Interesting Times

'I don't know what you mean!' Rincewind wailed.

'Kowtow, please,' whispered a voice by his ear. It was not a particularly friendly voice but compared to all the other voices it was positively affectionate. It sounded as though it belonged to quite a young man. And it was speaking very good Morporkian.

'How?'

'You don't know that? Kneel down, press your forehead on the ground. That's if you want to be able to wear a hat again.'

Rincewind hesitated. He was a free-born Morporkian, and on the list of things a citizen didn't do was bow down to any, not to put too fine a point on it, foreigner.

On the other hand, right at the top of the list of things a citizen didn't do was get their head chopped off.

'That's better. That's good. How did you know you ought to tremble?'

'Oh, I thought up that bit myself.'

The hand beckoned with a finger.

A guard slapped Rincewind in the face with the mud-encrusted What I Did... Rincewind clutched it guiltily as the guard scurried towards his master's digit.

'Voice?' said Rincewind.

'Yes?'

'What happens if I claim immunity because I'm a foreigner?'

'There's a special thing they do with a wire-mesh waistcoat and a cheesegrater.'

'Oh.'

'And there are torturers in Hunghung who can keep a man alive for years.'

'I suppose you're not talking about healthy early morning runs and a high-fibre diet?'

'No. So keep quiet and with any luck you'll be sent to be a slave in the palace.'

'Luck is my middle name,' said Rincewind, indistinctly. 'Mind you, my first name is Bad.'

'Remember to gibber and grovel.'

'I'll do my very best.'

The white hand emerged bearing a scrap of paper. The guard took it, turned towards Rincewind and cleared his throat.

'Harken to the wisdom and justice of District Commissioner Kee, ball of swamp emanations! Not him, I mean you!'

He cleared his throat again and peered closer at the paper in the manner of one who learned to read by saying the name of each letter very carefully to himself.

' "The white pony runs through the... the..." '

The guard turned and held a whispered conversation with the curtains, and turned back again. '

"... chrysanthemum... mumum blossoms, The cold wind stirs the Apricot trees. Send him to The palace to slave Until all appendages drop Off." '

Several of the other guards applauded.

'Look up and clap,' said the Voice.

'I'm afraid my appendages will drop off.'

'It's a big cheesegrater.'

'Encore! Wow! Superb! That bit about the chrys-anthemumums? Wonderful!'

'Good. Listen. You're from Bes Pelargic. You've got the right accent, damned if I know why. It's a seaport and people there are a little strange. You were robbed by bandits and escaped on one of their horses. That's why you haven't got your papers. You need pieces of paper for everything here, including being anybody. And pretend you don't know me.'

'I don't know you.'

'Good. Long Live The Changing Things To A More Equitable State While Retaining Due Respect For The Traditions Of Our Forebears And Of Course Not Harming The August Personage Of The Emperor Endeavour!'

'Good. Yes. What?'

A guard kicked Rincewind in the region of the kidneys. This suggested, in the universal language of the boot, that he should get up.

He managed to get up on one knee, and saw the Luggage.

It wasn't his, and there were three of them.

The Luggage trotted to the crest of a low hill and stopped so fast that it left a lot of little grooves in the dirt.

In addition to not having any equipment with which to think or feel, the Luggage also had no means of seeing. The manner in which it perceived events was a complete mystery.

It perceived the other Luggages.

The three of them stood patiently in a line behind the palanquin. They were big. They were black.

The Luggage's legs disappeared inside its body.

After a while it very cautiously opened its lid, just a fraction.

Of the three things that most people know about the horse, the third is that, over a short distance, it can't run as fast as a man. As Rincewind had learned to his advantage, it has more legs to sort out.

There are additonal advantages if a) the people on horseback aren't expecting you to run and b) you happen to be, very conveniently, in an athletic starting position.

Rincewind rose like a boomerang curry from a sensitive stomach.

There was a lot of shouting but the comforting thing, the important thing, was that it was all behind him. It would soon try to catch him up but that was a problem for the future. He could also consider where he was running to as well, but an experienced coward never bothered with the to when the from held such fascination.

A less practised runner would have risked a glance behind, but Rincewind instinctively knew all about wind drag and the tendency of inconvenient rocks to position themselves under the unwary foot. Besides, why look behind? He was already running as fast as he could. Nothing he could see would make him run any faster.