The Light Fantastic

I’m just a—
    The Spell stirred in his mind. He felt it trickle into his brain like iced water and brace itself. A cold tingle coursed down his arm.
    His arm raised of its own volition, and he felt his own mouth opening and shutting and his own tongue moving as a voice that wasn’t his, a voice that sounded old and dry, said syllables that puffed into the air like steam clouds.
    Octarine fire flashed from under his fingernails. It wrapped itself around the horrified man until he was lost in a cold, spitting cloud that rose above the street, hung there for a long moment, and then exploded into nothingness.
    There wasn’t even a wisp of greasy smoke.
    Rincewind stared at his hand in horror.
    Twoflower and Bethan each grabbed him by an arm and hustled him through the shocked crowd until they reached the open street. There was a painful moment as they each chose to run down a different alley, but they hurried on with Rincewind’s feet barely touching the cobbles.
    “Magic,” he mumbled excitedly, drunk with power. “I did magic…”
    “That’s right,” said Twoflower soothingly.
    “Would you like me to do a spell?” said Rincewind. He pointed a finger at a passing dog and said “Wheeee!” It gave him a hurt look.
    “Making your feet run a lot faster’d be favorite,” said Bethan grimly.
    “Sure!” slurred Rincewind. “Feet! Run faster! Hey, look, they’re doing it!”
    “They’ve got more sense than you,” said Bethan. “Which way now?”
    Twoflower peered at the maze of alleyways around them. There was a lot of shouting going on, some way off.
    Rincewind lurched out of their grasp, and tottered uncertainly down the nearest alley.
    “I can do it!” he shouted wildly. “Just you all watch out—”
    “He’s in shock,” said Twoflower.
    “Why?”
    “He’s never done a spell before.”
    “But he’s a wizard!”
    “It’s all a bit complicated,” said Twoflower, running after Rincewind. “Anyway, I’m not sure that was actually him. It certainly didn’t sound like him. Come along, old fellow.”
    Rincewind looked at him with wild, unseeing eyes.
    “I’ll turn you into a rosebush,” he said.
    “Yes, yes, jolly good. Just come along,” said Twoflower soothingly, pulling gently at his arm.
    There was a pattering of feet from several alleyways and suddenly a dozen star people were advancing on them.
    Bethan grabbed Rincewind’s limp hand and held it up threateningly.
    “That’s far enough!” she screamed.
    “Right!” shouted Twoflower. “We’ve got a wizard and we’re not afraid to use him!”
    “I mean it!” screamed Bethan, spinning Rincewind around by his arm, like a capstan.
    “Right! We’re heavily armed! What?” said Twoflower.
    “I said, where’s the Luggage?” hissed Bethan behind Rincewind’s back.
    Twoflower looked around. The Luggage was missing.
    Rincewind was having the desired effect on the star people, though. As his hand waved vaguely around they treated it like a rotary scythe and tried to hide behind one another.
    “Well, where’s it gone?”
    “How should I know?” said Twoflower.
    “It’s your Luggage!”
    “I often don’t know where my Luggage is, that’s what being a tourist is all about,” said Twoflower. “Anyway, it often wanders off by itself. It’s probably best not to ask why.”
    It began to dawn on the mob that nothing was actually happening, and that Rincewind was in no condition to hurl insults, let alone magical fire. They advanced, watching his hands cautiously.
    Twoflower and Bethan backed away. Twoflower looked around.
    “Bethan?”
    “What?” said Bethan, not taking her eyes off the advancing figures.
    “This is a dead end.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “I think I know a brick wall when I see one,” said Twoflower reproachfully.
    “That’s about it, then,” said Bethan.
    “Do you think perhaps if I explain—?”
    “No.”
    “Oh.”
    “I don’t think these are the sort of people who listen to explanations,” Bethan added.
    Twoflower stared at them. He was, as has been mentioned, usually oblivious to personal danger. Against the whole of human experience Twoflower believed that if only people would talk to each other, have a few drinks, exchange pictures of their grandchildren, maybe take in a show or something, then everything could be sorted out. He also believed that people were basically good but sometimes had their bad days. What was coming down the street was having about the same effect on him as a