'Somewhere under the palace, I'm sure. Look for another manhole in the ceiling . . .'
'Whut?'
'I'm fed up with pushing this damn wheelchair!'
'It's me for a hot footbath after this, I'm telling you.'
'You call this a way to enter a city? You call this a way to enter a city? Waist deep in water? We didn't enter a . . . wretched . . . city like this when I rode with Bruce the Hoon! You enter a . . . lovemaking . . . city by overrunning it with a thousand horsemen, that's how you take a city—!'
'Yeah, but there ain't room for 'em in this pipe.' The sounds had a hollow, booming quality to them. With a kind of fascinated puzzlement Two Little Wang followed them, walking across the manicured gravel in an unthinking way that would have earned him an immediate tongue-extraction from its original lover of peace and tranquillity. 'Can we please hurry? I'd like us to be out of here when the cauldron goes off and I didn't really have much time to experiment with the fuses.'
'I still don't understand about the cauldron, Teach.'
'I hope all those firecrackers will blow a hole in the wall.'
'Right! So why ain't we there? Why are we in this pipe?'
'Because all the guards will rush to see what the bans was.'
'Right! So we should be there!'
'No! We should be here, Cohen. The word is decoy. It's . . . more civilized this way.' Two Little Wang pressed his ear to the ground. 'What's the penalty for entering the Forbidden City again, Teach?'
'I believe it's a punishment similar to hanging, drawing and quartering. So, you see, it would be a good idea if—' There was a very faint splashing. 'How're you drawn, then ?'
'I think your innards are cut out and shown to you.'
'What for?'
'I don't really know. To see if you recognize them, I suppose.'
'What. . . like, “Yep, that's my kidneys, yep, that's my breakfast”?'
'How're you quartered? Is that, like, they give you somewhere to stay?'
'I think not, from context.' For a while there was no sound but the splash of six pairs of feet and the squeak-squeak of what sounded like a wheel. 'Well, how're you hung?'
'Excuse me?'
'Hur, hur, hur . . . sorry, sorry.' Two Little Wang tripped over a two-hundred-year-old bonsai tree and hit his head on a rock chosen for its fundamental serenity. When he came round, a few seconds later, the voices had gone. If there had ever been any. Ghosts. There were a lot of ghosts around these days. Two Little Wang wished he had a few firecrackers to scatter around. Being Master of Protocol was even worse than trying to find a rhyme for 'orange blossom'.
Flares lit the alleys of Hunghung. With the Red Army chattering behind him, Rincewind wandered up to the wall of the Forbidden City. No-one knew better than Rincewind that he was totally incapable of proper magic. He'd only ever done it by accident. So he could be sure that if he waved a hand and said some magic words the wall would in all probability become just a little bit less full of holes than it was now. It was a shame to disappoint Lotus Blossom, with her body that reminded Rincewind of a plate of crinkle-cut chips, but it was about time she learned that you couldn't rely on wizards. And then he could be out of here. What could Butterfly do to him if he tried and failed? And, much to his surprise, he found himself hoping that, on the way out, he could poke Herb in the eye. He was amazed the others couldn't spot him for what he was. This area of wall was between gates. The life of Hunghung lapped against it like a muddy sea; there were stalls and booths everywhere. Rincewind had thought Ankh-Morpork citizens lived out on the streets, but they were agoraphobes compared to the Hunghungese. Funerals (with associated firecrackers) and wedding parties and religious ceremonies went on alongside, and intermingled with, the normal market activities such as free-form livestock slaughter and world-class arguing. Herb pointed to a clear area of wall stacked with timber. 'Just about there, Great Wizard,' he sneered. 'Do not exert yourself unduly. A small hole should be sufficient.'
'But there's hundreds of people around!'
'Is that a problem to such a great wizard? Perhaps you can't do it with people watching?'
'I have no doubt that the Great Wizard will astonish us,' said Butterfly. 'When the people see the power of the Great Wizard they will speak of it for ever!' said Lotus Blossom. 'Probably,' muttered Rincewind. The cadre stopped talking, although it was only possible to notice this by watching their closed mouths. The hole left by their silence was soon filled by the babble of the market. Rincewind rolled up his sleeves. He wasn't even certain about a spell for blowing things up . . . He waved a hand vaguely.
'I should stand well back, everyone,' said Herb, grinning unpleasantly. 'Quanti canicula ilia in fenestre?' said Rincewind. 'Er . . .' He stared desperately at the wall and, with that heightened perception that comes to those on the edge of terror, noticed a cauldron half hidden in the timber. There seemed to be a little glowing string attached to it. 'Er,' he said, 'there seems to be—'
'Having problems?' said Herb, nastily. Rincewind squared his shoulders. '—' he said. There was a sound like a marshmallow gently landing on a plate, and everything in front of him went white. Then the white turned red, streaked with black, and the terrible noise clapped its hands across his ears. A crescent-shaped piece of something glowing, scythed the top off his hat and embedded itself in the nearest house, which caught fire. There was a strong smell of burning eyebrows. When the debris settled Rincewind saw quite a large hole in the wall. Around its edge the brickwork, now a red-hot ceramic, started to cool with a noise like glinka-glinka. He looked down at his soot-blackened hands. 'Gosh,' he said. And then he said, 'All rightl' And then he turned and began to say, 'How about that, then?' but his voice faded when it became apparent that everyone was lying flat on the ground. A duck watched him suspiciously from its cage. Owing to the slight protection afforded by the bars, its feathers were patterned alternately natural and crispy. He'd always wanted to do magic like that. He'd always been able to visualize it perfectly. He'd just never been able to do it . . . A number of guards appeared in the gap. One, whose ferocity of helmet suggested that he was an officer, glared at the charred hole and then at Rincewind. 'Did you do this?' he demanded.
'Stand back!' shouted Rincewind, drunk with power. 'I'm the Great Wizard, I am! You see this ringer? Don't make me use it!' The officer nodded to a couple of his men. 'Get him.' Rincewind took a step back. 'I warn you! Anyone lays a hand on me, he'll be eating flies and hopping for the rest of his life!' The guards advanced with the determination of those who were prepared to risk the uncertainty of magic against the definite prospect of punishment for disobeying orders. 'Stand back! This could go off! All right, then, since you force—' He waved his hand. He snapped his fingers a few times. 'Er—' The guards, after checking that they were still the same shape, each grabbed an arm. 'It may be delayed action,' he ventured, as they gripped harder. 'Alternatively, would you be interested in hearing a famous quotation?' he said. His feet were lifted off the ground. 'Or perhaps not?' Rincewind, running absent-mindedly in mid-air, was brought in front of the officer. 'On your knees, rebel!' said the officer. 'I'd like to, but—'
'I saw what you did to Captain Four White Fox!'
'What? Who's he?'