The Light Fantastic

something that looked vaguely avian, slightly reptilian and horribly alive. Two glittering eyes regarded the wizards with hooded hatred.
    “I saw it move,” said one of them.
    “We’re safe so long as we don’t touch the book,” said Trymon. He pulled a scroll out of his belt and unrolled it.
    “Bring that torch here,” he said, “ and put that cigarette out! ”
    He waited for the explosion of infuriated pride. But none came. Instead, the offending mage removed the dogend from his lips with trembling fingers and ground it into the floor.
    Trymon exulted. So, he thought, they do what I say. Just for now, maybe—but just for now is enough.
    He peered at the crabby writing of a wizard long dead.
    “Right,” he said, “let’s see: ‘To Appease Yt, The Thynge That Ys The Guardian…’”

    The crowd surged over one of the bridges that linked Morpork with Ankh. Below it the river, turgid at the best of times, was a mere trickle which steamed.
    The bridge shook under their feet rather more than it should. Strange ripples ran across the muddy remains of the river. A few tiles slid off the roof of a nearby house.
    “What was that?” said Twoflower.
    Bethan looked behind them, and screamed.
    The star was rising. As the Disc’s own sun scurried for safety below the horizon the great bloated ball of the star climbed slowly into the sky until the whole of it was several degrees above the edge of the world.
    They pulled Rincewind into the safety of a doorway. The crowd hardly noticed them, but ran on, terrified as lemmings.
    “The star’s got spots on,” said Twoflower.
    “No,” said Rincewind. “They’re…things. Things going around the star. Like the sun goes around the Disc. But they’re close in, because, because…” he paused. “I nearly know!”
    “Know what?”
    “I’ve got to get rid of this Spell!”
    “Which way is the University?” said Bethan.
    “This way!” said Rincewind, pointing along the street.
    “It must be very popular. That’s where everyone’s going.”
    “I wonder why?” said Twoflower.
    “Somehow,” said Rincewind, “I don’t think it’s to enroll for evening classes.”
    In fact Unseen University was under siege, or at least those parts of it that extruded into the usual, everyday dimensions were under siege. The crowds outside its gates were, generally, making one of two demands. They were demanding that either a) the wizards should stop messing about and get rid of the star or, and this was the demand favored by the star people, that b) they should cease all magic and commit suicide in good order, thus ridding the Disc of the curse of magic and warding off the terrible threat in the sky.
    The wizards on the other side of the walls had no idea how to do a) and no intention of doing b) and many had in fact plumped for c), which largely consisted of nipping out of hidden side doors and having it away on their toes as far as possible, if not faster.
    What reliable magic still remained in the University was being channeled into keeping the great gates secure. The wizards were learning that while it was all very fine and impressive to have a set of gates that were locked by magic, it ought to have occurred to the builders to include some sort of emergency backup device such as, for example, a pair of ordinary, unimpressive stout iron bolts.
    In the square outside the gates several large bonfires had been lit, for effect as much as anything else, because the heat from the star was scorching.
    “But you can still see the stars,” said Twoflower, “the other stars, I mean. The little ones. In a black sky.”
    Rincewind ignored him. He was looking at the gates. A group of star people and citizens were trying to batter them down.
    “It’s hopeless,” said Bethan. “We’ll never get in. Where are you going?”
    “For a walk,” said Rincewind. He was setting off determinedly down a side street.
    There were one or two freelance rioters here, mostly engaged in wrecking shops. Rincewind took no notice, but followed the wall until it ran parallel to a dark alley that had the usual unfortunate smell of all alleys, everywhere.
    Then he started looking very closely at the stonework. The wall here was twenty feet high, and topped with cruel metal spikes.
    “I need a knife,” he said.
    “You’re going to cut your way through?” said Bethan.
    “Just find me a knife,” said Rincewind. He started to tap stones.
    Twoflower and Bethan looked at each other, and