bigger snowdrift, a few rocks, and one more and quite final snowdrift.
Ridcully looked at Ponder Stibbons.
“Well, he’s gone,” he said. “But aren’t we supposed to get something back?”
“I’m not sure the transit time is instantaneous,” said Ponder.
“You’ve got to allow for zooming-through-the-occult-dimensions time?”
“Something like that. According to Hex, we might have to wait several—”
Something appeared in the octagon with a “pop,” exactly where Rincewind had been, and rolled a few inches.
It did, at least, have four small wheels such as might carry a cart. But these weren’t workmanlike wheels; these were mere discs such as may be put on something heavy for those rare occasions it needs to be moved.
Above the wheels things became rather more interesting.
There was a large round cylinder, like a barrel on its side. A considerable amount of effort had been put into its construction; large amounts of brass had gone into making it look like a very large, fat dog with its mouth open. A minor feature was a length of string, which was smoking and hissing because it was on fire.
It didn’t do anything dangerous. It just sat there, while the smoldering string slowly got shorter.
The wizards gathered round.
“Looks pretty heavy,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
“A statue of a dog with a big mouth,” said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. “That’s rather dull.”
“Bit of a lap-dog, too,” said Ridcully.
“Lot of work gone into it,” said the Dean. “Can’t imagine why anyone’d want to set fire to it.”
Ridcully poked his head into the wide tube.
“Some kind of big round ball in here,” he said, his voice echoing a little. “Someone pass me a staff or something. I’ll see if I can wiggle it out.”
Ponder was staring at the fizzing string.
“Er,” he said, “I…er…think we should all just step away from it, Archchancellor. Er. We should all just step back, yes, step back a little way. Er.”
“Hah, yes, really? So much for research,” said Ridcully. “You don’t mind messing around with cogwheels and ants but when it comes to really trying to find out how things work and—”
“Getting your hands dirty,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
“Yes, getting your hands dirty, you come over all shy.”
“It’s not that, Archchancellor,” said Ponder. “But I believe it may be dangerous.”
“I think I’m working it loose,” said Ridcully, poking in the depths of the tube. “Come on, you fellows, tip the thing up a bit…”
Ponder took a few more steps back. “Er, I really don’t think—” he began.
“Don’t think, eh? Call yourself a wizard and you don’t think? Blast! I’ve got my staff wedged now! That’s what comes of listening to you when I should have been paying attention, Mr. Stibbons.”
Ponder heard a scuffling behind him. The Librarian, with an animal’s instinct for danger and a human’s instinct for trouble, had upturned a table and was peering over the top of it with a small cauldron on his head, the handle under one of his chins like a strap.
“Archchancellor, I really do think—”
“Oh, you think, do you? Did anyone tell you it’s your job to think? Ow! It’s got my fingers now, thanks to you!”
It needed all Ponder’s courage to say, “I think…it might perhaps be some kind of firework, sir.”
The wizards turned their attention to the fizzling string.
“What…colored lights, stars, that sort of thing?” said Ridcully.
“Possibly, sir.”
“Must be planning a hell of a display. Apparently they’re very keen on firecrackers, over in the Empire.” Ridcully spoke in the tone of voice of a man over whom the thought is slowly stealing that he just might have done something very silly.
“Would you like me to extinguish the string, sir?” said Ponder.
“Yes, dear boy, why not? Good idea. Good thinking, that man.”
Ponder stepped forward and pinched the string.
“I do hope we
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