Interesting Times

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 then 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 quarreling with Lord Tang? There was something of a skirmish. A few streets destroyed. Nothing very 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.”
    The Horde were watching with considerable interest. Hardened as they were, they had a soft spot for pointless bravery.
    “Yes,” said Lord Hong, looking around at the silent crowd. “Let everyone see what happens.”
    He raised his sword.
    The air crackled.
    The Barking Dog dropped on to the flagstones in front of him.
    It was very hot. Its string was alight.
    There was a brief sizzle.
    Then the world went white.
    After some time, Twoflower picked himself up. He seemed to be the first one upright; those people who hadn’t flung themselves to the ground had fled.
    All that remained of Lord Hong was one shoe, which was smouldering. But there was a smoking trail all the way up the steps behind it.
    Staggering a little, Twoflower followed the trail.
    A wheelchair was on its side, one wheel spinning.
    He peered over it.
    “You all right, Mr. Hamish?”
    “Whut?”
    “Good.”
    The rest of the Horde were crouched in a circle at the top of the steps. Smoke billowed around them. In its continuing passage, the ball had set fire to part of the