The Light Fantastic

joke,” he said. “Mainly a joke, anyway. Why are we in this shop?”
    “We can’t get out,” said Bethan.
    “The door’s disappeared,” added Twoflower helpfully.
    Rincewind stood up, a little shakily.
    “Oh,” he said. “One of those shops?”
    “All right,” said the shopkeeper testily. “It’s magical, yes, it moves around, yes, no, I’m not telling you why—”
    “Can I have a drink of water, please?” said Rincewind.
    The shopkeeper looked affronted.
    “First no money, then they want a glass of water,” he snapped. “That’s just about—”
    Bethan snorted and strode across to the little man, who tried to back away. He was too late.
    She picked him up by his apron straps and glared at him eye to eye. Torn though her dress was, disarrayed though her hair was, she became for a moment the symbol of every woman who has caught a man with his thumb on the scales of life.
    “Time is money,” she hissed. “I’ll give you thirty seconds to get him a glass of water. I think that’s a bargain, don’t you?”
    “I say,” Twoflower whispered. “She’s a real terror when she’s roused, isn’t she?”
    “Yes,” said Rincewind, without enthusiasm.
    “All right, all right,” said the shopkeeper, visibly cowed.
    “And then you can let us out,” Bethan added.
    “That’s fine by me, I wasn’t open for business anyway, I just stopped for a few seconds to get my bearings and you barged in!”
    He grumbled off through the bead curtains and returned with a cup of water.
    “I washed it out special,” he said, avoiding Bethan’s gaze.
    Rincewind looked at the liquid in the cup. It had probably been clean before it was poured in, now drinking it would be genocide for thousands of innocent germs.
    He put it down carefully.
    “Now I’m going to have a good wash!” stated Bethan, and stalked off through the curtain.
    The shopkeeper waved a hand vaguely and looked appealingly at Rincewind and Twoflower.
    “She’s not bad,” said Twoflower. “She’s going to marry a friend of ours.”
    “Does he know?”
    “Things not so good in the starshop business?” said Rincewind, as sympathetically as he could manage.
    The little man shuddered. “You wouldn’t believe it,” he said. “I mean, you learn not to expect much, you make a sale here and there, it’s a living, you know what I mean? But these people you’ve got these days, the ones with these star things painted on their faces, well, I hardly have time to open the store and they’re threatening to burn it down. Too magical, they say. So I say, of course magical, what else?”
    “Are there a lot of them about, then?” said Rincewind.
    “All over the Disc, friend. Don’t ask me why.”
    “They believe a star is going to crash into the Disc,” said Rincewind.
    “Is it?”
    “Lots of people think so.”
    “That’s a shame. I’ve done good business here. Too magical, they say! What’s wrong with magic, that’s what I’d like to know?”
    “What will you do?” said Twoflower.
    “Oh, go to some other universe, there’s plenty around,” said the shopkeeper airily. “Thanks for telling me about the star, though. Can I drop you off somewhere?”
    The Spell gave Rincewind’s mind a kick.
    “Er, no,” he said, “I think perhaps we’d better stay. To see it through, you know.”
    “You’re not worried about this star thing, then?”
    “The star is life, not death,” said Rincewind.
    “How’s that?”
    “How’s what?”
    “You did it again!” said Twoflower, pointing an accusing finger. “You say things and then don’t know you’ve said them!”
    “I just said we’d better stay,” said Rincewind.
    “You said the star was life, not death,” said Twoflower. “Your voice went all crackly and far away. Didn’t it?” He turned to the shopkeeper for confirmation.
    “That’s true,” said the little man. “I thought his eyes crossed a bit, too.”
    “It’s the Spell, then,” said Rincewind. “It’s trying to take me over. It knows what’s going to happen, and I think it wants to go to Ankh-Morpork. I want to go too,” he added defiantly. “Can you get us there?”
    “Is that the big city on the Ankh? Sprawling place, smells of cesspits?”
    “It has an ancient and honorable history,” said Rincewind, his voice stiff with injured civic pride.
    “That’s not how you described it to me, ” said Twoflower. “You told me it was the only city that actually started out decadent.”
    Rincewind