The Colour of Magic

true what the mystics say!”
    “I’m admitting nothing,” said Scrofula testily. “It was a slip of the tongue. Now—are you going to die willingly or not?”
    “No,” said Rincewind.
    “Please yourself,” replied the demon. He raised the scythe. It whistled down in quite a professional way, but Rincewind wasn’t there. He was in fact several meters below, and the distance was increasing all the time, because the branch had chosen that moment to snap and send him on his interrupted journey toward the interstellar gulf.
    “Come back!” screamed the demon.
    Rincewind didn’t answer. He was lying belly down in the rushing air, staring down into the clouds that even now were thinning.
    They vanished.
    Below, the whole universe twinkled at Rincewind. There was Great A’Tuin, huge and ponderous and pocked with craters. There was the little Disc moon. There was a distant gleam that could only be the Potent Voyager . And there were all the stars, looking remarkably like powdered diamonds spilled on black velvet, the stars that lured and ultimately called the boldest toward them…
    The whole of Creation was waiting for Rincewind to drop in.
    He did so.
    There didn’t seem to be any alternative.

* The shape and cosmology of the disc system are perhaps worthy of note at this point.
      There are, of course, two major directions on the disc: hubward and rimward. But since the disc itself revolves at the rate of once every eight hundred days (in order to distribute the weight fairly upon its supportive pachyderms, according to Reforgule of Krull) there are also two lesser directions, which are Turnwise and Widdershins.
      Since the disc’s tiny orbiting sunlet maintains a fixed orbit while the majestic disc turns slowly beneath it, it will be readily deduced that a disc year consists of not four but eight seasons. The summers are those times when the sun rises or sets at the nearest point on the Rim, the winters those occasions when it rises or sets at a point around ninety degrees along the circumference.
      Thus, in the lands around the Circle Sea, the year begins on Hogs’ Watch Night, progresses through a Spring Prime to its first midsummer (Small Gods’ Eve) which is followed by Autumn Prime and, straddling the half-year point of Crueltide, Winter Secundus (also known as the Spindlewinter, since at this time the sun rises in the direction of spin). Then comes Secundus Spring with Summer Two on its heels, the three quarter mark of the year being the night of Alls Fallow—the one night of the year, according to legend, when witches and warlocks stay in bed. Then drifting leaves and frosty nights drag on toward Backspindlewinter and a new Hogs’ Watch Night nestling like a frozen jewel at its heart.
      Since the Hub is never closely warmed by the weak sun the lands there are locked in permafrost. The Rim, on the other hand, is a region of sunny islands and balmy days.
      There are, of course, eight days in a disc week and eight colors in its light spectrum. Eight is a number of some considerable occult significance on the disc and must never, ever, be spoken by a wizard.
      Precisely why all the above should be so is not clear, but goes some way to explain why, on the disc, the Gods are not so much worshipped as blamed.

About the Author
    Terry Pratchett lives in England, an island off the coast of France, where he spends his time writing Discworld novels in accordance with the Very String Anthropic Principle, which holds that the entire Purpose of the Universe is to make possible a being that will live in England, an island off the coast of France, and spend his time writing Discworld novels. Which is exactly what he does. Which proves the whole business true. Any questions?

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