‘L—’ he began. She raised a hand.
‘You know that if you say my name I must depart,’ she hissed. ‘Surely you recall that I am the one goddess who comes only when not invoked?’
‘Uh. Yes, I suppose I do,’ croaked the wizard, trying not to look at the eyes. ‘You’re the one they call the Lady?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you a goddess then?’ said Twoflower excitedly. ‘I’ve always wanted to meet one.’
Rincewind tensed, waiting for the explosion of rage. Instead, the Lady merely smiled.
‘Your friend the wizard should introduce us,’ she said.
Rincewind coughed. ‘Uh, yar,’ he said. ‘This is Twoflower, Lady, he’s a tourist—’
‘—I have attended him on a number of occasions—’
‘—and, Twoflower, this is the Lady. Just the Lady, right? Nothing else. Don’t try and give her any other name, okay?’ he went on desperately, his eyes darting meaningful glances that were totally lost on the little man.
Rincewind shivered. He was not, of course, an atheist; on the Disc the gods dealt severely with atheists. On the few occasions when he had some spare change he had always made a point of dropping a few coppers into a temple coffer, somewhere, on the principle that a man needed all the friends he could get. But usually he didn’t bother the Gods, and he hoped the Gods wouldn’t bother him. Life was quite complicated enough.