A/N Apologies to minimog16uk, whose name I bungled in the first chapter.
And after all she's done for me…
In her room, Byrony was packing a medium sized rucksack full of things that were really much too big to be fitted into a medium sized rucksack. This is a wholly female attribute, and if attempted by a male could result in serious injury, or even death.
She was filling the bag with long-lasting items, as one might pack were one to perhaps go out on a lengthy journey to face things that were as of yet undiscovered. She was also musing over a very intense talk she had just had with Granny Weatherwax concerning duties, places in the world and her general having thereof. It had definitely given her something to think about…
After a while, she became aware of a consistent and rhythmic thumping noise and she peered around the room suspiciously. She shrugged, and got back to the task at hand.
Then the thumping noise became louder…and louder…
Rincewind burst through the door, panting for breath.
"What…quest?" he gasped.
"Morning!" said Byrony brightly. "I hope you're ready to go!"
"Go…where?"
"Not sure what the weather's going to be like, but assume nasty to be on the safe side-"
"What…safe side?"
"I've packed a lot of food but I couldn't really say how long-"
"Byrony?"
"Yes?"
"What the hell is going on?!"
"Didn't you get all that told to you?"
"Do I look like I'm aware of the days proceedings? Do I really look like someone sat me down and explained things?"
Byrony looked at the wizard, who was panting, red-faced and furious. "No," she admitted reluctantly.
"Then why don't you do the honours?"
"Um. Alright." Byrony fiddled with the chords of the bag. "Er- You know the Orb?"
"I'm aware of its existence."
"Er- You know the way Rowel wants it?"
"Yes?"
"And the way he's willing to stab anyone who gets in his way?"
"Yes?"
"Or do away with them in other unpleasant and unusual ways?"
"Yes?"
"And you know the way he has all those soldiers out searching for it?"
"Yes?"
"And the way that they'll kill anyone who gets in their way?"
"Yes?"
"You know the way the Orb's hidden in Winslow Forest?"
"Ye-…" There was a pause. "What!?"
"The Orbs hidden in my forest," said Byrony helpfully. "And we're going to get it. Now," she added.
"You- you're not serious?"
Byrony resumed stuffing things into her bag. "It's a rare occurrence, but it happens. Yes, Rincewind, I'm being serious."
Then Rincewind had a thought…Stay as close as possible to my niece, he said…oh no.
The bastard knew.
Rincewind sank heavily onto the bed. "We have to go into this forest then?"
"Yes."
"To find the Orb?"
"Yes. Well, first we have to find four other stones. According to legend, they'll give us access to the Orb."
"Legend?"
"Yes, legend. Don't worry about it, I've got the whole thing written out."
"We're following a legend? I assume we'll be doing so with all the appropriate maps and compasses and things?"
"Nope."
"Nope?"
"The legend is very explicit about that," explained Byrony. "No help. Winslow forest may be one of the largest in the world, but I know it like the back of my hand. Well," she added as an afterthought. "The back of someone's hand. Maybe not as well as my own hand, but someone's hand, certainly."
"Fine," said Rincewind wearily. "No problem. This sounds exactly like my sort of thing. Get lost in an endless forest and die. Yes, that sounds exactly like my cup of tea that does."
"You're not going to die."
"Bet you a dollar we get jumped out on and stabbed."
"We're meeting up with two others," continued Byrony, ignoring him. "Uncle thinks I need help now that I've- Er…" she trailed off.
"How's the ankle?" chanced Rincewind.
"Very well, thank you," Byrony replied lightly, packing once more. "Doctor Lawn did a good job. He's from Ankh-Morpork too, you know."
"Really? Never heard of him."
"I don't think he's a member of the guild though…"
"Oh there isn't a doctor's guild in Ankh-Morpork. Sick people in Ankh-Morpork go to a vet. It's generally a better bet, because there's more pressure on a vet to get it right. People generally say 'it was god's will' when granny dies, but they get angry when they lose a cow."
"I see," said Byrony uncertainly, not really seeing at all. "Hand me that package there, would you?"
"So," continued Rincewind, offering her the indicated parcel which was heavy, and clinked. "It'd be safe to assume that Creep of the Year doesn't know what we're up to, then?"
"Absolutely," said Byrony. "And he's the Creep of the Centaury, never mind the year. Ye gods, there was always something off about him. Like, if everyone was an orchestra, he'd be the violin that's slightly out of tune."
"Was he like that as a child?"
"You've seen the butterflies. And I'm not saying that collecting butterflies isn't a healthy habit, but he took a little too much enjoyment out of the whole stabbing-and-imprisoning part, if you ask me."
"Gosh."
"And his parent's were such nice people. Well, I say were…they say his fathers still alive, but Rowel's got him locked up somewhere so he'll die faster and he can inherit the title."
"Urgh."
"Yes. I suppose his parents never give him any of the things a sensitive young lad really needs."
"What, you mean love and guidance?" asked Rincewind.
"I was thinking of a good thrashing." said Byrony with narrowed eyes. "I know I'd like to."
"Right. Don't ever have children, will you?"
"Shut up. Here, put your finger here while I tie the knot."
Rincewind placed his finger on the string tying the top of a paper bag, and gloomily watched his finger turn blue as she tied it up.
"Well, here we go. Off to be ravaged and jumped out on. Possibly both, and not in that order."
"Look," said Byrony impatiently as she finished the knot. "You don't get jumped on in a forest, all right? Well, I mean, you do but not in my forest."
"No," said Rincewind, yanking his finger free and attempting to shake some life back into it. "You don't get jumped. You get lost, then wet and then hungry. Also bears. Enraged mother bears."
"Yes, but I've explained. It's a legend, so it'll all work out. The world just isn't working properly if it doesn't."
"Oh, yes," said Rincewind sarcastically. "Let's travel into a dark uncharted forest that goes on for miles without a map in the hope that our wanderings will somehow conform to general story telling. That's ideal, that is."
"Oh, stop your whining," said Byrony, and resumed packing her satchel
"If it's a legend, don't we get magic swords or something?"
"What would you do with a magic sword?"
"Fair enough, fair enough. Forget the magic sword, but we have to have something. Like a cloak of invisibility or something."
"Dream on buster. All we have to work with is our native wit and cunning."
"But I'm not from around here!"
They continued packing and squabbling for the next half an hour, occasionally throwing things at one another and secretly enjoying themselves immensely.
"I don't know what you're complaining about," exclaimed Byrony, after Rincewind pointed out that they wouldn't need so much food on account of them being about to die from enraged mother-bear attack after they took three steps into the forest. "You're the one who won't let me pack my 500-pound crossbow with the armoured arrows."
"Are you joking? It's like exploding death strapped to your back! No, you'll use you unmagical sword and you'll like it." Rincewind disapproved of weapons. Weapons raised the ante far too high. It was much better to rely on a gift for talking his way out of things, confusing the issue and, of course, some well-soled shoes and a cry of 'Look, what's over there!'
Byrony grinned at him. "All packed then. Come on, the sooner we head off, the better."
Rincewind sighed resignedly. "Off on another wretched adventure. I'm doomed to have them, you know."
Byrony rolled her eyes as she pulled the bag on her back. "I know, I know."
They began the long trek down to the ground floor, pulling rations out of the rucksack when they became peckish.
"So, d'you know who these people are?" asked Rincewind, his mouth full of dried apricot. "You know, the ones we're going to throw at the enraged mother bear while we flee."
Byrony swallowed a large amount of chocolate. "Well, they're from the Counter–Weight Continent. That's all I really know."
"Really? Those people don't travel much, you know. It's not in their heritage."
"Oh, you've been to the Counter-Weight Continent, have you? Where haven't you been."
Rincewind was smart enough to notice the non-question in the question.
"Well," he said defensively, "Where haven't you been?"
Byrony glanced at him, and then looked off into the distance as she walked, giving the question its due consideration.
"Well," she said slowly. "I haven't been to Fourecks."
"Pity," said Rincewind with feeling. "You'd love it."
"And I haven't been to Krull or Bhangbhangduc," she continued slowly. "And…"
They walked on in silence for a little while.
"And some of Klatch," she said finally. "I haven't been to some parts of Klatch."
"Which parts?" asked Rincewind.
"The swampy ones," said Byrony. "I'd quite like to visit those."
"Really?" asked Rincewind, with horrified fascination.
"Oooh, yes!" said Byrony cheerfully. "I hear they've got bugs as big as your arm down there!"
"They do."
"I'd like to see that!"
"Well," said Rincewind, as they walked along. "Tell me who our team-mates are and perhaps if they aren't as suicidal as you, we may get out of this one alive."
"Um," said Byrony, pulling out a scrap of paper which her Uncle had presented to her over three hours previously. "Says here…says here that one is the natural inheritant of the Counter-Weight throne, and the other is its Grand Vizier. Huh, I didn't think that anyone high-up would be on this one. Rincewind, did you think that anyone posh would be coming with us? Rincewind?"
But Rincewind had zoned out, remembering the last time he had visited the Counter-Weight Continent, remembering who had been on the throne and remembering who had been appointed Grand Vizier.
"No," he breathed, as he recounted experiences and suppressed memories. "Absolutely not possible." On this matter, of course, he was proved to be 100% wrong.
When they reached the court-yard, they were faced with a tightening ring of soldiers, which were closing in on something which couldn't quite be seen at the moment.
"They're Rowel's guard!" hissed Byrony as she drew her sword, a notched and well-used blade. "Stand back!"
Rincewind did shuffle back a couple of token centimetres, but based on his suspicions, he really couldn't help but wonder what was at the centre of that quickly shrinking circle.
A moment later, his suspicions were confirmed.
There was a swish, and one of the guard's shoulders suddenly sprouted a knife hilt. Suddenly, a slim figure spun around and with surgical precision, used the length of its leg to dispatch with three other guards.
But there was no time to sympathise with these figures curled groaning on the ground, because the figure was already on the move again, and it was attacking the rest of the guard. It was a pale blur, stopping here and here…
Rincewind shrank back as every other male in the vicinity leaned forward clutching his groinal area. He chanced a quick glance at Byrony who was watching the proceedings, her mouth a wide 'O' of astonishment. Rincewind had the feeling that she was in for quite a shock when she realised who it was that was dispensing with all this pain…
Rincewind rather suspected that Byrony thought she was unique, though this was not the case.
Well, no, it was the case because she was unique because there was no one else on the Disc like her. But she thought she was unique in that she was a young woman who could throw a dagger to kill at fifty feet.
Unfortunately, Rincewind had met the proof that Byrony was not unique in this sense, and he rather feared that he was going to meet it again quite soon.
Byrony thought she was unique because she fought and spat and swore. Rincewind disagreed, though he would never tell her. He had met plenty of women who fought and spat and swore.
Byrony was unique because…because she was, well…Byrony. Rincewind would tell her this, if only he had the words that would put it into an intelligible sentence as opposed to the meaningless babble he suspected he would produce if placed in the spotlight.
The guards were now dropping like flies, falling under the relentless assault of the blurred figure which rained blow upon unstoppable blow upon them…
As the last guard fell, the figure proved to be a young woman, wearing an attractive white lace dress with fetchingly puffed sleeves. The angelic figure was panting slightly, and still crouched. Despite this, she glowed in the lamplight, and her long blonde hair shimmered with her every movement. It was almost pure white. Combined with her tanned golden skin, the general effect was calculated to hit the male libido like a lead pipe.
Conina smiled.
Suddenly she made eye-contact with Rincewind, sprinted across the short distance which lay between them an enveloped him in a smothering hug.
"I thought you were dead!" she said loudly into his ear, slightly deafening him. "I haven't seen you since the last time the disc was going to end!"
"Oh really?" said Rincewind somewhat sarcastically. "That'd be last Tuesday then?"
He struggled out of her embrace, just as another figure rushed up.
"Rincewind!" its bespectacled visage exclaimed. "Can you believe it?"
"No," said Rincewind truthfully. "I most definitely cannot."
"It must have been Fate that brought us back together," said Twoflower.
"Yes, it's the sort of thing he likes to do," said Rincewind.
Twoflower nodded happily. He not only had a rose tinted view of the world, but a rose tinted touch, taste and apprehension. "I agreed to accompany her majesty, but I had no idea that you were involved-"
Conina quickly waved a hand. "Less of the majesty thing, please. It's not been formalised yet."
Twoflower frowned. "Well, your father was the emperor… and as far we know, he's no longer…er-well he's not fulfilling the position, currently."
"I'm aware," said Conina acidly. "But really, I thought we agreed that I was just doing this, and then I could get back to my salon!"
"Well, yes but-"
"But nothing! That was the deal!" She glared at Twoflower, and then turned to Rincewind, thereby switching the force of the glare onto him.
He flinched.
"Well," she said. "What now?"
It was clear that there was another story behind all this. Rincewind was aware that Conina was the daughter of the famous Hero, Cohen the Barbarian. This meant that she was plagued by hereditary, which granted her with sinews you could moor a boat with, reflexes like a snake on a hot tin, a terrible urge to steal things and this dreadful sensation every time she met someone that she met someone that she should be throwing a knife through their eyes. The fact that she wanted to be a hairdresser seemed irrelevant. Now, it looked like she was still trying to escape her father's legacy, and it was making her very annoyed.
Rincewind began to take deep, (theoretically) calming breaths.
"Ah," said Twoflower uncertainly. "I'd also like to know what our plan is. I mean, we've been given a basic outline of course, but who else are we travelling with?"
Rincewind regained his composure, and took a deep breath.
"Right, I'm not the man you should be interrogate- Er. I mean, I'm not the man you should be talking to. The man behind all this is Byrony Winslow, who is, in fact, a woman."
"So where is she?" said Conina, puzzled.
Rincewind turned towards Byrony, somewhat apprehensive of this initial meeting. He stopped suddenly, however, with his mouth hanging open.
Byrony was gone.
Byrony was not beautiful. However, she didn't have a problem with that, and felt that beauty could be dangerous. It could attract unwanted attention, like from big thugs with axes who thought that they had every right to pick you up and swing you over their shoulder. Byrony had heard about ravishing early in life, and decided she didn't want any. This was about the same time that she invested in a couple of interestingly placed throwing knives.
She had spent two years in Quirm's School for Young Ladies (before the incident of which we no longer speak of), and had heard the phrase 'Beauty is a Burden' repeated regularly, and usually sighed, by fragile, pale girls, as they plucked a stray hair from their eyebrows. Byrony was interestingly pretty, and achieved this quite naturally, sometimes while covered in mud. But she wasn't beautiful.
She was too practical, nothing was fragile, and her skin was tanned from days of travelling under the sun. She was smattered with freckles, and she had calluses on her hands from holding swords. This had never bothered her, because as far as she was concerned, beauty was too much of a bother, and virtually impossible to maintain when running for your life, or fighting off a big hairy thing with seventeen legs and green teeth.
But Conina, now, there was something worth being bothered about.
Byrony had done her research on Conina.
Conina was even better then Byrony with a sword. Unarmed combat? She could disembowel a man with a hairgrip. Byrony admired all this in her, and wasn't even surprised when Vetinari had told her that Conina's father was none other than Genghiz Cohen. No, none of this really bothered Byrony.
What did bother Byrony was that when Conina fought off a small army of forty men, she did it in an attractive white shift with flowers. Her skin was like polished bronze. When Conina fought, she barely broke a sweat, and not one hair was out of place when she did it. Conina could maintain an air of the feminine mystique while kicking a man in the fork. Byrony, on the other hand, favoured leather, combed her hair irregularly and, in all honesty, when her hair was tied back and she was covered in mud, sometimes passed for a boy. An attractive boy, though. When she tried to. But still.
Byrony was a practical woman who demanded more from life then a mirror, but she was still a woman. And right now, she was sulking
Rincewind stalked through the grounds of Winslow Manor, unaware that he was using up his stalking abilities while they were in their prime.
"Where are we going?" panted Twoflower, practically jogging to keep up.
"To find Byrony," growled Rincewind. "She organised this, so she's damn well going to be here to see it!"
"Did she?"
"Of course! Only she could do something as batty as this and have it actually fall through."
"Really?"
"Oh yes," said Rincewind airily. "You wouldn't believe some of the stuff this girl gets up to. She's bloody amazing!"
Conina gave Rincewind a funny look. "You think so, do you?"
"Absolutely. And brave! Hah, she could eat fear up and spit it out. Yes indeed!"
"But," said Conina, keeping pace easily. "Why did she run away in the first place?"
"She didn't run away," scoffed Rincewind. "She only runs away from things she knows she can't, you know, fight and defeat."
"Really," said Conina thoughtfully, grabbing Rincewind's collar so that he jerked to a stop. "And she saw me hug you, didn't she?"
"Glerk!" said Rincewind.
"What's going on?" demanded Two-Flower.
"Rincewind and Byrony are in love," proclaimed Conina, who was rather good at this sort of thing.
"Really?" said Twoflower. "I mean… really?" After all, he knew Rincewind quite well.
"No!" said Rincewind from ground level, in a strangled sort of voice. (Well, in all fairness, he had been half strangled.) "No, that's not it at all!"
Two-Flower patted him on the shoulder. "I know what it's like."
"You do?"
"Of course! But don't worry, I always say that unrequited love is character building!"
"Character buil- No! I mean, I don't love her either, it's just a mutual friendship, we-"
"Sure," said Conina dismissively. "You're 'just friends'. Listen, you need to get a grip on-"
She became aware that Rincewind wasn't paying attention to her
"Where's that light coming from?" Instead he was staring at a huge oak-tree, which was lit at the base by a dozen candles which high-lighted the thick trunk and the countless leaves and branches which spanned the sky. High at the top of the tree was a single, solitary and flickering light, hidden amongst the foliage.
"That's her," said Rincewind firmly.
"It surely isn't," said Twoflower.
"It is."
"How do you know?" asked Conina curiously.
Rincewind hesitated. How did he know? Well, Byrony liked to climb high things. And she liked natural things, like trees. And she while she was after doing something as insensible as running off, Rincewind felt that she wasn't quite as insensible as to hide herself without providing him with no means to find her.
"That's her," he said firmly.
Byrony pressed her forehead against her knees, and felt the tree shake as some unknown presence made its way up, causing the small candle to flicker briefly and then go out in a small whisp of silver smoke.
She wasn't in the mood to deal with anything.
Rincewind looked up into the shadows.
He sensed her black mood, pouring out from amongst the leaves like a thick and terrifying smoke. Oh ye gods…
"I knew I'd find you," he said eventually. "One thing I've ever been sure of."
The darkness was silent.
"I know you only run from things you think you can't beat," continued Rincewind. "Is it the Orb? Do you think you can't find it?"
The darkness was more silent. Rincewind thought he heard movements.
"I don't want to have to climb up there and get you," he said. Truth rang in every word. Rincewind wasn't afraid of heights, but it's the depths that kill you.
"The thing is…the actual thing is…I will, though."
Silence.
"Bugger this," muttered Rincewind. He reached up and pulled himself up and began to climb the further couple of meters which pushed him out of the realm of safety and into the realm of falling twenty foot and snapping his neck.
When he had pulled himself up onto the branch opposite a shadowy, hunched figure he stopped climbing. At this point, he found himself at quite a loss.
Byrony had always been a ball of sparkling charisma, always the one with the upper hand. Rincewind was completely unable to deal with a situation where this was not the case. Currently, she was curled up at the trunk-end of a thick branch, forehead firmly pressed against knees.
"Listen," said Rincewind kindly. "I know you're nervous, but Conina will be able to deal with anything. She'll help us get the Orb."
Byrony lifted her head and stared at him.
Then, with the finesse and grace that he had always associated with her, she pulled back and elegant arm and punched him squarely on the nose.
After being punched in the face by the woman he loved (all denial mechanisms had shut down in shock), Rincewind reached the ground by the simple means of falling uncontrollably from branch to branch.
He looked up at a shocked Conina and Twoflower, his hands clutched to the front of his face.
"What did you say?" asked Conina urgently.
"She bunched be! She bunched by dose!"
Conina raised an eyebrow as Byrony agilely dropped from branch to branch, reaching the ground.
"I did not," she insisted, despite the horrendously guilty look on her face.
"Um," said Twoflower reproachfully. "He is bleeding, miss."
"It was an accident."
"I'b bleeding? I nebber just start bleeding for do reason! Nebber ebber!"
"A well aimed accident," she admitted. "Oh all right, I punched him. Happy?"
"By dose is broken!"
"Oh, it is not," protested Byrony.
"What did I tell you?" said Twoflower happily. "Character building!"
"All by charigder is dripping out by dose!"
Sighing, Conina whipped out a lightly fragranced handkerchief and held it to Rincewind's now freely flowing nose. Glaring angrily, Byrony whipped it away. "I'll do that, thank you!" she snapped, and replaced it against his nose with perhaps slightly more force then was necessary.
"Ow!"
Introductions were, needless to say, a little awkward.
The funny thing was, thought Rincewind as he steered his horse through the trees of the forest, Byrony had taken an instant liking to Twoflower, who had been delighted when he discovered that Rincewind had told her all about him.
But for no reason whatsoever, she seemed to make instant dread-enemies-for-life with Conina. Her face had been quite red as she had shook Conina's hand, and her mouth could have been used as a ruler.
Unfair as this was, it wasn't quite as unfair as the fact that Rincewind seemed to be in her black books as well. I mean, all right, hate-at-first-sight, he got that, that was all very well and understandable, but two hours ago he and Byrony had been conversing like perfectly ordinary people!
She hadn't spoken to him since she had punched him. Rincewind prodded the tip of his tender nose gingerly.
What was all this about!?
Up ahead, Byrony was privately fuming. He horse, sensing her anger, was slightly jittery and kept jerking on the harness and making it jingle. All four of the travellers rode fine strong horses, and each horse was laden with provisions for the journey ahead. Not too laden, however. Rincewind had insisted that the horses would still be able to turn a fine speed should the occasion arise. Now all four of them trotted deeper and deeper into the forest. At least, Rincewind, Byrony and Conina trotted. Twoflower was about as suited to equine activities as a sack of potatoes, and indeed, tended to land on the ground like one every couple of meters.
Byrony continued to rage internally. The most annoying thing about her pent up anger was that she was pretty sure she wasn't entitled to it.
Byrony was…jealous.
There. She said it.
The thing was, she wasn't actually sure what she was jealous of.
Oh, all right, you could argue that she was jealous of Conina's ability to disembowel while tossing her sun-bleached hair attractively, but that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all…
Byrony had pushed the earlier encounter with Rincewind to the back of her mind. All right, she reasoned, we're just friends then. That's fine. No problems there. Hah, upset? Me? Nooo, no this is just…an allergy. Yes, that's it. Allergy! That explains the watery eyes too. (Had she spoken to Rincewind about this, he might have compared it with his earlier experience of motion-sickness.)
She was working an accepting it, and a part of this progression involved trying to convince herself that while they were just friends, they were in fact 'just' friends, and therefore not the same thing as just friends at all.
Hah, I mean, how many other women was Rincewind 'just' friends with? None, I bet! So she was special. Practically unique!
Byrony had always known that if it came to a choice between her and wizardry, she wouldn't even make Rincewind choose. She didn't even think he could choose. But…weeeeeell…I mean…when you get right down toit…
Wizards don't have relations with women because it drains their magic, yes?
And Rincewind…doesn't really do magic, right?
Well…it's true, isn't it?
But she had accepted that he had made this decision, and had almost forgiven him. She could be just friends. She could do that. No problem. Just friends. Right.
Then they had rounded that corner…and Byrony had seen that he was just friends with another woman as well.
The fact that she was stunningly beautiful didn't really help.
Conina cantered up to the scowling young woman on the horse, grinning the sort of grin that lets people know that their about to be assaulted with goodwill.
"I hear," she said confidentially. "That you're a pretty good hand in a fight."
"No." said Byrony, staring straight ahead.
"No?"
"I'm a pretty good anything in a fight."
Conina glanced over at the young woman. Her wavy, curly brown hair was tied back of her face, and her jaw was set with a type of grim determination. She wasn't talking, and her silence left a gaping hole in the conversation, which Conina foolishly tried to fill.
"Oh? Uh…So, have you known Rincewind long?"
"Long enough."
"We're old friends."
"So I hear." You could have snapped icicles off her voice, but for some reason, Conina smiled smugly. It was nice to be right.
"Has he told you anything about me?"
The woman faltered, the cold in her green eyes fading a little. "Ye-es…" The cold came back. "And then again, no."
Conina went silent for a little while. What people don't realise is that hairdressing is a fine art. There's the cutting-the-hair part of it, sure, but that's just the tip of the ice-berg. Hairdressing is a complicated and secret art of psychology, all about seeing into the mind of the individual. Is it any wonder that people spill all their deepest darkest secrets to their hairdresser? That they lay their soul bare to someone who merely trims dead-ends? Hairdressers have a deep insight into the psyche of the individual. That's why it lets them do the feathery-scissors thing.
"I'm friends with Rincewind," she said finally.
Byrony looked at her suspiciously. "I know. You said."
"I'm friends with Rincewind," continued Conina. "Whereas you…" she looked pointedly at Byrony. "You are just friends with Rincewind. Am I right?"
Byrony stared at her.
"It's a lot different," said Conina cheerfully. "A lot different."
Byrony continued to stare.
"And you know," said Conina, like a player laying down a trump card. "He never even came to my wedding!"
Now Rincewind was the one fuming.
Look at them, he thought angrily to himself. Cackling away up there! Now they're best friends, are they?
He was referring to Byrony and Conina, who had spent the last hour riding side-by-side and laughing the whole way. Every so often, they would glance back at him and burst into peals of renewed laughter. This worried Rincewind. He felt certain he had heard Byrony snort 'Seraglio?' at least once.
What he didn't understand was that he was still in the dog-house, while Conina had instantly wrangled her way back into Byrony's good-graces.
No, wait, not back into her good-graces, because she had never even been in her good-graces before!
And he was most definitely still in the dog-house. The one time he'd tried to ride up beside her, Byrony had shot him a poisonous look and urged her horse into a quick trot until she was further up, back beside Conina.
Rincewind looked at her back sadly. He still had absolutely no idea what was wrong with her.
Twoflower somehow managed to steer his horse up beside Rincewind.
"Ah, the trials of love!" he beamed happily.
"No," said Rincewind firmly. "It's not."
"Not the trials of love?"
"No."
"So…that wasn't a look of yearning I just saw? Rincewind? I didn't just see you cast a look of utter longing upon the beautiful lady whom you have pledged eternal-"
"No."
"Just checking," said Twoflower meekly. They rode in silence for a while. Now the two women were talking furtively, leaning across the gap between their horses to avoid being overheard.
For some reason, this worried Rincewind more then the laughing.
"Are you sure you're not having a lover's tiff?" enquired Twoflower.
"What?" snapped Rincewind, tearing his eyes away from the pair. "Don't be redicul- Wait, what about a lover's tiff?"
"Well, it's obvious the young lady is tiffing. You, on the other hand, don't seem to have caught on yet."
"Tiffing? Who's- what are you talking about?" Rincewind looked back up to the ladies.
They were sniggering.
"Right," he said firmly. "That's it. This is absolutely ridiculous." He urged his horse up and pushed his way in between Byrony and Conina.
Byrony's face snapped closed like a book.
"Can we help you?" she enquired. Rincewind fancied he heard the tinkle of ice somewhere.
"Er- I was just going to say- er. Let's not be daft buggers and…um…"
He trailed off. Byrony was staring at him, inquisitively, patiently and above all, coldly.
Ye gods, thought Rincewind, attempting to think through all the frozen brain-cells that his head suddenly seemed to contain. I actually can't talk to this woman. This is as bad as when I we first met and I didn't really know her…
Nope, said his libido cheerfully. It's worse. Because then, at least she was nice. She never actually promised bodily harm with a mere glance. Which, I think, is what she's trying to convey here.
"I…um…" Rincewind faltered. "I'll just go back here…"
He pulled on the reigns, and brought his horse back. Byrony didn't even watch him go, she just turned away and looked firmly ahead.
Rincewind was completely unnerved. A talk with the Patrician was a breeze compared to that, because at least then you knew what was coming. The Patrician didn't spend an afternoon laughing and making fun of absurd art with you, and then turn around and order you're immediate disposal via the scorpion pit.
Yeah, said his libido. Not to mention the fact that you're not in love with the Patrician.
Shut up!
Bet you wished you stayed in her room now, huh? You should've gotten while the getting was good pal.
You're not me, thought Rincewind, horrified. You can't be me. I wouldn't think thoughts like that! They'd burn a hole through my skull!
Well, said his libido thoughtfully. I don't exactly think with the brain, if you know what I mean.
Thankfully, at this point, Byrony slowed her horse to a halt and announced that they were going to stop for the evening.
"I've been riding so long, the saddle is attempting to become and intimate part of my body," she grumbled. They had been travelling for miles into the dark forest. Rincewind was actually becoming a little concerned. He certainly didn't know the way back, and he hadn't seen Byrony consult a map even once.
"Oh, good," said Twoflower. "I think I've ridden enough for one day." Then he attempted to slide off his horse and simply continued to slide right onto the ground.
"Well," said Conina, dismounting gracefully and walking around. "I suppose it is sheltered." They were in a very small grove amongst the tightly packed fir trees. It was getting dark, and Rincewind settled down under a tree.
"Any caves around here?" he innocently enquired.
"Rincewind, for the last time," said Byrony exasperatedly. "There are no bears in this forest!"
Then she almost began to laugh, but suddenly remembered herself, and bent low over a satchel. She was sick of being mean to Rincewind. She didn't really want to be, not really and it didn't help anyway. And it made her feel like an utter bitch.
Conina and Twoflower shared a knowing glance.
"Twoflower," said Conina loudly. "Why don't you help you get your bag off the horse?"
"But I don't need my bag," said Twoflower, bewildered.
"Really? Are you sure? Because I thought you said you wanted to go and getit," said Conina in a firm voice.
"No," said Twoflower. "I didn't."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!"
Byrony and Rincewind watched this exchange like two spectators in a tennis match. Byrony was grinning, but Rincewind just looked rather bemused.
"Well," said Conina finally. "Well, er, why don't we use Twoflower's provisions this evening? If that's okay?"
"Fine," said Twoflower sulkily. "You only had to say."
"Good. And I'll help you get them."
"Don't go too far," said Byrony urgently. "It's very easy to get lost in here!"
"We won't!" called Conina has she has led, half dragged a protesting Twoflower away.
So it came to pass that Rincewind and Byrony were left alone, sitting together on a very uncomfortable rock. They both avoided each other's gazes.
"Well," said Byrony. Rincewind glanced nervously at her. She was twirling a piece of her hair around a finger so tightly that it was turning purple. "I would just like to say that I'm very-"
Rincewind let out a sigh of relief.
"- angry with you."
The sigh of relief got caught in his windpipe and turned into a choking cough as the apology he was expecting turned into the exact opposite.
"What?!" he spluttered. "What?!"
"Yes," said Byrony calmly. "You didn't seem to be getting it, you see. So I thought I had better spell it out."
"Spell it out? Spell what out?"
"That I'm angry with you!" Byrony leapt to her feet. The haze of calm she had been affecting vanished. "I'm pissed off! Not too bright are you?!"
"About what?!" shouted Rincewind.
Byrony suddenly pointed an accusing finger towards the area where Conina and Twoflower had wisely decided to make themselves scarce.
"About her!"
Rincewind opened his mouth, and completely failed to come up with a response.
All he managed was a weak: "…what?"
Byrony slumped back on the rock, wincing a little, as it wasn't really a slumping kind of rock. Rincewind sat down beside her.
"I thought…" she began quietly.
"I thought I was the only one you were just friends with!" she blurted suddenly. "And then she comes, and she's travelled the Disc with you, oh yes, and you're just friends with her too, aren't you? I know she says you're friends but I bet at some point you definitely considered her to be just your friend, didn't you? Didn't you?"
Rincewind stared at Byrony, on the basis that sooner or later he'd be given a clue. She seemed to be expecting an answer.
"Um," he said. "Yes?"
This was, apparently, the wrong one.
"I knew it.," Byrony exploded. A small voice in the back of her head was jumping up and down frantically, trying to tell her she was being unreasonable and just a tad psychotic, but she was having none of it. "I knew you didn't tell me about her for a reason!"
Suddenly, Rincewind realised that he had no idea why he was being shouted at. This struck him as unfair. If he was going to be shouted at, he'd rather have earned it.
"Oh?" he said suddenly. "Oh really? Well, if we're going to be on the subject of things not told, how about we talk about you not telling me about a certain engagement!"
Byrony suddenly stopped. "That's different," she said finally.
"Destined to be together," snapped Rincewind. "That's what I had to listen to. How you and Rowel were meant to be together form the day you were born!"
"You're being ridiculous!"
"I'm being ridiculous? I'm being ridiculous? I had to listen to how you could marry this lord, who's oh-so-better then every on else, and especially me!"
"Well it's not like I can marry you!"
Silence filled the glade, punctuated only by the sound of startled birds taking flight.
They both stared resolutely at their feet, aware that they may have said some things that people who were just friends wouldn't really say.
Byrony sighed. "People who are just friends don't get angry about their friends possible engagements."
"Yes, well," rallied Rincewind. "Other people who are just friends don't…er…Actually, what is it that you're angry with me about?"
Rincewind was aware that Byrony was giving him one of those long, slow looks.
"You don't know?"
"As far as I'm aware, you became insensibly enraged because I never told you about Conina, but I did! Remember, when we visited upper Ankh? In that café with the questionable jam? I said about the sorcerer and going to Klatch? Remember?"
"Yes, yes," said Byrony irritably. "You told me that you travelled with a woman named Conina, and about her father being Cohen the Barbarian and her hereditary and all that. You neglected to tell me that she was so…"
She waved her hands vaguely in the air, trying to convey that Conina was a walking Goddess of the Sun.
"What?" said Rincewind. "Oh, well, I suppose…" Reality dawned. "Oh. Well, er…maybe but not as much as you are," he said gallantly.
"Bullshit," said Byrony promptly. "Rincewind, she's beautiful. And she can fight. I didn't think you could do both. Well, certainly not at the same time."
Rincewind wasn't sure how he should respond. In his head he said You're beautiful. And you can fight. And you're kind and funny and crazy and you're all at the same time. You're not Conina, but that's even better because you are Byrony.
But all this was a little beyond his mouth to process, because it was hotly aware that once those words had been said, there would be a time after the words, and that would be a very embarrassing time indeed.
Ninety per cent of true love is acute, ear-burning embarrassment.
Still, he made the attempt. "I…" Byrony looked at him. "You…Listen, you aren't…"
"I forgive you," said Byrony suddenly.
"What? I didn't do anything!"
"Yes you did. Uh, I think… Anyway, it doesn't matter because I've forgiven you. All right?"
But something had clicked for Rincewind. "You run away from things you can't beat. Byrony, what did you think you would have to fight?"
"It doesn't matter," Byrony huffed. "Come on, lets find the other two and-"
Rincewind reached over and brushed her cheek, pushing a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. "This 'just friends' thing really isn't working, is it?" he said gloomily.
Then Byrony watched in amusement as panic began to rise in Rincewind's eyes as he replayed what he had just done.
"Er…"
"Now, is that something friends do?" said Byrony, in a mock-solemn tone.
Rincewind waved a frantic finger. "Involuntary action!" he said desperately. "Can't think what came over me! Won't happen again!"
"That's what you said last time. Oh come on Rincewind, it's not like you kissed-"
"No more!" said Rincewind sternly. "Byrony, I mean it, that's it. That was a- a- a final goodbye to a certain messy and complex way of interaction that we are never going to pursue again, clear?"
"Crystal," said Byrony sadly. He meant it this time. Well, he'd meant it the first time too, but now it really actually felt like something was over.
"Right. Well then. So…it's over."
Byrony leaned down and clutched her leg. "You make it sound," she said mildly, as she kneaded her ankle, "like something ever started."
Rincewind didn't know how to respond to this, and settled for "How's the ankle?"
"Fine, fine," she said vaguely.
They sat in silence for a while.
"Well," said Byrony finally. "That's it then."
"I suppose so…"
"Right." Byrony got up and walked away, presumably to go and catch Conina and Twoflower very ostentatiously not listening to the argument. Rincewind, on the other hand, stayed where he was.
Just friends? he thought despondently. I don't know what the hell we are. He watched her go and, helpless to stop himself, he worried about her limp.
Some distance away, Conina and Twoflower stood by the horses. It was a precisely estimated distance, one which conveyed that they had attempted to move away and respect other people's privacy, yet not so far away that they couldn't hear all the good shouty bits.
"They've stopped shouting," said Conina, annoyed.
"And that's a good thing," hinted Twoflower.
"Well, yes, but I can't hear them when they talk down low like that."
"Oh dear. Do you think they're going to be okay? She seems very nice…"
"Yes, I wonder what she's doing with Rincewind."
"Your highness!" said Twoflower, shocked. "Rincewind is an amazing man! Saved my life a million times-"
"Yes? And how many times did he do it by accident? Nine hundred and ninety nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine?"
"Er…yes…well…"
"And I am not your highness and I plan on never being it. Anyway, don't worry about those two. Of all the time spent in the best relationships fifty percent of it is made up of arguments."
"Really? What's the other fifty percent made up of?"
Conina faltered, glancing incredulously over at the small bespectacled man. "Oh, you know…" she said weakly. "Stuff…"
"Ah. Do you and Nijel ever fight at all?"
"Don't be ridiculous. We're in love."
"Sorry," said Twoflower humbly.
"We never stop fighting."
Suddenly, there was a rustling from the bushes in front of them. Conina crouched down, ready to pounce. While they were loading up the horses, Rincewind had blathered on about being attacked by Enraged Mother Bears, apparently feeling that those three components were mutually exclusive to one another. Though the man was quite mad, you could never be too careful…
A scruffy figure fell out onto the path in front of them. Byrony grinned up at them from the ground. "A lot of thorns in those bushes," she said conversationally, as they pulled her to her feet. "A lot of thorns."
"You could have used the path," Conina pointed out, while tugging a twig from her brown wavy hair.
"This was quicker," said Byrony happily. "What was I going to-? Oh yes, you can come back now and pretend you didn't hear anything and act all surprised when we tell you we're not fighting any more, if you like. Well," she amended. "I'm not fighting any more. Rincewind never really was."
"Oh good," said Twoflower, grabbing his bag. "I have my food here. Let's go back and have some dinner, shall we?"
Conina, who was about to pretend that they truly hadn't heard anything, gave in. "Yes," she said, defeated. "Let's."
Back at Winslow Manor, the kitchen were finally being put to their paces, faced with appetites that seemed to increase the more they were pandered to.
The wizard's were in their element.
Currently, they were enjoying the last of the evening sun on the roof of the manor, on a handy sun-deck. Most of the faculty were dozing in sun-chairs and the Bursar was propped up in a sun-catching corner. The Librarian was in his element somewhere in the manor, having just discovered the Disc's eighth biggest library.
The only break in the calm was Ridcully's enthusiasm.
"Winged yer, yer bastard!" he yelled happily, as yet another duck fell from the sky. Winslow Manor was a magnificent hunting ground, and Ridcully felt the animals had been left completely to their own devices. It was up to him, he thought, to cull their numbers. A large amount of games-men were dashing about below with large sacks to catch the fowl as it fell from the sky.
Ridcully fired his crossbow again.
"Can't he do that somewhere else?" said the Senior Wrangler irritably, lifting the brim of his hat from over his eyes. "He's destroying the ambiance."
"Ambiance? Hey," said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, as if suddenly remembering something. "No one ever gave us those bottles of adulation!"
They ignored him, and settled back in their seats. "I've got to hand it to her," said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. "That Winslow girl really knows how to throw a party."
"I quite agree," said the Dean, who was surrounded by a choice platter that was being filled so fast, it was a race between him and the serving staff. "She's the best hostess I've ever come across."
"Ah," said the Senior Wrangler. "Has anyone actually seen her today?"
"Didn't she go for a stroll with that Duchess? The one with the pointy face?"
"Thought she was at the garden party at noon?"
"There was a large croquet game on. I think she was at that, too."
"I didn't see her," said the Chair of Indefinite studies.
"Well," said the Lecturer in Recent Runes slowly. "You were probably… concentrating on the game."
"Oh yes, that was probably it. It was a great game, great game," said the Chair happily. The others moved a little away from him, possibly remembering the time that he had suggested croquet as a form of procreation.
You see, Vetinari and Byrony had planned this well. They hadn't just expected Byrony to disappear from her own party without any fuss, and instead were working on the extreme rules of social etiquette to work in their favour. Several allies were employed in telling other people that they had seen Lady Winslow at an event and then telling an amusing story about something witty her Ladyship had said. This worked beautifully because of the social-climbing nature of their audience, who would then go and talk to their friends and tell them about how they happened to be in that intimate conversation with her ladyship, and how she made this witty comment. Then those friends would go and tell their friends…
And so on. This meant that by the end of the day everyone was certain that Lady Winslow had been gliding through the social circles like a gold encrusted butterfly. Of course, it would never work in a smaller venue, but the sheer magnitude of Winslow Manor meant that Byrony could always be somewhere else.
"Anyway," said the Dean eventually. "She throws a damn fine party."
There was a small worried noise from the vicinity of the wall, where Ponder Stibbons was leaning over and peering at his thaumometer.
"Give it a rest, lad," said Ridcully, coming over and slapping him heartily on the back and almost causing him to go toppling over the side of the building. "We're on holidays!"
"Yes sir," said Ponder automatically. "Er- Just noticing the high levels of background magic, sir."
"Well, what did you expect? Byrony grew up here! I'm surprised the grass is still green with the amount of magic she probably blasted into the place. You hear funny stories about that forest, I know that."
"Is it just me," said the Senior Wrangler suddenly. "Or are we short someone?"
There was a brief moment as everyone glanced around.
"Well," said the Lecturer in recent Runes happily. "I'm here."
"I don't think so," said the Dean, spreading cream on a scone. "I'm sure we would have noticed if it was someone important."
"Dean, with the way your attention is occupied," said Ridcully. "I doubt you would notice if the four horsemen of the Apocralypse landed on the roof and asked for directions."
"Unless they stole a bun," said the Chair of Indefinite studies sulkily, who had tried that very unsuccessful course of action earlier.
"You can jolly well order your own food," said the Dean primly. "I took the precaution of informing the staff I would require a snack at this time."
"Warning the staff more like."
Then Ponder snapped his fingers. "Rincewind! We're missing Rincewind!"
"Who?" enquired the Senior Wrangler.
"You know, our Professor of Egregarious Studies." There wasn't a glimmer of comprehension amongst the group.
"We sent him to the Counter-Weight Continent?" volunteered Ponder. "Then we accidently sent him to Fourecks? Then he came back with us?"
Nothing.
"The nervy fellow," explained Ridcully. "The bloke who jumps at loud noises."
"Oh him," said the Senior Wrangler. "Yes, he is twitchy, isn't he?"
"Valuable asset to the University," said Ridcully grandly. "Even if he is a bit of a whiner," he added.
"Yes," said the Senior Wrangler uncertainly. "Well, he's not here. So what?"
"Well," said Ponder. "Where is he?"
Ridcully looked thoughtfully out at the huge, deep, dark forest that surrounded the Manor. The sun was setting, and night was closing in. "I suppose he wouldn't have done anything stupid, would he?"
"Archchancellor! Rincewind is a wizard and a member of this faculty!" exclaimed the Dean.
"Thank you Dean," sighed Ridcully. "For that very concise and definite answer."
Back in the forest, the four travellers gathered under a tree to share out Twoflower's previously packed provisions. It was getting late, and none of them had eaten very much in the day so stomachs were making loud gurgling and growling noises, which are the body's way of telling the brain that really, it didn't know the half of it.
Conina, Rincewind and Byrony all leaned in closer as Twoflower opened his satchel and took out a package containing…
They looked down. Then they slowly looked back up at Twoflower.
"Jam sandwiches?" said Conina incredulously.
"What?" said Twoflower defensively. "I like jam sandwiches!"
"I like jam sandwiches too," said Byrony. "But right about now, jam sandwiches really don't like me. Haven't you got any meat in there?"
"Well, no I thought that this-"
Then, in a turn of events that no one expected (especially Rincewind who was sitting right beside it and got quit a shock), the branch of the tree reached down and swiped one of the sandwiches from Twoflower's outstretched hand.
"Hey!
Conina slept to her feet, raising her sword and struck-
Suddenly a blur of steel came through the air faster then was humanly possible, and a second sword clashed with Conina's, juddering it to a sudden stop.
"Wait," said Byrony calmly, her hands wrapped around its hilt. Conina panted a little. She hadn't even seen her draw her sword.
"Oh ye gods," said Rincewind very, very quietly. Only the whites of his eyes could be seen.
Byrony slowly lowered her sword and jerked her head in the direction of the tree, which completely failed to lash out and kill them all. Instead, it was making happy little mmmnmmmnmmn noises.
"Probably," Byrony began. "I should have mentioned this."
"Probably," agreed Rincewind.
"What's going on!?" demanded Conina.
"They're actually very intelligent, you know," said Byrony in self defence.
"How does it eat it?" said a bewildered Twoflower still staring at the tree. It gave a cheery little burp. "It doesn't have a mouth!"
"Er-" Byrony paused. "You know er- You know when magic builds up?"
"Yes?"
"Right, good. Well, there was a build up of magic in this forest- Rincewind, let the tree have the sandwiches!"
Rincewind looked up guiltily from where it had been wrestling with a branch over the package. The tree took its chance and snaffled it. It was all right though, he'd hidden a few in the pocket of his robe.
"Byrony…?" said Conina in a warning voice. Though she was now sitting down, it was the type of voice that indicated that if she was standing up, she'd be tapping her foot.
"Right," said Byrony guiltily. "Yes. Um. A build up of magic. And it sort of…soaked into the trees, kind of thing, and now it's an intrinsic part of their gene structure….Look, I'm sure Rincewind could explain it a lot better." She glanced at Rincewind's blank, jam-smeared expression. "Or maybe not," she amended. "But they can actually manipulate the magic when they want to. I don't really know how it works…"
"The trees can do magic?" said Twoflower, with a sort of horrified fascination.
"Well, not really. I mean, it's more like they are magic-"
"That's all fine," said Conina hotly. "What I want to know is what caused all this. You get nasty things coming from old magic. Nasty things. Come on, tell me what caused the build up."
Byrony took a deep breath. "Me."
"What?" said Conina.
"I caused it. I caused the build up in magic of the forest."
Conina looked at her. "No you didn't," she said eventually.
Rincewind and Byrony exchanged glances. This was the first time someone had reacted like that. "Er-" said Byrony uncertainly. "Yes I did?"
"Did you really?" said Twoflower, fascinated.
"Well… yes. Not on purpose."
"How?" demanded Conina. "How did you do it."
Byrony crossed her arms. "Shan't tell," she said sulkily. "If you won't believe me the first time-"
"That's so childish!" said Conina, throwing her hands up. Byrony stuck her tongue out at her.
"She's an enchantress," explained Rincewind. "She gives of flares. Though not any more, now that she's got her modulator. It was made for her. Made by that stupid poncy Stibbons-"
"Calm down," said Byrony.
"Sorry."
"An enchantress?" said Conina. "I thought there were none left."
"Yes, well," said Byrony sourly. "Now you know."
"And I thought the very last one went insane from the flares she gave off."
They all turned and stared at Byrony. "What?" she said. "What?"
"It could've happened already," said Rincewind doubtfully. "We wouldn't notice the difference."
"Shut up."
After that, they all voted to move over to a clearing that they had passed further back. They wouldn't have the coverage of the trees, but Conina said that they gave her the creeps.
Also, they kept stealing Rincewind's hat, and there was no end to his complaining.
As they moved their things, Byrony marvelled at how easy it had been, telling them she was an enchantress. She had kept it to herself because people tend to get a bit nervy around people who can pump out thousands of thaums of raw magic, but the two had just accepted it and dismissed it. Well, Twoflower had demanded an iconograph, but other then that, it was promptly forgotten about. It was probably the fact that they had met so many other strange people, thought Byrony. And all those people probably wanted to kill them. Perhaps it was refreshing to meet someone who might just do it accidently instead. Of course, now she wouldn't, now that she had her modulator.
She clutched the tiny gold cube hanging from the chain around her neck, and said a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods. She was really looking forward to settling down for a little while. Not for too long, but for a little while.
She would move on again because she it was in her blood, but when she did it would be by choice.
They set up camp again, and Conina took out some of her supplies. "I can cook these up into a stew-"
"Oooh! Oooh!" said Byrony, hopping up and down on each foot. "Can I do it!?"
"Well, sure," said Conina uncertainly. "If you really want to."
"Now, I ask myself," said Rincewind. "Is this wise?"
"It's getting cold," said Twoflower. "Should we light a fire?"
"I want to do that too!" said Byrony brightly. Rincewind looked at her suspiciously. From what he had heard, Byrony mostly travelled the Disc alone, unless she was flanked by her two murderous body-guards, William and Clancy. It occurred to him that her way of doing things might be a tad unorthodox...
"So," said Byrony cheerfully. "What is it that I'm cooking again?"
The thin man smiled a sharp little smile, and clasped his hands behind his back.
"So, what is it that you're cooking again?"
Winslow Manor's cavern of a kitchen had finally fallen silent. Not a sound could be heard as the staff stared stonily at the man. The Chef was vibrating with anger.
"As if," he choked out. "That was any of your business!"
"Just trying to make conversation," the man said mildy. Out of a pocket that was almost invisible against the black of his suit, he pulled out a small note-book. Out of another, a small stub of a pencil. He licked the nib and pressed it against the page.
"How often does her Ladyship come to the kitchens?"
"What does that have to do with-"
"Master Rowel wishes his renovations to be…a surprise."
The staff looked at each other. What was the right answer?
"While her Ladyship is free to roam any part of this manor, she does not deign to visit the kitchen," said the Chef stiffly.
"Of course," murmured the man. "It wouldn't be…fitting."
"But she could if she wanted," said a souse-chef boldly, her flame red hair poking out of her cap.
"Yeah," said a young man holding a large pot. "After all, it's Winslow Manor, isn't it?"
"Well," said the thin man, in what he probably thought was a jovial manner. "I'm sure that would annoy you, hmm? Someone coming down here and poking around where they're not wanted."
"Yes, that would be annoying," said another young man looking at him pointedly.
"But she would be wanted," said the pastry-chef, folding her plump arms tightly. "While others that I may mention are not."
The thin man's smile vanished. "I see. Well, if you don't mind, I'll continue with my measurements."
Someone snorted, and the man jerked around sharply, as if hoping to catch the culprit.
Silence.
Everyone knew why he was really here. Rowel had figured out that there were secret passages that ran the lengths of Winslow Manor, and had hired a group of solemn, pale men to find an entrance so the secret corridors could be located and sealed. It was to be a 'gift' to his dear cousin. After all, large gaps in the walls made for uncomfortable draughts, did they not?
All the men he hired looked eerily the same. They were all tall, they were all thin….and they all despaired of the staff's unwillingness to spill the beans on their employer.
"Fine," hissed the thin man. "I'll just go search the pantry, shall I?"
For some reason, this had quite the opposite effect upon the staff that he had anticipated. They seemed to slump in a relieved sort of way, and carried on with their business, treating him as a problem solved.
"Certainly!" said the Chef cheerfully, wrapping a strong yet pudgy arm around the man's shoulders. "The pantry, you say? Funny, so many people seem to be interested in our pantry!"
"Yes, well…er-"
"Can't say I blame them," continued the Chef loudly. "The games-men have it very well stocked. One would think they were up to something! Hah!"
On this final 'Hah!' he pushed the thin man into the pantry, and closed the door.
"Enjoy your measurements!" he called cheerfully, his back pressed firmly against the wood.
"I never put you as a cruel man, Chef," said the young man with the large pot admirably.
"You just get back to the mushroom sauté," warned the Chef. "Come on, what's more important? Life, or food?"
There was an uncertain pause.
"Well, come on," said the Chef impatiently. "You should know this one!"
"Er-" said the sauté-chef. "Food?"
"Exactly," said the Chef irritably. "I don't know. It wasn't as if it was a trick question or anything…Well, get on with you! Get back to work!"
And they did.
Inside the darkness, the thin man extracted a box of matches with shaking fingers. He scratched a single match into flame, and began to feel along the wall for…
He had been well trained, and he knew what he was looking for. Ah! Here was the crack in the wall! If he could find the hinge, then lever would not be too far behi-
Suddenly, a large pile of rags in the corner seemed to climb to its feet.
"Thass Miss Byrony's door, tha' is," said the pile reproachfully. "I ain't supposed to let anyone into it!"
"What," said the thin man disgustedly, "Are you?"
The pile of rags drew itself up, tall and proud. "Moi name's Hinkle!" It said happily. "Oi can even write it! You wanna see?"
"No!" snapped the man.
"Oh good," said Hinkle. "Tha' is, I could if'n I wanted to, but I ain't in a frame o' moind, y'see?"
"Which frame of mind?" asked the bewildered visitor.
"Any frame o' moind," said Hinkle cheerfully. "Sanity is pretty much optional far as oi sees it."
"Yes, well," said the visitor, whose employer had smashed through sanity and out the other side into a glittery, icy-cold world of decisions and logic. "I have a job to do here…"
His thin fingers searched along the wall until they found a hair-line crack. Success! Not many people know that plaster speaks. It creaks and cracks, communicating through sound and vision. The thin man pressed his face against the wall to follow the crevasses and pressed his fingers against the paint. He kept working the wall until he had the correct sequence and…
The door swung open.
There.
Proof.
Oh, Master Rowel would be so pleased!
"You ain't goin' in there," said a calm voice from behind.
The thin man turned. The beastly 'Hinkle' creature was filling some sort of odorous pipe, and seemed to be intent upon its task.
He turned back to the wall.
"Oi said, you ain't goin' in there."
The thin man turned again, looking a good deal more manic this time. "Oh? Oh? Am I not? Such a shame! Especially considering…whoops! I do seem to have one foot in, don't I! And the other! What can I be thinking!"
Hinkle stared at the man in a reproachful manner. "You ought not be doing tha'," he said. "Thass Miss Byrony's passage, tha' is."
"Oh," said the thin man, delighted in a viciously poisonous sort of way. "So Miss Byrony does come through here!"
"Yer," said Hinkle, agreeably enough. "But she's the only one who goes through there. Well," he added, "Exceptin' her young man, who I don't count at all cos' he ain't never swooned her once!"
The thin man chose to ignore this. "Well," he said pleasantly. "I think that Miss Byrony will have to learn to share, as I fully intend to make full use of these passages."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes." The thin man became suspicious. Hinkle sounded far too hopeful.
"Hot damn!" cried Hinkle happily. "I ain't allowed to do nothing till you admit that! I said to Miss Byrony, I said 'I'll batter anyone 'oo even tries to go frew there.' Thass what I said! I said that!"
Hinkle drew a short and worryingly blunt dagger. "Er…and what does that mean?" asked the thin man, who was slowly drawing back into the darkness of the secret passage.
"I means tha'I get ter gut yer," said Hinkle helpfully. "And no one can yell at me fer it!"
The thin man drew a breath to shriek…but all he saw was the flash of silver as the dagger caught the light in its plunge towards him.
The souse-chef cocked her head. "Huh. No scream," she said. "You owe me two dollars Jekob."
"I think you'll find," said the young man with the large pot. "That our bet revolved around his pleading for mercy."
"Yes, and he didn't," said the souse-chef, the fiery-red hair poking out around her cap. "So that's two dollars you owe me."
"Ah, now we never negotiated a silence clause-"
"What?! Oh, you cheeky monkey!"
The Chef shook his head, dismissing the argument, and looked bemusedly at the pantry-door.
Three in one week…
You'd think they'd learn.
As he tended to the fire, Rincewind watched nervously as Conina polished the steel of her sword. He had been offered one, but quickly declined. He hated weapons, and not just because they'd so often been aimed at him. You got into more trouble if you had a weapon. People shot you instantly if they thought you were going to shoot them. But if you were unarmed, they often stopped to talk. Admittedly, they talked about rather unsavoury things, for example, about how your guts were going to look like all over the ground, but that took time. And Rincewind could do a lot with a few minutes. He could use them to live longer in, for a start.
Over to his left came the clanking sound of Byrony happily sorting out pots and pans, which glistened in the low light of the fire. It wasn't quite dark yet, but it was getting a bit cool and foggy, so they had lit a fire. Well, Conina had lit a fire, while Rincewind and Twoflower nodded approvingly and Byrony insisted that this time she would do it without setting anything on fire. No really, this time she would! Oh come on, it was funny!
The, there was a clicking noise, and a flash. Everyone turned to the source, which seemed to be a sheepish Twoflower. "Er- Just thought I'd take an iconograph," he said. "You know, so we can look back on these times and say…er…"
"'Gosh, I was hungry?'" volunteered Rincewind.
"I'm going as fast as I can," said Byrony irritably.
"Can I see that?" asked Conina. Twoflower passed her the square. "Hmm…" she said as she examined it.
"Did you ever tell Byrony," said Twoflower to Rincewind suddenly, "about that time we went to Whale Bay?"
"Probably," said Rincewind. "But-" An idea struck him. Byrony had never believed Rincewind's accurate portrayal of the naïve Twoflower. "Yes, why don't you tell her? From a different perspective, as it were?"
So it began, with Byrony cooking, Conina polishing instruments of death and Twoflower enthusiastically recounting the many adventures he and Rincewind had shared. Of course, Rincewind kept interrupting with things like:
"Well, if you call trying to eat us charming, then yes I suppose you could call the natives that."
And "Majestic beast? It was a sodding dragon! Seriously Byrony, it was a big dirty lizard iff teece ike iff!" Byrony, for some reason seemed to find these comments terribly amusing.
Conina watched the circle, and couldn't help noticing that though Rincewind was contradicting each turn of Twoflower's tales, he was also carefully watching the girl with the sparkling green eyes, anxiously noting her reactions.
Oh Rincewind, she thought amusedly. You are in big trouble my friend.
It was a beautiful afternoon, but it was quickly darkening and the warm air was beginning to take on a distinct chill. Lord Vetinari sat upon an ornate chair placed with great care and delicacy in the small fenced circle that served as a viewing area on top of Winslow Manor. He was scrutinising some important looking documents, perhaps trying to determine if they did, in fact, look better in the dimming light.
There was a small, polite cough from behind him.
"Archchancellor," he smiled, waving to an empty and somewhat less ornate chair beside him. "Sit down, do. And if another eager looking lad comes in our direction, contrive to look as uncomfortable as possible, won't you? I think it's what they're trying to achieve with these chairs."
Ridcully sat down, and then mused to himself as to how to approach the situation. Something was going on here, that much was clear. Byrony was nowhere to be seen, and the very faculty member the Patrician had requested had also vanished into the ether…
Ridcully cleared his throat. "Do you mind me asking-"
Vetinari held up a hand. "Think before you ask, Archchancellor. You might ask a question that would fall on unfavourable ears."
"Oh?" said Ridcully.
"And those unfavourable ears might not be my own."
"Right. Yes. What?"
Vetinari raised an eyebrow, and it dawned on Ridcully that they had entered into diplomatic realms, where nonsensical sentences and erratic grammar were the norm.
"Ah, I see," he said, replaying the Patrician's sentence via newly tuned ears. "Well, er- I was just coming to see if you…if you had misplaced anything."
Vetinari made a small note on a brown paper folder. "No, I know where all my possessions lie, thank you for your concern. Was there anything else?"
"Er-" said Ridcully. "Well, have you lost anything of mine, perhaps?"
Vetinari paused. "Yes, actually. I am afraid it my have become mixed in with my belongings."
"Oh good," said Ridcully. "I was worried it would be sullying the name of the University."
"I can't actually guarantee it will be returned to you safely-"
"No, no, that's fine," said the Archchancellor happily. "Once you know where it is, sort of thing. And you…trust my…item of uncertain nature, do you?"
"As far as it is possible to trust an inanimate object," said the Patrician smoothly. "I can safely say that yes, I do trust it to perform the task required of it. After all, do we not trust socks to cover our feet?"
"…yes?" said Ridcully, struggling for a grip.
"Indeed. I can see that you are well alongside the essential business of diplomacy."
"But," said Ridcully, as if he had to pull the words out of him from a great depth. "Do you think it's a good idea to send…to mix up those to completely inanimate possessions? I mean, have you heard the upper-class gossip about…those two inanimate objects?"
"I cherish my ignorance on the subject."
"Well, if it's ever found out that-"
"But it will not. And might I add, Archchancellor, that there are higher things at stake here then the relations of two inanimate objects."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Gracious. Even if ones a-"
"Yes."
"And the other's your-"
"Yes."
"Oh. What?"
Vetinari paused, perhaps wondering how far a metaphor could be extended. "The…destruction of inanimate objects."
"Really inanimate objects or diplomatic inanimate objects?"
"Does it matter?"
"Well, yes because if you say, snap a hairbrush in two, it doesn't tend to start screaming and writhing and swearing-"
"Perhaps you might join me for a sherry this evening," interrupted Vetinari, finally abandoning the whole concept.
"Capital!" said Ridcully cheerfully. "Can't be diplomatic over sherry, it sours the taste! No unfavourable ears in you office, are there?"
"If there are," said Vetinari. "They are soon to find out that it is a very unfavourable place to be."
"It's ready!" said Byrony brightly as she brandished a cooking implement which, theoretically, held their dinner. "Well. Sort of ready. It's not wet anymore, certainly."
Conina looked at the mess sizzling in the huge frying-pan. It wasn't a sight to be seen on an empty stomach, although it could probably cause one.
"I wonder if the fungi around here are edible?" said Two-Flower weakly.
"All fungi are edible," said Conina, prodding the mess in the pan. "But, like this meal, some fungi are not edible more than once."
"Look, no one asked me if I could cook," said Byrony reasonably. "You just asked me if I wanted to."
"Hear that?" said Rincewind turning to the other two. "Hear what she just said? Imagine putting up with that for two months."
"You brave man," said Conina, now attempting to scrape the burnt lump out of the pan with a rock. "Byrony, if you travel all over the place, how do you survive if you can't cook?"
"Oh, I can cook meat and things," she said vaguely. "I'm pretty good at hunting and roasting over a spit. It's only when things get technical that I fall down."
"Technical?! You were making stew!" It then occurred to Conina that now would be a good time to have a little heart-to-heart with Rincewind. "Twoflower, take Byrony away and go search for edible things, the both of you."
"What, like berries and…things?" said Twoflower nervously.
"There's more food in my pack," suggested Byrony. "As opposed to searching on the ground for food we could just eat it that."
"Fine. Get firewood then."
"But we don't need firewood-"
"Well, soon we will on account me having to burn the giant piece of mess that was to be our dinner. Ooh, look the flames are turning green. Now off you go."
Grumbling, Byrony took Twoflower's arm and dragged him deeper into the forest.
Rincewind was impressed. "Can you teach me how to do that?"
"No," said Conina authoritively. "Only a woman would be able to. Now," she continued. "I think it's time you and I had a little chat, don't you?"
"Do I?"
"What's going on with you and that girl, Rincewind?"
"Er-"
"I mean, the first day I met you, it was all 'ooh, I can't be alone with a woman'. I thought wizards aren't-"
"Allowed to do that sort of thing. They're not."
"Well?"
"Um…"
Conina looked at Rincewind, amused. "You really like this girl, don't you?"
Rincewind pursed his lips, looked at the darkening sky and did a quick calculation. "I'm about…sixty percent sure that we're soul mates."
"Well, that doesn't sound very sure to me."
"Actually it's impressive if you take in the fact that I don't actually believe in soul mates."
"Well, you don't look very happy about it," said Conina.
"I'm not happy about it! Do you think I want a soul mate? I don't want a soul mate! No one asked me if I wanted a soul mate!"
"Oh," said Conina, blinking in a shocked manner at this outburst. "Why don't you?"
"Weeell," said Rincewind expansively, "soul mates are a bit of a bother, aren't they? They're like bits of you that you can't see all the time. Would I like my foot wandering off and getting murdered? How about my neck taking a nasty fall? This soul mate business, it's a lot more taxing then it sounds." Rincewind cowered, expecting the blow of feminine ridicule of common sense in the face of love.
Conina, however, was beaming. "Rincewind, are you saying that you feel overly protective of her, because it's like she's a part of you?"
"Sort of. Maybe. Not really."
"You know, that's very nearly romantic."
"Shut up," replied Rincewind. After all, when you seek advice from someone it's certainly not because you want them to give it. You just want them to be there while you talk to yourself.
"But if you're not allowed to do that sort of thing…then…"
"We need boundaries!" Rincewind suddenly blurted. "And I don't know what they are! I don't know what we are!" Rincewind desperately began to pace around the clearing. "I mean, are we friends? Colleagues? Our relationship should set the bloody boundaries but I don't know what we are!"
"Well," said Conina patiently, "maybe this is one of the things you could talk about with her?"
Rincewind stopped, and looked at her. "Er. I don't really like to ask her those sort of questions."
"Why not?"
"For a start, she might give me answers. And then what would I do?"
Conina shook her head, baffled at the sheer stupidity of the man before her. "Look, if you really like her…then why not…you know…just give it a go?"
Rincewind threw his arms up in the air. "Why does everyone I talk to seem to lapse into insanity?" he asked no one in particular. He turned back to Conina. "You see this hat?" he said angrily, pointing to the hat in question. "See it?"
"Yes."
"What does it tell you?"
"That you can't spell?"
"Ye- no! In fact, it tells you that I am a wizard, and by definition, do not just give things a go with young women!"
"Yes, but you're not actually a very good wizard, are you?" Conina pointed out. "You wouldn't actually be risking anything, as such."
Rincewind pointed firmly to his hat. "Hat equals wizard. Wizard equals magic. Magic equals no carnal relations. End of story."
"Yes, but you don't actually do any-"
"End of story!"
Meanwhile, as this argument raged on and went nowhere in particular, Twoflower and Byrony wandered around the place, picked up sticks, poked various interesting plants and sometimes talked to trees.
"Tell me something," Twoflower said after a bit. "Are we lost?"
"Yes," said Byrony promptly.
"Ah, I thought so," he said.
The after another little bit he said "What, really lost?"
"Really lost."
"Just us?"
"Oh no," said Byrony, shocked. "I know the way back to the camp. We're all lost."
"All of us?"
"Yes."
"In the forest?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Yes," said Byrony. They walked on in a companionable silence for a bit and then she said: "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason," said Twoflower cheerfully. "Just that Rincewind was going on about how these trackless woods go on for miles and that people have been known to never return. Also about Enraged Mother Bears. I shouldn't tell him that we're lost, if I were you. He does tend to worry a fair bit."
Byrony nodded. "You know, it's at times like these, when I'm lost in a deep dark woods searching for the fuel that will aid my survival that I wish I had listen to the advice my mother gave me."
"What was that?"
"Well, I don't know. I didn't listen."
"Oh."
When their arms were full of burnable things, the two made a decision to return to the camp. Byrony reasoned that Conina would have finished talking to Rincewind by then.
"Did she want to talk to him?" said Twoflower, now slightly confused.
"Oh, yes," said Byrony knowledgably. "That's why she sent us away."
"Well, why couldn't she have talked with us there?"
"She could have talked with you there. Not with me there."
"Why could she have talked with me there?" asked Twoflower, suddenly terribly insulted. "Maybe I don't want to hear her talk!"
"All right," said Byrony agreeably as they wandered along. "She couldn't have talked with you there either."
"That's better," said Twoflower, satisfied. After a bit, it occurred to him to ask "Wait, why couldn't she talk when you were there?"
"Oh," said Byrony airily, squinting up at the evening sky. "I imagine she's prying Rincewind for information on his feelings and such. No doubt a large emotional crowbar would have to be employed."
"Goodness," said Twoflower solemnly. "And is this-er…is this a result of the relationship you two share?"
Byrony blinked. "Well, I hope so. Either that or we're going to go back and find Rincewind revealing how he really feels about potatoes. And personally, I'm just not ready for that."
"He'll be a bit distracted then? For the evening?"
"Yes, but he'll snap out of it pretty fast."
"He will? When?"
Byrony chuckled. "When I tell him we're lost would be a favorite."
As the flapping of the bright blue butterfly's wings became weaker and weaker, Rowel closed the glass covering of the case, the hinges squeaking a little against the new wood. He hung it back on the wall, admiring the centre-placing of the silver pin as he did so.
She was gone.
He was certain.
He walked over to the heavily draped curtains, and twitched them aside to see the sun-set. The sky was an orange glow, with purple beginning to skim the edges of the horizon. He watched until it was more-or-less dark, an indigo haze of twilight. The forest, which fanned out behind the manor, was a dark stain, its individual trees indistinguishable in the gloom. It went on for miles and miles…
She had gone on her little quest, she would get what all the others before her had failed to retrieve, and then she would deliver it straight to him.
Rowel was in a very good mood.
While the cat is away, the mice may play. But while the mice are away, the cat may lie in wait and create numerous and ingenious traps of ice-cold death in preparation for their return.
Byrony was gone.
And Rowel had plans.
Byrony was right. All thoughts of carnal relations were driven from Rincewind's mind as a flood of 'dying in the forest' thoughts rushed in to have a party.
"Lost," he gibbered, pacing circles around the camp-fire and worrying the horses. "Lost!"
"There's no need to get hysterical," said Twoflower.
"Yes, there is! What there isn't a need for is staying calm!"
"Well," said Conina, glaring at Byrony. "I call it irresponsible. How could you just wander into the forest without any sort of navigation equipment?!"
Byrony looked puzzled. "But you knew I didn't have any-"
Conina waved a hand irritably. "Yes, but I thought you had a plan!"
"I did!"
"What is it then?"
"To get lost!"
Rincewind looked at her speculatively. "As plans go, it's not a great one, is it?"
"Look," said Byrony patiently. "In every story you've ever heard, do the hero's find what they're looking for by looking for it?"
Silence.
"No?" suggested Twoflower.
"No!" said Byrony triumphantly. "They have to get lost, and then stumble across it during suitably mythic circumstances!"
Conina put her head in her hands. "She's insane."
"No," said Twoflower excitedly. "She's right! That's how it always works!"
"I'm officially declaring this a crisis," said Rincewind gloomily.
"Oh, it is not a crisis," scoffed Byrony.
"This is a crisis. A large crisis. In fact, if you got a moment, it's a twelve-storey crisis with a magnificent entrance hall, carpeting throughout, constant portage, and an enormous sign on the roof, saying 'This Is a Large Crisis'."
"You're over-reacting. You do that sometimes you know."
Conina turned around and began to go through her bags. "There must be a compass in here, or something," she muttered.
"I don't suppose you packed anything of an alcoholic nature?" said Byrony wistfully.
Conina rounded on her. "How can you even think of drinking now? We're lost because of you!"
"Lost I don't mind," said Byrony, who was, for some strange reason, now eyeing up a tree. "It's sobriety that's currently giving me difficulties."
"I personally think," said Rincewind slowly, "that I would be in a much better position to deal with the situation with something intoxicating in me."
"See?" said Byrony, now circling the tree.
"We shouldn't have to deal with anything, not with a wizard on our side," snapped Conina.
"Er-" said Rincewind.
"Yes, I thought you said that wizards had an inherent sense of direction," said Twoflower, in a slightly accusatory voice that manage to convey that though he thought that Rincewind was a great conjuror of power and might, it would be nice if he, Twoflower, was able to see the evidence of this every once in a while.
"Well?" said Conina, spitefully. "Go on, do something magic."
"Ah-" said Rincewind, and "Well-"
"We'd all be very grateful, I'm sure," said Twoflower encouragingly. Then he nudged Conina. "He's about to do something marvelous, you wait!"
"Really?" said Conina dryly. "Somehow, I doubt that very much."
"Now, hold on a minute," said Rincewind hotly.
They held on a minute.
They held on a further seventeen seconds.
"Look, it's a lot more complicated then you think," he said finally.
"Told you!" crowed Conina.
Byrony's voice suddenly came out from behind the tree. "Stop picking on poor Rincewind," she said.
"Yes," said Rincewind. "No picking!"
"Shame on you, pushing him like that."
"Shame!" said Rincewind agreed, nodding frantically.
"We shouldn't ask Rincewind to prove anything."
"Not ask! Right!"
"As if he would stoop to conjuring on demand."
"Right, no stooping. Definitely no stooping."
"He needs to save his magic, for the perils we'll face!"
"Perils?"
"For the monsters and demons and creatures with weird slimy bits and tentacles!"
"Monsters and…er…really? I didn't-"
"And lions!"
"And tigers," said Conina, getting the joke.
"And bears," said Rincewind mumbled. "Enraged mother bears."
Silence.
"Oh my!" said Twoflower, feeling that it was somehow necessary.
"After all," said Byrony cheerfully, peering out and now patting the bark of the tree, "he's definitely a wizard."
"Right," said Rincewind, back on firm ground.
"He does lots of things that wizards do."
"Indeed," said Rincewind, puffing his chest out.
"Of course, magic isn't one of those things-"
"Wait just a-"
"But he has to be a wizard," continued Byrony, her voice rising and gaining an element of anger. "Because he doesn't do any of the things wizards don't do."
There was a small embarrassed silence. Byrony fumed to herself for a couple of seconds while the others, taking the hint from Rincewind, backed away to a safe distance. Annoyed with herself, Byrony reflected that perhaps she hadn't forgiven him as much as she had originally thought.
After a minute or so, Twoflower risked asking if she was all right. "You er, you went a bit purple," he said.
"It was a nice purple though," said Rincewind loyally.
"I thought that vein on your temple was going to pop right out," said Conina.
There was another little silence as Byrony composed herself.
"You know, I think I recognize this tree," she said finally, her facial expression daring anyone to comment on what had just happened.
They all stared at her.
"Well," said Twoflower hesitantly. "There are a lot of them."
"And they all look the same," added Rincewind. "How do you tell the damn things apart?"
Conina snorted. "Maybe we've been going in circles. Maybe that's the same tree."
"No," said Byrony decisively. "I definitely recognize this tree. Rincewind, give me a leg up."
"A what?"
"I want to climb up it, see if I can see where we are," said Byrony irritably. "You put your hands down for me to stand on right? What did you think I meant, mister wizard?"
"With you, it could mean anything," muttered Rincewind, trying to ignore the length of warm female brushing past his nose.
There were rustling noises from above as Byrony climbed higher and higher. Leaves and small branches fell, most of them hitting Rincewind.
"This is ridiculous," huffed Conina. "If we die out here, I shall be very annoyed."
"That's nothing compared to what I'll be," said Rincewind.
"What's that?"
"Dead."
"How could she see where we are?" asked Twoflower, peering up through the leaves. "We know where we are. We're in the middle of a great big forest."
"And not likely to get out of it any time soon," added Rincewind.
"I suppose there are animals around the place?" asked Conina. The horses had begun to shuffle nervously, whinnying softly as they did so.
"Oh, thank you very much," said Rincewind acidly. "I had just managed to forget the image of being mauled by an Enraged Mother Bear."
"Um," called a voice from above.
"What can you see? Do you know where we are?" asked Conina eagerly.
"No, I wouldn't say I know where we are," Byrony called down. "But I'd bet a fairly large amount of money that I know where we're supposed to go next."
"Really?" said Twoflower. "Where?"
"I'm going to say…the swamp."
"Well, all you've done so far is get us lost," said Conina sharply. "How do you know it's the swamp?"
"Well," she said thoughtfully. "It's probably the way it seems to be glowing…"
Suddenly there came a rustling from behind the three, and the bushes began to shake. "I'd better go up and check this out," said Rincewind hurriedly, scaling the tree with a surprising turn of speed. When he was near the top, a hand came down through the branches and caught his sleeve, helping him up the last few feet.
"We seem to spend so much time in trees, don't we?" said Byrony cheerfully. "I promise not to punch you this time."
"That," panted Rincewind, "would be nice. Not getting punched is one of my favourite things to do. Let's see this eldritch swamp, then."
Byrony frowned. "Oblong?"
They looked out across the forest. Immediately, Rincewind's eyes were drawn to a pale blue glow in the distance, which was somehow glassy and transparent. Slightly more worrying, was the ring of octarine which surrounded it- the eighth colour from the edge of the rimbow, and the colour of magic. It was visible only to wizards and meant that some extreme magic was happening.
Rincewind always thought it looked kind of greenish-yellow purple.
"This is not good," he breathed.
"It's kind of pretty, isn't it," said Byrony happily. "Well," she added. "Pretty in the same way that oil-spills are pretty, but you know what I mean."
Conina called up to them, annoyance clear in her voice. "It was just a squirrel Rincewind. You can come down now, I want to see what's going on."
Rincewind made to climb down, but all of a sudden, the tree began to shake and the greenish-yellow purple colour that had been so far away only a moment ago outlined the leaves.
"What's happening?! What's happening?!"
"Hold on!" yelled Byrony. The world around them suddenly went white and a rush of wind filled their ears…
When they dropped out of the tree, it was onto a landscape that was not the one that had been originally underfoot when they first climbed up.
"Er-" said Rincewind.
They were now on the edge of the forest, right in front of the eerily shining swamp and far away from where they started.
Byrony let out a sigh. "Not again."
"What's again," said Rincewind, staring around him. "How did we- What the hell's going on? Again?"
"The damn trees- All right, one day a pretty dim friend of my father's happened to remark loudly that the forest was a big waste of space. My father pointed out that it was picturesque, but his friend insisted that all trees looked the same. The trees- the trees heard him, and out of spite they created a temporal loop in which they were all different trees but essentially the same tree."
Rincewind raised his eyebrows. "Are you telling me that…you climb up one tree…but you climb down another?"
"Yes. Well, only if you piss them off, which you did. They're pretty tetchy, trees."
"I pissed them off?"
"You said they looked alike. So this is your fault, is what I'm saying."
"It's worked out fairly well for us," Rincewind pointed out. "I mean, we've split up from Conina and Twoflower, but it's saved us a bit of a walk, anyway."
"I suppose. But this whole prank is a childish trick and I'd really thought the forest had grown out of it by now," said Byrony, giving the trunk of the tree a kick.
It promptly dropped something on her head.
"Ow! Wha- This is an acorn! An acorn! You're a pine tree, where the hell did you get an acorn?! Ow! It did it again! Rincewind. It did it again!"
Byrony began to viciously kick the tree, which rained ill-gotten acorns down upon her. Rincewind, who saw where this was going, grabbed Byrony by the elbow and dragged her away.
"You coniferous bastard! Let me go! I'll make his damn leaves fall off!"
They continued on like that, with Byrony ranting and Rincewind dragging her away, until they were well into the swamp, though it didn't help that the tree made razzing noises as they went.
Upon realising that the offensive tree was out of ear-shot (or whatever-shot), Byrony huffed, and began to go on ahead of Rincewind, stamping on the ground as though it had done her a personal injury.
"Careful!" called Rincewind. "It looks uneven! We probably shouldn't even be here without all sorts of ropes and pulleys and…things."
He squelched on through the swamp, lifting the hem of his robe. He was now in over his ankles, surrounded by yuk. Rincewind considered himself to be a city wizard, and as far as he was concerned, the wilderness was at its worse when it was wet.
"Urgh," he told the world in general.
Byrony was a couple of metres ahead, completely unmindful of what she was sloshing through.
"Don't be ridiculous," she called back. "It's perfectly safe."
Then, with a shriek, she dropped through the ground. There was a sploshing noise.
"Byrony?!" Rincewind ran forward, and threw himself flat on the ground to peer into the hole. After a couple of minutes, he propped his chin up on one hand to listen.
"My," he said conversationally. "We do know a lot of swearwords, don't we?"
"I. Am. Soaking," shouted Byrony, who was now treading water in a deep black hole in the ground.
"You know, I didn't know that Klatchian swearing was so elaborate. I know the language, of course, but hearing you say exactly where the donkey should be put-"
"Rincewind! You're not helping!"
"No," agreed Rincewind. "I'm not. I'm also not, and I want to make this clear, I'm also not the one lying at the bottom of a water-logged pit."
She swore some more.
"I told you to be careful."
"Get me out!"
"You know, you're really not in a position to be giving orders."
After some more swearing (this time by the both of them), some stretching, some grabbing and some pulling, Rincewind finally yanked her out of the dark hole in the ground. They collapsed panting beside the pit.
When she had gotten her breath back, Byrony sat up and tried to brush the mud out of her clothes. She then remembered why it is, in fact, impossible to do this.
"Uck," she said.
"Stop wiping it on my robe!" said Rincewind.
When they were ready, they continued on a little more, until the water to land ratio began to become distinctly unbalanced.
"It's just a lake now," complained Rincewind. "How're we supposed to find something that's submerged in a lake?"
"Aha!" said Byrony, raising one finger in the air.
Rincewind looked at her warily. "…yes?"
"I have a plan!" She pulled out what looked like a plate of glass ringed with rubber and a strap.
"Yes?" said Rincewind cautiously. "And what are we planning on doing with that?"
"It's one of Leonard de Quirm's inventions," explained Byrony. "He calls it The Mask That Clears the Distortion of Water Enabling Divers to See Clearly…but that's a bit long, so I call it a goggle."
There was a pause as they both looked at the goggle.
"Why?" asked Rincewind eventually.
Byrony looked uncertain. "Well, I don't know. It seemed…the right sort of name. Plus, when you put it on, it sort of sucks at your face and your eyes pop out."
"Really pop out?" asked Rincewind, alarmed.
"No, of course not really pop out. It just makes them, you know, goggle. You always assume the worst, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. And I'm usually proven right, thank you very much."
"Well, at least I'm all wet already, and I don't have to take off my clothes."
"You-what?" Rincewind realised that Byrony was in the process of strapping the goggle onto her face. "Hang on, you're not going to actually dive in there, are you? To look for a tiny jewel in the middle of a huge lake, are you?"
"Why not?" asked Byrony in a nasally voice - the rubber of the goggle covered her nose. "I'm all wet and muddy anyway. Here, take my bag. My cloak is in it, so I'll wear that for something dry when I get out."
"But it'll take days to search the lake," continued Rincewind as he took her satchel. "And look! It's getting all misty!"
"Yes, but this is a legend," insisted Byrony. "Bet you a dollar I find it the first go."
"Oh no," said Rincewind, backing away. "I know all about lakes and legends. I swear, the first ghostly hand I see appearing out of the water-"
"Relax, I'm the one diving. Go on, a dollar says I get the jewel first try. No? Fine then."
Without further ado, she elegantly dove into the black water, which engulfed her soundlessly. It closed up behind her with barely a ripple, and in it's eerily still state, it looked like a black mirror. It was near mid-night now, and the stars that appeared in the sky were reflected back in that mirror, and the white moon hung in the lake just as it hung in the sky.
Rincewind waited.
The hem of his robe was sodden, he was up over his knees in icy water and he couldn't feel his feet anymore. A couple of times, he thought he felt something slither around his ankles. The minutes ticked by…
And then a horrible, nervous voice in his head said: "Shouldn't she have come up for a breath by now?"
Back in the forest, Conina and Twoflower struggled with four horses. Well, it wasn't much of a struggle really. They tied one horse onto on of the other horses and they pretty much trotted along beside them. In fact, a better description would have been that they didn't struggle with the horses. They actually sat down, enjoyed a fairly acceptable dinner beside a nice warm fire (for which there was more then enough fuel) and then weighed out the pro's and con's of going to find Rincewind and Byrony.
"They'll be all right," said Twoflower encouragingly.
"He's a total pillock," sighed Conina
"Between the two of them, they're bound to be all right!"
"And she's two arrows short of a quiver."
"They've both been in situations like this before, after all."
"But then, when have they ever been in a situation like this before?"
"Alone…lost in a forest…"
"Together…lost in a forest…"
"It happens to Rincewind a lot, I know that. It must be fate again!"
"It will probably be a good thing. They can do all that talking that's long overdue. It's a stroke of luck, really, when you think about it."
So, without ever once actually talking to each other, both Twoflower and Conina went to sleep completely convinced they had done the absolutely right thing.
Of course, one of them was praising the wrong god entirely.
Rincewind shifted slightly. Right, if he dove in now…
Well, she was probably still a bloated corpse, but at least his conscience would have something to cling to on those dark nights, which for some reason always occurred at four in the morning.
As if reading his mind, something chose that exact moment to cling to Rincewind's ankle.
He shrieked and flailed, marginally avoiding falling backwards into the lake through some sort of divine providence. Some sort of pale, ghostly, slimy creature arose from the depths and spoke thusly:
"Hah! You owe me a dollar!"
Rincewind slowly stopped flailing, feeling a bit stupid. "Byrony?"
She did a splashy little victory dance, the goggle still clamped firmly over her eyes and nose. "First try! First try! Didn't I say! Well, you're down a dollar now, and let it be a lesson to you!"
"But you- hang on." Rincewind tried to put his thoughts in some sort of order after they had run screaming in all different directions in his brain. "What did you find?"
"This!"
Byrony extended a dripping fist. When she opened it, Rincewind saw a blue sapphire was nestled in her palm. It glowed a little, and shimmered in the non-existent light.
"Eldritch," said Rincewind wearily. "Bloody eldritch."
"Uh, no," said Byrony helpfully. "It's more hexagonal, really."
"Are you trying to tell me that you found that little jewel in the middle of all this?" Rincewind flung out his arms in an attempt to encompass the huge wasteland of the swamp, which stretched as far as the eye could see.
"Yep," said Byrony happily, removing the goggle with an audible sucker-like sound. "I told you, but would you listen? This is going to be a breeze! Speaking of breezes…" Byrony gave a little shiver. She was dripping wet, and the temperature was falling fast.
Rincewind became aware of the fact that she was dripping wet. The rational part of his mind said: "Oh, give her the cloak!"
The part of his mind where his libido had currently set up camp said: "Hey look! Her clothes have gone all see through and clingy!"
Rincewind pulled the cloak out of the rucksack and threw it at her. "Here!"
"Thanks." Byrony wrapped it around her, but continued to shiver. "Doesn't do much good though."
"Well, let's get out of this damn swamp, anyway."
They began to wade and then eventually trudge toward the shore, and returned into the forest. The glow from the swamp faded as the left it, and seemed to transfer to the sapphire itself, which Rincewind examined as they walked along.
What was it for? He had assumed they were going to be getting the Orb, but it didn't really look like that anymore. Well, Byrony was happy so they must be on the right track. He pocketed the jewel.
"We should probably set up camp," he said, noticing how his breath plumed out in the air before him. Temperatures really did change quickly around here. "Conina and Twoflower are probably worried sick." He thought about this for a while and cheered up. It was nice not to be the one worrying for once. "Yes, they're probably franticly scouring the forest as we speak. If we stay in one place, it will be easier for them to-"
Suddenly he realised he was speaking to air.
Byrony was crouched on the ground a couple of feet behind, her head bowed and her cloak clutched tightly around her.
"Er-" said Rincewind. "You okay?"
A small muttered noise issued forth. Rincewind walked over to her and crouched down. "Sorry, could you say that again?"
He strained to hear, and caught one word. "…c'ld"
Rincewind frowned. What was-
Oh.
Byrony was soaking wet, and the temperature had plummeted. She had forced herself on, because they needed to get out of that swamp, but now she was so cold, she could barely move. She was shaking so hard she couldn't prise her teeth apart, but she managed a fairly understandable sentence.
"Fire…idiot!"
Rincewind jerked up from his crouched position. "Yes! Right! Just…just…stay there, all right?!" he raced off to collect fire-wood. Byrony thought to herself that soon her rolling-her-eyes muscles would snap.
When Rincewind returned, she had collapsed onto her side. Her breathing was shallow, and her lips were blue. He frantically built up the wood beside her, and then began patting his pockets, saying the mantra that even non-wizards invoke in order to find matches; that is, he said "Matches, matches, matches," madly to himself, under his breath.
He found one, and scratched it desperately with his thumbnail. "Ow!"
He applied it to the wood, and patted moss around it to set it alight. He then began to huff on it gently, in that breathy manner that probably doesn't do any good, but which must be done in order to appease the fire gods of old. He glanced over at Byrony.
She was now completely still. He huffed a little harder.
Soon, there was a nice blaze crackling beside them. Rincewind leaned over Byrony and put his ear beside her mouth. Still breathing. Well there was a plus.
"Bloody idiot," he muttered. "Walking around in the cold in wet clothes. What did you think would happen?"
Byrony cracked open an eye. "Would you have preferred me without them?"
"Haha," deadpanned Rincewind, though he was secretly relieved. He helped her up into a sitting position. "How are you now?"
"F-f-f-freezing," she huffed. She was so cold she could hardly talk and she was still shaking uncontrollably. Her joints were stiffening up, and she could barely move. She was also feeling more and more like falling asleep, one of the sure signs that her body temperature was dropping dangerously. Well, only one thing for it…
"I can make the fire bigger. Or you could move closer. Or I could make it bigger and move you closer, although the chances of burning to death would be incredibly increased-"
"Rincewind," interrupted Byrony who, despite shivering like a leaf in the wind, managed to glare at him. "Y-y-you know the w-w-way you're a wizard?"
"Um," said a bewildered Rincewind. "Yes?"
"And y-y-y-you know the way this m-m-means you're not m-m-m-meant to do inappropriate things w-w-with young w-w-women?"
"Ye-es?"
"Well, it w-w-would be very appropriate of you to take off all m-m-my clothes right about n-now."
Somewhere in the distance, a cricket chirruped.
"Uh-" began Rincewind.
"Or I'll f-f-freeze to death," said Byrony helpfully.
"I see," said Rincewind finally, in a very restrained sort of voice. "Are we definitely talking about all your clothes here?"
Byrony sighed. "I'm w-w-wearing a plaster cast on m-my chest for my ribs," she said patiently, through numb lips. "And I'll t-t-take off m-m-my own trousers, I just need you to p-p-pull of my shirt and j-j-jerkin-.I'm too cold to l-l-lift m-m-my arms."
"Well," said Rincewind slowly. "Are you sure-"
"Do the words freeze to death mean nothing to you?!"
"I'm sure you'd be fine doing it yourself," grumbled Rincewind, coming over to her. "I'm sure you hardly need my help at all."
"Just p-p-pull up my d-d-damn shirt," said Byrony irritably, shrugging off the cloak. Her clothes were still sopping, and the skin underneath was so cold it had turned an angry red.
"Right," said Rincewind. "Er. Are you sure you can't just-"
"Rincewind!"
"All right, all right!"
Gingerly, he pulled off her leather jerkin and wrung it out. "P-p-put it somewhere it'll dry, could y-y-you?" After some scouting around, Rincewind set up a sort of rack made from branches beside the fire and hung the jerkin from it. As he stood back to admire his handiwork, he noticed that Byrony had slumped to one side again.
"Hey! No sleeping Byrony, come on!" He hurried over and shook her shoulder.
"Jus' lemme sleep…"
"Not bloody likely. Come on, sit up."
She struggled up right, her skin like ice beneath his hands. "'s a blow to the ego, y'know," she said blearily.
"What is?" asked Rincewind.
"A man not wanting to take off m' clothes," she snorted, and then began to laugh. Then she stopped with an "Ouch!"
"Sorry," said Rincewind pleasantly.
"You did that on purpose," she complained, holding where Rincewind had squeezed her broken ribs.
"Snapped you out of your little delusional rant brought on by the cold, didn't it?"
"Rincewind, I'm f-f-freezing."
Rincewind nodded gloomily, and began to tug her sopping shirt out of where it was tucked into her pants. "Come on, stand up then, so I can pull it off."
They stood up together and Rincewind began to pull the shirt of over her head.
"If I hear you laughing," he said darkly. "I shall throw you into the lake, understand?"
There was a suspicious silence from Byrony.
He pulled off the shirt and quickly turned around to hang it on the rack by the fire.
Without once looking at her, he scooped up the cloak and wrapped it around her.
"I'm w-w-wearing a plaster cast," she complained, her voice muffled by the cloak wrapped over her mouth. "Y-y-you can't even see my-"
"All right now?" asked Rincewind loudly. "Not dying anymore, are you?"
"W-well, a little inappropriate friction w-would be nice."
"What?"
Byrony grinned. "Just rub m-my back to get m-my circulation going."
Rincewind gritted his teeth, and began to do so perhaps a little harder then was necessary. He was highly aware that under the cloak, a few strips of material were all that separated him from-
"I swear," he said murderously. "You are pushing it"
"Excuse me for not w-wanting to die," snapped Byrony. "Anyway, I'm not pushing it. You're the one w-with a weird attitude towards women!"
"I am not!"
"Are too! Tell me about your mother!"
"She ran away before I was born! And it's not me, it's all wizards!"
"The rest of the faculty would fight for a kiss from a young woman, but you won't even stop one from freezing to death!"
"That's different," insisted Rincewind.
"How?" demanded Byrony.
"Stop badgering me," said Rincewind angrily. "Why can't you just take it at face value that-"
"Um, Rincewind?"
"-I am a wizard, and this is how it works!? I mean, I get that we're alone now-"
"It's just that-"
"-but you have no right to question me on these matters! How do you know-"
"Um. Ow."
"You act like we're-"
"You're hurting me, Rincewind," said Byrony mildly.
Rincewind stopped, and realised that he was clenching Byrony's shoulder tightly in one hand, and had been viciously rubbing her back very hard with the other.
He let go.
"Oh," he said, slightly shocked. "Sorry."
"It's okay," said Byrony encouragingly, rubbing her shoulder. "I'm nice and warm now."
She did indeed have a better colour.
They looked at each other for a minute.
Well, Rincewind thought reluctantly, I guess now's the time to do that talking that Conina mentioned…
"Well," said Byrony cheerfully. "I guess now's the time to take off my trousers!"
Rincewind spun around, cheeks flaming.
"Can you imagine," continued Byrony conversationally as she shrugged off the cloak. "If someone just heard that part of the conversation? Conclusions would be jumped to, I'd imagine."
"Would you indeed?" said Rincewind through gritted teeth.
"Oooh," said Byrony from behind him. "My bruises are all purple and green! Rincewind, look!"
"My eyes are closed," said Rincewind firmly.
"You're not even facing this way!"
"Nevertheless!"
"There's nothing to see. I'm wearing a big cast!"
It was true. Bandages covered any skin that could have been described, in long or short form, as being titillating.
Rincewind continued to stare resolutely at the fire.
Byrony shook her head, amused. She used her cloak to dry herself off, and once she was warmer, managed to struggle out of her shoes, socks, trousers, undergarments...
Rincewind became aware of a steadily growing pile of wet clothing to his right, which was added to as soon as she flung away a recently shed piece of material.
His adam's apple bobbed. Whoever had created humanity had left in a major design flaw. It was its tendency to bend at the knees.
"Now you shouldn't look," Byrony said from behind him, as she rummaged through her rucksack.
Rincewind remained stoic.
"Ah, here we go!" Out of the rucksack, Byrony pulled a spare pair of trousers. "I thought we'd get wet all right. No spare top though…" She struggled into them, and wrapped the cloak around her. "Now…socks, socks, sock…Ah!" Socks were duly located and worn. "Hmm… an hour by the fire should sort my boots. Still, better then nothing, wouldn't you agree?"
"Are you decent?" asked Rincewind stiffly, choosing to ignore the play on expression.
"Nope," said Byrony happily.
"I mean are you wearing clothes."
"For want of a better term," she admitted. Rincewind turned and found that all major areas of skin were unexposed. He was flooded with relief, which was also tinged with a little something…
That's disappointment, his libido pointed out helpfully. I'm just saying.
That's ridiculous, thought Rincewind. And you are to stop saying right this instant.
"Okay," continued Byrony, who had returned to her rucksack. "I have food here. What are we in the mood for?"
"Oh no," said Rincewind. "No, no. You are not cooking. I like my meat to be on the edible side of the food-chain, thank you. Your meat is so raw, with a little encouragement it could probably walk off the plate."
"Hey!"
"I'll do the cooking. Come on, pass over the food."
Sulkily, Byrony tossed over a couple of brown packages to him. They didn't have any cooking implements, but Rincewind was quite used to such situations and made do with a flat rock.
"The stars are coming out," noted Byrony.
Rincewind craned up to see. The icy air was making the brilliant specks of light appear to be brighter and sharper then usual.
"Very nice," he said. "Pass me those eggs."
Byrony passed him the eggs. "Can I do anything?"
"Yes, you can sit there and conscientiously make an effort not to interfere with the process in any way whatsoever."
"I am not that bad a cook!" complained Byrony.
"In fact, if you could avoid even looking too hard at the food? That would be great."
"Hey!"
And so on. They continued on like this for much of the evening, falling into the easy pattern that they had long-since established as the default grid for their relationship.
After they had eaten their fill, they settled down by the fire preparing to go to sleep.
"Uh," said Rincewind. "Maybe if you sleep on one side of the fire, and I sleep on the other-"
"Rincewind?" said Byrony tiredly. "It's late. Can we just pretend that we had an argument and that I won? Great."
Muttering to himself, Rincewind settled down beside her. He was horribly afraid that This Was It. This was the moment when carnal desires overruled all, and sacred tradition was desecrated for the sake of a warm embrace. He lay back, his head on the cold ground. Keep out of trouble and don't get involved, that was the important thing. Look at those stars up there, with nothing to do all the time but sit there and shine. They never got into situations like this, the lucky bastards…
"Are you tired?" asked Byrony suddenly. "I'm not that tired. Are you?"
Rincewind's mind slowed down. Right, he thought frantically. This Is It. Then he stopped, and re-evaluated. Is it though?
"No?" he ventured. "I'm not?"
"Good! Well, what shall we do to keep ourselves amused?" she smiled lazily at him, in a manner which reminded him of a cat.
Oh yes, Rincewind thought. This is definitely it. Now what? Say something! You're a wizard!
And isn't it fun, said his libido spitefully.
"Er. I wonder?"
"Well, we're all alone…in the middle of a big, cold forest."
"Graagh?"
"And now…and now…" Byrony trailed off.
Rincewind found his voice. "And now?" he said hoarsely.
"And now we're going to count all the stars"
"Count the stars"
"Yep"
"All of them."
"Excellent way to fall asleep. I do it a lot."
"To fall asleep" said Rincewind flatly. The last couple of seconds hadn't really gone according to his internal script.
"Mm-hmm" said Byrony lazily. In his mind, Rincewind cursed. His libido seemed to have taken over a lot of the major functioning areas of his brain and was screaming suggestions which made it rather hard to focus.
"One, two, three-"
"No, hang on, wait." Rincewind struggled into an upright position. "Were not actually going to count all the stars are we?"
"Why shouldn't we?"
"Well, I mean…" Rincewind struggled with several reasons mentioned by the aforesaid libido, many of them unsuitable for the ears of children. "Well, for a start, it's impossible."
"Tell you what, you start counting, and I'll start counting, and whoever finishes first can owe the other one a dollar."
Rincewind settled back grumpily. "That's ridiculous. We'd be here for infinity."
"Infinity is a long time" said Byrony vaguely, her eyes drooping. It seemed she was tired, actually.
"Hah, actually, no, we wouldn't, because we'd die first, wouldn't we?"
"Don't be silly, we could just keep counting."
Rincewind considered this. He had never really thought about death beyond affirming the fact that he didn't want any, thanks, but he suddenly thought that the idea seemed appealing.
"What, you and me? Lying here, for infinity, just…counting stars?"
"Mmm-hmm…"
The more Rincewind thought about it, the more appealing it sounded. It was better then boredom, even. Nothing would be happening to him because hey, it already had, and he'd get to just lie there, with Byrony.
"Maybe," he mused out loud, "maybe that's what heaven is like."
Byrony snorted, and sat up. "Seriously?" she said. "That's what your heaven is like?"
"What's wrong with it?" said Rincewind defensively.
"That's boring!"
"That's paradise!"
Byrony gave him an appraising look. "You don't like life much, do you?"
Now it was Rincewind's turn to snort. "Well, the bits that don't leave me screaming are all right. They just leave me groaning."
"Right, yes…so…why are you so afraid of death?"
Rincewind stared at her. Why was he afraid of death? It was like asking, why was the sky, or what smell did yellow have. "Well, let me put it this way, when it's time to stop living, I will certainly make Death my number one choice. Until then, I'll avoid it as much as possible thank you very much."
"Well, you've met him, haven't you?" asked Byrony. "He's quite nice really. He likes cats," she added.
"Yeeess" said Rincewind slowly. "Other then his seeming obsession with me, he's a pleasant person….or anthropomorphic entity, as it were."
"So?"
"So…" Rincewind shivered. "I've seen the desert."
"Ah."
"Well, I also just happen to be fond of the general Uprightness of life. I mean, walking and breathing appeal to me…but I mean, that's one big desert."
Byrony looked at him in disbelief. "You're not afraid of crossing by yourself? I mean, you bloody crossed Fourecks! It can't be much more unpleasant!"
"Yes but-" Rincewind gulped. "When I crossed Fourecks, I had a fair idea of what would be on the other side."
"Which was?"
"Anything that wasn't eternal judgement of my soul"
"Ah."
Byrony mused on this for a moment, and then she turned back to him, her eyes sparkling.
"I know. Whoever dies first waits for the other. Deal?"
"What?" said Rincewind, perplexed.
"If you die then wait until I die, and we'll cross the desert together! If I die, I'll wait for you. It's the perfect solution!"
"Well-"
"Come on, what have you got to lose? It might work."
"Wait in the desert?"
"Yep!"
"Alone?"
Byrony rolled her eyes. "Oh, you'd rather cross the desert alone to get to a fate that could be worse then death, and probably is seeing as you just died and would most likely get over it quickly, then wait for a little while for a compatriot to be a helping on the journey through the starless night of the afterlife"
Rincewind considered this. "Well, I don't think I'd get over dying very quickly"
She beamed. "Right! You'll have time to compose yourself while you wait for me. Win-win situation!"
"Win-win? I'll be dead!"
"Deal?"
Rincewind sighed, and grabbed her outstretched hand. "Deal"
With a sigh of satisfaction Byrony settled back once more, and in a drowsy voice began to count.
After a moment, Rincewind grudgingly joined her.
Of course, if Rincewind had been aware of a little argument that was raging quite some distance away, he may not have rested so easily.
"Give it back."
"You're to leave 'em be and let nature take its course!"
"Gytha Ogg, I swear if you don't give it back this instant-"
Nanny Ogg held the small bowl of ink further aloft. Of course, she was already quite short and rather dumpy, so this actually would have made it easier for anyone who was attempting to retrieve it from her. Thankfully, she was also half-hanging out a window.
"I shall tip it!" she warned, wobbling furiously.
"You can't tip it," said Granny calmly. "Cos' I'll let go of your legs if you do."
There was a furious silence, in which cogs could almost be heard whirring in both witches minds.
Granny Weatherwax had been scrying on the entire journey partaken by the troupe. She was very keen to monitor there attempts to locate the Orb, and not just because she was pretty sure she was going to have to step in at some point and make sure they were doing it right. She tuned in and out, keeping abreast of their journey and keeping Nanny up to date, who had settled down in a comfy chair by the fire, surrounded by a large platter of delicacies (though there was nothing delicate about them). Greebo had slunk off somewhere, doubtless to stalk some of those weird blue birds on the lawn. He had made mortal enemies with them after an embarrassing incident involving expanding tail feathers.
Roughly ten minutes ago, Granny had tuned in on Byrony, just to see how she was getting on, sort of thing. Not spying, it wasn't spying. It was just checking to see that things were going to plan and making sure they didn't need her help. After all, she reasoned to Nanny, if they needed her help they couldn't ask for it, could they? It was up to her to be ready when she was needed. Which she probably would be.
She almost had an apoplexy when, in the small bowl of ink, she was witness to Rincewind removing Byrony's clothing.
Nanny had been peering over her shoulder and had the presence of mind to snatch the bowl of ink away. She then went flailing around the room in an effort to keep it all within the shallow container, resulting in her current situation. Granny had grabbed her legs as she had tipped out, and now they were both locked in dire negotiations.
"They need privacy, Esme," said Nanny firmly.
"They need a wallop around the head," said Granny sourly.
Silence.
"I think," said Nanny carefully. "I think that this is a good thing."
Silence.
"Don't you want to hear why?" she asked hopefully.
"Absolutely not."
"Oh."
There was another one of those long drawn out pauses.
"I'm gettin' chilly," said Nanny conversationally.
"I should think your arm is gettin' tired as well."
"Yes…" Nanny gave in. "Well, pull me in then."
"Don't you think I would've already if I could?"
"You can't? I thought you just-"
"As if I would resort to such foolishness!"
"So I'm stuck?!"
Granny leaned to her left. "Hang on, these rope things look sturdy enough. I'll just hold these and you climb back in."
"But the ink-"
"I thought you were going to drop it. I thought you said it weren't right for us to be lookin'."
"Yes, well," said Nanny cheerfully. "It's not right for you. You'd be gathering evidence. I just want to make sure he does it right!"
"Gytha Ogg, may you be forgiven!"
With much heaving, pushing and use of the fine red velvet curtain pulleys, Nanny was quickly levered back into the room, and somehow managed to keep the ink inside the bowl.
They leaned over and peered in. There was a pause as they assessed the scene which was laid out in the bowl before them.
"Huh," said Granny finally.
"Fancy that," said Nanny, fascinated. "Didn't know you could do it like that."
"It doesn't look that hard," sniffed Granny.
"Say what you like, I'm impressed. Most men never get the hang of it. And he's out in the middle of a forest, too."
"Doesn't look like it'll turn out well if you want my opinion."
"Byrony looks happy enough."
"She's not doing much, is she?"
"Well, I suppose when someone's doing something right, they don't need much help…"
The witches watched as Rincewind finished cooking a large meat and egg omelette using only a flat rock and twigs as utensils, and somehow frying it by rotating it by the fire. Byrony was chattering away happily.
"Nope," said Nanny cheerfully. "I never seen an omelette cooked like that. Have you?"
Granny gave her a Look, and out the bowl down. "Well, I don't suppose anything…happened."
"No, that omelette is almost done. They were cooking while we were arguing."
"I wasn't arguing," snapped Granny. "You were bein' foolish."
"Give the scrying a rest for this evening" said Nanny soothingly. "'Cos I just knows it gives you a headache. An' you're like a bear with a sore head when you've got a sore head!"
"Yes, well. Maybe…"
"And…" said Nanny carefully, aware that she was treading on thin ice. "It ain't really your place."
"What?"
"I mean, well, the fact of the matter is that Byrony's fully grown! Who're we to be watchin' her? She can do what she likes Esme, and that's the truth of it!"
"She has a duty," insisted Granny. "She has things to be doing. She ain't got time for- for-"
"Love?"
"Pah. Love." Granny made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Love's for them that can have it. It's personal. Personal ain't the same as important."
"Lor' I hope you didn't say that to her," said Nanny fervently. "Esme, tell me you haven't filled her head with such notions."
"'Course I have!" said Granny. "She's to save the disc! She's not got the time-"
"She's never got time!"
Granny paused and looked at her friend. "What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously.
"I mean that the gods have it in for that girl! She ain't got the time for anything worth havin' time for. 'Specially the things that ought to be taking up the most time."
"Well," said Granny severely. "If you think she should fritter away her time on pointlessness, then fine. That as may be, she's an enchantress. She has a duty."
Nanny sighed, and gave in. There was no arguing with Granny when she was well and truly under the perception that she was completely and totally right. She would also never understand that often, it's the pointless things that have the biggest effect on us.
"Fine. But leave em' be for tonight, all right?"
Grudgingly, Granny assented.
But she left the bowl full of ink.
Just in case.
The sun came up slowly, as if it was hardly worth the effort. It lit up the top-most branches of the innumerable trees in the forest and worked its way slowly down into the gloom of the forest. In a small glade, it alighted upon two figures which were closely intertwined, their arms wrapped around each other in a subconscious protestation for what could never happen during waking hours.
Rincewind woke up slowly, in a muzzy and still not-quite-with-it manner. He felt…very content for some reason. Content and happy and warm…
He became slowly aware that the reason he felt so warm was that during the night Byrony had, in her sleep, somehow rolled over on top of him, her right leg flung across his waist. He, in turn, completely unaware of what he was doing, hadcoiled his arms tightly around her.
Not so bad, is it?
Shut up.
No listen, said his libido urgently. I've been taken over here. This isn't about sex, I swear. You're happy like this, aren't you?
So?
This is me speaking on behalf of your entire subconscious here. We'd just like to say 'Stop being an utter pillock and-'
Someone coughed.
Rincewind's eyes snapped open and he sprang to his feet, causing Byrony to flip over.
"Oof!" She landed heavily on her stomach, slightly winded. "Whassamater? Who's dead? What?"
Conina and Twoflower were sitting on a log at the side of the glade, examining something in Conina's hand.
She looked up and grinned. "Good, you're finally awake."
"Morning!" said Twoflower cheerfully. "The trees led us right to you!"
"Not what it looks like!" babbled Rincewind. "We just- We were- It was very cold last night!"
"Listen, we let you sleep in but we had better get going."
"It was simply a matter of survival! Nothing else involved, I assure you! Hah, if you're going to let your mind stoop to the depths of such gutters, then-" Rincewind became aware that no one was actually listening to him. Byrony was rubbing her eyes sleepily and Conina and Twoflower were gathering up their bags. "Then-er…"
Byrony came over and patted him on the shoulder. "Give it a rest, Rincewind," she advised him. "Nobody actually gives a damn."
"Er- right. Fine then." At this point, Rincewind still felt the urge to clarify that the were actually partaking in quest related activities last night, and not merely engaging in less-productive activities. He reached into his pocket to retrieve the sapphire-
"Nobody move!"
Everyone turned to stare at him. He was standing stock still, his arms extended and his hands splayed out before him.
"Are you feeling all right?" asked Twoflower uncertainly.
"I dropped the sapphire," said Rincewind, his eyes frantically scanning the ground, which was scattered with pine needles.
Everyone relaxed.
"Idiot," said Byrony fondly, beginning to search the ground as well.
"No don't bother," Conina assured her. "I have it here. We were looking at it while you two were- er…sleeping."
"Don't say it like that! Why would you say it like that? That's what we were doing!" said Rincewind irritably. Then, "Wait. Did you- You went through my pockets?"
"Yes, I figured you would have found it and-"
"You went through my actual pockets?"
"Well, yes but-"
"My actual pockets? You stuck your actual hand into my actual pocket?!"
"I fail to see what the big deal is here!"
"They're my pockets! You don't know what I could have in there! I'm a wizard! We keep items of a dark mysterious nature of what ye ken not of in our pockets!"
"Really?" said Twoflower interestedly.
"Yes!"
"In your pockets?"
"Yes!"
"Gosh."
"I wouldn't like to trust a wizard with the Key to the Universe or something then," said Byrony, as she tied up a bag. "Can you imagine it? 'Ooh, I think it must have gone in with the wash!' "
"Anyway!" shouted Conina. They all looked at her. "Er- yes. Well, anyway, I have the sapphire, and it's working well enough."
"Oh, it is?" Byrony looked pleased. "That's good. I thought it would have been to long and the spell would have worn off."
"No, it's working fine."
"Well, that should make things easier."
Rincewind looked from one to the other. "What? What? What's going on?"
"The honing spell on the sapphire is working," said Twoflower cheerfully.
"What?! You know more then I do?! That's depressing."
"We got a letter explaining things," said Twoflower reproachfully.
"Byrony!"
She looked guilty. "Didn't you know?"
Rincewind looked at her. "Do I look like I'm aware of the days proceedings? Do I really look like someone sat me down and explained things?"
"No," she sighed.
"Then, once again, why don't you do the honours?"
Byrony rolled her eyes, and took the sapphire from Conina. "The Orb is in a cave locked with a mechanism that needs four keys. This," she waved the sapphire. "is one of them. The other three are somewhere else in this forest. Probably in other fairly predictable places to do with the elements, if this is going to conform to the stereotypical nature of the common legend involving inanimate objects of magical power. And we're going to get them. Now."
"Oh," said Rincewind. "Right. Er…"
"Yes?"
"Honing…spell?"
Byrony tipped the sapphire into his hand, and Rincewind felt it. It was as if it was somehow attracted to something a little to the left, and it pressed gently in that direction.
"Honing spell. Right."
"All right?"
"Yes, good, fine. I am completely up-to-date on all current events which immediately threaten my well-being. It might have been nice to know about them before we started… but mustn't grumble!" he said quickly, catching Byrony's murderous look. "We all have our path to walk, or so it is said, though not by me."
"Well, good. We need to conform to the legend here, so we all need to help each other, and thus perhaps engage in some form of character development involving the creation of new relationships and accruing of new skills and insights into our inner-beings."
They all stared at her.
"Really?" said Conina, in horrified fascination.
Byrony shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe."
"And will that help us find the Orb?" asked Twoflower.
"Can't hurt."
"Well then," said Conina firmly. "We'll all have to pretend to learn things and build new character strengths and things. Come on Rincewind, we're relying on you not to drag this down."
Rincewind, the born cynic, looked at them disbelievingly. "Are you being serious?"
"Rincewind!"
"Look, I don't see why everyone is depending on me anyway. I'm not dependable. Even I don't depend on me, and I'm me."
"Rincewind, you are going to bloody well have a deep inner-epiphany whether you damn well like it or not!" growled Byrony.
"You've all gone loony."
"Rincewind!"
"Fine! Fine! Look, I'm developing a new emotion already! It's a cross between utter disbelief and sarcasm."
"But sarcasm isn't an emotion," said Twoflower, confused.
"It is the way I'm going to be using it," said Rincewind darkly. "Bloody legends."
And so, after packing up all the supplies and getting Rincewind's hat back from a tree, they all mounted their horses, and with only a minor amount of squabbling
they rode into the forest…
They rode into the legend…
