The Light Fantastic

‘You know, I think I might re-enroll,’ said Rincewind cheerfully. ‘I think I could really make a go of things this time. I can really see myself getting to grips with magic and graduating really well. They do say if it’s summa cum laude, then the living is easy—.’

‘Good, because —’

There’s plenty of room at the top, too, now all the big boys will be doing doorstop duty, and —’

‘I’m going home.’

‘– a sharp lad with a bit of experience of the world could—what?’

‘Oook?’

‘I said I’m going home,’ repeated Twoflower, making polite little attempts to shake off the librarian, who was trying to pick lice off him.

‘What home?’ said Rincewind, astonished.

‘Home home. My home. Where I live,’ Twoflower explained sheepishly. ‘Back across the sea. You know.

Where I came from. Will you please stop doing that?’

‘Oh.’

‘Oook?’

There was a pause. Then Twoflower said, ‘You see, last night it occurred to me, I thought, well, the thing is, all this travelling and seeing things is fine but there’s also a lot of fun to be had from having been. You know, sticking all your pictures in a book and remembering things.’

‘There is?’

‘Oook?’

‘Oh, yes. The important thing about having lots of things to remember is that you’ve got to go somewhere afterwards where you can remember them, you see? You’ve got to stop. You haven’t really been anywhere until you’ve got back home. I think that’s what I mean.’

Rincewind ran the sentence across his mind again. It didn’t seem any better second time around.

‘Oh,’ he said again. Well, good. If that’s the way you look at it. When are you going, then?’

‘Today, I think. There’s bound to be a ship going part of the way.’

‘I expect so,’ said Rincewind awkwardly. He looked at his feet. He looked at the sky. He cleared his throat.

‘We’ve been through some times together, eh?’ said Twoflower, nudging him in the ribs.

‘Yeah,’ said Rincewind, contorting his face into something like a grin.

‘You’re not upset, are you?’

‘Who, me?’ said Rincewind. ‘Gosh, no. Hundred and one things to do.’

That’s all right, then. Listen, let’s go and have breakfast and then we can go down to the docks.’

Rincewind nodded dismally, turned to his assistant, and took a banana out of his pocket.

‘You’ve got the hang of it now, you take over,’ he muttered.

‘Oook.’

In fact there wasn’t any ship going anywhere near the Agatean Empire, but that was an academic point because Twoflower simply counted gold pieces into the hand of the first captain with a halfway clean ship until the man suddenly saw the merits of changing his plans.

Rincewind waited on the quayside until Twoflower had finished paying the man about forty times more than his ship was worth.

‘That’s settled, then,’ said Twoflower. ‘He’ll drop me at the Brown Islands and I can easily get a ship from there.’

‘Great,’ said Rincewind.

Twoflower looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he opened the Luggage and pulled out a bag of gold.

‘Have you seen Cohen and Bethan?’ he said.

‘I think they went off to get married,’ said Rincewind. ‘I heard Bethan say it was now or never.’

‘Well, when you see them give them this,’ said Twoflower, handing him the bag. ‘I know it’s expensive, setting up home for the first time.’

Twoflower had never fully understood the gulf in the exchange rate. The bag could quite easily set Cohen up with a small kingdom.

‘I’ll hand it over first chance I get,’ he said, and to his own surprise realised that he meant it.

‘Good. I’ve thought about something to give you, too.’

‘Oh, there’s no —’

Twoflower rummaged in the Luggage and produced a large sack. He began to fill it with clothes and money and the picture box until finally the Luggage was completely empty. The last thing he put in was his souvenir musical cigarette box with the shell-encrusted lid, carefully wrapped in soft paper.

‘It’s all yours,’ he said, shutting the Luggage’s lid. ‘I shan’t really need it any more, and it won’t fit on my wardrobe anyway.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t you want it?’

‘Well, I—of course, but—it’s yours. It follows you, not me.’

‘Luggage,’ said Twoflower, ‘this is Rincewind. You’re his, right?’

The Luggage slowly extended its legs, turned very deliberately and looked at Rincewind.

‘I don’t think it belongs to anyone but itself, really,’ said Twoflower.

‘Yes,’ said Rincewind uncertainly.

‘Well, that’s about it, then,’ said Twoflower. He held out his hand.

‘Goodbye, Rincewind. I’ll send you a postcard when I get home. Or something.’

‘Yes. Any time you’re passing, there’s bound to be someone here who knows where I am.’

‘Yes. Well. That’s it, then.’

‘That’s it, right enough.’

‘Right.’

‘Yep.’

Twoflower walked up the gangplank, which the impatient crew hauled up behind him.

The rowing drum started its beat and the ship was propelled slowly out onto the turbid waters of the Ankh, now back to their old level, where it caught the tide and turned towards the open sea.

Rincewind watched it until it was a dot. Then he looked down at the Luggage. It stared back at him.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘Go away. I’m giving you to yourself, do you understand?’