An Uninvited Guest
You cannot swim in the river Ankh.
You can, however, tunnel through it if you are industrious and quick enough. The tunnels collapse almost as quickly as they’re dug, but then, anyone who has completely submerged himself in the Ankh has other problems to worry about – like dysentery, cholera, malaria, and typhoid fever, a suite of illnesses collectively referred to by some inhabitants of the city as Morporkia’s Revenge.
The surface tension of the Ankh is quite high, and very small creatures are sometimes seen to walk upon it. In some areas of the river, an entire subspecies of semi-aquatic mole has evolved, in fact; and in others, the fish have acquired stubby little legs, the better to tunnel through their not so watery home. But anything much larger than a rodent which tried to walk upon the surface would find itself mired fast within three steps and sinking within four. You’d have to be preternaturally light on your feet and graceful to manage the feat. You’d have to be – an elf.
But there are no elves in Ankh-Morpork….
Caranthir did not stop running when he hit the riverbank. There were at least a dozen dwarves behind him now, every one of them brandishing an axe and screaming at him in a tongue which was assuredly not Khuzdul. He had tried to tell them he had no idea how he’d ended up wandering into their cellar in the middle of what looked to be a very nice family dinner; one or two of those chasing him were still waving what looked to be roasted rats spitted on long sticks, in fact. But the last thing he knew, he’d been walking through the corridors of Belegost. He’d turned down the hallway he was almost certain led back to his guest quarters, and then, all of a sudden – he found himself an uninvited guest at dinnertime.
Moving with every bit of the speed and skill of his kind, he dashed across the sucking surface of the mud-choked river and heard the dwarves behind him skid to a stop at the edge, their shouts taking on an edge of consternation. Reaching the dubious safety of the farther bank, he finally stopped and took a moment to look around him.
“Iron Hells,” he muttered, taking in the unfamiliar – and filthy – city in which he seemed to be standing. “Where the hell am I?”
