The staff’s voice changed. Now it wheedled.
Without me, who would there be to tell you what to do?
‘That is true,’ said Coin slowly.
See what you have achieved.
Coin stared slowly around at the frightened faces.
‘I am seeing,’ he said.
I taught you everything I know.
‘I am thinking,’ said Coin, ‘that you do not know enough.’
Ingrate! Who gave you your destiny?
‘You did,’ said the boy. He raised his head.
‘I realise that I was wrong,’ he added, quietly.
Good -
‘I did not throw you far enough!’
Coin got to his feet in one movement and swung the staff over his head. He stood still as a statue, his hand lost in a ball of light that was the colour of molten copper. It turned green, ascended through shades of blue, hovered in the violet and then seared into pure octarine.
Rincewind shaded his eyes against the glare and saw Coin’s hand, still whole, still gripping tight, with beads of molten metal glittering between his fingers.
He slithered away, and bumped into Hakardly. The old wizard was standing like a statue, with his mouth open.
‘What’ll happen?’ said Rincewind.
‘He’ll never beat it,’ said Hakardly hoarsely. ‘It’s his. It’s as strong as him. He’s got the power, but it knows how to channel it.’
‘You mean they’ll cancel each other out?’
‘Hopefully.’
The battle was hidden in its own infernal glow. Then the floor began to tremble.
‘They’re drawing on everything magical,’ said Hakardly. ‘We’d better leave the tower.’
‘Why?’
‘I imagine it will vanish soon enough.’
And, indeed, the white flagstones around the glow looked as though they were unravelling and disappearing into it.
Rincewind hesitated.
‘Aren’t we going to help him?’ he said.
Hakardly stared at him, and then at the iridescent tableau. His mouth opened and shut once or twice.
‘I’m sorry’, he said.
‘Yes, but just a bit of help on his side, you’ve seen what that thing is like-’