The Light Fantastic

dreading what he might see.
    The Luggage seemed to contain some clean laundry, smelling slightly of lavender. Somehow it was quite the most terrifying thing the wizard had ever seen.
    “Well, er,” he said. “You, um, wouldn’t have seen another wizard around here, by any chance?”
    The Luggage contrived to look more menacing.
    “Oh,” said Trymon. “Well, fine. It doesn’t matter.”
    He pulled vaguely at the hem of his robe and took a brief interest in the detail of its stitching. When he looked up the horrible box was still there.
    “Goodbye,” he said, and ran. He managed to get through the door just in time.

The Disc’s little moon toiled across the sky. It shone by its own light, owing to the cramped and rather inefficient astronomical arrangements made by the Creator, and was quite crowded with assorted lunar goddesses who were not, at this particular time, paying much attention to what went on in the Disc but were getting up a petition about the Ice Giants.
    Had they looked down, they would have seen Rincewind talking urgently to a bunch of rocks.
    Trolls are one of the oldest life-forms in the multiverse, dating from an early attempt to get the whole life thing on the road without all that squashy protoplasm. Individual trolls live for a long time, hibernating during the summertime and sleeping during the day, since heat affects them and makes them slow. They have a fascinating geology. One could talk about tribology, one could mention the semiconductor effects of impure silicon, one could talk about the giant trolls of prehistory who make up most of the Disc’s major mountain ranges and will cause some real problems if they ever awake, but the plain fact is that without the Disc’s powerful and pervasive magical field trolls would have died out a long time ago.
    Psychiatry hadn’t been invented on the Disc. No one had ever shoved an inkblot under Rincewind’s nose to see if he had any loose toys in the attic. So the only way he’d have been able to describe the rocks turning back into trolls was by gabbling vaguely about how pictures suddenly form when you look at the fire, or clouds.
    One minute there’d be a perfectly ordinary rock, and suddenly a few cracks that had been there all along took on the definite appearance of a mouth or a pointed ear. A moment later, and without anything actually changing at all, a troll would be sitting there, grinning at him with a mouth full of diamonds.
    They wouldn’t be able to digest me, he told himself. I’d make them awfully ill.
    It wasn’t much of a comfort.
    “So you’re Rincewind the wizard,” said the nearest one. It sounded like someone running over gravel. “I dunno. I thought you’d be taller.”
    “Perhaps he’s eroded a bit,” said another one. “The legend is awfully old.”
    Rincewind shifted awkwardly. He was pretty certain the rock he was sitting on was changing shape, and a tiny troll—hardly any more than a pebble—was sitting companionably on his foot and watching him with extreme interest.
    “Legend?” he said. “What legend?”
    “It’s been handed down from mountain to gravel since the sunset * of time,” said the first troll. “‘When the red star lights the sky Rincewind the wizard will come looking for onions. Do not bite him. It is very important that you help him stay alive.’”
    There was a pause.
    “That’s it?” said Rincewind.
    “Yes,” said the troll. “We’ve always been puzzled about it. Most of our legends are much more exciting. It was more interesting being a rock in the old days.”
    “It was?” said Rincewind weakly.
    “Oh yes. No end of fun. Volcanoes all over the place. It really meant something, being a rock then. There was none of this sedimentary nonsense, you were igneous or nothing. Of course, that’s all gone now. People call themselves trolls today, well, sometimes they’re hardly more than slate. Chalk even. I wouldn’t give myself airs if you could use me to draw with, would you?”
    “No,” said Rincewind quickly. “Absolutely not, no. This, er, this legend thing. It said you shouldn’t bite me?”
    “That’s right!” said the little troll on his foot, “and it was me who told you where the onions were!”
    “We’re rather glad you came along,” said the first troll, which Rincewind couldn’t help noticing was the biggest one there. “We’re a bit worried about this new star. What does it mean?”
    “I don’t know,” said Rincewind. “Everyone