Colour of Magic, The Page #8

---

That's a nasty cough

you've got there, mind.

Yes, yes, I know. I'm sorry.

It's just that... Come on, wake up!

He's gone.

What, dead?

Well...

I've got to get him back to Ankh-Morpork.

Well, he's not exactly dead.

He can't die, the Patrician will kill me.

- He's just gone.

- He's gone?

Where? Can't I get him back?

I don't know, but I think I know

someone who might have a map.

A necromancer.

What's neg romance?

No, necromancy is talking to the dead.

Oh.

Course, I don't believe in tarot cards.

I mean, all that stuff about it being

dissolved wisdom from the universe...

Lot of old rubbish.

The star.

It's nothing to do with me.

Four of elephants.

The ace of turtles.

Death.

Is he really dead?

She said it's a sort of medicine.

So, if you want to see your friend

in this world again,

I should drink it if I were you.

Well, if you're sure it's okay.

Can't make the beer taste

any worse, can it?

Well, he did take a spell for me, so,

here goes.

Well, actually, it doesn't taste too bad.

Oh, where am I going?

Don't look back.

But where am I going?

Oh, no.

Twoflower!

Twoflower! Twoflower!

Twoflower. There you are.

What an amazing clock.

Rincewind, where are we, exactly?

We're sort of informally dead.

Oh.

Come along. Look, we haven't got time

to take pictures, let's go.

It won't take very long.

Poor light! Three bloody years

in f/8 if you ask me.

Do your best.

Look, what do you wanna

take pictures for?

Can't you just remember it?

Well, in years to come,

when I'm sitting by the fire...

You'll be sitting by the fire permanently

if we don't get out of here!

This way. Come on.

Oh, I do hope you're not going.

I so seldom have company.

We... We really mustn't keep you.

Get ready to run.

Oh, but I've never been

at Death's door before.

Right, now, run!

Don't look back! Don't look back!

Mustn't look back!

There are worse things

than being dead, you know.

Name two!

That always annoys me.

I might as well as install a revolving door.

If I've got time.

Rincewind.

- Oh. Hello.

- Hi there.

- Did I move at all?

- No.

You just looked at the fire,

as if you'd seen a ghost.

Oh, you're alive.

But no thanks to yourself,

Mr, "Would you like some berries while

you stick your sickle in my head?"

Hey! No hugging! I do not hug.

My head.

You've been ill. You've been hallucinating.

Hmm. Well, if I've been hallucinating,

I bet I took some great pictures.

Ah! No. No, no, no.

You can't. No picture-ography.

The Horse People are very superstitious.

I'll put this in the Luggage for you.

You'd better not be going somewhere

next where we need too much black.

It wasn't like that. It was a little cottage...

You see what you see, I paint what I see

and I only see what's really there, see?

Um, what happened to old Galder's chair,

the one with lion arms

and the ducks' feet?

Oh, that. I had it burnt.

But it was a priceless magical artefact.

A genuine piece of...

Now, may I draw your attention

to the agenda?

What does a genda do?

It's simply a list of things

that we need to discuss.

Top of which is the matter of Rincewind.

And the star.

People are agitating, you know.

That is item number two on the agenda.

Item number one is the fact

that you have failed to find him.

So, what are you suggesting

we do about it?

I'm not suggesting anything.

- I've sent someone to find him.

- Who?

A hero.

- On whose authority?

- Mine.

- I need no other.

- You've hired a blood-thirsty idiot

who can't walk and think at the same time.

How can you take anyone seriously when...

The hero,

even at this moment

galloping towards the Vortex Plains,

doesn't get involved

in trading insults with wizards.

Not just because

they don't take it seriously,

but because this particular hero is,

in fact, a heroine

named Herrena.

- The Horse People have decided.

- They hold Cohen in the highest regard.

- Cohen? The Barbarian?

- I was going to mention that.

- But back in Ankh-Morpork you said...

- I lied.

The Horse People have decided

to give you mounts and directions

to the River Smarl,

where you can catch

a ferry back to the Circle Sea.

- You lied?

- Yeah. Ah, well, I...

I'd like to thank you very much

because you've been most helpful

and it will be very, um,

different without you.

You don't wish us to accompany you?

No, no, we'll be fine.

These are dangerous times.

Yes, I know but, um,

I'm beginning to cope very well

with these near-death experiences.

I just can't believe

it's Cohen the Barbarian.

Is he, perhaps, being sarcastic?

No, no, he's always like that.

He's got eyes, hasn't he?

Yes, but, um, he doesn't see things

as other people do.

Take this yurt, for example.

It's... Well, it's dark and greasy

and smells like a very ill horse.

Yes.

Hmm. Yes, but he would say that it

smells like the curious and rare resins

plundered by lean-eyed warriors

from the edge of civilisation.

You know, so on and so on.

Well, the snake warriors are the...

I could tell him to shut up.

No, I...

I like his eyes.

They can see for 50 years.

I shall accompany you

for the reason that if anything

should happen to you,

the legend would be besmirched.

But also on the count of me chilblains.

I'm coming, too!

In case Cohen needs anything rubbed.

It seems brighter now.

What is it?

Why does everybody look at me?

I don't know what it is.

- It's probably a comet or something.

- I wonder if it's a sign.

- Will we be burned up?

- Well, how the hell would I know?

I've never been hit by a comet

before, have I? Walk on.

Have you combed your beard?

Eh?

I think she's taken a bit of a shine to you.

If I was 20 years younger...

Yes?

...I'd be 67.

Me, riding with Cohen the Barbarian.

Who could possibly attack us now?

It is indeed a hundred miles

rimwards to the River SmarI,

across the high plains and down

to the gloomy pine forest

that lies rather closer than is comfortable

to the Trollbone Mountains.

The clue is in the title.

Did we really have to stop?

The River Smarl can't be that far away.

The ferryman doesn't work at night,

so we might as well get some rest.

Besides, my feet are killing me.

You'd have quite nice feet

if only you looked after them.

You don't get to meet many

chiropodists in my line of work.

I've met any amount of snake priests,

mad gods,

war lords... Never any chiropodists.

I suppose it wouldn't look right, really.

Cohen against the chiropodists.

Or Cohen

and the Chiropractors of Doom?

Or Cohen and the mad dentists.

What's funny about that?

Oh.

Nothing in particular.

I don't blame you. It's hard being

a hero when you've got no teeth.

Don't matter what else you lose.

You can get by with one eye, even.

But show them a mouthful of gums,

and no one has any respect.

I do.

Why don't you have a new pair

made for yourself?

- Well, I do have trouble masticating.

- Huh?

- I beg your pardon?

- You know, chewing.

Oh, yeah, chewing.

They're called den-chures.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes