Interesting Times

about those?” she said.
    A small procession was picking its way through the square. In front, Twoflower recognized, was something he’d once owned.
    “It was a very cheap one,” he said, to no one in particular. “I always thought there was something a little warped about it, to tell you the truth.”
    It was followed by a slightly larger Luggage. And then, in descending order of size, four little chests, the smallest being about the size of a lady’s handbag. As it passed a prone Hunghungese who’d been too stunned to flee, it paused to kick him in the ear before hurrying after the others.
    Twoflower looked at his daughters.
    “Can they do that?” he said. “Make new ones? I thought it needed carpenters.”
    “I suppose it learned many things in Ankh-More-Pork,” said Butterfly.
    The Luggages clustered together in front of the steps. Then the Luggage turned around and, after one or two sad backward glances, or what might have been glances if it had eyes, cantered away. By the time it reached the far side of the square it was a blur.
    “Hey, you! Four-eyes!”
    Twoflower turned. Cohen was advancing down the steps.
    “I remember you,” he said. “D’you know anything about Grand Viziering?”
    “Not a thing, Mr. Emperor Cohen.”
    “Good. The job’s yours. Get cracking. First thing, I want a cup of tea. Thick enough to float a horseshoe. Three sugars. In five minutes. Right?”
    “A cup of tea in five minutes? ” said Twoflower. “But that’s not long enough for even a short ceremony!”
    Cohen put a companionable arm around the little man’s shoulders.
    “There’s a new ceremony,” he said. “It goes: ‘Tea up, luv. Milk? Sugar? Doughnut? Want another one?’ And you could tell the eunuchs,” he added, “that the Emperor is a lit’ral-minded man and used the phrase ‘heads will roll’.”
    Twoflower’s eyes gleamed behind his cracked glasses. Somehow, he liked the sound of that.
    It looked as though he was living in interesting times—
    The Luggages sat quietly, and waited.

    Fate sat back.
    The gods relaxed.
    “A draw,” he announced. “Oh, yes. You have appeared to win in Hunghung but you have had to lose your most valuable piece, is that not so?”
    “I’m sorry?” said the Lady. “I don’t quite follow you.”
    “Insofar as I understand this…physics…” said Fate, “I cannot believe that anything could be materialized in the University without dying almost instantly. It is one thing to hit a snowdrift, but quite another to hit a wall.”
    “I never sacrifice a pawn,” said the Lady.
    “How can you hope to win without sacrificing the occasional pawn?”
    “Oh, I never play to win.” She smiled. “But I do play not to lose. Watch…”

    The Council of Wizards gathered in front of the wall at the far end of the Great Hall and stared up at the thing which now covered half of it.
    “Interesting effect,” said Ridcully, eventually. “How fast do you think it was going?”
    “About five hundred miles an hour,” said Ponder. “I think perhaps we were a little enthusiastic. Hex says—”
    “From a standing start to five hundred miles an hour?” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. “That must have come as a shock.”
    “Yes,” said Ridcully, “but I suppose it’s a mercy for the poor creature that it was such a brief one.”
    “And, of course, we must all be thankful that it wasn’t Rincewind.”
    A couple of the wizards coughed.
    The Dean stood back.
    “But what is it?” he said.
    “Was,” said Ponder Stibbons.
    “We could have a look in the Bestiaries,” said Ridcully. “Shouldn’t be hard to find. Gray. Long hind feet like a clown’s boots. Rabbit ears. Tail long and pointy. And, of course, not many creatures are twenty feet across, one inch thick and deep fried, so that narrows it down a bit.”
    “I don’t want to cast a shadow on things,” said the Dean, “but if this isn’t Rincewind, then where is he?”
    “I’m sure Mr. Stibbons can give us an explanation as to why his calculations went wrong,” said Ridcully.
    Ponder’s mouth dropped open.
    Then he said, as sourly as he dared, “I probably forgot to take into account that there’s three right angles in a triangle, didn’t I? Er. I’ll have to try and work everything back, but I think that somehow a lateral component was introduced into what should have been a bidirectional sortilegic transfer. It’s probably that this was most pronounced at the effective median point,