Interesting Times

Two Little Wang wished he had a few firecrackers to scatter around.
    Being Master of Protocol was even worse than trying to find a rhyme for “orange blossom.”

    Flares lit the alleys of Hunghung. With the Red Army chattering behind him, Rincewind wandered up to the wall of the Forbidden City.
    No one knew better than Rincewind that he was totally incapable of proper magic. He’d only ever done it by accident.
    So he could be sure that if he waved a hand and said some magic words the wall would in all probability become just a little bit less full of holes than it was now.
    It was a shame to disappoint Lotus Blossom, with her body that reminded Rincewind of a plate of crinkle-cut chips, but it was about time she learned that you couldn’t rely on wizards.
    And then he could be out of here. What could Butterfly do to him if he tried and failed? And, much to his surprise, he found himself hoping that, on the way out, he could poke Herb in the eye. He was amazed the others couldn’t spot him for what he was.
    This area of wall was between gates. The life of Hunghung lapped against it like a muddy sea; there were stalls and booths everywhere. Rincewind had thought Ankh-Morpork citizens lived out on the streets, but they were agoraphobes compared to the Hunghungese. Funerals (with associated firecrackers) and wedding parties and religious ceremonies went on alongside, and intermingled with, the normal market activities such as free-form livestock slaughter and world-class arguing.
    Herb pointed to a clear area of wall stacked with timber.
    “Just about there, Great Wizard,” he sneered. “Do not exert yourself unduly. A small hole should be sufficient.”
    “But there’s hundreds of people around!”
    “Is that a problem to such a great wizard? Perhaps you can’t do it with people watching?”
    “I have no doubt that the Great Wizard will astonish us,” said Butterfly.
    “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 illa 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 right! ”
    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