The Colour of Magic   ::   Пратчетт Терри

It was the disconcerting sort of grip that suggested that the gripper could grip a whole lot harder, if he wanted to.

“Where is he, the rich foreigner?” hissed the wizard. “Quickly!”

“What’s holding my leg?” said the man, with a note of terror in his voice. He tried to wriggle free.

The pressure increased

“You wouldn’t want to know,” said Rincewind

“Pay attention, please. Where’s the foreigner?”

“Not here. They’ve got him at Broadman’s place.”

“Everyone’s looking for him! You’re Rincewind aren’t you? The box—the box that bites people ononono… pleasssse…”

Rincewind had gone. The guard felt the unseen leg-gripper release his—or, as he was beginning to fear, it’s—hold. Then, as he tried to pull himself to his feet, something big and heavy and square cannoned into him out of the dark and plunged off after the wizard. Something with hundreds of tiny feet.

With only his home-made phrase book to help him Twoflower was trying to explain the mysteries of in-sour-ants to Broadman. The fat innkeeper was listening intently, his little black eyes glittering. From the other end of the table Ymor watched with mild amusement, occasionally feeding one of his ravens with scraps from his plate. Beside him Withel paced up and down.

“You fret too much,” said Ymor, without taking his eyes from the two men opposite him. “I can feel it, Stren. Who would dare attack us here? And the gutter wizard will come. He’s too much of a coward not to. And he’ll try to bargain. And we shall have him. And the gold. And the chest.”

Withel’s one eye glared, and he made a fist into the palm of a black-gloved hand.

“Who would have thought there was so much sapient pearwood in the whole of the disc?” he said.

“How could we have known?”

“You fret too much, Stren. I’m sure you can do better this time,” said Ymor pleasantly.

The lieutenant snorted in disgust, and strode off around the room to bully his men. Ymor carried on watching the tourist.

It was strange, but the little man didn’t seem to realise the seriousness of his position. Ymor had on several occasions seen him look around the room with an expression of deep satisfaction he had also been talking for ages to Broadman and Ymer had seen a piece of paper change hands and Broadman had given the foreigner some coins. It was strange. When Broadman got up and waddled past Ymer’s chair the thiefmasters arm shot out like a steel spring and grabbed the fat man by his apron.