Sourcery

ice?”
    “It bloody vell better be,” said the giant, and swung his glacier prod at Nijel. It missed the horse but caught him full in the chest, lifting him clean out of the saddle and flicking him onto the glacier itself. He spun, spreadeagled, down its freezing flanks, was carried some way by the boil of debris, and rolled into the slush of ice and mud between the speeding walls.
    He staggered to his feet, and peered hopelessly into the freezing fog. Another glacier bore down directly on him.
    So did Conina. She leaned over as her horse swept down out of the fog, caught Nijel by his leather barbarian harness, and swung him up in front of her.
    As they rose again he wheezed, “Cold-hearted bastard. I really thought I was getting somewhere for a moment there. You just can’t talk to some people.”
    The herd breasted another hill, scraping off quite a lot of it, and the Sto Plain, studded with cities, lay helpless before it.

    Rincewind sidled toward the nearest Thing, holding Coin with one hand and swinging the loaded sock in the other.
    “No magic, right?” he said.
    “Yes,” said the boy.
    “Whatever happens, you musn’t use magic?”
    “That’s it. Not here. They haven’t got much power here, if you don’t use magic. Once they break through, though…”
    His voice trailed away.
    “Pretty awful,” Rincewind nodded.
    “Terrible,” said Coin.
    Rincewind sighed. He wished he still had his hat. He’d just have to do without it.
    “All right,” he said. “When I shout, you make a run for the light. Do you understand? No looking back or anything. No matter what happens.”
    “No matter what?” said Coin uncertainly.
    “No matter what.” Rincewind gave a brave little smile. “Especially no matter what you hear.”
    He was vaguely cheered to see Coin’s mouth become an “O” of terror.
    “And then,” he continued, “when you get back to the other side—”
    “What shall I do?”
    Rincewind hesitated. “I don’t know,” he said. “Anything you can. As much magic as you like. Anything. Just stop them. And…um…”
    “Yes?”
    Rincewind gazed up at the Thing, which was still staring into the light.
    “If it…you know…if anyone gets out of this, you know, and everything is all right after all, sort of thing, I’d like you to sort of tell people I sort of stayed here. Perhaps they could sort of write it down somewhere. I mean, I wouldn’t want a statue or anything,” he added virtuously.
    After a while he added, “I think you ought to blow your nose.”
    Coin did so, on the hem of his robe, and then shook Rincewind’s hand solemnly.
    “If ever you…” he began, “that is, you’re the first…it’s been a great…you see, I never really…” His voice trailed off, and then he said, “I just wanted you to know that.”
    “There was something else I was trying to say,” said Rincewind, letting go of the hand. He looked blank for a moment, and then added, “Oh, yes. It’s vital to remember who you really are. It’s very important. It isn’t a good idea to rely on other people or things to do it for you, you see. They always get it wrong.”
    “I’ll try and remember,” said Coin.
    “It’s very important,” Rincewind repeated, almost to himself. “And now I think you’d better run.”
    Rincewind crept closer to the Thing. This particular one had chicken legs, but most of the rest of it was mercifully hidden in what looked like folded wings.
    It was, he thought, time for a few last words. What he said now was likely to be very important. Perhaps they would be words that would be remembered, and handed down, and maybe even carved deeply in slabs of granite.
    Words without too many curly letters in, therefore.
    “I really wish I wasn’t here,” he muttered.
    He hefted the sock, whirled it once or twice, and smashed the Thing on what he hoped was its kneecap.
    It gave a shrill buzz, spun wildly with its wings creaking open, lunged vaguely at Rincewind with its vulture head and got another sockful of sand on the upswing.
    Rincewind looked around desperately as the Thing staggered back, and saw Coin still standing where he had left him. To his horror he saw the boy begin to walk toward him, hands raised instinctively to fire the magic which, here, would doom both of them.
    “Run away, you idiot!” he screamed, as the Thing began to gather itself for a counter-attack. From out of nowhere he found the words, “You know what happens to boys who are