Sourcery

came out again. Some very murderous types hang out there, he said.”
    Rincewind gave this due consideration.
    “Just run that by me again, will you?” he said. “After you said we should be attacked I seemed to hear a ringing in my ears.”
    “Well, we want to meet the criminal element, don’t we?”
    “Not exactly want ,” said Rincewind. “That wasn’t the phrase I would have chosen.”
    “How would you put it, then?”
    “Er. I think the phrase ‘not want’ sums it up pretty well.”
    “But you agreed that we should get the hat!”
    “But not die in the process,” said Rincewind, wretchedly. “That won’t do anyone any good. Not me, anyway.”
    “My father always said that death is but a sleep,” said Conina.
    “Yes, the hat told me that,” said Rincewind, as they turned down a narrow, crowded street between white adobe walls. “But the way I see it, it’s a lot harder to get up in the morning.”
    “Look,” said Conina, “there’s not much risk. You’re with me.”
    “Yes, and you’re looking forward to it, aren’t you,” said Rincewind accusingly, as Conina piloted them along a shady alley, with their retinue of pubescent entrepreneurs at their heels. “It’s the old herrydeterry at work.”
    “Just shut up and try to look like a victim, will you?”
    “I can do that all right,” said Rincewind, beating off a particularly stubborn member of the Junior Chamber of Commerce, “I’ve had a lot of practice. For the last time, I don’t want to buy anyone , you wretched child!”
    He looked gloomily at the walls around them. At least there weren’t any of those disturbing pictures here, but the hot breeze still blew the dust around him and he was sick and tired of looking at sand. What he wanted was a couple of cool beers, a cold bath and a change of clothing; it probably wouldn’t make him feel better, but it would at least make feeling awful more enjoyable. Not that there was any beer here, probably. It was a funny thing, but in chilly cities like Ankh-Morpork the big drink was beer, which cooled you down, but in places like this, where the whole sky was an over with the door left open, people drank tiny little sticky drinks which set fire to the back of your throat. And the architecture was all wrong. And they had statues in their temples that, well, just weren’t suitable. This wasn’t the right kind of place for wizards. Of course, they had some local grown alternative, enchanters or some such, but not what you’d call decent magic…
    Conina strolled ahead of him, humming to herself.
    You rather like her, don’t you? I can tell, said a voice in his head.
    Oh blast, thought Rincewind, you’re not my conscience again, are you?
    Your libido. It’s a bit stuffy in here, isn’t it? You haven’t had it done up since the last time I was around.
    Look, go away, will you? I’m a wizard! Wizards are ruled by their heads, not by their hearts!
    And I’m getting votes from your glands, and they’re telling me that as far as your body is concerned your brain is in a minority of one.
    Yes? But it’s got the casting vote, then.
    Hah! That’s what you think. Your heart has got nothing to do with this, by the way, it’s merely a muscular organ which powers the circulation of the blood. But look at it like this—you quite like her, don’t you?
    Well…Rincewind hesitated. Yes, he thought, er…
    She’s pretty good company, eh? Nice voice?
    Well, of course…
    You’d like to see more of her?
    Well…Rincewind realized with some surprise that, yes, he would. It wasn’t that he was entirely unused to the company of women, but it always seemed to cause trouble and, of course, it was a well known fact that it was bad for the magical abilities, although he had to admit that his particular magical abilities, being approximately those of a rubber hammer, were shaky enough to start with.
    Then you’ve got nothing to lose, have you? his libido put in, in an oily tone of thought.
    It was at this point Rincewind realized that something important was missing. It took him a little while to realize what it was.
    No one had tried to sell him anything for several minutes. In Al Khali, that probably meant you were dead.
    He, Conina and the Luggage were alone in a long, shady alley. He could hear the bustle of the city some way away, but immediately around them there was nothing except a rather expectant silence.
    “They’ve run off,” said Conina.
    “Are we going to be