‘There,’ said Rincewind. ‘You see? Run away! Don’t stand there, you bloody idiot! Run!’
Twoflower stared for a moment and then turned and scampered away.
‘Let him go,’ said the voice. ‘He doesn’t matter.’
Hands pulled him into the alley. He had a vague impression of armour, and mud; his captors were skilled in the way of dragging a prisoner so that he had no chance to get a foothold anywhere.
Then he was flung on to the cobbles.
‘He does not look so great to me,’ said an imperious voice. ‘Look up, Great Wizard!’
There was some nervous laughter from the soldiers.
‘You fools!’ raged Lord Hong. ‘He is just a man! Look at him! Does he look so powerful? He is just a man who has found some old trickery! And we will find out how great he is without his arms and legs.’
‘Oh,’ said Rincewind.
Lord Hong leaned down. There was mud on his face and a wild glint in his eyes. ‘We shall see what your barbarian Emperor can do then, won’t we?’ He indicated the sullen group of mud-encrusted soldiers. ‘You know, they half believe you really are a great wizard? That’s superstition, I’m afraid. Very useful most of the time, damn inconvenient on occasion. But when we march you into the square and show them how great you really are, I think your barbarian will not have so very long left. What are these?’
He snatched the gloves off Rincewind’s hand.
‘Toys,’ he said. ‘Made things. The Red Army are just machines, like mills and pumps. There’s no magic there.’
He tossed them aside and nodded at one of the guards.
‘And now,’ said Lord Hong, ‘let us go to the Imperial Square.’
‘How’d you like to be governor of Bhangbhangduc and all these islands around here?’ said Cohen, as the Horde pored over a map of the Empire. ‘You like the seaside, Hamish?’
‘Whut?’
The doors of the Throne Room were flung open. Twoflower scuttled in, trailed by One Big River.
‘Lord Hong’s got Rincewind! He’s going to kill him!’
Cohen looked up.
‘He can wizard himself out of it, can’t he?’
‘No! He hasn’t got the Red Army any more! He’s going to kill him! You’ve got to do something!’
‘Ach, well, you know how it is with wizards,’ said Truckle. ‘There’s too many of ’em as it is—’
‘No.’ Cohen picked up his sword and sighed.
‘Come on,’ he said.
‘But, Cohen—’
‘I said come on. We ain’t like Hong. Rincewind’s a weasel, but he’s our weasel. So are you coming or what?’
Lord Hong and his group of soldiers had almost reached the bottom of the wide steps to the palace when the Horde emerged. The crowd surrounded them, held back by the soldiers.
Lord Hong held Rincewind tightly, a knife at his throat.
‘Ah, Emperor,’ he said, in Ankh-Morporkian. ‘We meet again. Check, I think.’
‘What’s he mean?’ Cohen whispered.
‘He thinks he has you cornered,’ said Mr Saveloy.
‘How’s he know I won’t just let the wizard die?’
‘Psychology of the individual, I’m afraid.’
‘It doesn’t make any sense!’ Cohen shouted. ‘If you kill him, you’ll be dead yourself in seconds. I shall see to it pers’nally!’
‘Indeed, no,’ said Lord Hong. ‘When your . . . Great Wizard . . . is dead, when people see how easily he dies . . . how long will you be Emperor? You won by trickery!’
‘What are your terms?’ said Mr Saveloy.
‘There are none. You can give me nothing I cannot take myself.’ Lord Hong grabbed Rincewind’s hat from one of the guards and rammed it on to Rincewind’s head.
‘This is yours,’ he hissed. ‘ “Wizzard” hah! You can’t even spell! Well, wizzard? Aren’t you going to say something?’
‘Oh, no!’
Lord Hong smiled. ‘Ah, that’s better,’ he said.
‘Oh, noooooo!’
‘Very good!’
‘Aarrgh!’
Lord Hong blinked. For a moment the figure in front of him appeared to stretch to twice its height and then have its feet snap up under its chin.
And then it disappeared, with a small thunderclap.
There was silence in the square, except for the sound of several thousand people being astonished.
Lord Hong waved his hand vaguely in the air.
‘Lord Hong?’
He turned. There was a short man behind him, covered in grime and mud. He wore a pair of spectacles, one lens of which was cracked.
Lord Hong hardly glanced at him. He prodded the air again, unwilling to believe his own senses.
‘Excuse me, Lord Hong,’ said the apparition, ‘but do you by any chance remember Bes Pelargic? About six years ago? I think you were quarrelling with Lord Tang? There was something of a skirmish. A few streets destroyed. Nothing vary major.’
Lord Hong blinked.
‘How dare you address me!’ he managed.
‘It doesn’t really matter,’ said Twoflower. ‘But it’s just that I’d have liked you to have remembered. I got . . . quite angry about it. Er. I want to fight you.’
‘You want to fight me? Do you know who you are talking to? Have you any idea?’
‘Er. Yes. Oh, yes,’ said Twoflower.
Lord Hong’s attention finally focused. It had not been a good day.
‘You foolish, stupid little man! You don’t even have a sword!’
‘Oi! Four-eyes!’
They both turned. Cohen threw his sword. Two-flower caught it clumsily and was almost knocked over by the weight.
‘Why did you do that?’ said Mr Saveloy.
‘Man wants to be a hero. That’s fine by me,’ said Cohen.
‘He’ll be slaughtered!’
‘Might do. Might do. Might do. He might do that, certainly,’ Cohen conceded. ‘That’s not up to me.’
‘Father!’
Lotus Blossom grabbed Twoflower’s arm.
‘He will kill you! Come away!’
‘No.’
Butterfly took her father’s other arm.
‘No good purpose will be served,’ she said. ‘Come on. We can find a better time—’
‘He killed your mother,’ said Twoflower flatly.
‘His soldiers did.’
‘That makes it worse. He didn’t even know. Please get back, both of you.’
‘Look, Father—’
‘If you don’t both do what you’re told I shall get angry.’
Lord Hong drew his long sword. The blade gleamed.
‘Do you know anything about fighting, clerk?’
‘No, not really,’ said Twoflower. ‘But the important thing is that someone should stand up to you. Whatever happens to them afterwards.’
The Horde were watching with considerable interest. Hardened as they were, they had a soft spot for pointless bravery.
‘Yes,’ said Lord Hong, looking around at the silent crowd. ‘Let everyone see what happens.’
He raised his sword.
The air crackled.
The Barking Dog dropped on to the flagstones in front of him.
It was very hot. Its string was alight.
There was a brief sizzle.
Then the world went white.
After some time, Twoflower picked himself up. He seemed to be the first one upright; those people who hadn’t flung themselves to the ground had fled.
All that remained of Lord Hong was one shoe, which was smouldering. But there was a smoking trail all the way up the steps behind it.
Staggering a little, Twoflower followed the trail.
A wheelchair was on its side, one wheel spinning.
He peered over it.
‘You all right, Mr Hamish?’
‘Whut?’
‘Good.’
The rest of the Horde were crouched in a circle at the top of the steps. Smoke billowed around them. In its continuing passage, the ball had set fire to part of the palace.
‘Can you hear me, Teach?’ Cohen was saying.
‘ ‘Course he can’t hear you! How can he hear you, looking like that?’ said Truckle.
‘He could still be alive,’ said Cohen defiantly.
‘He is dead, Cohen. Really, really dead. Alive people have more body.’
‘But you’re all alive?’ said Twoflower. ‘I saw it bark straight at you!’
‘We got out of the way,’ said Boy Willie. ‘We’re good at getting out of the way.’
‘Poor ole Teach didn’t have our experience of not dyin’,’ said Caleb.
Cohen stood up.
‘Where’s Hong?’ he said grimly. ‘I’m going to—’
‘He’s dead too, Mr Cohen,’ said Twoflower.
Cohen nodded, as if this was all perfectly normal.
‘We owe it to ole Teach,’ he said.
‘He was a good sort,’ Truckle conceded. ‘Funny ideas about swearing, mind you.’
‘He had brains. He cared about stuff! And he might not have lived like a barbarian, but he’s bloody well going to be buried like one, all right?’
‘In a longship, set on fire,’ suggested Boy Willie.
‘My word,’ said Mr Saveloy.
‘In a big pit, on top of the bodies of his enemies,’ suggested Caleb.
‘Good heavens, all of 4B?’ said Mr Saveloy.
‘In a burial mound,’ suggested Vincent.
‘Really, I wouldn’t put you to the trouble,’ said Mr Saveloy.
‘In a longship set on fire, on top of a heap of the bodies of his enemies, under a burial mound,’ said Cohen flatly. ‘Nothing’s too good for ole Teach.’
‘But I assure you, I feel fine,’ said Mr Saveloy. ‘Really, I – er . . . Oh . . .’