The Colour of Magic

said Fate. His words drifted across Death’s scythe and split tidily into two ribbons of consonants and vowels.
    I HAVE TASKS ENOUGH THIS DAY , said Death in a voice as heavy as neutronium. T HE WHITE PLAGUE ABIDES EVEN NOW IN P SEUDOPOLIS AND I AM BOUND THERE TO RESCUE MANY OF ITS CITIZENS FROM HIS GRASP . S UCH A ONE HAS NOT BEEN SEEN THESE HUNDRED YEARS . I AM EXPECTED TO STALK THE STREETS , AS IS MY DUTY .
    “I refer to the matter of the little wanderer and the rogue wizard,” said Fate softly, seating himself beside Death’s black-robed form and staring down at the distant, multifaceted jewel which was the Disc universe as seen from this extra-dimensional vantage point.
    The scythe ceased its song.
    “They die in a few hours,” said Fate. “It is fated.”
    Death stirred, and the stone began to move again.
    “I thought you would be pleased,” said Fate.
    Death shrugged, a particularly expressive gesture for someone whose visible shape was that of a skeleton.
    I DID INDEED CHASE THEM MIGHTILY, ONCE , he said, BUT AT LAST THE THOUGHT CAME TO ME THAT SOONER OR LATER ALL MEN MUST DIE . E VERYTHING DIES IN THE END . I CAN BE ROBBED BUT NEVER DENIED , I TOLD MYSELF. WHY WORRY ?
    “I too cannot be cheated,” snapped Fate.
    S O I HAVE HEARD , said Death, still grinning.
    “Enough!” shouted Fate, jumping to his feet. “They will die!” He vanished in a sheet of blue fire.
    Death nodded to Himself and continued at His work. After some minutes the edge of the blade seemed to be finished to His satisfaction. He stood up and leveled the scythe at the fat and noisome candle that burned on the edge of the bench and then, with two deft sweeps, cut the flame into three bright slivers. Death grinned.
    A short while later he was saddling his white stallion, which lived in a stable at the back of Death’s cottage. The beast snuffled at him in a friendly fashion; though it was crimson-eyed and had flanks like oiled silk, it was nevertheless a real flesh-and-blood horse and, indeed, was in all probability better treated than most beasts of burden on the Disc. Death was not an unkind master. He weighed very little and, although He often rode back with His saddlebags bulging, they weighed nothing whatsoever.

    “All those worlds!” said Twoflower. “It’s fantastic!”
    Rincewind grunted, and continued to prowl warily around the star-filled room. Twoflower turned to a complicated astrolabe, in the center of which was the entire Great A’Tuin-Elephant-Disc system wrought in brass and picked out with tiny jewels. Around it stars and planets wheeled on fine silver wires.
    “Fantastic!” he said again. On the walls around him constellations made of tiny phosphorescent seed pearls had been picked out on vast tapestries made of jet-black velvet, giving the room’s occupants the impression of floating in the interstellar gulf. Various easels held huge sketches of Great A’Tuin as viewed from various parts of the Circumfence, with every mighty scale and cratered pock-mark meticulously marked in. Twoflower stared about him with a faraway look in his eyes.
    Rincewind was deeply troubled. What troubled him most of all were the two suits that hung from supports in the center of the room. He circled them uneasily.
    They appeared to be made of fine white leather, hung about with straps and brass nozzles and other highly unfamiliar and suspicious contrivances. The leggings ended in high, thick-soled boots, and the arms were shoved into big supple gauntlets. Strangest of all were the big copper helmets that were obviously supposed to fit on heavy collars around the neck of the suits. The helmets were almost certainly useless for protection—a light sword would have no difficulty in splitting them, even if it didn’t hit the ridiculous little glass windows in the front. Each helmet had a crest of white feathers on top, which went absolutely no way at all toward improving their overall appearance.
    Rincewind was beginning to have the glimmerings of a suspicion about those suits.
    In front of them was a table covered with celestial charts and scraps of parchment covered with figures. Whoever would be wearing those suits, Rincewind decided, was expecting to boldly go where no man—other than the occasional luckless sailor, who didn’t really count—had boldly gone before, and he was now beginning to get not just a suspicion but a horrible premonition.
    He turned around and found Twoflower looking at him with a speculative