And then there’s momentum. Slow as the disc spins, various points of its radii are moving at different speeds relative to the Hub, and a wizard projecting himself any distance towards the Rim had better be prepared to land jogging.
The three miles to Lancre Bridge merely involved a faint tug, which Ridcully had been ready for, and he landed up leaning against the parapet with Esme Weatherwax in his arms.
The customs troll who had until a fraction of a second previously been sitting there ended up lying full length on the floor of the Great Hall, coincidentally on top of the Bursar.
Granny Weatherwax looked over at the rushing water, and then at Ridcully.
‘Take me back this instant,’ she said. ‘You’ve got no right to do that.’
‘Dear me, I seem to have run out of power. Can’t understand it, very embarrassing, fingers gone all limp,’ said Ridcully. ‘Of course, we could walk. It’s a lovely evening. You always did get lovely evenings here.’
‘It was all fifty or sixty years ago!’ said Granny. ‘You can’t suddenly turn up and say all those years haven’t happened.’
‘Oh, I know they’ve happened all right,’ said Ridcully. ‘I’m the head wizard now. I’ve only got to give an order and a thousand wizards will … uh … disobey, come to think of it, or say “What?”, or start to argue. But they have to take notice.’
‘I’ve been to that University a few times,’ said Granny. ‘A bunch of fat old men in beards.’
‘That’s right! That’s them!’
‘A lot of ’em come from the Ramtops,’ said Granny. ‘I knew a few boys from Lancre who became wizards.’
‘Very magical area,’ Ridcully agreed. ‘Something in the air.’
Below them, the cold black waters raced, always dancing to gravity, never flowing uphill.
‘There was even a Weatherwax as Archchancellor, years ago,’ said Ridcully.
‘So I understand. Distant cousin. Never knew him,’ said Granny.
They both stared down at the river for a moment. Occasionally a twig or a branch would whirl along in the current.
‘Do you remember—’
‘I have a … very good memory, thank you.’
‘Do you ever wonder what life would have been like if you’d said yes?’ said Ridcully.
‘No.’
‘I suppose we’d have settled down, had children, grandchildren, that sort of thing …’
Granny shrugged. It was the sort of thing romantic idiots said. But there was something in the air tonight …
‘What about the fire?’ she said.
‘What fire?’
‘Swept through our house just after we were married. Killed us both.’
‘What fire? I don’t know anything about any fire?’
Granny turned around.
‘Of course not! It didn’t happen. But the point is, it might have happened. You can’t say “if this didn’t happen then that would have happened” because you don’t know everything that might have happened. You might think something’d be good, but for all you know it could have turned out horrible. You can’t say “If only I’d …” because you could be wishing for anything. The point is, you’ll never know. You’ve gone past. So there’s no use thinking about it. So I don’t.’
‘The Trousers of Time,’ said Ridcully, moodily. He picked a fragment off the crumbling stonework and dropped it into the water. It went plunk, as is so often the case.
‘What?’
‘That’s the sort of thing they go on about in the High Energy Magic building. And they call themselves wizards! You should hear them talk. The buggers wouldn’t know a magic sword if it bit them on the knee. That’s young wizards today. Think they bloody invented magic’
‘Yes? You should see the girls that want to be witches these days,’ said Granny Weatherwax. ‘Velvet hats and black lipstick and lacy gloves with no fingers to ’em. Cheeky, too.’
They were side by side now, watching the river.
‘Trousers of Time,’ said Ridcully. ‘One of you goes down one leg, one of you goes down the other. And there’s all these continuinuinuums all over the place. When I was a lad there was just one decent universe and this was it, and all you had to worry about was creatures breaking through from the Dungeon Dimensions, but at least there was this actual damn universe and you knew where you stood. Now it turns out there’s millions of the damn things. And there’s this damn cat they’ve discovered that you can put in a box and it’s dead and alive at the same time. Or something. And they all run around saying marvellous, marvellous, hooray, here comes another quantum. Ask ’em to do a decent levitation spell and they look at you as if you’ve started to dribble. You should hear young Stibbons talk. Went on about me not inviting me to my own wedding. Me!’
From the side of the gorge a kingfisher flashed, hit the water with barely a ripple, and ricocheted away with something silver and wriggly in its beak.
‘Kept going on about everything happening at the same time,’ Ridcully went on morosely. ‘Like there’s no such thing as a choice. You just decide which leg you’re heading for. He says that we did get married, see. He says all the things that might have been have to be. So there’s thousands of me out there who never became a wizard, just like there’s thousands of you who, oh, answered letters. Hah! To them, we’re something that might have been. Now, d’you call that proper thinking for a growing lad? When I started wizarding, old “Tudgy” Spold was Archchancellor, and if any young wizard’d even mentioned that sort of daft thing, he’d feel a staff across his backside. Hah!’
Somewhere far below, a frog plopped off a stone.
‘Mind you, I suppose we’ve all passed a lot of water since then.’
It dawned gently on Ridcully that the dialogue had become a monologue. He turned to Granny, who was staring round-eyed at the river as if she’d never seen water before.
‘Stupid, stupid, stupid,’ she said.
‘I beg your pardon? I was only—’
‘Not you. I wasn’t talking to you. Stupid! I’ve been stupid. But I ain’t been daft! Hah! And I thought it was my memory going! And it was, too. It was going and fetching!’
‘What?’
‘I was getting scared! Me! And not thinking clear! Except I was thinking clear!’
‘What!’
‘Never mind! Well, I won’t say this hasn’t been … nice,’ said Granny. ‘But I’ve got to get back. Do the thing with the fingers again. And hurry.’
Ridcully deflated a little.
‘Can’t,’ he said.
‘You did it just now.’
‘That’s the point. I wasn’t joking when I said I couldn’t do it again. It takes a lot out of you, transmigration.’
‘You used to be able to do it all the time, as I recall,’ said Granny. She risked a smile. ‘Our feet hardly touched the ground.’
‘I was younger then. Now, once is enough.’
Granny’s boots creaked as she turned and started to walk quickly back towards the town. Ridcully lumbered after her.
‘What’s the hurry?’
‘Got important things to do,’ said Granny, without turning around. ‘Been letting everyone down.’
‘Some people might say this is important.’
‘No. It’s just personal. Personal’s not the same as important. People just think it is.’
‘You’re doing it again!’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know what the other future would have been like,’ said Ridcully, ‘but I for one would have liked to give it a try.’
Granny paused. Her mind was crackling with relief. Should she tell him about the memories? She opened her mouth to do so, and then thought again. No. He’d get soppy.
‘I’d have been crabby and bad-tempered,’ she said, instead.
‘That goes without saying.’
‘Hah! And what about you? I’d have put up with all your womanizing and drunkenness, would I?’
Ridcully looked bewildered.
‘What
womanizing?’
‘We’re talking about what might have been.’
‘But I’m a wizard! We hardly ever womanize. There’s laws about it. Well … rules. Guidelines, anyway.’
‘But you wouldn’t have been a wizard then.’
‘And I’m hardly ever drunk.’
‘You would have been if you’d been wedded to me.’
He caught up with her.
‘Even young Ponder doesn’t think like this,’ he said. ‘You’ve made up your mind that it would have been dreadful, have you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Why’d you think?’
‘I asked you!’
‘I’m too busy for this,’ said Granny. ‘Like I said, personal ain’t the same as important. Make yourself useful, Mr Wizard. You know it’s circle time, don’t you?’
Ridcully’s hand touched the brim of his hat.
‘Oh, yes.’
‘And you know what that means?’
‘They tell me it means that the walls between realities get weaker. The circles are … what’s the word Stibbons uses? Isoresons. They connect levels of, oh, something daft … similar levels of reality. Which is bloody stupid. You’d be able to walk from one universe to another.’
‘Ever tried it?’
‘No!’
‘A circle is a door half open. It doesn’t need much to open it up all the way. Even belief’ll do it. That’s why they put the Dancers up, years ago. We got the dwarfs to do it. Thunderbolt iron, those stones. There’s something special about ’em. They’ve got the love of iron. Don’t ask me how it works. Elves hate it even more than ordinary iron. It … upsets their senses, or something. But minds can get through …’
‘Elves? Everyone knows elves don’t exist any more. Not proper elves. I mean, there’s a few folk who say they’re elves—’
‘Oh, yeah. Elvish ancestry. Elves and humans breed all right, as if that’s anything to be proud of. But you just get a race o’ skinny types with pointy ears and a tendency to giggle and burn easily in sunshine. I ain’t talking about them. There’s no harm in them. I’m talking about real wild elves, what we ain’t seen here for—’
The road from the bridge to the town curved between high banks, with the forest crowding in on either side and in places even meeting overhead. Thick ferns, already curling like green breakers, lined the clay banks.
They rustled.
The unicorn leapt on to the road.
Thousands of universes, twisting together like a rope being plaited from threads …
There’s bound to be leakages, a sort of mental equivalent of the channel breakthrough on a cheap hi-fi that gets you the news in Swedish during quiet bits in the music. Especially if you’ve spent your life using your mind as a receiver.
Picking up the thoughts of another human being is very hard, because no two minds are on the same, er, wavelength.
But somewhere out there, at the point where the parallel universes tangle, are a million minds just like yours. For a very obvious reason.
Granny Weatherwax smiled.
Millie Chillum and the king and one or two hangers-on were clustered around the door to Magrat’s room when Nanny Ogg arrived.
‘What’s happening?’
‘I know she’s in there,’ said Verence, holding his crown in his hands in the famous Ai-Señor-Mexican-Bandits-Have-Raided-Our-Village position. ‘Millie heard her shout go away and I think she threw something at the door.’
Nanny Ogg nodded sagely.
‘Wedding nerves,’ she said. ‘Bound to happen.’
‘But we’re all going to attend the Entertainment,’ said Verence. ‘She really ought to attend the Entertainment.’
‘Well, I dunno,’ said Nanny. ‘Seeing our Jason and the rest of ’em prancing about in straw wigs … I mean, they mean well, but it’s not something a young – a fairly young – girl has to see on the night before her nuptials. You asked her to unlock the door?’
‘I did better than that,’ said Verence. ‘I instructed her to. That was right, wasn’t it? If even Magrat won’t obey me, I’m a poor lookout as king.’
‘Ah,’ said Nanny, after a moment’s slow consideration. ‘You’ve not entirely spent a lot of time in female company, have you? In a generalized sort of way?’
‘Well, I—’
The crown spun in Verence’s nervous fingers. Not only had the bandits invaded the village, but the Magnificent Seven had decided to go bowling instead.
‘Tell you what,’ said Nanny, patting him on the back, ‘you go and preside over the Entertainment and hobnob with the other nobs. I’ll see to Magrat, don’t you worry. I’ve been a bride three times, and that’s only the official score.’
‘Yes, but she should—’
‘I think if we go easy on the “shoulds”,’ said Nanny, ‘we might all make it to the wedding. Now, off you all go.’
‘Someone ought to stay here,’ said Verence. ‘Shawn will be on guard, but—’
‘No-one’s going to invade, are they?’ said Nanny. ‘Let me sort this out.’
‘Well … if you’re sure …’
‘Go on!’
Nanny Ogg waited until she heard them go down the main staircase. After a while a rattle of coaches and general shouting suggested that the wedding party was leaving, minus the bride-to-be.
She counted to a hundred, under her breath.
Then:
‘Magrat?’
‘Go away!’
‘I know how it is,’ said Nanny. ‘I was a bit worried on the night before my wedding.’ She refrained from adding: because there was a reasonable chance Jason would turn up as an extra guest.
‘I am not worried! I am angry!’
‘Why?’
‘You know!’
Nanny took off her hat and scratched her head.
‘You’ve got me there,’ she said.
‘And he knew. I know he knew, and I know who told him,’ said the muffled voice behind the door. ‘It was all arranged. You must all have been laughing!’
Nanny frowned at the impassive woodwork.
‘Nope,’ she said. ‘Still all at sea this end.’
‘Well, I’m not saying any more.’
‘Everyone’s gone to the Entertainment,’ said Nanny Ogg.
No reply.
‘And later they’ll be back.’
A further absence of dialogue.
‘Then there’ll be carousing and jugglers and fellas that put weasels down their trousers,’ said Nanny.
Silence.
‘And then it’ll be tomorrow, and then what’re you going to do?’
Silence.
‘You can always go back to your cottage. No-one’s moved in. Or you can stop along of me, if you like. But you’ll have to decide, d’you see, because you can’t stay locked in there.’
Nanny leaned against the wall.
‘I remember years ago my granny telling me about Queen Amonia, well, I say queen, but she never was queen except for about three hours because of what I’m about to unfold, on account of them playing hide-and-seek at the wedding party and her hiding in a big heavy old chest in some attic and the lid slamming shut and no-one finding her for seven months, by which time you could definitely say the wedding cake was getting a bit stale.’
Silence.
‘Well, if you ain’t telling me, I can’t hang around all night,’ said Nanny. ‘It’ll all be better in the morning, you’ll see.’
Silence.
‘Why don’t you have an early night?’ said Nanny. ‘Our Shawn’ll do you a hot drink if you ring down. It’s a bit nippy out here, to tell you the truth. It’s amazing how these old stone places hang on to the chill.’
Silence.
‘So I’ll be off then, shall I?’ said Nanny, to the unyielding silence. ‘Not doing much good here, I can see that. Sure you don’t want to talk?’
Silence.
‘Stand before your god, bow before your king, and kneel before your
man. Recipe for a happy life, that is,’ said Nanny, to the world in general. ‘Well, I’m going away now. Tell you what, I’ll come back early tomorrow, help you get ready, that sort of thing. How about it?’
Silence.
‘So that’s all sorted out then,’ said Nanny. ‘Cheerio.’
She waited a full minute. By rights, by the human mechanics of situations like this, the bolts should have been drawn back and Magrat should have peeped out into the corridor, or possibly even called out to her. She did not.
Nanny shook her head. She could think of at least three ways of getting into the room, and only one of them involved going through the door. But there was a time and a place for witchcraft, and this wasn’t it. Nanny Ogg had led a long and generally happy life by knowing when not to be a witch, and this was one of those times.
She went down the stairs and out of the castle. Shawn was standing guard at the main gate, surreptitiously practising karate chops on the evening air. He stopped and looked embarrassed as Nanny Ogg approached.
‘Wish I was going to the Entertainment, Mum.’
‘I daresay the king will be very generous to you come payday on account of your duty,’ said Nanny Ogg. ‘Remind me to remind him.’
‘Aren’t you going?’
‘Well, I’m … I’m just going for a stroll into town,’ said Nanny. ‘I expect Esme went with ’em, did she?’
‘Couldn’t say, Mum.’
‘Just a few things I got to do.’
She hadn’t gone much further before a voice behind her said, ‘’Ello, oh moon of my delight.’
‘You do sneak up on people, Casanunda.’
‘I’ve arranged for us to have dinner at the Goat and Bush,’ said the dwarf Count.
‘Ooo, that’s a horrible expensive place,’ said Nanny Ogg. ‘Never eaten there.’
‘They’ve got some special provisions in, what with the wedding and all the gentry here,’ said Casanunda. ‘I’ve made special arrangements.’
These had been quite difficult.
Food as an aphrodisiac was not a concept that had ever caught on in Lancre, apart from Nanny Ogg’s famous Carrot and Oyster Pie.30 As far as the cook at the Goat and Bush was concerned, food and sex were only linked in certain humorous gestures involving things like cucumbers. He’d never heard of chocolate, banana skins, avocado and ginger, marshmallow and the thousand other foods people had occasionally employed to drive an A-to-B freeway through the rambling pathways of romance. Casanunda had spent a busy ten minutes sketching out a detailed menu, and quite a lot of money had changed hands.
Lords And Ladies Page 18
