Sourcery Read Online Free PDF Page B

further into a world of his own and then, one day, closed the entrance after him.
    The garden was a glittering ball in Billias’s hands. The nearest wizards craned admiringly over his shoulders, and looked down into a two-foot sphere that showed a delicate, flower-strewn landscape; there was a lake in the middle distance, complete in every ripple, and purple mountains behind an interesting-looking forest. Tiny birds the size of bees flew from tree to tree, and a couple of deer no larger than mice glanced up from their grazing and stared out at Coin.
    Who said critically: “It’s quite good. Give it to me.”
    He took the intangible globe out of the wizard’s hands and held it up.
    “Why isn’t it bigger?” he said.
    Billias mopped his brow with a lace-edged handkerchief.
    “Well,” he said weakly, so stunned by Coin’s tone that he was quite unable to be affronted, “since the old days, the efficacity of the spell has rather—”
    Coin stood with his head on one side for a moment, as though listening to something. Then he whispered a few syllables and stroked the surface of the sphere.
    It expanded. One moment it was a toy in the boy’s hands, and the next…
    …the wizards were standing on cool grass, in a shady meadow rolling down to the lake. There was a gentle breeze blowing from the mountains; it was scented with thyme and hay. The sky was deep blue shading to purple at the zenith.
    The deer watched the newcomers suspiciously from their grazing ground under the trees.
    Spelter looked down in shock. A peacock was pecking at his bootlaces.
    “—” he began, and stopped. Coin was still holding a sphere, a sphere of air. Inside it, distorted as though seen through a fish-eye lens or the bottom of a bottle, was the Great Hall of Unseen University.
    The boy looked around at the trees, squinted thoughtfully at the distant, snow-capped mountains, and nodded at the astonished men.
    “It’s not bad,” he said. “I should like to come here again.” He moved his hands in a complicated motion that seemed, in some unexplained way, to turn them inside out .
    Now the wizards were back in the hall, and the boy was holding the shrinking Garden in his palm. In the heavy, shocked silence he put it back into Billias’s hands, and said: “That was quite interesting. Now I will do some magic.”
    He raised his hands, stared at Billias, and vanished him.
    Pandemonium broke out, as it tends to on these occasions. In the center of it stood Coin, totally composed, in a spreading cloud of greasy smoke.
    Ignoring the tumult, Spelter bent down slowly and, with extreme care, picked a peacock feather off the floor. He rubbed it thoughtfully back and forth across his lips as he looked from the doorway to the boy to the vacant Archchancellor’s chair, and his thin mouth narrowed, and he began to smile.

    An hour later, as thunder began to roll in the clear skies above the city, and Rincewind was beginning to sing gently and forget all about cockroaches, and a lone mattress was wandering the streets, Spelter shut the door of the Archchancellor’s study and turned to face his fellow mages.
    There were six of them, and they were very worried.
    They were so worried, Spelter noted, that they were listening to him, a mere fifth level wizard.
    “He’s gone to bed,” he said, “with a hot milk drink.”
    “Milk?” said one of the wizards, with tired horror in his voice.
    “He’s too young for alcohol,” explained the bursar.
    “Oh, yes. Silly of me.”
    The hollow-eyed wizard opposite said: “Did you see what he did to the door?”
    “I know what he did to Billias!”
    “ What did he do?”
    “I don’t want to know!”
    “Brothers, brothers,” said Spelter soothingly. He looked down at their worried faces and thought: too many dinners. Too many afternoons waiting for the servants to bring in the tea. Too much time spent in stuffy rooms reading old books written by dead men. Too much gold brocade and ridiculous ceremony.