The Last Continent

isn’t like…finding an old staff in a cupboard and using up the magic that’s left. This is the real primal energy! Anything we do might well have an effect.”
    The Dean tapped him on the shoulder. “Then here we are, young Stibbons, stuck on this forsaken shore. What do you suggest? We’re thousands of years from home. Perhaps we should just sit and wait? That Rincewind fellow’s bound to be along in a few millennia?”
    “Er, Dean…” said the Senior Wrangler.
    “Yes?”
    “Are you standing behind Stibbons there, or are you sitting on this rock over here?”
    The Dean looked at himself, sitting on the rock.
    “Oh, blast,” he muttered. “Temporal discontinuity again.”
    “Again?” said Ponder.
    “We had a patch of it in Room 5b once,” said the Senior Wrangler. “Ridiculous. You had to cough before you went in, in case you were already there. Anyway, you shouldn’t be surprised, young man. Enough magic distorts all physical la—”
    The Senior Wrangler vanished, leaving only a pile of clothes.
    “Took a while to take hold,” said Ridcully. “I remember when—”
    His voice suddenly rose in pitch. Ponder spun around and saw a small heap of clothing with a pointed hat on top of it.
    He raised the hat gingerly. A pink face under a mop of curls looked up at him.
    “Bugger!” squeaked Ridcully. “How old am I, mister?”
    “Er…you look about six, sir,” said Ponder. His back twinged.
    The small worried face crinkled up. “I want my mum!” The little nose sniffed. “Was that me who just said that?”
    “Er, yes…”
    “You can keep on top of it if you concentrate,” the Archchancellor squeaked. “It resets the tempor—I wanna sweetie!—it resets the temporal gl—I wanna sweetie, oh, you wait till I get me home, I’ll give me such a smack—it resets the body’s clo—where’s Mr. Pootle?—it resets the body’s clock—wanna wanna Mr. Pootle!—don’t worry, I think I’ve got the hang of it—”
    The wail behind Ponder made him turn around. There were more piles of clothing where the wizards had been. He pulled aside the Dean’s hat just as a faint bloop suggested that Mustrum Ridcully had managed to regain full possession of his years again.
    “That the Dean, Stibbons?”
    “Could be, sir. Er…some of them have gone , sir!”
    Ridcully looked unflustered. “Temporal gland acting up in the high field,” he said. “Probably decided that since it’s thousands of years ago they’re not here. Don’t worry, they’ll come back when it works it out…”
    Ponder suddenly felt breathless. “And…hwee…think this one’s the Lecturer in Recent Runes…hwee…of course…hwee…all babies look the…hwee…same.”
    There was another wail from under the Senior Wrangler’s hat.
    “Bit of a…hwee…kindergarten here, sir,” Ponder wheezed. His back creaked when he tried to stand upright.
    “Oh, they’ll probably come back if they don’t get fed,” said Ridcully. “It’s you that’ll be the problem, lad. I mean, sir. ”
    Ponder held his hands up in front of him. He could see the veins through the pale skin. He could nearly see the bones.
    Around him the piles of clothing rose again as the wizards clambered back to their proper age.
    “How…old…hwee…I…ha…look?” he panted. “Like someone who shouldn’t…hwee…start reading a long book?”
    “A long sentence,” said Ridcully cheerfully, holding him up. “How old do you feel? In yourself?”
    “I…hwee…ought to feel…hwee…about twenty-four, sir,” Ponder groaned. “I actually…hwee…feel like a twenty-four-year-old who has been hit by eighty years traveling at…hwee…high speed.”
    “Hold on to that thought. Your temporal gland knows how old you are.”
    Ponder tried to concentrate, but it was hard. Part of him wanted to go to sleep. Part of him wanted to say, “Hah, you call this a temporal disturbance? You should’ve seen the temporal disturbances we will have been used to be going to get in my day.” A pressing part of him was threatening that if he didn’t find a toilet it would make its own arrangements.
    “You’ve kept your hair,” said the Senior Wrangler, encouragingly.
    Ponder heard himself say, “Remember old ‘Cruddy’ Trusset? Now there was a wizard who had…good…hair…” He tried to get a grip. “He’s still alive, isn’t he?” he wheezed. “He’s the same age as me. Oh, no …now I’m remembering only yesterday as if it was…hwee…seventy