this?â
âWell, I assume we can look inside,â said Ponder. âA book is meant to be opened. Thereâs even a black leather bookmark, see?â
âOh, thatâs a bookmark , is it?â said the Chair of Indefinite Studies, who had been watching it nervously.
Ponder touched the book. It was warm. And it opened easily enough.
Every page was covered with âookâ.
âGood dialogue, but the plot is a little dull.â
âDean! Iâd be obliged if youâd take this seriously, please!â said Ridcully. He tapped his foot once or twice. âAnyone got any more ideas?â
The wizards stared at one another and shrugged.
âI suppose . . .â said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
âYes, Runes . . . Arnold, isnât it?â
âNo, Archchancellor . . .â
âWell, out with it anyway.â
âI suppose . . . I know this sounds ridiculous, but . . .â
âGo on, man. Weâre almost all agog.â
âI suppose thereâs always . . . Rincewind.â
Ridcully stared at him for a moment. âSkinny fella? Scruffy beard? Bloody useless wizard? Got that box on legs thingy?â
âThatâs right, Archchancellor. Well done. Er . . . he was the Deputy Librarian for a while, as I expect you remember.â
âNot really, but do go on,â he said.
âIn fact he was here when the Librarian . . . became the Librarian. And I remember once, whenwe were watching the Librarian stamping four books all at the same time, he said, âAmazing, really, when you think he was born in Ankh-Morpork.â Iâm sure if anyone knows the name of the Librarian itâs Rincewind.â
âWell, go and fetch him, then! I suppose you do know where he is, do you?â
âTechnically, yes, Archchancellor,â said Ponder quickly. âBut weâre not sure quite where the place where he is is , if you follow me.â
Ridcully gave him another stare.
âYou see, we think heâs on EcksEcksEcksEcks, Archchancellor,â said Ponder.
âEcksEcksââ
ââEcksEcks, Archchancellor.â
âI thought no one knew where that place was,â said Ridcully.
â Exactly , Archchancellor,â said Ponder. Sometimes you had to turn facts in several directions until you found the right way to fit them into Ridcullyâs head. 8
âWhatâs he doing there?â
âWe donât really know, Archchancellor. If you remember, we believe he ended up there after that Agatean business . . .â
âWhat did he want to go there for?â
âI donât think he exactly wanted to,â said Ponder. âEr . . . we sent him. It was a trivial error in bi-locational thaumaturgy that anyone could make.â
âBut you made it, as I recall,â said Ridcully, whose memory could spring nasty surprises like that.
âI am a member of the team, sir,â said Ponder, pointedly.
âWell, if he doesnât want to be there, and we need him here, letâs bring him bââ
The rest of the sentence was drowned out not by a noise but by a sort of bloom of quietness, which rolled over the wizards and was so oppressive and soft that they couldnât even hear their own heartbeats. Old Tom, the Universityâs magical and tongueless bell, tolled out 2 a.m. by striking the silences.
âErââ said Ponder. âItâs not as simple as that.â
Ridcully blinked. âWhy not?â he said. âBring him back by magic. We sent him there, we can bring him back.â
âEr . . . itâd take months to set it up properly, if you want him back right here,â said Ponder. âIf we get it wrong heâll end up arriving in a circle fifty feet wide.â
âThatâs not a problem, is it? If we keep out of it he can land anywhere.â
âI donât think you quite understand, sir. The signal to noise ratio of any thaumic