The Colour of Magic

justice that benefited all parties.
    “Who are all these men?” said Twoflower.
    “Oh, you know. Just men,” said Rincewind. And before he could stop himself some part of his brain that had nothing to do took control of his mouth and added, “Heroes, in fact.”
    “Really?”
    When one foot is stuck in the Grey Miasma of H’rull it is much easier to step right in and sink rather than prolong the struggle. Rincewind let himself go.
    “Yes, that one over there is Erig Stronginthearm, over there is Black Zenell—”
    “Is Hrun the Barbarian here?” said Twoflower, looking around eagerly. Rincewind took a deep breath.
    “That’s him behind us,” he said.
    The enormity of this lie was so great that its ripples did in fact spread out one of the lower astral planes as far as the Magical Quarter across the river, where it picked up tremendous velocity from the huge standing wave of power that always hovered there and bounced wildly across the Circle Sea. A harmonic got as far as Hrun himself, currently fighting a couple of gnolls on a crumbling ledge high in the Caderack Mountains, and caused him a moment’s unexplained discomfort.
    Twoflower, meanwhile, had thrown back the lid of the Luggage and was hastily pulling out a heavy black cube.
    “This is fantastic!” he said. “They’re never going to believe this at home!”
    “What’s he going on about?” said the sergeant doubtfully.
    “He’s pleased you rescued us,” said Rincewind. He looked sidelong at the black box, half expecting it to explode or emit strange musical tones.
    “Ah,” said the sergeant. He was staring at the box, too.
    Twoflower smiled brightly at them.
    “I’d like a record of the event,” he said. “Do you think you could ask them all to stand over by the window, please? This won’t take a moment. And, er, Rincewind?”
    “Yes?”
    Twoflower stood on tiptoe to whisper.
    “I expect you know what this is, don’t you?”
    Rincewind stared down at the box. It had a round glass eye protruding from the center of one face, and a lever at the back.
    “Not wholly,” he said.
    “It’s a device for making pictures quickly,” said Twoflower. “Quite a new invention. I’m rather proud of it but, look, I don’t think these gentlemen would—well, I mean they might be—sort of apprehensive? Could you explain it to them? I’ll reimburse them for their time, of course.”
    “He’s got a box with a demon in it that draws pictures,” said Rincewind shortly. “Do what the madman says and he will give you gold.”
    The Watch smiled nervously.
    “I’d like you in the picture, Rincewind. That’s fine.” Twoflower took out the golden disc that Rincewind had noticed before, squinted at its unseen face for a moment, muttered “Thirty seconds should about do it,” and said brightly, “Smile please!”
    “Smile,” rasped Rincewind. There was a whirr from the box.
    “Right!”

    High above the Disc the second albatross soared; so high in fact that its tiny mad orange eyes could see the whole of the world and the great, glittering, girdling Circle Sea. There was a yellow message capsule strapped to one leg. Far below it, unseen in the clouds, the bird that had brought the earlier message to the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork flapped gently back to its home.

    Rincewind looked at the tiny square of glass in astonishment. There he was, all right—a tiny figure, in perfect color, standing in front of a group of Watchmen whose faces were each frozen in a terrified rictus. A buzz of wordless terror went up from the men around him as they craned over his shoulder to look.
    Grinning, Twoflower produced a handful of the smaller coins Rincewind now recognized as quarter- rhinu . He winked at the wizard.
    “I had similar problems when I stopped over in the Brown Islands,” he said. “They thought the iconograph steals a bit of their souls. Laughable, isn’t it?”
    “Yarg,” said Rincewind and then, because somehow that was hardly enough to keep up his side of the conversation, added, “I don’t think it looks very like me, though.”
    “It’s easy to operate,” said Twoflower, ignoring him. “Look, all you have to do is press this button. The iconograph does the rest. Now, I’ll just stand over here next to Hrun, and you can take the picture.”
    The coins quietened the men’s agitation in the way that gold can, and Rincewind was amazed to find, half a minute later, that he was holding a little glass portrait of Twoflower