The Light Fantastic

was a scuffling down below. Rincewind slid awkwardly out of the narrow gap between the fist and the ground like a snake leaving a burrow.
    He lay on his back, staring up at the sky past the frozen shape of the troll. It hadn’t changed in any way, apart from the stillness, but already the eye started to play tricks. Last night Rincewind had looked at cracks in stone and seen them become mouths and eyes; now he looked at the great cliff face and saw the features become, like magic, mere blemishes in the rock.
    “Wow!” he said.
    That didn’t seem to help. He stood up, dusted himself off, and looked around. Apart from the bumblebee, he was completely alone.
    After poking around for a bit he found a rock that, from certain angles, looked like Beryl.
    He was lost and lonely and a long way from home. He—
    There was a crunch high above him, and shards of rock spattered into the earth. High up on the face of Old Grandad a hole appeared; there was a brief sight of the Luggage’s backside as it struggled to regain its footing, and then Twoflower’s head poked out of the mouth cave.
    “Anyone down there? I say?”
    “Hey!” shouted the wizard. “Am I glad to see you!”
    “I don’t know. Are you?” said Twoflower.
    “Am I what?”
    “Gosh, there’s a wonderful view from up here!”

    It took them half an hour to get down. Fortunately Old Grandad had been quite craggy with plenty of hand-holds, but his nose would have presented a tricky obstacle if it hadn’t been for the luxuriant oak tree that flourished in one nostril.
    The Luggage didn’t bother to climb. It just jumped, and bounced its way down with no apparent harm.
    Cohen sat in the shade, trying to catch his breath and waiting for his sanity to catch up with him. He eyed the Luggage thoughtfully.
    “The horses have all gone,” said Twoflower.
    “We’ll find ’em,” said Cohen. His eyes bored into the Luggage, which began to look embarrassed.
    “They were carrying all our food,” said Rincewind.
    “Plenty of food in the foreshts.”
    “I have some nourishing biscuits in the Luggage,” said Twoflower. “Traveler’s Digestives. Always a comfort in a tight spot.”
    “I’ve tried them,” said Rincewind. “They’ve got a mean edge on them, and—”
    Cohen stood up, wincing.
    “Excushe me,” he said flatly. “There’sh shomething I’ve got to know.”
    He walked over to the Luggage and gripped its lid. The box backed away hurriedly, but Cohen stuck out a skinny foot and tripped up half its legs. As it twisted to snap at him he gritted his teeth and heaved, jerking the Luggage onto its curved lid where it rocked angrily like a maddened tortoise.
    “Hey, that’s my Luggage!” said Twoflower. “Why’s he attacking my Luggage?”
    “I think I know,” said Bethan quietly. “I think it’s because he’s scared of it.”
    Twoflower turned to Rincewind, openmouthed. Rincewind shrugged.
    “Search me,” he said. “I run away from things I’m scared of, myself.”
    With a snap of its lid the Luggage jerked into the air and came down running, catching Cohen a crack on the shins with one of its brass corners. As it wheeled around he got a grip on it just long enough to send it galloping full tilt into a rock.
    “Not bad,” said Rincewind, admiringly.
    The Luggage staggered back, paused for a moment, then came at Cohen waving its lid menacingly. He jumped and landed on it, with both his hands and feet caught in the gap between the box and the lid.
    This severely puzzled the Luggage. It was even more astonished when Cohen took a deep breath and heaved, muscles standing out on his skinny arms like a sock full of coconuts.
    They stood locked there for some time, tendon versus hinge. Occasionally one or other would creak.
    Bethan elbowed Twoflower in the ribs.
    “Do something,” she said.
    “Um,” said Twoflower. “Yes. That’s about enough, I think. Put him down, please.”
    The Luggage gave a creak of betrayal at the sound of its master’s voice. Its lid flew up with such force that Cohen tumbled backward, but he scrambled to his feet and flung himself toward the box.
    Its contents lay open to the skies.
    Cohen reached inside.
    The Luggage creaked a bit, but had obviously weighed up the chances of being sent to the top of that Great Wardrobe in the Sky. When Rincewind dared to peek through his fingers Cohen was peering into the Luggage and cursing under his breath.
    “Laundry?” he shouted. “Is that it? Just laundry?” He