Colour of Magic Read Free Page B

left eye. But not his life, however. Ymor never grudged a man his ambitions.
    “B12,” said Ymor, tossing the little phial aside and unrolling the tiny scroll within.
    “Gorrin the Cat,” said Withel automatically. “On station up in the gong tower at the Temple of Small Gods.”
    “He says Hugh has taken our stranger to the Broken Drum. Well, that’s good enough. Broadman is a—friend of ours, isn’t he?”
    “Aye,” said Withel. “If he knows what’s good for trade.”·
    “Among his customers has been your man Gorrin,” said Ymor pleasantly, “for he writes here about a box on legs, if I read this scrawl correctly.” He looked at Withel over the top of the paper.
    Withel looked away. “He will be disciplined,” he saidflatly. Wa looked at the man leaning back in his chair, his black-clad frame resting as nonchalantly as a Rimland puma on a jungle branch, and decided that Gorrin atop Small Gods Temple would soon be joining those little deities in the multifold dimensions of Beyond. And he owed Wa three copper pieces.
    Ymor crumpled the note and tossed it into a corner. “I think we’ll wander along to the Drum later on, Withel. Perhaps, too, we may try this beer that your men find so tempting.”
    Withel said nothing. Being Ymor’s right-hand man was like being gently flogged to death with scented bootlaces.
     
    The twin city of Ankh-Morpork, foremost of all the cities bounding the Circle Sea, was as a matter of course the home of a large number of gangs, thieves’ guilds, syndicates and similar organizations. This was one of the reasons for its wealth. Most of the humbler folk on the widdershin side of the river, in Morpork’s mazy alleys, supplemented their meager incomes by filling some small role for one or other of the competing gangs. So it was that by the time Hugh and Twoflower entered the courtyard of the Broken Drum the leaders of a number of them were aware that someone had arrived in the city who appeared to have much treasure. Some reports from the more observant spies included details about a book that told the stranger what to say, and a box that walked by itself. These facts were immediately discounted. No magician capable of such enchantments ever came within a mile of Morpork docks.
    It still being that hour when most of the city was just rising or about to go to bed there were few people in the Drum to watch Twoflower descend the stairs. When the Luggage appeared behind him and started to lurch confidently down the steps the customers at the rough wooden tables, as one man, looked suspiciously at their drinks.
    Broadman was browbeating the small troll who swept the bar when the trio walked past him. “What in hell’s that?” he said.
    “Just don’t talk about it,” hissed Hugh. Twoflower was already thumbing through his book.
    “What’s he doing?” said Broadman, arms akimbo.
    “It tells him what to say. I know it sounds ridiculous,” muttered Hugh.
    “How can a book tell a man what to say?”
    “I wish for an accommodation, a room, lodgings, the lodging house, full board, are your rooms clean, a room with a view, what is your rate for one night?” said Twoflower in one breath.
    Broadman looked at Hugh. The beggar shrugged.
    “He’s got plenty money,” he said.
    “Tell him it’s three copper pieces, then. And that Thing will have to go in the stable.”
    “?” said the stranger. Broadman held up three thick red fingers and the man’s face was suddenly a sunny display of comprehension. He reached into his pouch and laid three large gold pieces in Broadman’s palm.
    Broadman stared at them. They represented about four times the worth of the Broken Drum, staff included. He looked at Hugh. There was no help there. He looked at the stranger. He swallowed.
    “Yes,” he said, in an unnaturally high voice. “And then there’s meals, o’course. Uh. You understand, yes? Food. You eat. No?” He made the appropriate motions.
    “Fut?” said the little