Interesting Times

a highly trained one. It will return this evening. Six thousand miles on one jar of anchovies and a bottle of fish paste my clerk Drumknott found in the kitchens. Amazing.”
    “I’m sorry?” said Ridcully. “Return to where?”
    Lord Vetinari turned to face him.
    “ Not , let me make it clear, to the Counterweight Continent,” he said. “This is not one of those birds the Agatean Empire uses for its message services. It is a well-known fact that we have no contact with that mysterious land. And this bird is not the first to arrive here for many years, and it did not bring a strange and puzzling message. Do I make myself clear?”
    “No.”
    “Good.”
    “This is not an albatross?”
    The Patrician smiled. “Ah, I can see you’re getting the hang of it.”
    Mustrum Ridcully, though possessed of a large and efficient brain, was not at home with duplicity. He looked at the long vicious beak.
    “Looks like a bloody albatross to me,” he said. “And you just said it was. I said, isn’t that a—”
    The Patrician waved a hand irritably. “Leaving aside our ornithological studies,” he said, “the point is that this bird had, in its message pouch, the following piece of paper—”
    “You mean did not have the following piece of paper?” said Ridcully, struggling for a grip.
    “Ah, yes. Of course, that is what I mean. And this isn’t it. Observe.”
    He handed a single small sheet to the Archchancellor.
    “Looks like paintin’,” said Ridcully.
    “Those are Agatean pictograms,” said the Patrician.
    “You mean they’re not Agatean pictograms?”
    “Yes, yes, certainly,” sighed the Patrician, “I can see you are well alongside the essential business of diplomacy. Now…your views, please.”
    “Looks like slosh, slosh, slosh, slosh, Wizzard,” said Ridcully.
    “And from that you deduce…?”
    “He took Art because he wasn’t any good at spelling? I mean, who wrote it? Painted it, I mean?”
    “I don’t know. The Grand Viziers used to send the occasional message, but I gather there has been some turmoil in recent years. It is unsigned, you notice. However, I cannot ignore it.”
    “Wizzard, wizzard,” said Ridcully, thoughtfully.
    “The pictograms mean ‘Send Us Instantly The Great’,” said Lord Vetinari.
    “…wizzard…” said Ridcully to himself, tapping the paper.
    The Patrician tossed an anchovy to the albatross, which swallowed it greedily.
    “The Empire has a million men under arms,” he said. “Happily, it suits the rulers to pretend that everywhere outside the Empire is a valueless howling waste peopled only by vampires and ghosts. They usually have no interest whatsoever in our affairs. This is fortunate for us, because they are both cunning, rich, and powerful. Frankly, I had hoped they had forgotten about us altogether. And now this. I was hoping to be able to dispatch the wretched person and forget about it.”
    “…wizzard…” said Ridcully.
    “Perhaps you would like a holiday?” said the Patrician, a hint of hope in his voice.
    “Me? No. Can’t abide foreign food,” said Ridcully quickly. He repeated, half to himself, “Wizzard…”
    “The word seems to fascinate you,” said Lord Vetinari.
    “Seen it spelled like that before,” said Ridcully. “Can’t remember where.”
    “I’m sure you will remember. And will be in a position to send the Great Wizard, however he is spelled, to the Empire by teatime.”
    Ridcully’s jaw dropped.
    “Six thousand miles? By magic? Do you know how hard that is?”
    “I cherish my ignorance on the subject,” said Lord Vetinari.
    “Besides,” Ridcully went on, “they’re, well…foreign over there. I thought they had enough wizards of their own.”
    “I really couldn’t say.”
    “We don’t know why they want this wizard?”
    “No. But I’m sure there is someone you could spare. There seems to be such a lot of you down there.”
    “I mean, it could be for some terrible foreign purpose,” said Ridcully. For some reason the face of the Dean waddled across his mind, and he brightened up. “They might be happy with a great wizard, do you think?” he mused.
    “I leave that entirely to you. But by tonight I would like to be able to send back a message saying that the Great Wizzard is duly on his way. And then we can forget about it.”
    “Of course, it would be very hard to bring the chap back,” said Ridcully. He thought of the Dean again. “Practically impossible,” he added, in an