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Cohen hadn't spent much time in Twoflower's company, otherwise he would not have been surprised when the little man nodded brightly and said, in the loud, slow and careful voice he employed as an alternative to actually speaking other people's languages: 'Excuse me? Could you please untie us and let us go? It's rather damp and drafty here. Sorry.'
Bethan looked sidelong at Cohen.
'Was he supposed to say that?'
'It'sh novel, I'll grant you.'
And, indeed, three people detached themselves from the group around the fire and came towards them. They did not look as if they intended to untie anyone. The two men, in fact, looked the sort of people who, when they see other people tied up, start playing around with knives and making greasy suggestions and leering a lot.
Herrena introduced herself by drawing her sword and pointing it at Twoflower's heart.
'Which one of you is Rincewind the wizard?' she said. There were four horses. Is he here?'
'Um, I don't know where he is,' said Twoflower. 'He was looking for some onions.'
'Then you are his friends and he will come looking for you,' said Herrena. She glanced at Cohen and Bethan, then looked closely at the Luggage.
Trymon had been emphatic that they shouldn't touch the Luggage. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but Herrena's curiosity could have massacred a pride of lions.
She slit the netting and grasped the lid of the box.
Twoflower winced.
'Locked,' she said eventually. 'Where is the key, fat one?'
'It – it hasn't got a key,' said Twoflower.
'There is a keyhole,' she pointed out.
'Well, yes, but if it wants to stay locked, it stays locked,' said Twoflower uncomfortably.
Herrena was aware of Gancia's grin. She snarled.
'I want it open,' she said. 'Gancia, see to it.' She strode back to the fire.
Gancia drew a long thin knife and leaned down close to Twoflower's face.
'She wants it open,' he said. He looked up at the other man and grinned.
'She wants it open, Weems.'
'Yah.'
Gancia waved the knife slowly in front of Twoflower's face.
'Look,' said Twoflower patiently, 'I don't think you understand. No-one can open the Luggage if it's feeling in a locked mood.'
'Oh yes, I forgot,' said Gancia thoughtfully. 'Of course, it's a magic box, isn't that right? With little legs, they say. I say, Weems, any legs your side? No?'
He held his knife to Twoflower's throat.
'I'm really upset about that,' he said. 'So's Weems. He doesn't say much but what he does is, he tears bits off people. So open – the – box!'
He turned and planted a kick on the side of the box, leaving a nasty gash in the wood.
There was a tiny little click.
Gancia grinned. The lid swung up slowly, ponderously. The distant firelight gleamed off gold – lots of gold, in plate, chain, and coin, heavy and glistening in the flickering shadows.
