the most powerful spell on the disc. He had
-there was definitely less horizon than there ought to be.
“Hmm” Said Rincewind.
“I said nothing’s worse than slavery,” said Twoflower. His mouth opened as the wizard flung his bucket far out to sea and sat down heavily on the waterlogged deck, his face a grey mask.
“Look, I’m sorry I steered us into the reef, but this boat doesn’t seem to want to sink and we’re bound to strike land sooner or later,” said Twoflower comfortingly. “This current must go somewhere.”
“Look at the horizon,” Said Rincewind, in a monotone.
Twoflower squinted.
“It looks all right,” he said after a while.
“Admittedly, there seems to be less than there usually is, but-“
“That’s because of the Rimfall,” said Rincewind.
“We’re being carried over the edge of the world.”
There was a long silence, broken only by the lapping of the waves as the foundering ship spun slowly in the current. It was already quite strong.
“That’s probably why we hit that reef,” Rincewind added. “we got pulled off course during the night.”
“Would you like something to eat?” asked Twoflower. He began to rummage through the bundle that he had tied to the rail, out of the damp.
“Don’t you understand?” snarled Rincewind. “We are going over the Edge, godsdammit!”
“Can’t we do anything about it?”
“No!”
“Then I can’t see the sense in panicking,” said Twoflower calmly.
“I knew we shouldn’t have come this far Edgewise,” complained Rincewind to the skye “I wish-“
“I wish I had my picture-box,” said Twoflower, “but it’s back on that slaver ship with the rest of the Luggage and-“
“You won’t need luggage where we’re going,” said Rincewind. He sagged, and stared moodily at a distant whale that had carelessly strayed into the rimward current and was now struggling against it.
There was a line of white on the foreshortened horizon, and the wizard fancied he could hear a distant roaring.
“What happens after a ship goes over the Rimfall?” said Twoflower.
“Who knows?”
“Well, in that case perhaps we’ll just sail on through space and land on another world.” A faraway look came into the little man’s eyes. “I’d like that,” he said.
Rincewind snorted.
The sun rose in the sky, looking noticeably bigger this close to the Edge. They stood with their backs against the mast, busy with their own thoughts. Every so often one or other would pick up a bucket and do a bit of desultory bailing, for no very intelligent reason.
The sea around them seemed to be getting crowded. Rincewind noticed several tree trunks keeping station with them, and just below the surface the water was alive with fish of all sorts. The current must be teeming with food washed from the continents near the Hub. He wondered what kind of life it would be, having to keep swimming all the time to stay exactly in the same place. Pretty similar to his own, he decided. He spotted a small green frog which was paddling desperately in the grip of the inexorable current. To Twoflower’s amazement he found a paddle and carefully extended it towards the little amphibian, which scrambled onto it gratefully. A moment later a pair of jaws broke the water and snapped impotently at the spot where it had been swimming.
The frog looked up at Rincewind from the cradle of his hands, and then bit him thoughtfully on the thumb. Twoflower giggled. Rincewind tucked the frog away in a pocket, and pretended he hadn’t heard.
“All very humanitarian, but why?” said Twoflower. “It’ll all be the same in an hour.”