The Colour of Magic

Twoflower padded over to the corner, peering gingerly at the stones in case there was a secret panel. At that moment the door was flung back thumping against the wall. Half a dozen guards hurtled through it, spread out and flung them selves down on one knee. Their weapons were aimed exclusively at Hrun. When he thought about this later, Twoflower felt quite offended.

Hrun snored.

A woman strode into the room. Not many women can stride convincingly, but she managed it. She glanced briefly at Twoflower, as one might look at a piece of furniture, then glared down at the man on the bed.

She was wearing the same sort of leather harness that the dragonriders had been wearing but in her case it was much briefer. That, and the magnificent mane of chestnut-red hair that fell to her waist, was her only concession to what even on the Discworld passed for decency. She was also wearing a thoughtful expression.

Hrun made a glubbing noise, turned over, and slept on.

With a careful movement, as though handling some instrument of rare delicacy, the woman drew a slim black dagger from her belt and stabbed downward.

Before it was halfway through its arc Hrun’s right hand moved so fast that it appeared to travel between two points in space without at any time occupying the intervening air. It closed around the woman’s wrist with a dull smack. His other hand groped feverishly for a sword that wasn’t there… Hrun awoke.

“Gngh?” he said, looking up at the woman with a puzzled frown. Then he caught sight of the bowmen.

“Let go,” said the woman, in a voice that was calm and quiet and edged with diamonds. Hrun released his grip slowly.

She stepped back, massaging her wrist and looking at Hrun in much the same way that a cat watches a mousehole.

“So,” she said at last. “You pass the first test. What is your name, barbarian?”

“Who are you calling a barbarian?” snarled Hrun.

“That is what I want to know.”

Hrun counted the bowmen slowly and made a brief calculation. His shoulders relaxed.

“I am Hrun of Chimeria. And you?”

“Liessa Dragonlady.”

“You are the lord of this place?”

“That remains to be seen. You have the look about you of a hired sword, Hrun of Chimeria. I could use you—if you pass the tests, of course. There are three of them. You have passed the first.”

“What are the other—” Hrun paused, his lips moved soundlessly and then he hazarded, “two?”

“Perilous.”

“And the fee?”

“Valuable.”

“Excuse me,” said Twoflower

“And if I fail these tests?” said Hrun, ignoring him. The air between Hrun and Liessa crackled with small explosions of charisma as their gazes sought for a hold.

“If you had failed the first test you would now be dead. This may be considered a typical penalty.”

“Um, look,” began Twoflower. Liessa spared him a brief glance, and appeared actually to notice him for the first time.

“Take that away,” she said calmly, and turned back to Hrun. Two of the guards shouldered their bows, grasped Twoflower by the elbows and lifted him off the ground. Then they trotted smartly through the doorway.

“Hey,” said Twoflower, as they hurried down the corridor outside, “where” (as they stopped in front of another door) “is my” (as they dragged the door open) “Luggage?” He landed in a heap of what might once have been straw. The door banged shut, its echoes punctuated by the sound of bolts being slammed home.

In the other cell Hrun had barely blinked.

“Okay,” he said, “what is the second test?”

“You must kill my two brothers.” Hrun considered this.

“Both at the same time, or one after the other?” he said.

“Consecutively or concurrently,” she assured him

“What?”

“Just kill them,” she said sharply

“Good fighters, are they?”

“Renowned.”

“So in return for all this…?”

“You will wed me and become Lord of the Wyrmberg.”

There was a long pause. Hrun’s eyebrows twisted themselves in unaccustomed calculation.

“I get you and this mountain?” he said at last.

“Yes.” She looked him squarely in the eye, and her lips twitched. “The fee is worthwhile, I assure you.”

Hrun dropped his gaze to the rings on her hand The stones were large, being the incredibly rare blue milk diamonds from the clay basins of Mithos. When he managed to turn his eyes from them he saw Liessa glaring down at him in fury.

“So calculating?” she rasped. “Hrun the Barbarian who would boldly walk into the jaws of Death Himself?”

Hrun shrugged. “Sure,” he said, “the only reason for walking into the jaws of Death is so’s you can steal His gold teeth.” He brought one arm around expansively, and the wooden bunk was at the end of it. It cannoned into the bowmen and Hrun followed it joyously, felling one man with a blow and snatching the weapon from another. A moment later it was all over.

Liessa had not moved.

“Well?” she said.

“Well what?” said Hrun, from the carnage

“Do you intend to kill me?”

“What? Oh no. No, this is just, you know, kind of a habit. Just keeping in practice. So where are these brothers?” He grinned.