‘I must say the captain seemed quite happy to have us aboard,’ she observed.
`That’s because they think it’s lucky to have a wizard on the boat,’ said Rincewind. ‘It isn’t, of course.’
‘Lots of people believe it,’ she said.
‘Oh, it’s lucky for other people, just not for me. I can’t swim.’
‘What, not a stroke?’
Rincewind hesitated, and twiddled the star on his hat cautiously.
About how deep is the sea here, would you say? Approximately?’ he said.
‘About a dozen fathoms, I believe.’
‘Then I could probably swim about a dozen fathoms, whatever they are.’
‘Stop trembling like that, I nearly had your ear off,’ Conina snapped. She glared at a passing seaman and waved her scissors. ‘What’s the matter, you never saw a man have a haircut before?’
Someone up in the rigging made a remark which caused a ripple of ribald laughter in the topgallants, unless they were forecastles.
‘I shall pretend I didn’t hear that,’ said Conina, and gave the comb a savage yank, dislodging numerous inoffensive small creatures.
‘Well, you should keep still!’
‘It’s a little difficult to keep still knowing who it is that’s waving a couple of steel blades around my head!’
And so the morning passed, with scudding wavelets, the creaking of the rigging, and a rather complex layer cut. Rincewind had to admit, looking at himself in a shard of mirror, that there was a definite improvement.
The captain had said that they were bound for the city of Al Khali, on the hubward coast of Klatch.
`Like Ankh, only with sand instead of mud,’ said Rincewind, leaning over the rail. ‘But quite a good slave market.’
‘Slavery is immoral,’ said Conina firmly.
`Is it? Gosh,’ said Rincewind.
‘Would you like me to trim your beard?’ said Conina, hopefully.
She stopped, scissors drawn, and stared out to sea.
‘Is there a kind of sailor that uses a canoe with sort of extra bits on the side and a sort of red eye painted on the front and a small sail?’ she said.
‘I’ve heard of Klatchian slave pirates,’ said Rincewind, ‘but this is a big boat. I shouldn’t think one of them would dare attack it.’
‘One of them wouldn’t,’ said Conina, still staring at the fuzzy area where the sea became the sky, ‘but these five might.’
Rincewind peered at the distant haze, and then looked up at the man on watch, who shook his head.
‘Come on,’ he chuckled, with all the humour of a blocked drain. ‘You can’t really see anything out there. Can you?’
‘Ten men in each canoe,’ said Conina grimly.
‘Look, a joke’s a joke-’
‘With long curvy swords.’
‘Well, I can’t see a-’