The Light Fantastic

stepped back into the cover of the bushes.
    Something nudged the back of his knees, very gently. Something angular.
    He looked down. There seemed to be more feet down there than there ought to be.
    There was a short, sharp snap.

    The fire was a tiny dot of light in a dark landscape. The moon wasn’t up yet, but the star was a lurking glow on the horizon.
    “It’s circular now,” said Bethan. “It looks like a tiny sun. I’m sure it’s getting hotter, too.”
    “Don’t,” said Rincewind. “As if I hadn’t got enough to worry about.”
    “What I don’t undershtand,” said Cohen, who was having his back massaged, “ish how they captured you without ush hearing it. We wouldn’t have known at all if your Luggage hadn’t kept jumping up and down.”
    “And whining,” said Bethan. They all looked at her.
    “Well, it looked as if it was whining,” she said. “I think it’s rather sweet, really.”
    Four pairs of eyes turned toward the Luggage, which was squatting on the other side of the fire. It got up, and very pointedly moved back into the shadows.
    “Eashy to feed,” said Cohen.
    “Hard to lose,” agreed Rincewind.
    “Loyal,” suggested Twoflower.
    “Roomy,” said Cohen.
    “But I wouldn’t say sweet,” said Rincewind.
    “I shuppose you wouldn’t want to shell it?” said Cohen.
    Twoflower shook his head. “I don’t think it would understand,” he said.
    “No, I shupposhe not,” said Cohen. He sat up, and bit his lip. “I wash looking for a preshent for Bethan, you shee. We’re getting married.”
    “We thought you ought to be the first to know,” said Bethan, and blushed.
    Rincewind didn’t catch Twoflower’s eye.
    “Well, that’s very, er—”
    “Just as soon as we find a town where there’s a priest,” said Bethan. “I want it done properly.”
    “That’s very important,” said Twoflower seriously. “If there were more morals about we wouldn’t be crashing into stars.”
    They considered this for a moment. Then Twoflower said brightly, “This calls for a celebration. I’ve got some biscuits and water, if you’ve still got some of that jerky.”
    “Oh, good,” said Rincewind weakly. He beckoned Cohen to one side. With his beard trimmed the old man could easily have passed for seventy on a dark night.
    “This is, uh, serious?” he said. “You’re really going to marry her?”
    “Shure thing. Any objections?”
    “Well, no, of course not, but—I mean, she’s seventeen and you’re, how can I put it, you’re of the elderly persuasion.”
    “Time I shettled down, you mean?”
    Rincewind groped for words. “You’re seventy years older than her, Cohen. Are you sure that—”
    “I have been married before, you know. I’ve got quite a good memory,” said Cohen reproachfully.
    “No, what I mean is, well, I mean physically, the point is, what about, you know, the age difference and everything, it’s a matter of health, isn’t it, and—”
    “Ah,” said Cohen slowly, “I shee what you mean. The strain. I hadn’t looked at it like that.”
    “No,” said Rincewind, straightening up. “No, well, that’s only to be expected.”
    “You’ve given me something to think about and no mishtake,” said Cohen.
    “I hope I haven’t upset anything.”
    “No, no,” said Cohen vaguely. “Don’t apologishe. You were right to point it out.”
    He turned and looked at Bethan, who waved at him, and then he looked up at the star that glared through the mists.
    Eventually he said, “Dangerous times, these.”
    “That’s a fact.”
    “Who knows what tomorrow may bring?”
    “Not me.”
    Cohen clapped Rincewind on the shoulder. “Shometimesh we jusht have to take rishks,” he said. “Don’t be offended, but I think we’ll go ahead with the wedding anyway and, well,” he looked at Bethan and sighed, “we’ll just have to hope she’s shtrong enough.”

    Around noon the following day they rode into a small, mud-walled city surrounded by fields still lush and green. There seemed to be a lot of traffic going the other way, though. Huge carts rumbled past them. Herds of livestock ambled along the crown of the road. Old ladies stomped past carrying entire households and haystacks on their backs.
    “Plague?” said Rincewind, stopping a man pushing a handcart full of children.
    He shook his head. “It’s the star, friend,” he said. “Haven’t you seen it in the sky?”
    “We couldn’t help noticing it, yes.”
    “They say that it’ll