He brushed away some dust. 'Oh, no,' he mumbled. It was an oblong box. The artist hadn't got the hang of conventional perspective, but there was no doubt that he'd tried to paint hundreds of little legs. 'That's my Luggage!'
'Always the same, right?' said Scrappy, behind him. 'You arrive okay and your luggage ends up somewhere else.' Thousands of years in the past?'
'Could be a valuable antique.'
'It's got my clothes in it!'
'They'll probably be back in style, then.'
'You don't understand! It's a magical box! It's supposed to end up where I am!'
'It probably is where you are. Just not when.'
'What? Oh.'
'I told you time and space were all stirred up, didn't I? You wait till you're on your journey. There's places where there's several times happening at once and places where there's hardly any time at all, and times when there's hardly any place. You've got to sort it out, right?'
'What, like shuffling cards?' said Rincewind. He made a mental note about 'on your journey'. 'Yep.' That's impossible!'
'Y'know, I'd have said so too. But you will do it. Now, you'll have to concentrate about this bit, right?' Scrappy took a deep breath. 'I know you're going to do it because you've already done it.' Rincewind put his head in his hands. 'I told you about time and space here being mixed up,' said the kangaroo. 'I've already saved the country, have I?'
'Yep.'
'Oh, good. Well, that wasn't so difficult. I don't want much – a medal, perhaps, the grateful thanks of the population, maybe a small pension and a ticket home . . .' He looked up. 'I'm not going to get any of that, though, am I?'
'No, because—'
'—I haven't already done it yet?'
'Exactly! You're getting the hang of it! You have to go and do what we know you're going to do because you've already done it. In fact, if you hadn't done it already I wouldn't be here to make sure it gets done. So you'd better do it.'
'Facing terrible dangers?' The kangaroo waved a paw. 'Slightly terrible,' it said. 'And go for many miles over parched and trackless terrain?'
'Well, yeah. We haven't got any of the other sort.' Rincewind brightened up slightly. 'And I'll meet comrades whose strengths and skills will be a great help to me?'
'Don't bet on it.'
'Any chance of a magic sword?'
'What would you do with a magic sword?'
'Fair enough. Fair enough. Forget the magic sword. But I've got to have something. Cloak of invisibility, potion of strength, something like that . . .' That stuff's for people who know how to use them, mister. You'll have to rely on your native wit.'
'I've got nothing? What sort of quest is that? Can't you give me any hints?'
'You may have to drink some beer,' said the kangaroo. It cringed back for a moment, as if confident of facing a storm of objections. Rincewind said: 'Oh. Right. Well, I know how to do that. What direction am I supposed to go?'
'Oh, you'll find it.'
'And when I get to where I'm going, what am I supposed to do?'
'It'll . . . be obvious, right?'
'And how will I know I've done it?'
'The Wet will come back.'
'The wet what?'