And all the time the rain fell, a solid curtain of water. It didn't look natural. It was as though the sea had decided to reclaim the land by air drop.
Rincewind shut his eyes. Mud covered the armour. He couldn't make out the pictures any more, and that was something of a relief because he was pretty certain he was messing things up. You could see what any warrior was seeing — at least, presumably you could, if you knew what some of the odder pictures actually did and how to press them in the right order. Rincewind didn't, and in any case whoever had made the magic armour hadn't assumed it would be used in knee-deep mud during a vertical river. Every now and again it sizzled. One of the boots was getting hot.
It had started out so well! But there had been what he was coming to think of as the Rincewind factor. Probably some other wizard would have marched the army out and wouldn't have been rained on and even now would be parading through the streets of Hunghung while people threw flowers and said, "My word, there's a Great Wizard and no mistake."
Some other wizard wouldn't have pressed the wrong picture and started the things digging.
He realized he was wallowing in self-pity. Rather more pertinently, he was also wallowing in mud. And he was sinking. Trying to pull a foot out was no use — it didn't work, and the other foot only went deeper, and got hotter.
Lightning struck the ground nearby. He heard it sizzle, saw the steam, felt the tingle of electricity and tasted the taste of burning tin.
Another bolt hit a warrior. Its torso exploded, raining a sticky black tar. The legs kept going for a few steps, and then stopped.
Water poured past him, thick and red now that the river Hung was overflowing. And the mud continued to suck on his feet like a hollow tooth.
Something swirled past on the muddy water. It looked like a scrap of paper.
Rincewind hesitated, then reached out awkwardly with a gloved hand and scooped it up.
It was, as he'd expected, a butterfly.
"Thank you very much," he said, bitterly.
The water drained through his fingers.
He half closed his hand and then sighed and, as gently as he could, manoeuvred the creature on to a finger. Its wings hung damply.
He shielded it with his other hand and blew on the wings a few times.
"Go on, push off."
The butterfly turned. Its multi-faceted eyes glinted green for a moment and then it flapped its wings experimentally.
It stopped raining.
It started to snow, but only where Rincewind was.
"Oh, yes," said Rincewind. "Yes indeed. Oh, thank you so very much."
Life was, he had heard, like a bird which flies out of the darkness and across a crowded hall and then through another window into the endless night again. In Rincewind's case it had managed to do something incontinent in his dinner.
The snow stopped. The clouds pulled back from the dome of the sky with astonishing speed, letting in hot sunlight which almost immediately made the mud steam.
"There you are! We've been looking everywhere!"
Rincewind tried to turn, but the mud made that impossible. There was a wooden thump, as of a plank being laid down on wet ooze.
"Snow on his head? In bright sunshine? I said to myself, that's him all right."
There was the thump of another plank.
A small avalanche slid off the helmet and slid down Rincewind's neck.
Another thump, and a plank squelched into the mud beside him.
"It's me, Twoflower. Are you all right, old friend?"
"I think my foot is being cooked, but apart from that I'm as happy as anything."
"I knew it would be you doing the charades," said Twoflower, sticking his hands under the wizard's shoulders and hauling.
"You got the 'Wind' syllable?" said Rincewind. "That was very hard to do, by remote control."
"Oh, none of us got that," said Twoflower, "but when it did 'ohshitohshitohshit I'm going to die' everyone got that first go. Very inventive. Er. You seem to be stuck."
"I think it's the magic boots."
"Can't you wiggle them off? This mud dries like — well, like terracotta in the sun. Someone can come along and dig them out afterwards."
Rincewind tried to move his feet. There was some sub-mud bubblings and he felt his feet come free, with a muffled slurping noise.
Finally, with considerable effort, he was sitting on the plank.
"Sorry about the warriors," he said. "It looked so simple when I started out, and then I got confused with all the pictures and it was impossible to stop some of them doing things—"
"But it was a famous victory!" said Twoflower.
"Was it?"
"Mr Cohen's been made Emperor!"
"He has?"
"Well, not made, no-one made him, he just came along and took it. And everyone says he's the pre-incarnation of the first Emperor and he says if you want to be the Great Wizard that's fine by him."
"Sorry? You lost me there…"
"You led the Red Army, didn't you? You made them rise up in the Empire's hour of need?"
"Well, I wouldn't exactly say that I—"
"So the Emperor wants to reward you. Isn't that nice?"
"How do you mean, reward?" said Rincewind, with deep suspicion.
"Not sure, really. Actually, what he said was… " Twoflower's eyes glazed as he tried to recall. "He said, 'You go and find Rincewind and say he might be a bit of a pillock but at least he's straight so he can be Chief Wizard of the Empire or whatever he wants to call it, 'cos I don't trust you foreign…'" Twoflower squinted upwards as he tried to remember Cohen's precise words "'… house of auspicious aspect… scent of pine trees… buggers.'"
The words trickled into Rincewind's ear, slid up into his brain, and started to bang on the walls.
"Chief Wizard?" he said.
"That's what he said. Well… actually what he said was he wanted you to be a blob of swallow's vomit, but that was because he used the low sad tone rather than the high questioning one. He definitely meant wizard."
"Of the whole Empire?"
Rincewind stood up.
"Something very bad is about to happen," he said flatly.
The sky was quite blue now. A few citizens had ventured on to the battlefield to tend the wounded and retrieve the dead. Terracotta warriors stood at various angles, motionless as rocks.
"Any minute now," said Rincewind.
"Shouldn't we get back?"
"Probably a meteorite strike," said Rincewind.
Twoflower looked up at the peaceful sky.
"You know me," said Rincewind. "Just when I'm getting a grip on something Fate comes along and jumps on my fingers."
"I don't see any meteorites," said Twoflower. "How long do we wait?"
"It'll be something else, then," said Rincewind. "Someone will come leaping out, or there'll be an earthquake, or something."
"If you insist," said Twoflower, politely. "Um. Do you want to wait for something horrible here or would you like to go back to the palace and have a bath and change your clothes and then see what happens?"
Rincewind conceded that he might as well await a dreadful fate in comfort.
"There's going to be a feast," said Twoflower. "The Emperor says he's going to teach everyone how to quaff."
They made their way, plank by plank, back towards the city.
"You know, I swear you never told me that you were married."
"I'm sure I did."
"I was, er, I was sorry to hear that your wife, er—"
"Things happen in war. I have two dutiful daughters."
Rincewind opened his mouth to say something but Twoflower's bright, brittle smile froze the words in his throat.
They worked without speaking, picking up the planks behind them and extending the walkway in front.
"Looking on the bright side," said Twoflower, breaking the silence, "the Emperor said you could start your own University, if you wanted."
"No! No! Someone hit me with
an iron bar, please!"
"He said he's well in favour of education provided no-one makes him have one. He's been making proclamations like mad. The eunuchs have threatened to go on strike."
Rincewind's plank dropped on to the mud.
"What is it that eunuchs do," he said, "that they stop doing when they go on strike?"
"Serve food, make the beds, things like that."
"Oh."
"They run the Forbidden City, really. But the Emperor talked them round to his point of view."
"Really?"
"He said if they didn't get cracking right now he'd cut off everything else. Um, I think the ground's firm enough now."
His own University. That'd make him… Archchancellor. Rincewind the Archchancellor pictured himself visiting Unseen University. He could have a hat with a really big point. He'd be able to be rude to everyone. He'd—
He tried to stop himself from thinking like that. It'd all go wrong.
"Of course," said Twoflower, "it might be that the bad things have already happened to you. Have you considered that? Perhaps you're due something nice?"
"Don't give me any of that karma stuff," said Rincewind. "The wheel of fortune has lost a few spokes where I'm concerned."
"It's worth considering, though," said Twoflower.
"What, that the rest of my life will be peaceful and enjoyable? Sorry. No. You wait. When my back's turned and — bang!"
Twoflower looked around with some interest.
"I don't know why you think your life has been so bad," he said. "We had a lot of fun when we were younger. Hey, do you remember the time when we went over the edge of the world?"
"Often," said Rincewind. "Usually around 3 a.m."
"And that time we were on a dragon and it disappeared in mid-air?"
"You know," said Rincewind, "sometimes a whole hour will go by when I don't remember that."
"And that time we were attacked by those people who wanted to kill us?"
"Which of those one hundred and forty-nine occasions are you referring to?"
"Character building, that sort of thing," said Twoflower, happily. "Made me what I am today."
"Oh, yes," said Rincewind. It was no effort, talking to Twoflower. The little man's trusting nature had no concept of sarcasm and a keen ability not to hear things that might upset him. "Yes, I can definitely say it was that sort of thing that made me what I am today, too."
They stepped inside the city. The streets were practically empty. Most people had flocked to the huge square in front of the palace. New Emperors tended towards displays of generosity. Besides, the news had got around that this one was different and was giving away free pigs.
"I heard him talking about sending envoys to Ankh-Morpork," said Twoflower, as they dripped up the street. "I expect there's going to be a bit of a fuss about that."
"Was that man Disembowel-Meself-Honourably present at the time?" said Rincewind.
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
"When you visited Ankh-Morpork, did you ever meet a man called Dibbler?"
"Oh, yes."
"If those two ever shake hands I think there might be some sort of explosion."
"But you could go back, I'm sure," said Twoflower. "I mean, your new University will need all sorts of things and, well, I seem to recall that people in Ankh-Morpork were very keen on gold."
Rincewind gritted his teeth. The image wouldn't go away — of Archchancellor Rincewind buying the Tower of Art and getting them to number all the stones and send it back to Hunghung, of Archchancellor Rincewind hiring all the faculty as college porters, of Archchancellor Rincewi…
"No!"
"Pardon?"
"Don't encourage me to think like that! The moment I think that it's all going to be worthwhile something dreadful will happen!"
There was a movement behind him, and a knife suddenly pressed against his throat.
"The Great Blob of Swallow's Vomit?" said a voice by his ear.
"There," said Rincewind. "You see? Run away! Don't stand there, you bloody idiot! Run!"
Twoflower stared for a moment and then turned and scampered away.
"Let him go," said the voice. "He doesn't matter."
Hands pulled him into the alley. He had a vague impression of armour, and mud; his captors were skilled in the way of dragging a prisoner so that he had no chance to get a foothold anywhere.
Then he was flung on to the cobbles.
"He does not look so great to me," said an imperious voice. "Look up, Great Wizard!"
There was some nervous laughter from the soldiers.
"You fools!" raged Lord Hong. "He is just a man! Look at him! Does he look so powerful? He is just a man who has found some old trickery! And we will find out how great he is without his arms and legs."
"Oh," said Rincewind.
Lord Hong leaned down. There was mud on his face and a wild glint in his eyes. "We shall see what your barbarian Emperor can do then, won't we?" He indicated the sullen group of mud-encrusted soldiers. "You know, they half believe you really are a great wizard? That's superstition, I'm afraid. Very useful most of the time, damn inconvenient on occasion. But when we march you into the square and show them how great you really are, I think your barbarian will not have so very long left. What are these?"
He snatched the gloves off Rincewind's hand.
"Toys," he said. "Made things. The Red Army are just machines, like mills and pumps. There's no magic there."
He tossed them aside and nodded at one of the guards.
"And now," said Lord Hong, "let us go to the Imperial Square."
"How'd you like to be governor of Bhangbhangduc and all these islands around here?" said Cohen, as the Horde pored over a map of the Empire. "You like the seaside, Hamish?"
"Whut?"
The doors of the Throne Room were flung open. Twoflower scuttled in, trailed by One Big River.
"Lord Hong's got Rincewind! He's going to kill him!"
Cohen looked up.
"He can wizard himself out of it, can't he?"
"No! He hasn't got the Red Army any more! He's going to kill him! You've got to do something!"
"Ach, well, you know how it is with wizards," said Truckle. "There's too many of 'em as it is—"
"No." Cohen picked up his sword and sighed.
"Come on," he said.
"But, Cohen—"
"I said come on. We ain't like Hong. Rincewind's a weasel, but he's our weasel. So are you coming or what?"
Lord Hong and his group of soldiers had almost reached the bottom of the wide steps to the palace when the Horde emerged. The crowd surrounded them, held back by the soldiers.
Lord Hong held Rincewind tightly, a knife at his throat.
"Ah, Emperor," he said, in Ankh-Morporkian. "We meet again. Check, I think."
"What's he mean?" Cohen whispered.
"He thinks he has you cornered," said Mr Saveloy.
"How's he know I won't just let the wizard die?"
"Psychology of the individual, I'm afraid."
"It doesn't make any sense!" Cohen shouted. "If you kill him, you'll be dead yourself in seconds. I shall see to it pers'nally!"
"Indeed, no," said Lord Hong. "When your… Great Wizard… is dead, when people see how easily he dies… how long will you be Emperor? You won by trickery!"
"What are your terms?" said Mr Saveloy.
"There are none. You can give me nothing I cannot take myself." Lord Hong grabbed Rincewind's hat from one of the guards and rammed it on to Rincewind's head.
"This is yours," he hissed. "'Wizzard' hah! You can't even spell! Well, wizzard? Aren't you going to say something?"
"Oh, no!"
Lord Hong smiled. "Ah, that's better," he said.
"Oh, noooooo!"
"Very good!"
"Aarrgh!"
Lord Hong blinked. For a moment the figure in front of him appeared to stretch to twice its height and then have its feet snap up under its chin.
And t
hen it disappeared, with a small thunderclap.
There was silence in the square, except for the sound of several thousand people being astonished.
Lord Hong waved his hand vaguely in the air.
"Lord Hong?"
He turned. There was a short man behind him, covered in grime and mud. He wore a pair of spectacles, one lens of which was cracked.
Lord Hong hardly glanced at him. He prodded the air again, unwilling to believe his own senses.
"Excuse me, Lord Hong," said the apparition, "but do you by any chance remember Bes Pelargic? About six years ago? I think you were quarrelling with Lord Tang? There was something of a skirmish. A few streets destroyed. Nothing vary major."
Lord Hong blinked.
"How dare you address me!" he managed.
"It doesn't really matter," said Twoflower. "But it's just that I'd have liked you to have remembered. I got… quite angry about it. Er. I want to fight you."
"You want to fight me? Do you know who you are talking to? Have you any idea?"
"Er. Yes. Oh, yes," said Twoflower.
Lord Hong's attention finally focused. It had not been a good day.
"You foolish, stupid little man! You don't even have a sword!"
"Oi! Four-eyes!"
They both turned. Cohen threw his sword. Twoflower caught it clumsily and was almost knocked over by the weight.
"Why did you do that?" said Mr Saveloy.
"Man wants to be a hero. That's fine by me," said Cohen.
"He'll be slaughtered!"
"Might do. Might do. Might do. He might do that, certainly," Cohen conceded. "That's not up to me."
"Father!"
Lotus Blossom grabbed Twoflower's arm.
"He will kill you! Come away!"
"No."
Butterfly took her father's other arm.
"No good purpose will be served," she said. "Come on. We can find a better time—"
"He killed your mother," said Twoflower flatly.
"His soldiers did."
"That makes it worse. He didn't even know. Please get back, both of you."
"Look, Father—"
"If you don't both do what you're told I shall get angry."
Lord Hong drew his long sword. The blade gleamed.
"Do you know anything about fighting, clerk?"
"No, not really," said Twoflower. "But the important thing is that someone should stand up to you. Whatever happens to them afterwards."
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