The Colour of Magic

disc seemed to be ringed with gargoyles.
    Rincewind sighed with relief. This was such an unusual sound that it made Twoflower take his eyes off the approaching disc and turn them on him.
    “We’re important, no lie,” explained Rincewind. “They wouldn’t be wasting all that magic on a couple of potential slaves.” He grinned.
    “What is it?” said Twoflower.
    “Well, the disc itself would have been created by Fresnel’s Wonderful Concentrator,” said Rincewind, authoritatively. “That calls for many rare and unstable ingredients, such as demon’s breath and so forth, and it takes at least eight fourth-grade wizards a week to envision. Then there’s those wizards on it, who must all be gifted hydrophobes—”
    “You mean they hate water?” said Twoflower.
    “No, that wouldn’t work,” said Rincewind. “Hate is an attracting force, just like love. They really loathe it, the very idea of it revolts them. A really good hydrophobe has to be trained on dehydrated water from birth. I mean, that costs a fortune in magic alone. But they make great weather magicians. Rain clouds just give up and go away.”
    “It sounds terrible,” said the water troll behind them.
    “And they all die young,” said Rincewind, ignoring him. “They just can’t live with themselves.”
    “Sometimes I think a man could wander across the Disc all his life and not see everything there is to see,” said Twoflower. “And now it seems there are lots of other worlds as well. When I think I might die without seeing a hundredth of all there is to see it makes me feel,” he paused, then added, “well, humble, I suppose. And very angry, of course.”
    The flyer halted a few yards hubward of the island, throwing up a sheet of spray. It hung there, spinning slowly. A hooded figure standing by the stubby pillar at the exact center of the lens beckoned to them.
    “You’d better wade out,” said the troll. “It doesn’t do to keep them waiting. It has been nice to make your acquaintance.” He shook them both, wetly, by the hand. As he waded out a little way with them the two nearest loathers on the lens shied away with expressions of extreme disgust.
    The hooded figure reached down with one hand and released a rope ladder. In its other hand it held a silver rod, which had about it the unmistakable air of something designed for killing people. Rincewind’s first impression was reinforced when the figure raised the stick and waved it carelessly toward the shore. A section of rock vanished, leaving a small gray haze of nothingness.
    “That’s so you don’t think I’m afraid to use it,” said the figure.
    “Don’t think you’re afraid?” said Rincewind. The hooded figure snorted.
    “We know all about you, Rincewind the magician. You are a man of great cunning and artifice. You laugh in the face of Death. Your affected air of craven cowardice does not fool me.”
    It fooled Rincewind. “I—” he began, and paled as the nothingness-stick was turned toward him. “I see you know all about me,” he finished weakly, and sat down heavily on the slippery surface. He and Twoflower, under instructions from the hooded commander, strapped themselves down to rings set in the transparent disc.
    “If you make the merest suggestion of weaving a spell,” said the darkness under the hood, “you die. Third quadrant reconcile , ninth quadrant redouble, forward all !”
    A wall of water shot into the air behind Rincewind and the disc jerked suddenly. The dreadful presence of the sea troll had probably concentrated the hydrophobes’ minds wonderfully, because it then rose at a very steep angle and didn’t begin level flight until it was a dozen fathoms above the waves. Rincewind glanced down through the transparent surface and wished he hadn’t.
    “Well, off again then,” said Twoflower cheerfully. He turned and waved at the troll, now no more than a speck on the edge of the world.
    Rincewind glared at him. “Doesn’t anything every worry you?” he asked.
    “We’re still alive, aren’t we?” asked Twoflower. “And you yourself said they wouldn’t be going to all this trouble if we were just going to be slaves. I expect Tethis was exaggerating. I expect it’s all a misunderstanding. I expect we’ll be sent home. After we’ve seen Krull, of course. And I must say it all sounds fascinating.”
    “Oh yes,” said Rincewind, in a hollow voice. “Fascinating.” He was thinking: I’ve seen excitement, and I’ve seen