Colour of Magic, The Page #2

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- What do you want to see?

- I want to see everything.

I mean, genuine Morporkean life.

You know, I want to go to the slave

markets and the whore pits,

the Temple of Small Gods,

the Beggars' Guild,

and a genuine tavern brawl.

Ah! Well...

Oh, no, no, no,

I'm not suggesting we get involved.

- I just wanna see it, that's all.

- Ah.

And some of your famous heroes,

like Cohen the Barbarian.

- Uh...

- You do know him?

Oh, yes! Yes, of course! Yeah!

Good.

So, it's agreed?

- Agreed?

- Excellent!

Be a good chap, would you,

and see to it that the innkeeper

shows my luggage to the room.

And I insist that you take

your first four days' wages

in advance.

Broadman? Luggage, room!

And perhaps

when the exams are finished...

Come on, then!

- ... we could get a peek at the, uh,

Unseen University?

This calls for a picture.

RINCEWIND:
All the best wizards have left!

See you, loser!

Relax, Withel. The magic chest

will come back for its owner,

and with it, the gold.

Yes. Yes, yes, we'll just have a peek.

Just look over here, Rincewind, and smile.

Rincewind?

Hi.

Halt!

RINCEWIND:
Bugger it!

PATRIClAN:
The city gates.

Attempting to leave.

The Patrician,

the ruler of Ankh Morpork,

may not be particularly fair

or even democratic,

but at least, for the first time

in a thousand years, the city works.

This is largely because he knows

where everyone is most of the time,

and which dissuasively

vicious punishment to exact

for whatever they are doing there.

Oath-breaking. The theft of a horse.

Oh, no, my Lord Patrician,

I didn't steal the horse,

I paid for it fairly.

Using false coinage, which is

technically theft, I think, false coinage.

What are we going to do with you,

you little scamp?

Yes.

It's the Arena

for you, Rincewind.

On top of these,

there is the moral obligatory attendant

on the cowardly betrayal

of a visitor to these shores.

Shame on you, Rincewind!

Will you be requiring a sword

or a spear for the Arena?

Of course,

we could be merciful.

Think we should be merciful?

Two rhinu.

One polycee.

Oi! That's my door!

Door's fine.

Why don't you join me, Zlorf?

The Assassins' Guild are our friends.

I've come for the tourist.

I thought we had an agreement.

You don't rob and I don't kill.

I'll kill him,

and then you can rob him.

If anybody's going to kill him,

he'll need to talk to me first.

- But...

- Get those dwarves out of here!

- Oh!

- Oh!

Who the hell are you?

I am Rerpf, and I'm here on behalf

of the Guild of Merchants and Traders

to protect our interests.

Meaning, the little man.

And how long has this Guild

been in existence, may I ask?

Since this afternoon.

I am Vice Guild Master

in charge of tourism.

Oh!

And what is this tourism

of which you speak?

We're not quite sure.

What's a tourist?

Smile!

It's magic!

Now, I want you to listen very carefully

to what I have to say.

Otherwise, you will die,

in an interesting fashion,

over a period.

Please stop fidgeting like that.

The Emperor of the Counterweight

Continent has sent me a letter.

It appears that one of his subjects

has taken it into his head to visit our city.

It appears he wishes to

look at it.

You will continue to be a guide,

Rincewind, to this looker, this

Twoflower.

You will make sure that he returns home

with a good report of our homeland.

What do you say to that? You say, "Yes! "

- I say, "Yes! "

- Yes!

Yes! Thank you, Lord. Thank you. Yeah.

Because it would be a tragedy

should anything

untoward

happen to our visitor.

It would be dreadful if the tourist

were to die, for example.

Because the Emperor looks after his own,

and he could certainly extinguish us

at a nod,

which would be dreadful for you,

Rincewind, because I would hope,

when the Empire's huge

mercenary fleet arrived,

that the avenging captains would find

their anger somewhat tempered

by the fact that my skilled operatives have

just shown you the colour of your liver.

I see by your face

that understanding dawns.

Yes.

Good luck.

Oh, there's one other thing.

I'm sure you wouldn't dream

of trying to escape

from your obligations by, say,

running away.

I assure you, Lord,

that the thought never even

crossed my mind.

Indeed.

Then, if I were you,

I would sue my face for slander.

Don't let me detain you.

Whoa!

You...

All right, all right, all right. I give in.

Whoa!

Excuse me.

Rincewind, you came back!

I knew you would.

I just had to.

It's exciting, isn't it?

A genuine tavern brawl.

It's better than anything

I could have imagined.

Everybody say cheese!

Do you think I should thank them or...

Did you put them up to this?

That's where you were!

Yes, I don't like to mention it.

Hey! Nice throw!

RINCEWIND:
We should be leaving.

Yeah!

Um, Ashooni.

Um...

Smile!

Magic!

Uh, it's a collapsing spell.

Come along, we gotta go.

Oh!

- Ah!

That's my luggage.

One more time!

Attaboy!

So, where's Cohen the Barbarian?

Um, he's, uh,

right behind you.

Look, we really ought to be going.

Fantastic! No one at home

is gonna believe this.

All you do is rotate the lever

and the iconograph does the rest.

You wait here.

It's no good. I've run out of red, see.

If you wanted red, you shouldn't

have took all those pictures

of dwarves killing people, should you?

It's monochrome from now on, friend.

- All right?

- Yeah.

That's the picture imp.

Yes, of course it is.

You know, Rincewind,

I'd like to have you in the picture as well.

Smile, please.

Smile. Smile!

What are we

gonna see next?

What a great day!

Ah!

Hmm?

Yeah.

That's my favourite, with Cohen.

What the...

Can you smell oil?

I don't think so.

I'll kill that bloody cat.

Here, take this.

Oh, thanks.

Don't mention it.

Tavern fights are pretty common

around here, no?

Oh, yeah, well, it's practically a sport.

Hmm. So, innkeepers must need a lot of...

Well, in my language,

we call it in-sur-ance.

"In-sewer-ants"?

That's a funny word. What's it mean?

- Well, say you have a tavern built of wood.

- Mmm-hmm.

- Well, it might burn down.

- Hmm.

You don't want that to happen, so you

take out an in-sur-ance poly-cee, see?

And then I work out the odds

against it burning down,

and then add a bit,

and then you pay me some money,

based on those odds.

Oh, no.

But yes.

Well, then if it does burn down,

I pay you the value of the tavern.

Oh, it's a bit like a bet, right?

A wager? Yes, I suppose it is.

Ah!

Are you sure you can't smell oil?

No. I can smell burning.

Did you in-sewer the Drum?

Luckily for Broadman, I still have

the rhinu he paid as his first premium.

You bet Broadman

that it wouldn't catch fire?

Standard valuation, 200 rhinu. Why?

Why do you ask?

Why do I... You... You... You dozy idiot!

Just carry on

as if I'm not here, Rincewind.

Your appointment is later.

What's next?

What's next?

We'll be hung, drawn and quartered

if we stay here much longer!

- But why?

- What do you mean, why? Why? Why?

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