Interesting Times

armies are going to—Will you stop looking at me like that? I don’t see why it’s my fault! I’ve got other things to do! It’s not my business!”
    And then he turned and ran.
    The crowds didn’t take much notice of him.
    The streets were deserted by Hunghung standards, which meant you could quite often see the cobbles. Rincewind pushed and shoved his way along the alleys nearest the Wall, looking for another gateway with guards too busy to ask questions.
    There were footsteps behind him.
    “Look,” he said, spinning round, “I told you, you can all—”
    It was the Luggage. It contrived to look a little ashamed of itself.
    “Oh, turned up at last, have we?” said Rincewind savagely. “What happened to the following-master-everywhere thing?”
    The Luggage shuffled its feet. From out of an alleyway came a slightly larger and far more ornate version of itself. Its lid was inset with decorative wood and, it seemed to Rincewind, its feet were rather more dainty than the horny-nailed, calloused ones of the Luggage. Besides, the toenails had been painted.
    “Oh,” he said. “Well. Good grief. Fair enough, I suppose. Really? I mean…yes. Well. Come on, then.”
    He reached the end of the alley and turned round. The Luggage was gently bumping the larger chest, urging it to follow him.
    Rincewind’s own sexual experiences were not excessive although he had seen diagrams. He hadn’t the faintest idea about how it applied to travel accessories. Did they say things like “What a chest!” or “Get a load of the hinges on that one!”?
    If it came to that, he had no real reason for considering that the Luggage was male. Admittedly it had a homicidal nature, but so had a lot of the women that Rincewind had met, and they had often become a little more homicidal as a result of meeting him. Capacity for violence, Rincewind had heard, was unisexual. He wasn’t certain what unisex was, but expected that it was what he normally experienced.
    There was a small gate ahead. It seemed to be unguarded.
    Despite his fear he walked through it, and refrained from running. Authority always noticed a running man. The time to start running was around about the “e” in “Hey, you!”
    No one paid him any attention. The attention of the people along the Wall was all on the armies.
    “Look at them,” he said bitterly, to the generality of the universe. “ Stupid . If it was seven against seventy, everyone’d know who’d lose. Just because it’s seven against 700,000, everyone’s not sure. As though suddenly numbers don’t mean anything any more. Huh! Why should I do anything? It’s not as if I even know the guy all that well. Admittedly he saved my life a couple of times, but that’s no reason to die horribly just because he can’t count. So you can stop looking at me like that!”
    The Luggage backed away a little. The other Luggage…
    …Rincewind supposed it just looked female. Women had bigger luggage than men, didn’t they? Because of the—he moved into unknown territory—extra frills and stuff. It was just one of those things, like the fact that they had smaller handkerchiefs than men even though their noses were generally the same size. The Luggage had always been the Luggage. Rincewind wasn’t mentally prepared for there to be more than one. There was the Luggage and…the other Luggage.
    “Come on, both of you,” he said. “We’re getting out of here. I’ve done what I can. I just don’t care any more. It’s nothing to do with me. I don’t see why everyone depends on me. I’m not dependable. Even I don’t depend on me, and I’m me.”

    Cohen looked at the horizon. Gray-blue clouds were piling up.
    “There’s a storm coming,” he said.
    “It’s a mercy that we won’t be alive to get wet, then,” said Boy Willie, cheerfully.
    “Funny thing, though. It looks like it’s coming from every direction at once.”
    “Filthy foreign weather. You can’t trust it.”
    Cohen turned his attention to the armies of the five warlords.
    There seemed to have been some agreement.
    They’d arranged themselves around the position that Cohen had taken up. The tactic seemed quite clear. It was simply to advance. The Horde could see the commanders riding up and down in front of their legions.
    “How’s it supposed to start?” said Cohen, the rising wind whipping at what remained of his hair. “Does someone blow a whistle or something? Or do we just scream and charge?”
    “Commencement is