saw quite a large hole in the wall. Around its edge the brickwork, now a red-hot ceramic, started to cool with a noise like glinka-glinka.

He looked down at his soot-blackened hands.

'Gosh,' he said.

And then he said, 'All rightl'

And then he turned and began to say, 'How about that, then?' but his voice faded when it became apparent that everyone was lying flat on the ground.

A duck watched him suspiciously from its cage. Owing to the slight protection afforded by the bars, its feathers were patterned alternately natural and crispy.

He'd always wanted to do magic like that. He'd always been able to visualize it perfectly. He'd just never been able to do it…

A number of guards appeared in the gap. One, whose ferocity of helmet suggested that he was an officer, glared at the charred hole and then at Rincewind.

'Did you do this?' he demanded.

'Stand back!' shouted Rincewind, drunk with power. 'I'm the Great Wizard, I am! You see this finger? Don't make me use it!'

The officer nodded to a couple of his men.

'Get him.'

Rincewind took a step back.

'I warn you! Anyone lays a hand on me, he'll be eating flies and hopping for the rest of his life!'

The guards advanced with the determination of those who were prepared to risk the uncertainty of magic against the definite prospect of punishment for disobeying orders.

'Stand back! This could go off! All right, then, since you force—'

He waved his hand. He snapped his fingers a few times.

'Er—'

The guards, after checking that they were still the same shape, each grabbed an arm.

'It may be delayed action,' he ventured, as they gripped harder.

'Alternatively, would you be interested in hearing a famous quotation?' he said. His feet were lifted off the ground. 'Or perhaps not?' Rincewind, running absent-mindedly in mid-air, was brought in front of the officer.

'On your knees, rebel!' said the officer.

'I'd like to, but—'

'I saw what you did to Captain Four White Fox!'

'What? Who's he?'

'Take… him… to… the… Emperor.'

As he was dragged off Rincewind saw, for one brief moment, the guards closing on the Red Army, swords flashing…

A metal plate shuddered for a moment, and then dropped on the floor.

'Careful!'

'I ain't used to being careful! Bruce the Hoon wasn't care—'

'Shut up about Bruce the Hoon!'

'Well, dang you too!'

'Whut?'

'Anyone out there?'

Cohen stuck his head out of the pipe. The room was dark, damp and full of pipes and runnels. Water went off in every direction to feed fountains and cisterns.

'No,' he said, in a disappointed voice.

'Very well. Everyone out of the pipe.'

There was some echoey swearing and the scrape of metal as Hamish's wheelchair was manoeuvred into the long, low cellar.

Mr Saveloy lit a match as the Horde spread out and examined their surroundings.

'Congratulations, gentlemen,' he said. 'I believe we are in the palace.'

'Yeah,' said Truckle. 'We've conquered a f— a lovemaking pipe. What good is that?'

'We could rape it,' said Caleb hopefully.

'Hey, this wheel thing turns… '

'What's a lovemaking pipe?'

'What does this lever do?'

'Whut?'

'How about we find a door, rush out, and kill everyone?'

Mr Saveloy closed his eyes. There was something familiar about this situation, and now he realized what it was. He'd once taken an entire class on a school trip to the city armoury. His right leg still hurt him on wet days.

'No, no, no!' he said. 'What good would that do? Boy Willie, please don't pull that lever.'

'Well, I'd feel better, for one,' said Cohen. 'Ain't killed anyone all day except a guard, and they hardly count.'

'Remember that we're here for theft, not murder,' said Mr Saveloy. 'Now, please, out of all that wet leather and into your nice new clothes.'

'I don't like this part,' said Cohen, pulling on a shirt. 'I like people to know who I was.'

'Yeah,' said Boy Willie. 'Without our leather and mail people'll just think we're a load of old men.'

'Exactly,' said Mr Saveloy. 'That is part of the subterfuge.'

'Is that like tactics?' said Cohen.

'Yes.'

'All right, but I don't like it,' said Old Vincent. 'S'posing we win? What kind of song will the minstrels sing about people who invaded through a pipe?'

'An echoey one,' said Boy Willie.

'They won't sing anything like that,' said Cohen firmly. 'You pay a minstrel enough, he'll sing whatever you