In a distant...
and second hand set of dimensions,
through wavering star mists, see...
the Great A'Tuin.
Drifting onwards through space,
atop the shell of the great turtle,
are four giant elephants,
upon whose broad shoulders rests...
the Discworld.
For the people on the Disc,
the turtle was a mere hypothesis,
until one day, the island kingdom of Krull,
whose rim-most mountains project over the rim fall,
lowered over the edge a brass vessel
containing several astrozoologists.
Their mission did indeed prove
the existence of the turtle.
Unfortunately, owing to a minor malfunction...
they were unable to answer
an even more fundamental question...
What is the sex of the turtle?
The remaining astrozoologists are never short of a question.
Why does it matter?
So, we're gonna look at a turtle's bottom?
That won't be very nice, will it?
Since the failure of the last mission,
this vital question cannot possibly be answered
without sending a new expedition
over the edge of the Disc...
in this.
It's a bit small.
It will be somewhat bigger.
Yeah, but...
where in the world are you gonna find someone stupid enough to go in that?
Several thousand miles hubwards from the Rim,
in Ankh-Morpork, the Disc's oldest city,
the ship arriving in its dock is carrying Twoflower,
the Discworld's first tourist.
He is looking forward to all its sights...
and smells.
And of course, no tour would be complete
without a visit to the city's
Unseen University for wizards
and its famous Tower Of Art.
Transcript: http://transcripts.subtitle.me.uk/
Synchro: Jesslataree
When our story begins,
wizards are not very nice.
Carrying the final remains of one of their number,
the eight heads of the orders of wizardry have demonstrated
great powers of survival,
because behind every wizard of the eighth rank,
there is at least one seventh rank wizard
trying to bump him off.
Old Rumlat.
He never saw it coming, you know, Trymon.
You know what they say, Arch Chancellor,
when a wizard is tired of looking for broken glass in his dinner,
he is tired of life.
I'm just speculating, obviously.
We are gathered here today to...
pay our respects to Old Rumlet.
A wizard...
Sorry.
I'm not late, am I?
Who is that?
Rincewind,
Arch Chancellor.
Rincewind?
Have him sent to my office in ten minutes.
Get on with it, Weatherwax.
My back's killing me.
Run along, Rincewind.
Yes, sir.
Sorry.
Mister Rincewind,
there are, as you know, eight levels of wizardry,
to which the aspiring young...
to which the student can aspire.
In your not inconsiderable time here at the Unseen University,
you have failed to reach level one.
Yes, but...
What the Arch Chancellor is trying to say,
is that after decades of teaching you,
patience seems not so much a virtue
as a life sentence.
- Yes, but... - There is simply no room
for your kind of person in a modern university.
- I feel... - So you leave the Arch Chancellor
no other course of action but to expel you.
But it's only been 40 years.
The hat.
Goodbye, Mr Rincewind.
In the competitive world of wizardry,
the way to the top is via dead men's pointy shoes.
Even if you have to empty them yourself.
- You can't! - And don't come back!
Now, let me tell you!
Ah, thank you very...
Deep in its very bowels,
the departure of the Disc's worst wizard
from the Unseen University
has stirred magic.
Good day to thee, sir.
Goodbye, world.
Disappointing.
Ha-low!
Hello, yourself.
I wish to be direct-ed
to an 'otel,
tavern,
lodging house in hospice.
I wish...
I know a tavern.
This way.
Sapient pearwood.
The tourist's luggage is no ordinary suitcase.
It has absolutely no brain
and a homicidal attitude
towards anything that threatens its master
and would follow him anywhere.'
I wish...
for an acc-omodation,
a room, lodgings, are your rooms clean,
a roomwithaview, what is your rate for one night,
what is for breakfast, where are the...
bathrooms, sir?
He's got plenty of money.
It'll be...
two dollars then?
And that thing has to stay in the stables.
Two.
Two-ah?
Two-ah.
Two.
Shower?
It is. Sapient pearwood.
Itsis sonbon... ride...
toiletries? Toilet?
May I be of assistance?
Shove off, Rincewind.
It won't work.
It's the book, it tells him what to say.
It's magic.
So you're a wizard!
And you speak Ankh-Morporkean!
- Yes. I did a correspondence course. - What's all this about then?
Well, a tourist should always use his phrasebook
so that people will know you're one.
And...
is that really your luggage?
Yes. And...
are you really a wizard?
I hear the famous Unseen University is a must see.
I was hoping to visit it so that when I get back home
- I could say, "I did that." - Yeah, well, it's closed.
For... For...
For the exams.
- Where is your home? - Have you heard of Bes Pelargic?
It's the major seaport of the Agatean Empire.
That's the Counterweight Continent, isn't it?
We may be small but we're equal in weight
to all the major land masses of this hemicircle.
That's because the ancient legend...
It says that it's made of gold.
It's not made of gold.
Gold is just a really common metal.
You might like to keep that... to ourselves.
On the house.
- Who is he? - He says he's a tourist.
- What's that mean, then? - I think it means idiot.
You are correct in your surmise.
This is, technically, false coinage.
I knew it, I knew it. I got a nose for a dud un.
- What do you mean, technically? - Well, you see,
our Ankh-Morpork coins...
contain rather less gold than a pint of sea water.
I knew it!
But this, my friend,
is solid gold.
What?!
I've gotta get back.
And so,
the leaders of a number of the many gangs, guilds, and collections
of other nefarious dirt bags of Ankh-Morpork
were aware that someone had arrived in the city
who appeared to have much treasure.
Including Emor, its greatest thief.
So...
No... guards?
No, why? What do I have that's worth stealing?
Well, the trunk.
There can't be more
than two very small wands made of sapient pearwood
in all the cities of the circle sea,
let alone a whole box.
That or the...
the gold.
Barely 2,000 rhinu.
Is a rhinu one of those...
big gold coins?
Do you think I paid the innkeeper too much?
I think he might have settled for less.
I can see I've got a lot to learn.
An idea occurs to me.
Rincewind,
would you perhaps consent to be employed as a...
perhaps the word guide would fit the circumstances.
I think I could afford to pay you a...
a rhinu a day.
Oh, dear,
I've offended you.
It was an impertinent request, doubtless you have
works of high magic to return to.
One of those a day?
- Two then? - What do you want to see?
I want to see everything. I mean, genuine Morporkean life.
I want to go to the slave markets and the whore pits,
the Temple of Small Gods, the Beggar's Guild...
and a genuine tavern brawl.
No, no, I'm not suggesting we get involved.
I just wanna see it, that's all.
And some of your famous heroes, like...
Cohen The Barbarian.
- You do know him? - Oh, yes, yes, of course!
Good. Well.
So, it's agreed?
- Agreed? - Excellent!
Be a good chap and see to it
that the innkeeper shows my luggage to the room.
I insist you take your first four days' wages...
in advance.
Broadman, luggage, room!
And perhaps when the exams are finished, we could get a peek at the...
Unseen University?
This calls for a picture.
All the best wizards have left!
See you, loser!
Relax, Withel.
The magic chest will come back for its owner
and, with it, the gold.
Yes, we'll just have a pic.
Just look over here, Rincewind,
and smile.
Rincewind?
Hi.
Halt!
The city gates.
Attempting to leave.
The Patrician, the ruler of Ankh-Morpork,
may not be particularly fair or even democratic
but at least, for the first time in a thousand years,
the city works.
This is largely because he knows where everyone is, most of the time,
and which dissuasively vicious punishment to exact
for whatever they are doing there.
Oath breaking.
The theft of a horse.
No, my Lord Patrician, I didn't steal the horse,
I paid for it fairly.
Using false coinage,
which is technically theft, I think, false coinage.
What are we going to do with you,
you little scamp?
It's the Arena for you, Rincewind.
What?
On top of these, there is the moral obligatory attendant
of the cowardly betrayal of a visitor to these shores.
Shame on you, Rincewind.
Will you be requiring a sword or a spear for the Arena?
A s-s-s-s...
Of course...
we could be merciful.
Should we be merciful?
- Two rhinu. - One Polyseal.
Oi! That's my door!
Door's fine.
Why don't you join me, Zlorf?
The Assassins' Guild are our friends.
I've come for the tourist.
I thought we had an agreement.
You don't rob,
and I don't kill.
I'll kill him...
and then you can rob him.
If anybody's going to kill him,
they'll need to talk to me first.
Get those dwarves out of here!
Who the hell are you?
I am Rerpf
and I'm here on behalf of the Guild Of Merchants And Traders
to protect our interests.
Meaning...
the little man.
And how long has this guild been in existence, may I ask?
Since this afternoon.
I am Vice Guild Master in charge of...
tourism.
And what is this... tourism, of which you speak?
We're not quite sure.
- What's a tourist? - Smile!
It's magic!
I want you to listen very carefully
to what I have to say.
Otherwise, you will die.
In an interesting fashion.
Over a period.
Please stop fidgeting like that.
The Emperor of the Counterweight Continent sent me a letter.
It appears that one of his subjects has taken it into his head
to visit our city.
It appears he wishes to...
look at it.
You will continue to be a guide, Rincewind,
to this... looker.
This-This... Twoflower.
You will make sure he returns home
with a good report of our homeland.
What do you say to that? You say yes.
I say yes.
Yes, thank you, Lord.
Because...
it would be a tragedy should anything...
untoward
happen to our visitor.
It will be dreadful if the tourist were to die, for example.
Because the Emperor looks after his own
and he could certainly extinguish us at a nod,
which would be dreadful for you, Rincewind,
because I would hope,
when the Empire's huge, mercenary fleet arrived,
that the avenging captains would find their anger somewhat tempered
by the fact that my skilled operatives have just shown you
the colour of your liver.
I see, by your face, that understanding dawns.
Good luck.
There's one other thing.
I'm sure...
you wouldn't dream of trying to escape from your obligations by, say,
running away.
I assure you, Lord,
that the thought never even crossed my mind.
Indeed.
Then, if I were you, I would sue my face for slander.
Don't let me detain you.
You.
Alright, alright.
I give in.
Excuse me.
Rincewind, you came back!
- I knew you would. - I... I just had to.
It's exciting, isn't it? A genuine tavern brawl.
Better than anything I could have imagined.
Everybody say cheese!
Do you think I should thank them or...
Did you put them up to this?
- That's where you were! - I... I didn't like to mention it.
Nice throw!
We should be leaving.
Shooni!
- Beelziba! - Smile!
Magic!
Collapsing spell.
Come along, we gotta go.
That's my luggage.
One more time!
Attaboy.
So, where's Cohen The Barbarian?
He's...
right behind you.
Look, we really ought to be going.
Fantastic!
No one at home is gonna believe this.
All you do is rotate the lever and the iconograph does the rest.
You wait here.
It's no good, I've run out of red.
If you wanted red, you shouldn't have took pictures of dwarves killing people.
It's monochrome from now on, friend, alright?
That's the picture imp.
Yes, of course it is.
You know, Rincewind, I'd like to have you in the picture as well.
Smile please.
Smile. Smile!
What are we gonna see next?
What a great day.
That's my favourite, with Cohen.
What the...
Can you smell oil?
I don't think so.
I'll kill that bloody cat.
Here, take this.
Thanks.
Don't mention it.
Tavern fights are pretty common around here, no?
Yeah, well, it's practically a sport.
So, innkeepers must need a lot of...
well, in my language, we'd call it in-ss-urance.
In-sewer-ants? That's a funny word, what's it mean?
Well, say you have a tavern built of wood.
It might burn down.
You don't want that to happen,
so you take out an in-sewer-ants poly-cee.
And then I work out the odds against it burning down
and then add a bit.
And then you pay me some money, based on those odds.
Oh, no.
But, yes.
Well, then if it does burn down,
I pay you the value of the tavern.
It's a bit like a bet, right?
A wager? Yes, I suppose it is.
Are you sure you can't smell oil?
No. I can smell burning.
Did you in-sewer the Drum?
Luckily for Broadman, I still have the rhinu he paid as his first premium.
You bet Broadman that it wouldn't catch fire?
Standard valuation 200 rhinu, why? Why do you ask?
You-You dozy idiot!
Just carry on as if I'm not here, Rincewind,
your appointment is later.
What's next?
What's next?!
We'll be hung, drawn and quartered if we stay here much longer.
- Why? - What do you mean, why? Why?!
Look! The whole of Ankh-Morpork is made of wood.
- What about my luggage. - Bugger your luggage!
Tell you what, whoever started that fire,
it'd be wise for them to find a fast horse
and make themselves very scarce.
Thank you very much, Twoflower.
It says that Chirm is lovely at this time of year.
And very, very dangerous.
Really?
That's the oil bond store going up.
Rincewind!
- Look at that over there. - Oh, dear God, no.
Oi! Oi, you!
Come back here! That's my horse!
Come back!
I'm Rincewind.
The Octavo, greatest of all spell books,
locked and chained deep in the cellars
of the Unseen University.
The spells imprisoned in its pages
lead a secret life of their own.
And Rincewind's departure from Ankh-Morpork
has left them deeply troubled.
I can't remember it being like this before.
Not since that time a young wizard...
Oh, dear.
I've expelled him, haven't I?
Nobody knows where he is, Librarian.
Not even the Patrician's palace guard.
Though they seem to think he'll turn up, for some reason.
Look,
he's the only person in living memory
who has... actually touched the Octavo
with his bare hands.
We have no idea the effect it will have on him
in the outside world.
At least when he was a student,
we knew where he was.
Perhaps I've been a bit hasty.
Who else knows about this?
Nobody, Arch Chancellor.
Good.
Let's keep it that way, shall we?
Apart from Greyhold Spold, of course.
His days are probably numbered anyway.
On the subject of which, I haven't seen old Narribolt
recently.
That's because he's dead, Arch Chancellor.
I'm just glad nobody wants to be Head Librarian.
Perish the thought, Horace.
I am looking for a book.
New shoes?
And new hat.
Mr Trymon.
How very neat and tidy.
Did you know...
that in the event
of the Arch Chancellor's sad demise,
he would be succeeded by Greyhold Spold.
He's demonstrated remarkable powers of survival.
Up to now.
I think it's very important to strive for perfection, don't you?
If you want to get to the very top, sir, yes.
The position of Head Librarian
has never really appealed to you, sir?
Good.
It is quite possible
that the next Arch Chancellor
may well smile
upon those who understand the importance
of things being well organised.
Is everything in order down there?
Absolutely. Everything is in...
alphabetical order, quite.
So,
this is the famous Octavo.
Famous and dangerous.
How long has it been like this?
It's always been a bit strange, as far back as I can remember.
But, for some reason, it's got rather...
lively.
Why?
I don't know.
Who does?
Greyhold Spold.
Before my time.
Greyhold Spold.
How convenient.
Rincewind?
Twoflower?
Twoflower!
"Pit of Ultimate Despair."
"Dread Tower of Darkness."
"Traveller."
"The Hospitable Temple
of Bel-Shamharoth
lies a thousand paces hubwards."
Hubwards.
"The Wyrmberg
and palace of the Dragon Lord
lies a thousand paces
rimwards."
Dragons.
I've always wanted to see dragons.
Dragons it is.
Rincewind?!
Your lifetime is up, Rincewind.
- I can't hang around all day. - I can.
- What have you done with the tourist? - Nothing.
He was lured by the attraction of the Wyrmberg.
So at least the Patrician
won't be sending out his men to kill me just yet then.
There is a distinct possibility
that he may not need to.
What are you grinning at?
I'm sorry, I can't help it.
Now, would you be so kind as to let go?
It won't hurt.
Getting torn to pieces by wolves won't hurt?
It will be over very quickly.
And, of course, they are an endangered species.
Atoni.
Who are you?!
Oh, dear.
I wonder if it was something I said.
Don't think I owe you a debt of gratitude.
One of the consolations of being eaten by wolves
was the fact that I would never have to have
a near-death experience again, thanks to your owner!
737, 738,
739. Dragons.
Dragons. 741, 742, 743.
Dragons?
Nobody believes in them any more.
I never really wanted to be Arch Chancellor anyway,
so, if you're here for -
For the Octavo,
Mr Spold.
You're not here to...
What about the Octavo?
It's rather... troubled at the moment.
And it seems that you might be able to tell me why.
It's not all there, you know?
As in mad?
As in...
one spell short of eight.
One of the eight spells is missing?
Well, that's rather badly organised.
Certainly extremely dangerous.
So, where is it now?
Do think very carefully, Mr Spold.
I...
really wish I did know,
Mr Trymon.
Try breathing through this.
Dark in here, isn't it?
Fire's gone out.
Rincewind!
Attaboy, and you've brought the luggage.
It brought me.
It's amazing, isn't it?
Yes, if you like the physically impossible.
I think it's just amazing.
Bit under populated though.
Listen.
- Could it be the home of the dragons? - Don't be ridiculous!
Dragons don't exist.
All my life, I've wanted to see dragons.
I think...
I don't believe in them!
They don't exist!
No, I just dazed, actually.
Who said that?
Well, don't just lie there.
- Pull me out! - What?
Come on, come on, pull me out.
You... You spoke!
I'm a magic sword.
You weren't born with a birth mark in the shape of a crown, were you?
No? Oh, just asking.
- Were you with the other fellow? - Might have been.
It's just the dragon's got him,
and so I expect you'll be in a hurry to slay the dragon
and rescue him in a fantastic feat of derring-do!
Not really, no.
Come on.
Come on!
Right, take a firm grip.
That's good.
Could be worse,
this could have been an anvil.
Finally!
The dragon's headed hubwards!
Even if they did exist,
I'm not cut out for dragons.
Nothing to it.
I'll show you!
Right, I suggest we start with the one in the trees.
Over there.
No, you don't.
You see, there's nothing there.
You can start with her instead.
I don't know how to be a hero.
Obviously.
But I propose to teach you.
Look, I'll be frank,
I've worked with far better material than you but it's either that...
or I'll chop your head off!
- I mean it. - Alright, alright.
Good boy.
There's an ambitious wizard on the loose.
I think a certain degree of... vigilance would be in order.
Especially if he's talked to Trymon.
Any suggestions?
Well, obviously, you attack.
Why didn't I think of that?
Because you're a defeatist.
On your marks,
get set,
go!
I ever tell you about the time I was thrown into a lake?
Let's have a look at you... madam!
Where is the tourist?
He's been taken back to the Wyrmberg.
What is this Wyrmberg?
The Wyrmberg.
It is dragon home.
They don't exist.
But I suppose you'll be wanting to rescue your friend?
My point precisely.
He's not my friend.
But I suppose you'd better take me to this...
Wyrmberg of yours.
Listen.
I didn't... I didn't know dragons were see-through!
- Didn't you? - No!
Watch him as we get closer to the Wyrmberg.
That, at least, is very marginally better.
- Jump now. - What?!
Surrender.
Never.
Of course not.
He's a hero, isn't he?
I taught him myself.
And what is your name, hero?
So that we know... who you were.
My name is...
is...
Rincewind of Ankh.
And I am Liessa Dragonlady.
You are to challenge me in mortal combat.
No. No, I can't.
You are mistaken.
Liort, help our hero into a pair of hog boots.
I am sure he is anxious to get started.
No, really!
- If you are looking after my... - You will see your friend soon enough.
If you are religious, I mean.
None who enter the Wyrmberg ever leave again.
Except metaphorically speaking, of course.
My Trymon.
Good day, Arch Chancellor.
New new shoes and hat, huh?
Well, you came to see me?
I've taken the liberty of doing a little research.
About the Octavo, perhaps?
It appears
that one of the great spells is missing
And you were wondering, purely for administrative purposes,
where it might have got to.
Do you know, Arch Chancellor?
If I did...
I think I've forgotten.
Old Spold did.
Too late.
He's already popped his pointy shoes, hasn't he?
He always had difficulty breathing,
even before he managed to seal himself,
in his own room,
from the outside.
Great shame about Spold.
Just clouds.
I expect this is all some sort of a misunderstanding.
I expect they'll release me soon. They seem rather civilised.
And when I get back,...
I can tell people that I saw dragons.
Imagine that.
Dragons.
I obey, Lord.
Obey?
Of course, Lord.
Open it?
Arch Chancellor?
Such a great shame.
About?
Spold, you mean?
- Is that all, Trymon? - Yes, Arch Chancellor.
Very good. Oh, Trymon?
As you leave, could you tidy the sprung heavy axe device
some prankster student has rigged above my door?
It seems to have...
malfunctioned.
I shall have it seen to, Arch Chancellor.
And I do hope Spold's shoes are not too small for you.
We fight to the death.
Yours.
I suppose I ought to warn you that...
I have a magic sword.
- That's me. - What a coincidence.
Hello!
He-llo.
Prepare to be defeated.
I don't think so...
Going well, isn't it?
Call yourself a magic sword? Pah!
Yeah, I do, actually.
Hang on, Rincewind.
Let go, damn you, or we'll both die.
That's easy for you to say.
What don't you save me? What have you got to lose?
Is that you?
Does that mean...
that I'm gonna die?
Let go!
You're a fine-looking dragon, by the way.
Even if you did just turn up.
You summoned me, Master.
You have... the power.
You mean, I just thought of you and there you were?
But I've thought of dragons all my life.
The power only works near the Wyrmberg.
As the dragons fly further away,
we begin to dwindle and fade.
All Dragonlords have the power,
as, of course, does the Dragonlady Liessa,
who, incidentally,
is trying to hack your friend to pieces as we speak.
- What?! - Shoot him!
Ashoni!
Ebriate!
Oh, no, not you!
How was that? You alright? What's the matter?
- Aren't you scared of heights? - No, why should I be?
You're just as dead if you fall from 40 feet as from 4,000 fathoms,
that's what I say.
It's not the actual falling,
it's more the hitting that worries me.
Do you think dragons can fly all the way to the stars?
That would be something.
I think you might be mad.
That's where we camped.
- I didn't tell you about the time... - The sword!
- You alright? - Oh, yeah.
Come on, now! Hyagh! Hyagh!
Hello?!
Magic sword here!
If anyone can hear me out there, what I could do with now is someone
who doesn't realize they're an orphan born in mysterious circumstances.
Are you alright?
What's happening to the air?
Oh, my.
Dragons.
Dragons, think of dragons.
Think of dragons!
It won't work.
You don't really believe in them.
Dragons!
Meanwhile, at the very edge of the world,
the Krullians have not given up on their quest
to determine the sex of the turtle.
Are the chelonauts ready, launch controller?
- Indeed, Arch Astronomer. - How long to the doorway?
The launch window, your... Prominence.
12 hours, when Great A'Tuin's tail will be in an unmatched position
to determine its... sex.
And all that remains
is to find an appropriate couple of sacrifices.
The ocean shall provide.
It always does.
Look at the horizon.
It's alright.
Admittedly, there seems to be a lot less than there usually is.
We're being carried over the edge!
We're going to run out of world!
We are? I absolutely have to see that!
Help!
Rincewind.
Don't mind me. I've got a book to read.
I don't want to leave this world!
A prospect immensely troubling
to the Octavo.
It's you.
I just came to see Arch Chancellor Weatherwax.
Do you have an appointment?
I've never needed an appointment before.
Well, the Arch Chancellor's never been organised before.
- It's just... - Look,
The Arch Chancellor
is going to have been very ill, quite soon.
And must not be disturbed.
Can you smell burning?
Have I been smoking in my sleep?
I could have sworn I was wearing my shoes.
Why don't you come with me instead?
There's something I know you really want to show me.
Trymon.
Oh, dear.
You'd better not monkey around with it, or who knows what'll happen.
The last person who went near it...
It was a long time ago.
All I'm saying is...
he never passed any exams after.
As a matter of interest, after the last time,
what exactly did they do... to Rincewind?
I never said anything about Rincewind.
Rincewind?
Did I say Rincewind?
I meant whichever perpetual student wizard it was,
who monkeyed around with the Octavo.
Rincewind.
So...
when the spell left the Octavo,
where, exactly, did it go?
- Get off, will you?! - Are you saying you want me to stop?
- Yes, stop, will you?! - Stop saving your life?
That's actually twice now.
Thank you.
Say again?
I said thank you!
Stop that. Will you stop that?!
Look, a polite shake of the hand,
having first checked for poison needles in the palm,
in that old, quaint,
Ankh-Morporkean tradition,
would be sufficient!
I'm on the edge of the world!
Seeing things that most people can only dream of.
On an adventure of visions and wonders,
unimaginable in one lifetime.
It's all thanks to you, Rincewind.
You forgot the near-death experiences.
I like to think of them as edge-of-life ones.
With the best guide
a little old in-sewerance clerk from Bes Pelargi
could ever hope for.
I would have been fine, of course.
Even falling from the Wyrmberg.
Because to stop falling to certain death
is only a Level Two spell.
Actually, I was
sort of hoping that you could do some...
you know?
What, magic?
Like what?
In a fight, you could turn people into worms.
Turning people into animals is an eighth-level spell.
Look...
the thing is, I never really completed my training.
I only know one spell.
And even that I got by accident.
What does it do?
Well, I don't know.
I suppose it could do anything.
But it's from the greatest spell book of all.
The Octavo.
The Octavo?
How did you learn it?
When I was a much younger student at the University,
I agreed to open the Octavo for a bet.
Pint of beer, I think it was.
It was as if it was waiting for me.
I only had a second
before the spell leapt from the book
and settled in my memory like a toad in a stone.
- Well, then what happened? - Well, they dragged me out
and thrashed me, of course.
Never did get the pint of beer.
What did the spell say, exactly?
It had vanished from the page,
so nobody will know what it says until I say it.
Or until I die, of course,
and then it'll, sort of, say itself.
- And nobody knows... - ... what it does?
To know that, you would need to be Arch Chancellor.
Now you tell me!
Why didn't we go over the edge?
Because our log hit that rope.
I think it's called the Circumfence.
It runs around the edge of the world.
No, you mean the circumference.
The circumference goes round the edge of things.
So does the Circumfence.
I suppose that's the Rimbow.
It's just so beautiful.
Great.
It's a nice view before we die.
Do you see the eighth colour?
That's the colour of magic.
Bet you there are a lot of other worlds down there.
Yes, quite a number. Look, there's one.
Hey, that star's new. Perhaps we should name it.
What's the point? Who will we tell?
We're never gonna get off this rock.
Unless we get in the boat.
Well, unless we get in the... What boat?
That boat.
Of course, I could stay here forever.
On balance, I know I should be very suspicious of that boat
but I do like the idea of getting back to dry land.
Are you sure?
I'm sure.
Civilisation.
Lovely to see you're still here, Arch Chancellor.
Do you know what happens... when a wizard dies?
All the spells that he has memorised say themselves.
It's one of the first things we learn.
It's not quite true with the eight great spells.
A great spell will simply find refuge
in the nearest mind ready and open to receive it.
There you are.
You are going to recapture the spell...
from its host?
Allow for wind speed, say, three knots.
Adjust for temperature.
There.
Of course, it'll take a while to get there and kill Rincewind,
then the spell will immediately return
along the ionised path,
back here, to me.
Remarkable.
If, dare I say...
a little old fashioned.
As for what happens when all eight spells
are spoken together,
it might interest a wizard now, is it not?
Especially when they aspire...
to wear the big shoes of all.
Becoming your second
has always been the limit of my ambition.
Yes, of course it has.
I wish only to acquire knowledge, master.
Which, as we know,...
is power.
And so, for the furtherance
of my knowledge, master,
when the eight spells are said...
To receive that ultimate nugget,
you'll have to do much better than that, young man.
I congratulate you, master,
I can see that we must all get up very early in the morning
if we are to get the better of you.
Early in the morning?
My dear lad, you'll have to stay up all night.
Come.
Galder.
It's the Octavo.
It's going... really ape.
Right.
What's going on here?
Why are the spells so restless?
The key.
So, back in civilisation.
Yes, it looks like civilisation to me.
Welcome to Krull.
My name is Marchesa.
I hope you're not proposing to enslave us.
Certainly not.
- Good. - You will, in fact, be sacrificed.
Thank you for another fine mess, Twoflower.
Come on!
Here we are, completely trapped in a palace,
on an island we have no hope of leaving.
And, what's more, we've...
Look at all those worlds.
It's fantastic.
Wonder who's gonna be wearing those suits?
Someone who isn't going to be sacrificed,
that's who.
In the annals
of the exploration of our cosmos,
many have been the valiant efforts
of our cosmochelonians
and astrozoologists,
in their quest for knowledge
of the Great A'Tuin.
And you said we had no way of escaping.
Just keep walking, they'll never know it's us.
But I wasn't expecting an audience.
As soon as we get a chance, we'll make a run for it, OK?
But never...
has the bravery
of those who laid down their live before,
in the pursuit
of the answer to the ultimate question
of the sex...
of the turtle,
been more valid
by those who, today, venture forth...
- to certain death. - Depths.
Depths!
These two... specially-trained
highly-skilled chelonauts
will be honoured
by the chronicles of Krull.
- Is there a toilet in this suit? - I don't think so.
It's just that I think I need to boldly go.
I give you...
heroes!
Not just of Krull,
but of the galaxy!
On the count of three,
we make a run for it, that way.
I don't think it's them.
You don't think anyone's realised, do you?
Guards! Guards!
To the top of the ship! They won't dare shoot at that.
Back up? Not for me, I'm off.
Perhaps you're right.
To the library!
Quick!
Head Librarian?
To the Great Hall!
I wonder if they're gonna send this ship over the edge?
Stop, now!
This time, I'm definitely going to die.
Surrender!
Now, listen.
We'll tell them that we'll damage the thing
unless they let us go. Right?
And that's all we're gonna do, right?
That's it. It'll lift off now.
Stop where you are!
- What was that? - What was what?
I thought I heard something.
Twelve...
That's good, make it look like you're damaging it.
Ten...
- I think it's stuck. - Push it!
You're not messing about with anything in there, are you?
- No, of course not. - Oh, good.
What is the Octavo doing?
To the roof!
To the Tower Of Art!
How many steps are there?
Eight thousand, eight hundred...
And eighty eight.
Heave!
Nine... Nine...
- What was that? - It doesn't seem to wanna go!
What?
Nine, eight...
- That's it, I fixed it! - Fixed what?
We've gotta get off this thing.
One!
Lift-off!
The stars!
The whole damn sky, full of worlds!
Places no-one's ever gonna see, except us!
I've not seen that one before.
I don't know the significance of the star,
but that...
that mist is important.
So, what's happening?
I fear...
the only way to find out exactly
is to perform the Rite Of AshkEnte.
Thank you, Arch Chancellor.
Nice try.
That mist is a change spell,
created by the Octavo.
The whole world is changing.
For the better, I think.
That's so pretty.
I really should name it.
Has anybody seen the Arch Chancellor?
And how can I help you?
I'll give it a name, Goodbye World!
I understand that the Octavo
is anxious not to lose the eighth spell.
As much as it pains me to say this,
Rincewind must not die.
Death.
- I've sent someone to find him. - Who?
Gentlemen, the light... fantastic!
The star is life, not death.
- Are those things demons? - He's opened a pathway.
- Who are you? - Cohen.
The Barbarian!
We have gone beyond...
wisdom.