Colour of Magic, The Page #6

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- Nine!

Doesn't seem to want to go!

- Nine!

- Nine!

- What?

Nine! Eight!

- That's it! I fixed it!

- Seven! Six!

- Fixed what?

- Five!

- Four! Three!

- We've gotta get off this thing!

Two!

One!

Lift-off!

No!

The stars! Worlds!

The whole damn sky, full of worlds!

Places no one's ever gonna see, except us!

Oh!

Oh, no!

No!

I've not seen that one before.

I don't know the significance

of the star, but that,

that mist, is important.

So, what's happening?

I fear

the only way to find out exactly

is to perform the Rite of AshkEnte.

Thank you, Arch Chancellor.

Nice try.

That mist is a change spell,

created by the Octavo.

The whole world is changing.

- For the better, I think.

- Oh!

That's so pretty.

I really should name it.

Has anybody seen the Arch Chancellor?

Yes.

And how can I help you?

I'll give it a name. "Goodbye World. "

Currently Twoflower,

the Discworld's first tourist,

is rapidly leaving it

in an attempt to escape Krull.

This attempt has been

Although this means he may also be

the Disc's last tourist,

he is enjoying the view.

Meanwhile, some way above Twoflower,

Rincewind isn't enjoying the view at all.

Only Great A 'Tuin, the world turtle,

knows why it's heading towards the star.

Those on the Disc are due to find

out in about two days,

and then they're really going to worry.

The Octavo, the greatest spell book

of all, is so worried about all this

that it must take action of its own.

Oh, great, the ground

is gonna break my fall.

Did I just leave the world,

only to land back on it again?

Yes, you did.

Why? Why, why!

We're not going anywhere.

Look at that.

Is it me or is that getting bigger?

Is the turtle flying straight

towards it, I ask you?

Well, wizards say

we always miss the stars.

But has anyone seen one

get this close before?

No!

Where are the wizards

when we need them?

Wizards out!

Wizards out! Wizards out!

Wizards out! Wizards out! Wizards out!

Wizards out! Wizards out!

One small step for a wizard,

into the unseen.

One giant leap

for the Unseen University.

Would the student body please

acknowledge the 305th Arch Chancellor?

Let it be known that although limited

personnel alterations have been made,

one or two other significant things

will be changing,

for the tidier.

As none of us have received guidance

as to the events of this morning,

and there seems to be a degree of

quite unnecessary anxiety

amongst the populous about the star,

I propose that we perform

the Rite of AshkEnte.

After its own space odyssey,

many miles from Ankh-Morpork,

in the Vortex Plains,

the Luggage has plans of its own.

And so, our guest, whose name is legend,

must tell us truly,

what is it that a man may call

the greatest things in life?

The crisp horizon.

The wind in your hair.

A fresh horse underneath you.

Or is it the sight of your enemy slain?

The humiliation of his tribe

and the lamentation of his women?

What you say?

I said, our guest, whose name is legend,

- must tell us truly...

- Oh, pish.

Hot water.

Good dentistry.

And soft lavatory paper.

Hadesire desurps

decorum demonia,

AshkEnte!

Rise up, oh,

creature of earth and darkness!

We do charge thee to abjure from...

I was at a party, you know.

It is said that you can see

both the past and the future.

Correct.

Then, perhaps you can tell us.

Why is the red star getting bigger?

Because the turtle is flying towards it.

Why?

For a purpose that has

nothing to do with me.

Then, perhaps you can tell us

what exactly happened this morning.

I understand that the Octavo was anxious

not to lose the eighth spell.

Hold on.

It was dropping off the Disc, apparently.

Hold on. Are we talking about the spell

that is inside the head of Rincewind?

That he's been carrying around

all these years? Yes.

Any idea why?

All I know is that all the spells

have to be said together at Solstice

or many worlds will be destroyed.

- Destroyed?

- It's an ancient prophecy,

written on the inner walls

of the Great Pyramid of Tsort.

Can you tell us where Rincewind is now?

The Forest of Skund.

Rimwards of the Ramtop Mountains.

Feeling very sorry for himself.

Hello? Anybody out there?

Twoflower?

Oh.

Now, may I go?

Oh. Yes.

I hope it's a good party.

I think it might go downhill at midnight.

- Why?

- That's when they'll be taking my mask off.

Hmm.

Evening.

I'm looking for anything we've got

on the Pyramid of Tsort.

Ook.

Yes.

Hmm.

Ook.

Ah.

Thank you.

"Whoever says all the spells together

"when the Disc is in danger... "

Ook. Ook!

Yes, yes, the star, I know.

"... will gain ultimate power... "

Ook. Ook.

"... to save the world. "

Yes, and that.

Now, listen, if you were to "ook" this

to any members of the faculty,

- you will be disciplined.

- Ook.

It's not as if bananas grow on trees.

As much as it pains me to say this,

Rincewind must not die.

At least, not until we bring him back here.

And empty his head.

Rincewind!

Go away. Go away.

Rincewind!

I'm not listening, I'm not listening.

It's me, Twoflower.

He's dead! And he's inside my head.

Why me? Why me? Why?

Twoflower?

Isn't it an amazing thing

that we ended up back on the world?

I must have done something really bad

to have got stuck with you.

The turtle must have caught us somehow.

- Why would it do that?

- I don't know, do I?

Anyway, where are we?

Oh!

- Alive or dead?

- Well, since we need him to say the spell,

in order to save the worlds,

I suspect alive might be better.

To save the worlds?

What does that mean?

I don't know. But as long as

one of the worlds he saves is ours,

I shall consider it a most

satisfactory outcome.

It's extraordinary. It looks like

they're gonna have a ceremony.

Ancient and traditional ritual,

probably dating back thousands

of years to celebrate the, um... The, um...

All that Golden Bough and Cycle of Nature

stuff just boils down to sex and violence.

Usually both at the same time.

I think we ought to be going.

Come on, let's go!

If only I had my picture box.

Oh, there you are.

It's very loyal.

Yes, if loyalty is what you look for

in a suitcase.

Come on, look, we ought to leave.

Is she a druidess?

I don't think so.

Look, you're not going to like

this next bit, I promise you.

I want to stay. Ceremonies like this

hark back to primitive simplicity...

If you must know,

they're going to sacrifice her.

What? Kill her?

Well, it wouldn't be much of

a sacrifice if they didn't, would it?

Couldn't they just use flowers

and berries and things?

Sort of symbolic?

Look, no self-respecting high priest

is going to go through all the business

of trumpets and processions,

then shove his knife in a daffodil

and a couple of plums, is he?

Come on.

No. Really, honestly, please.

Um, I say, there.

Yes, I say, may I have a word there, sir?

I'm sorry to intrude,

I don't mean to be a bother.

I was just there and I saw what looks

to be a lovely enterprise you have here.

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