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Chapter Text

The people of the Trob archipelago have a saying. It goes; "Son of a bitch!" ¹ This was the thought that went through the head of Milo as he surfaced from the Discworld's ocean. "That was a big one!"

YES. Said Death.

"I mean, really! Here I am, boating out to go net some fish, and wham! There it is! Tallest wave I've ever seen." He shook his head in astonishment, putting his hands on his hips despite the fact that he was treading water, "I'd hate to be the son of a fire whale that gets in the way of that."

Death let the silence carry on for a moment before he responded, YOU WERE.

Milo looked down at himself, and noticed that he was more transparent than the water. In such a place as Ankh Morpork, this would be a very low bar, since a particularly thick cut of a cheese is more transparent than the River Ankh. But in the perfect island paradise of Trob, the waters shimmer like crystal, even when filled with corpses and debris. In fact, some would say, the presence of dead bodies and destroyed homes highlights this transparency, to an unfortunate degree. "Oh."

YES.

To take his mind off the situation, Milo scratched his head, a habit that carried on even though his dandruff had been taken quite far away, "Wonder where it's going."

HMM... Death looked outwards, towards the wave fading into the horizon. He pulled from his robe, a rather knobbly and rough looking hourglass, who's sand poured through the neck with reluctance. LOTS OF APPOINTMENTS TOMORROW. Death looked over at something that had risen from the ocean near the fading form of Milo, OUT OF ENTIRELY PROFESSIONAL CURIOSITY... WHAT IS THAT?

"That?" Milo looked at the flat object, "It's a surf board, man! You use it to ride the waves."

YOU RIDE WAVES? ON... A PIECE OF SANDALWOOD?

"Yeah man! Best way to get out this far... well, usually."

Death looked considerate, staring at the board, RIDING WAVES... INTERESTING. He climbed onto the board and stood for a moment. He was completely still, the board deciding that it was best not to capsize under the circumstances, AM I DOING IT CORRECTLY? He asked the air. Milo was gone. OH WELL. I'LL HAVE A LOT OF TIME TO PRACTICE.

Let the camera of the eye slowly rise off the seas of Trob, and rise further past the clouds. Note the very distinct line nearby, a dark blue on blue, note its trajectory and curve as it heads around the great spinning hub of the Discworld, towards the Circle Sea, where the greatest city in the world rests. ²

Now ignore it since there are more interesting things to see.

See the ball of burning gas that slowly glides over the sky, dragging a curtain of light which floods continents, building up against the sides of cliffs then dumping off of them like waterfalls. Then fall back further to see the stars beyond the Disc, and then, the Disc itself. Gaze under it, see the Four Elephants who hold it up, who themselves stand atop the crater pocked back of A'Tuin, the World Turtle.

Some ask, 'Why a Turtle', and would be answered by the Wizards of Unseen University 'Why anything?' This questionary response so bothered Ankh Morpork's Dictator and Patrician Lord Vetinari, that he demanded it be answered promptly. And when Vetinari said things like 'promptly', things were about to get very prompt, or very drawn out.

Upon returning to the Patricians Office later that month, then Arch-Chancellor of Unseen University Cutangle, responded to the inquiry with, "Why not?" Thankfully, he's been assassinated since then. Politics has a way of coming back around. Much like waves.

-

To Eskarina's eyes, the room appeared to be the sufferant of a Category Three Big Brother Incident. But she figured that was just part of Rincewind's filing system. To prove this point, a sock transitioned from the Stuck To The Ceiling Inbox to the Outbox of her Head, then straight onto the Overflow Filing Cabinet of the Floor. Unlike most wizards, Eskarina rarely wore the obligatory pointed hat, it seemed to cause more comment than she liked. Being in the background was much easier.

In Unseen University, the Discworld's most prolific Magic University, as well as its only one, the magical nature of the facility's campus had an effect on everything. The land, the plants, and the animals too. The crows in the loft were a bit too cheeky, the rats in the trash bins out back very educated, and thus it came to past that the anthill that had grown out of a discarded pizzabox was suffering a peasants revolt.

Esk had to step over the battlefield. In so doing, committing regicide on behalf of the Revolutionary Leader, who would soon be the subject of questions like 'So where did the profits of the pepperoni mines go' and 'Why is your chamber decorated with so pineapple and mushroom while our nests are still nothing but crust?'.

She approached the two storied bunk bed, which made no sense in such a room, since the top bunk was pressed to the ceiling. Of course, space in Unseen University wasn't completely up to appearances, but it appeared pretty uncomfortable.

The room was tiny³ but Rincewind carried on. He had to carry it, since there was no space to put it down.

At the end of the bed wedged between it and the wall was a chest. Eskarina walked and patted the lid a few times. It purred.

This was what bothered Rincewind. The Luggage would follow him to the ends of the Disc, carry anything he asked it to carry, but should he ask it to do something not explicitly included as part of the contractual obligations of a chest (be there and hold things), it ignored him. Granted, any normal box would do that just fine, and quite a lot more sentient things ignored Rincewind except when they wanted something to eat. But The Luggage was on the more intelligent side of containers, and it happily obeyed the commands of Esk whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"Open up." Eskarina said. And yay, the lid opened, despite the protests of its contents. "Mr. Rincewind." Eskarina said.

"Well aren't you a good guesser. Was it the smell that tipped you off?" Rincewind retorted from the small space he was crammed into within The Luggage. He'd seen many creatures enter the Luggage, and very very few ever managed to escape, but given what he was hiding from... well it was a bet he was willing to take.

"The Librarian is looking for you." Esk said.

"Yes, that's why I'm in here." Rincewind responded.

"He really seems to want you." Esk pushed.

"Yes, that's why I had the box closed." Rincewind retorted.

"He's a bit... cross, I think." Eskarina finished lamely.

"Yes, that's why the door was locked before you bashed it open with that stupid broom of yours. Now, if you don't mind, I'm trying to hide from an angry orangutan, and its not a group activity." He reached up and grabbed the lid of the Luggage, pulling it down hard, directly onto Esk's staff.

It is often said that A Wizard's Staff has a knob on the end. There's a whole song about it, in fact. But in more ways than one, Esk goes against the tide. Her staff is of a sort of dark oak, the kind of wood that doesn't really exist but you want to pretend it does since that makes things feel more normal. It had carvings, of a sort, but rather than being carved into the wood. It was carved into the staff. The difference being that the wood itself doesn't look carved, just... the staff. The shifting runes and shapes seemed to change whenever you looked away, and hung in the air for a split second in a trail behind the staff as it was swung around.

As it was swung around, or rather pushed into the luggage, there was a pained squeal.

Esk very carefully readjusted the angle of her staff, and used it as leverage to open the Luggage back up. When she pulled Rincewind out afterwards, it appeared he was much less willing to struggle. "Well that's what you get." She hadn't gotten this far in male dominated academia by apologizing for a few battered prides. "Now come out of there. Time to face the music."

"An interesting way to refer to the screeching of an ape." Said Rincewind, ever the quick recover from battered pride. It helps when you have very little.

"What did you even do to get him so cross?" Eskarina asked.

Rincewind didn't like this either. He didn't much care for Esk at all, actually. When he had restructured the University after it had been destructured by a magical catastrophy, he'd put himself right back down at the bottom, where he wouldn't be noticed. But then along came a girl who, by default, hit rock bottom alongside him. And it was a tight space to share...

Eskarina Smith, the first Female Wizard, was actually very good at magic. Much like most gendered trades, she happened to be better than the average member of the good and proper sex. Particularly Rincewind, who, despite the benefits of being a man, was so ill-magically inclined, that he made white bread look arcane by comparison. So to be on the same social level as such a powerful mage made Rincewind upset for a reason he couldn't quite figure out. He knew he wasn't sexist. You couldn't be afraid of the ocean if you'd never even been to the beach after all.

Eskarina had been the Librarian's Assistant for a few years. And thanks to the non-linear way that the Library itself views physical space, this didn't mean that she had to come into much contact with Rincewind outside of dinner. From what Rincewind had heard, it seemed that after Arch Chancellor Cutangle had inducted her into the halls of UU, then subsequently been assassinated, his replacement had immediately ended any affirmative action. Eskarina was likely on the chopping block, a very literal place to be for wizards, but something had stopped him from outright killing the girl. Instead, he simply chose to ignore her, and making her a Library Assistant was about as good as throwing her in the trash.

Rincewind didn't remember his name, since he died a few weeks later in any case.

Rincewind was happy dumpster diving before it'd been gentrified like this. Self-Banishment isn't all too honorable when people start queuing up behind you.

"Mr. Rincewind?" Eskarina said, jarring Rincewind from his sudden bout of exposition.

"Oh. I don't know. I might've eaten his banana or something. Who knows." Rincewind remembered that he was upset, and set his face back to it for a few seconds, before relenting. He was already tired, and now he was sore, "Honestly, I'd rather take a walk through the shades at midnight covered in gold lace and diamonds than face down an angry librarian, if its all the same to you."

"The shades?" Esk asked, then memory struck her, "Oh yes! I lived there for a few days before I started living here!"

"Uh. Sorry to hear that." Rincewind said.

"I haven't visited it in years..." Esk continued.

"That's good, then." Rincewind said.

"I haven't visited... gosh, anywhere in years... I don't think I've left the University in ages! At least, not since I visited home for Hogswatch. But... that only felt like a moment... I've never even really explored Ankh Morpork. Years stuck in this city, and I don't even go outside! I never even stopped to think about it. I think it's something about being a wizard, must be. I remember hearing about the Misbegot Bridge, and the Palace, and that nice dragon sanctuary and everything! But I never got to see any of them. Almost five years in the city and I've spent almost all of it cooped up in a library with Simon..."

Rincewind decided he wasn't needed for this conversation, and began to sink back down. The staff suddenly pressed into his chest to keep him pinned up. Esk was smiling. Rincewind wasn't.

"Mr. Rincewind, you're a tour guide, aren't you?"

"Once. Against my will. Under penalty of death." Rincewind felt like a horse standing on a strange set of wood and steel, looking into a big cave. And two lights and a loud noise were coming closer for some reason.

"Oh! That's alright then! Let's go."

"What was the part of this conversation you just skipped, exactly?" Rincewind asked, "I feel like there's a lot there I ought to hear."

"You'll take me on a tour of the city! I've seen those little pamphlets at the meal tables; 'Wellecome to Ankhh-Morporke,Citie of 1000 Surprises'! I want to see them! It's time I get a breath of fresh air. You've got nothing else to do today except be mauled by an ape after all."

Rincewind had the sinking feeling that a plot was about to happen to him, and that he had as much choice in the matter as a fly near the jet engine of an airliner. He sunk his head, "Well... it'll get me out of the University before the Librarian finds me, I s'pose..." He muttered. "Could take you down to the bridge... don't think we'll get mugged if you keep that staff around." Rincewind reconsidered his chances with the librarian, and let out a long sigh. "Fine. Let me just grab my luggage." He stepped out of the luggage, "Alright. I'm ready."

1. Well, in point of fact, a direct translation (as given by Rincewind) would be "Child of the Great Fire Whale, birthed from the highest Volcano of Ahumeme Island, for whom we are to give thanks for our fertile fields even if he's a bit rude." return to text

2. Describing Ankh Morpork, City of a Thousand Surprises, as 'restful', is a joke in it of itself. return to text

3. For human sized folk such as ourselves, rather than say, the Ants Republic of New Parmasan. return to text

Chapter Text

The susurration of flapping pages and unsettled books filled a portion of Unseen University's library. With a locale as big as the Library, with multiple zipcodes spread out across at least five dimensions, the disturbance affected quite a small region in the immediate vicinity of an ape hopping from shelf to shelf.

The ape wasn't the cause of the problem, obviously. This ape was the Librarian, a human once that had been turned into an orangutan through an arcane incident a few years ago. He was, in fact, trying to remedy the situation. His leathery hands petted the magical books, unstable at the best of times, but quite in an uproar now.

Rincewind. That was the problem. That boy had gone one step too far. With the kind of thing he did, oh the Librarian didn't even want to think about it, with that kind of action... you could destroy the library in no time. Just thinking of what that fool did made the Librarian's teeth bare. He felt more like a chimpanzee than an orangutan when he considered it. And all he needed was a nearby face...

The Librarian, muttering 'Ook' a few times a minute as he considered the many things he'd do to Rincewind the moment Esk brought him back, was unaware of other visitors in the library. Particularly, Ponder and Simon.

Ponder Stibbons was a young buck of a student (or at least fifty cents, a quarter at the worst). He was currently flipping through a few pages of a book on Magical Theory while adjusting a tool on the table he was sitting at.

It wasn't often that Wizards would do work in the Library. None of them had the moxie of Jane Goodall, willing to write about a gorilla as one chewed on her hair.

But Ponder enjoyed the library, at the very least he felt like he was learning something in here most of the time, and the books were generally amiable towards him. Of course, nothing was quite more amiable in the school than Simon, likely because he didn't speak.

Simon was one of the most intelligent students in Unseen University, often seen in some respects as a professor, even if he ate at the Student's table¹ . He was sat in his roll along chair, and had his head drooped to one side.

About a year ago, Simon, who had always been allergic to several letters  in the alphabet, developed an allergy to speaking all together. He also developed a tendency to not be able to walk, or move his arms much. All together, this didn't bother anyone in the University. His mind, after all, was entirely intact, and quite a bit more capable without the need to stumble through sentences using his mouth. His fingers, still able to move, wrote the universe as though he were its originator, and still astonished. And besides, Eskarina Smith, his caretaker, peer, and prime student, was more than capable of feeding him the big dinners, even if the calories rarely seemed to go anywhere. His hand twitched and his fingers reached forward off of his armrest.

"Mm?" Ponder looked up, "Oh. Sorry Simon." Ponder took a notepad from the table and a pencil. He gingerly locked Simon's moving fingers around the pencil, and then put the notepad on the arm rest of his wheelchair.

DID YOU FEEL THAT.

"Feel what?" Ponder asked, tearing the page from the notepad.

Instead of writing anything, Simon, with great effort, angled the pencil to point it at the Thaumoscope.

The Thaumoscope is a magical instrument that performs the basic task of reading the background magic of the Discworld out to a set point. It's not like a thaumometer, which only does it out to a couple of yards. It was a pendulum-like device, which swung back and forth in natural curves, dragging a brush behind it. The brush dragged black paint onto a large piece of paper, which would automatically refresh, dumping the paper somewhere very inconvenient for someone at some point in history.

It was not drawing gentle curves. Rather, the curves now going on were quite exaggerated. Large curves, as though the brush had been slapped off course. But then, it stopped, and engaged in its usual circles.

"Oh my. That was quite a wave of magic..." Ponder said. He couldn't help but be excited, the reason he had pulled out the instrument was to write an essay on Background Magical Fields and how they may be traced back to the very creation of the Disc itself, perhaps even the Universe² . He looked over the machine and patiently waited for another.

Simon did as well, though Simon usually seemed to be waiting for something.

Rincewind had two choices. Get mauled by an ape, or go for a walk in the city. He was still not sure which was worse.

He, the Luggage, and Esk riding atop the Luggage, ambled through the halls of Unseen University, with the eventual destination of the exit³ . "It's really not too interesting." Rincewind said, arguing in favor of ape-mauling, "I don't see why you want to go explore Ankh Morpork."

"How could it not be interesting? A million people live here! When I was a little girl, I saw bits of the city. It was quite exciting, if I remember..."

Rincewind tried not to pry into Esk's backstory; for one thing, he didn't actually care. And for two, he barely knew his own to begin with, so remembering someone else's might not come easily. "There's nothing to see! Misbegot Bridge is just a grimy filthy bridge with a fat man standing outside it. And the Palace is... well, it's barely worth looking at, they might even charge you for it."

"Oh I have some money!" Esk said, "And you've got lots of cash in The Luggage!" She patted her mount, and it actually purred.

Rincewind shot a glare at the Luggage, who obstinately refused to look even the slightest bit ashamed. "Saying that out loud in the city is a good way to not have very much money at all. Why don't you just go out with your boy?"

"Oh... Simon's... Simon doesn't like the air." Esk said, dismissively flapping her hand, "Besides, he doesn't know the city. You do! You're a real gutter rat."

There was certainly some kind of rodent in Rincewind's ancestry, but a gutter rat was a step too far, "I'm at least a gutter weasel." He muttered.

As the two walked, wizards made sure to stay out of their way. A natural survival instinct of wizards was checking their food for glass, opening doors carefully, and sweeping a leg to check for trip wires every now and then. But another trait had been forcibly inserted into their environment since Rincewind rebuilt the place; Avoiding The Luggage. This left Rincewind happily anti-social.

"Weasel's fine." Esk said, smiling. "There's also the local witch I never got to meet."

"Ankh Morpork doesn't have a witch." Rincewind said.

"Oh yes it does. Mrs. Proust! Just up Tenth Egg Street! We can stop there during the tour!"

"Oh, good." Rincewind said, "I've always wanted to get baked into a pie. This'll be a great outing."

Rincewind was given a sudden and firm bonk on the head, "I take offense to that! I can't make a pie to save my life."

There were those who didn't take their leave in the immediate wake of The Luggage, but they were the invisible sort at Unseen University⁴ , the maidstaff. Dusters, Sweepers, Cleaners, Collectors, the many many tasks handled by the team of women under the watchful eye of Mrs. Whitlow.

They didn't evade the Luggage, as they had become used to the strange magic that flowed through the vents of Unseen University, as well as the dust it left behind that they had to clean up. And they were more apt to not be bothered, since Esk was riding atop it.

Esk was once the finest maid on the team, always willing to pick up shifts and help out wherever she was needed, always able to perform a perfect job. The fact that she would often use the privy or nap while her staff did all of the work didn't really factor into the admiration the girls gave to her, nor the amiability she gave in return.

"Good morning Beatrice!" Esk said, giving a wave to a girl who could count how many times a wizard had spoken to her in the three years she's worked at Unseen University on one hand.

Beatrice had been mopping, and lifted her mop over her shoulder as she turned, slapping it right into Rincewind's face.

"Good morning Eskarina! Where are you off to?"

"I'm going to be shown about the city by Rincewind."

Rincewind had pulled his face away from the dirt laden mop and was wiping it off on his sleeve, "Pleh! Ech! Pleh!"

"Oh that's very sweet of him! I wish I had a boy to take me about the town..."

Rincewind wrung the scraggles of a beard, "I wish I did too. A very big boy. Someone you wouldn't want to mug."

"We'll be fine!" Esk said, "Granny Weatherwax always said, when a witch is in a dark forest in the midst of the night, you ought not to be scared since the scariest thing about is yourself!"

"I've been in Dark Forests in the Midst of the Night, and I'll tell you there's quite a lot to be scared of. But usually things there are trying to kill you for food, not for fun. It's a very different experience." Rincewind said.

"Well you two have a good time!" Beatrice said, ever the capable when it comes to ignoring upsetting things, including her mop slapping Rincewind across the back of the head when she turned back to her work.

The two continued on, leaving Unseen University.

1. Technically, he had to eat at the very end of it, where there weren't any chairs. return to text

2. This essay was going to be written entirely for himself, and was not assigned to him by anyone. Later on, when he had written it sometime during Mudstrum Ridcully's chancellorship, he had passed it onto Mudstrum, who passed it onto the furnace since it was getting a bit chilly in his office. return to text

3.In Unseen University's multi-dimensional hallways, getting there would be a mix of moxie and luck, but Esk thankfully had enough of both. return to text

4. Not literally, obviously. The invisible sort at Unseen University were everywhere all the time, usually breathing heavily into the ears of students trying to eat dinner, or slamming doors just when you've fallen asleep. return to text

Chapter Text

"Well, here we are." Rincewind said, raising his arms, then unceremoniously dropping them, "Sator Square."

Esk looked around, "Well. Yes, I've been here plenty of times."

"Well, good. Tour's finished. Now I think I should go back to my closet." He turned, patting his hands together as though getting them free of dust, and walked back to the gates.

"Rincewind!"

"What on the Disc could possibly compel someone to WANT to take a walk around Ankh Morpork!" Rincewind said, turning on his heel and stepping down the cobbles.

"Why do you hate this city so much?" Esk asked, the Luggage carrying her as it followed just behine. She now sat upright on it, pressing her hands against its finely finished wooden lid.

"Hate it? I don't hate Ankh Morpork. I love it."

"Really?"

"Distance makes the heart grow fonder after all. And distance is one of my favorite things. The further I am from something, the more I like it. So why don’t we go back into the university and-“

"Do you have a sarcastic remark for everything? Can you stop being sardonic for even a minute?" Esk said, frustration building in her voice.

"I could be ironic instead."

"Rincewind!"

"Alright. Tour, yes? That's what you want? Well here. Time to see some Ankh Morpork sights." He stopped, and, closing his eyes, motioned to the edge of the street. "Here, you see a picturesque night watchman passed out in the gutter."

Esk looked down at the miserable man in the gutter. An empty bottle of bearhuggers whiskey in his hand, vomit stains around the gristled five o' clock shadow¹. The luggage kicked him with one of its many feet, and he grumbled out a curse.

"What does he watch?" Esk asked.

"Muggings, Barfights, Murders. You know, Street Theater and the like." Rincewind shrugged.

"Oh. Why does he watch that?" Esk looked with concern at the unconscious man. She angled her staff, and gently prodded him, provoking no response.

"So he knows where the trouble is, makes it easy to run away from. I'm something of a corporal myself." Rincewind said, continuing on. "There's some vomit, there's some dog droppings-"

"That's not dog doo, that's half a sausage." Esk said.

"Well spotted, young lady!" Said a man who had suddenly turned on the two. The greasy figure had something akin to a suit on, and a strap about his neck which supported a heater and a tray. The cover was off, revealing the delectable smell of onions, which were strategically portioned around sausages as a form of camouflage. "What you see there is a well crafted, perfect blend of meat, spice, and va-t'en crétin!"

Esk squinted, "Do you know what va-t'en crétin means?"

"I doubt he knows what 'meat' means." Rincewind whispered.

"Only the genuine Genuan herbs, milady!" The salesman said, "Would you like to try a sausage in a bun this fine day? Special sale for young women such as yourself, merely ten pence on the dollar, and that's cutting me own throat!" The man looked over the two, then to the wooden companion. His eye was caught on the shifting runes of the staff.

"If they're so good, why did someone only eat half of one then throw up?" Esk said, putting together environmental storytelling faster than an essayist rabbit surrounded by blood, next to a growling wolf.

"Well uh-" He regarded the staff. It had the look of an easily upset customer. The kind who asked to see the manager, the type who was very interested in what was going on in the kitchen and tended to look through the window just when Big Joe had an itchy stomach.

"Oh don't get him started. He'll go on for hours." Rincewind said, "Mr. Dibbler, we're not hungry." He waved a hand, as though trying to calm down an excited pitbull you're afraid will start thinking you're an unaware toddler.

"Mustard's free!"

The Librarian was cradling a book in his arms, gently swaying it back and forth as he muttered, in hushed and consoling tones, "Ook..."

He lifted it, and then let it fly away.

It fell down.

Lurching over the shelf he was standing atop, he made out it falling down, down, down, before landing with a thump. He'd always considered books more intelligent than people, and couldn't entertain the idea that they were now dumber than birds as well. He began climbing down.

Ponder Stibbons made a sound like "Urubhgubhgurrhg." as a shiver wracked him from his toes up to his head. He looked at the thaumoscope's paper. There was a line now, straight and narrow, before the vague and gentle scribbling continued. "Good gods! What was that?" He tore the paper free of the thaumoscope and looked it over, "That was nearly a second! But a second of what...?" He showed it to Simon.

Simon looked it over, and began to write.

Ponder read it, "That's impossible! That would cause chaos unlike... oh, well... unlike something that... causes a lot of problems."

Simon's pencil moved not an inch as he failed to help with an analogy.

"But I did feel something there... and just after a strong rush of magic... Hmm... perhaps I should get a thaumometer, and... maybe tell the Arch-Chancellor." He paused, "Uh. Who is the Arch-Chancellor this week?"

Simon didn't write anything.

"Maybe I can... ask around."

"If you're not going to eat the rest of yours, can I have it?"

Rincewind pulled his head out of the alleyway for just a moment to shoot a glare at Eskarina.

Eskarina responded by shoving the rest of her sausage into her mouth.

Rincewind returned to retching his guts out for a minute, before spitting and turning. "Alright... you've experienced Ankh Morpork Cuisine then."

"What about the sights?" Eskarina asked, "The bridges, and the parks, and the big buildings! And the whore pits!"

"We're certainly not going there. And put that thing away!" He turned the second remark to the Luggage, who's tongue had lulled at the mention of pits.

"What about the palace? And the home for Dragons! And the Guildhouses! I want to see the Assassin's Guild! And- GUH!"

Rincewind turned around and looked at Esk skillfully splayed across the ground.

The luggage was laid front down, or face down, or something like that. Lock down perhaps. It stood up and shook itself. It contrived to look embarrassed, a difficult task for wood.

"That's odd," Rincewind said as he didn't help Eskarina up, "The luggage never trips. There wasn't even a crack in the cobbles there.²"

Eskarina, realizing that Rincewind was as charitable as a louse and similarly as helpful, stood up on her own accord and brushed her robes off, "It just sort of stumbled over and threw me off!" She picked her staff up off the ground and ran her hand down its length, wiping off what the locals called 'the regional flavor' of Ankh Morpork. Possibly that flavor was lead poisoning.

Eskarina walked over and pet the Luggage, which rumbled its lid as though in a purr.

Rincewind wanted to vomit again, "Oh don't coddle it."

She spat on her hand and wiped off a smudge on the metal framing of the box with her thumb, then climbed back on. She sat up on top of it, lifted her staff, and tapped the lid regally. "Onwards, Guide." She said, as though a Queen upon a throne, beckoning a fool to entertain.

Rincewind, as though a fool who knew that the Queen was all that stood between him and being mauled by an orangutan, turned and started onwards. "Fine. Where to first?"

"Well look who it is!" The voice boomed.

Lady Ramkin- Well. To accurately describe Lady Ramkin, the owner of the largest dragon breeding operation on the continent, one would have to take a look through a thesaurus. Start at Large, read that page. Maybe move on to Powerful. Perhaps 'Bulldozer' is in your thesaurus?

You'd need to picture a glacier, if a glacier could vigorously move about the house, and didn't mind getting set on fire now and then. The richest woman in Ankh Morpork had a smile like dawn over a mountain side. When she breathed in, it was as though a hurricane revving up for a real zinger.

In a word; she was a lot.

Okay, two words, but not everyone catches that.

"Rincewind! How good to see my favorite wizard!" She said. Her rumbling voice shook some dust from the plaster of her broken frontage. The frontage of the house, that is, though her clothes beneath the apron did look a bit shabby.

Esk turned her face up to Rincewind, who stared intently forward. "Your favorite?"

"Oh! Yes, young lady!" Ramkin said, shuffling out from her door, sliding through like a prisoner's first brick of freedom. "Rincewind, why don't you introduce me to your friend!"

"This is-" Rincewind started.

"I am Lady Sybil Ramkin! I'm charmed to meet you, dear girl!" She gripped Eskarina’s hand in a hand like a leather clamp, and yanked it up and down.

Esk didn't look away from Rincewind, her stare slowly shifting to the witch's glare she learned from Granny Weatherwax, and put much into practice at the dinner table. "Eskarina Smith, I'm a Wizard."

"Oh! I didn't know Girls can be wizards!"

"They can't." Eskarina said.

"Well! Poo to that, I say! A young lady on her way up can do anything!" She waved her hand, "You're in good company Eskarina I must say, Rincewind is the finest mage you'll find in Ankh or Morpork, no doubt!"

"Is he?" Eskarina said. She tilted her head, she could see the sweat on Rincewind's brow.

"Oh! Of course! Rincewind comes over now and then to help me with a few things here and there! His magic is astounding I tell you! Well, what are you just standing on the doorstep for? Come in, come in! The luggage can sit in its usual spot!" She turned and slid back through the door.

Eskarina crossed her arms.

Rincewind found that a single glance at Eskarina was enough for one day, and shuffled inside. Eskarina followed, willing the back of his head to explode with eyes alone, and quite nearly managing it once or twice.

The sitting room of Lady Ramkin's home would be more adequately described as a standing room, as books on dragonlore had been stacked on every piece of furniture available. Much of the furniture available featured the tell tale signs of swamp dragons; chunks taken out of the woodwork, burns on fabric layering, and in one case, a dragon roosting atop a pile of 'Alemeants Off The Dragonne', of which the topmost volume was labelled XVI.

An aging butler entered the room, deftly maneuvering around the stacks of knowledge like an dyslexic kaiju. He placed a tray of tea on what appeared to be the only space on the coffee table available.

“Thank you, Willikins!” Sybil said, waving him off as she got comfy, “You can just put those stacks on the ground, there’s a good chap!”

Rincewind found that after picking up a stack, the only thing he could do was to put it on the ground at speed. The first chair he did this too was deftly taken by Eskarina, who set her feet upon the stack of books thus removed by his labor.

“Oh, dear, he forgot the sugar.” Sybil sighed. She leaned over and tapped The Luggage twice.

The lid opened to reveal quite a surly compartment filled with dainty items. There were scones, biscuits in tight packages, and sugar cubes in a small bag. Sybil took the bag and placed it next to the teapot, “Do you take one or two lumps, dear?” She asked Eskarina.

“I prefer milk in my tea…” Eskarina said, glancing at Rincewind who was glaring at The Luggage.

“Oh! If you like.” She closed The Luggage, then opened it again, a cool puff of air fogging above its maw as she pulled free a pitcher of milk.

Rincewind rubbed his temples. He was getting a headache again.

“So, you’re close friends with Rincewind, then?” Esk started, taking her cup.

“Why, yes! There’s no better Dragon Mage in the city, dear girl!” Sybil said, passing another to the Capitalized Dragon Mage.

Eskarina turned to look at Rincewind again, “Really? He’s never told me.”

“It’s true! You wouldn’t think it, being merely a Second Level Libriomancer in Higher Classifications! But his field of study is quite a bit larger than what the University says.”

“Second Level. Libriomancer?” Eskarina was so baffled by the title she even let her glare drop, “In Higher Classifications? He’s a-“

“I assist in the management of higher classifications of arcanically charged grimoires from a high level.” Rincewind interjected, “Yes.”

“On top of a ladder, perhaps.” Esk scoffed.

“What is your study, dear girl?” Sybil asked. “I’m certain you’re a bit more advanced than he is, yes?” She had a sly smile, like a mountain pulling one over on you.

“I’m… A Third Level Libriomancer in Highest Classifications.” She said, “Rincewind doesn’t like going higher than two shelves.”

“It’s called humbleness.”

“It’s called fear of heights…” Esk whispered.

“Grand!” Sybil said, not understanding a lick of it.

“I’m also a witch.” Esk confessed.

“A witch! Really? We don’t get witches down in the city, you know! But back in the country, I knew a witch by the name of Grassy Stoats! Auntie Stoats! She had two weasels, dontcha know.”

“I don’t think I have weasels.” Esk admitted.

“You’d know it if you do.” Sybil said.

Time passed.

More specifically, about twenty seconds.

“Isn’t this nice?” Sybil asked.

“Rincewind.” Esk started, as innocent as leaves covering a landmine.

“Mm?” Rincewind asked. He didn’t put the teacup to his mouth, aware of convention.

“Remind me, what did you do to earn the title of… Dragon Mage?”

“Oh! I can answer that for him! It was remarkable, dear girl, you should have seen it!” Sybil began, “There I was…” The throes of storytelling came over her, and as her hands raised, the cooling tea splashed Rincewind’s face, “Good old Humdrum Tinderbox the Fourth was choking, you see, on a Charcoal Biscuit! I was ducking behind cover, because I knew what to expect, when out of the blue comes Rincewind!” She gestured to the wizard as he wiped his face, “He fell right in and landed square on the back of the dragon and shouted some… some magical words, dontcha know? Anyone else would’ve been turned into a fine paste covering the wall, but not The Dragon Mage!” The capitals fell once again neatly into place, “Good old Humdrum coughed it up, and it pinged right off the cage and Rincewind caught it right in his mouth! Swallowed it whole.”

“What was chasing him at the time?”

“Oh there was nothing chasing him, dear girl!” Sybil brushed the idea away.

“No… thugs around? Maybe dogs?”

“Funny you should mention that! There were quite a few dogs trying to get onto my property. Poor things, some of them got away with only minor burns, but that’s what happens when you try to bark at a dragon!”

“What did the Magical Words sound like…?” Esk asked cautiously.

“Osit Osit Osit Imgo Eengto Dai!” With each new word, she splayed her fingers, “Marvelous really! Absolutely marvelous. Refill?”

As the refill was given, Willikins entered again.

“Lady?” He asked, “Debbie says… it’s Truman Dumbledee the Second… again.”

“Oh no!” Sybil said, pulling the teapot back, “Again! I can’t believe it, you think a dragon can only have Backthroat Combustion Sickness so many times!” She rolled her eyes. Then she locked those eyes onto Rincewind, “AH! Rincewind!”

Esk locked her eyes onto Rincewind again too, a grin growing on her face.

“Ah… me?” Rincewind asked, shrinking into his chair and wilting beneath the attention.

“Come on, man!” Sybil stood suddenly, “Your talents are required!”

1. Quarter to Six might be more accurate.return to text

2. A rarity in Ankh Morpork. return to text

Chapter Text

The sirens that make their home off the coast of Mithos¹ have a saying. “A song on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.”

Marina was upset. She was staring out at the ship which had happily sailed past, despite the dulcet tones that radiated from her vocal chords, skimming the waters like a thrown stone at the end of the perfect shoreside romantic getaway. The tune thumped ineffectually against the ship like an empty pint of ice cream after the breakup.

“Ugh!” Marina whimpered, throwing herself onto one of the softened jutting rocks that were sprinkled in the waters surrounding the island, “I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” She laid herself atop a bed of clumped seaweed, burying her face into the wet seaslime that permeated the surface. “I’m fat!”

“Nooo…” Cooed Atol, her sister in song, “You’re not fat…”

“Sailors like a little meat on the bone!” Said Atlanta, who was crunching on barnacles. Of the three, Atlanta was large enough to account for her sisters times two. She looked like the type of creature to swoop down into the abyss on a sea horse, and take the greatest crab warriors to the great beyond, where there would be an endless supply of whale corpses, and no end to the number of wading coastal toddlers to engage with in legendary combat.

“Then, like, why didn’t my song work!?” Marina sobbed. Her face was twisted into an expression that made a breeding barnacle look like Mrs. Right. “I’m fat! I knew I shouldn’t have had that cabin boy, but- well, you know, it’s always like ‘Oh well just one bite won’t hurt’ and then you, like, wake up in a stranger’s net and you’re covered in blood and you’ve got like grody bones in your hair…”

“Best part of the morning.” Quipped Atlanta, who was staring at herself in the reflection of a particularly slick stone.

To call the three sirens beautiful would be a scientific statement. You’d need to be the kind of scientist who’d dredge the deepest darkest chasms of the oceans, drag whatever you found up to the surface, and remark on nature’s beauty as you look at its floppy decompressed corpse. Coincidentally, the sound of something like that exploding as it died would be preferable to their speaking voices.

“It’s not that bad! You’re like, totally overreacting!” Continued Atoll.

“It so totally is, and I’m so totally not!” Marina retorted.

The sailors had no idea this conversation was going on. They had heard a bit of singing earlier, but had ignored it since it wasn’t one of the five guild approved sea shanties, Mithos being a very forward thinking nation when it comes to business regulations.

Had they known this conversation was happening, they’d still ignore it, being much more interested what they were seeing in the distance, now emerging from the oceans’ fog.

“Sis…” Atoll hummed, rubbing Marina’s shoulders, “Like, let’s sing again! We can all sing, and those dudes will totes sail right back here, and like, smash all over these rocks. And then we can get lunch.”

“It’ll be raining men!” Said Atlanta, turning. Her body jiggled like the tide for a few moments after this movement.

EXCUSE ME.

The three sirens turned their heads.

There was a figure, definitely with a description somewhere about him, standing on the water. He bobbed up and down slightly, as the slab of wood he stood upon moved with the natural flow of the waves. However, he was getting noticeably lower as the tide suddenly started to dip. There was a horse standing nearby. It wasn’t standing on the water, it seemed as though the position of the water had no bearing on its height whatsoever.

DOES THIS LOOK RIGHT? Death asked, gesturing to himself, I’M TRYING TO GET THE HANG OF IT. He crouched slightly, extending his arms horizontally in the direction the board was facing.

Marina was about to respond, when a drop of water hit her face. She looked up at the growing shadow looming over the rocks she and her friends rested upon.

The wall of water wasn’t really the focus of their eyes. They were more interested on the massive ship riding atop it, men falling off as it buckled and collapsed with the force of the wave.

“Like, what did I tell you?” Said Atlanta, all too optimistically.

Rincewind stood over the dragon. It was laying on its side, claws splayed out. As it breathed, a hoarse whisper like a monoxide leak was sifted between its mangled teeth, bringing with it not a flicker of flame.

“Truman Dumbledee the Second has been suffering from Backthroat Combustion Sickness for ages. It just keeps coming back. Stocks up the combustion engines, dontcha know! There’s medicine I have, but the poor fellow just can’t stomach all of it at once when he’s feeling poorly.” Sybil said. Unlike Rincewind and Esk, she wore something akin to a welder’s mask and body armor. “So, I think the only thing to do is to call upon The Dragon Mage! Go ahead, my good man!”

Esk wondered why she didn’t get any body armor.

The Luggage was nearby, leering woodenly at a dragon sniffing at its surface. It got up and walked away, but this surprisingly did not deter the thing. In fact, by the way its frills stood on end and its brow raised, it appeared to have suddenly found a mate.

Esk found herself looking at the swamp dragon as Rincewind began the obligatory stalling. She had a strange fondness for pathetic and sickly creatures ever since meeting Simon. Her empathy was starting to win over her desire to see Rincewind get set on fire.

She stared at the dragon as Rincewind went into an explanation of the eight faceted nature of magic, and how it related to lozenges. She felt around the mind of the creature, sliding in like a caterpillar nibbling on an apple.

The world of the mind did not, in any real way, have colors or shapes. But if it did, the dragon’s mind would be a shaky jagged orange line, bent this way and that on various instincts. Breeding, killing, breeding and killing, collecting treasure, breeding on top of treasure. This jagged ball of initiatives, which tended to point at ‘set things on fire’ regardless of the baseline thought, were balled about the pain.

Eskarina felt at the pain, it burned like ice in her mind’s eye’s hand. Regardless, she clutched it, and pulled it away, moving as a person holding a bomb would. Her arms outstretched, and came back. She started to shiver as she held the pain cradled between two index fingers.

“L-L-Lady Rrrrramkin? D-D-Do you have a buh-buh-bucket of wwwwater?” She stammered out between chattering teeth.

Sybil tuned out Rincewind’s sputtering speech and focused on Esk, “I do, just over there.” She pointed at the door, where a few buckets were stacked. One of them had a small growing puddle of leaking water forming under it. “Are you alright dear?”

“J-J-J-Just fine, L-Lady Rrrramkin!” She shivered and stumbled her way to the bucket before shoving her hands, and the pain, into it.

When she pulled her hands out, she didn’t. She brought the whole bucket with her, heavy as a boulder. When it finally landed, the ice inside cracked and crumbled, and she was only then able to pull her hands free.

Rincewind was just fumbling his way into a speech about the relations between the radius of a dragon’s wing and that relation to the weaves formed around it in his stalling when his hat was set on fire.

“Oh my! Truman’s shooting flame! Debbie, Debbie, get the medicine now!” She called.

It was hard to hear it over Rincewind’s screaming, which approached Eskarina at speed.

The fire was starting to spread down from his hat across to his beard, so he dunked his entire head into the bucket of water with a quick motion, which bounced him right back up after hitting the ice. He stood straight up, then, with very little between positions, was horizontal. Eskarina took some of the powdery ice and started smattering out the fire.

Eskarina looked up to see the dragon now swallowing down the whole of a bottle, then grabbing the bottle and swallowing it whole.

“Truman! No, bad boy!” Sybil chided. But the pathetic swamp dragon looked much livelier than it had before, bouncing on its front and bag legs and shooting small gouts of flames as the medicinal tincture coated its unfrozen throat.

She approached, “What a turn of fortune, dear girl!” She smiled, “I expect you had something to do with it?”

Esk looked down at the dragon mage, then back to Sybil, “How’d you know?”

“Ooh, that pain trick! The witch back home used to do that! Did it for my father when he was on his death bed, in fact. I saw the way you moved your hands, and I could just tell what you were doing!” Sybil had the grand smile of a sunrise and radiated positivity. “Besides, not like Rincewind was going to do anything.”

Esk gave a confused, “Huh?”

“Well, he doesn’t have a magical bone in his body, does he? Everyone who knows anything about the wizards knows that, dear girl.”

“Really? Then why do you lie to him?”

“When you lie to men, Miss Smith, you don’t really lie to them. It’s called ‘bucking them up’. It’s very useful in intercourse.”

Esk didn’t respond.

“At parties and the like!”

Esk repeated herself.

“Socially, dear! Men flatter ladies and ladies buck up men. That’s the way of it. Besides, Rincewind is quite the good luck charm!”

“He says he’s a sort of bad luck sink, actually.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Possibly because he’s a drain on my enthusiasm.” Esk nudged the recumbant wizard with a foot.

“Be kind to the chap,” Sybil said, “He’s got… well he’s got something under all that scruff, I know that. And he tries.” She cleared her throat, having the effect on previous conversation topics in the same way a hurricane has an effect on vacation homes, “Now, you’ve done me a service, dear girl, so I’d like to extend a favor to you! You mentioned Rincewind was giving you a tour of the city, yes?”

Eskarina nodded.

“Well, how would you like getting a tour of the palace?”

Now would be quite a good time to bring up the mating habits of dragons. Particularly, the mating dance between them. The difference between a dragon attempting to kill another, and attempting to mate another, is a slim one. They will claw, and bite, and breathe flame, regardless of what the passion driving the violence is.

This is how an object used to stomping, swallowing, or crashing through problems has found itself in a bit of a bind. The more it fights, the more eager its partner becomes. Wherein a normal fight a dragon may simply run away or explode, the dance of mating is an ever increasing affair.

This is why the large barn doors, built to contain explosive reactions usually only found in fireworks factories, were smashed utterly to pieces by an accelerating luggage, going with a last ditch attempt to not become a mother.

The thing bothering Ponder wasn’t that he was lost. It wasn’t that at all, he was fine with being lost. Being lost is the first step to finding out where you’re going, after all. Not knowing is the precursor to knowledge.

But he didn’t feel like he was getting anywhere.

“I only mean to ask where the current Archchancellor is, and who he is as well.”

“How am I supposed to know?” Responded the Aggregator in Extraordinary Shadows, “I’m stuck in a wall!”

This was true, Ponder had to admit, but he didn’t feel like a wizard being half in and half out a wall gave much of an excuse to anyone.

The Aggregator had one leg, one arm, and most of his chest sticking out of the wall, hanging out of it like a man raised by apes hangs from a vine.

The Aggregator in Extraordinary Shadows may seem like he has a dour specialty, but that would be incorrect. In fact, he had one of the gaudiest costumes on campus, fit with rhinestones and hanging shards of glass which created an effect not unlike an ambulatory disco light. This said nothing of his full moon glasses which reflected more than it allowed him to see.

“How does being stuck in a wall keep you from knowing who the Arch Chancellor is?”

“Oh. Well. Not at all, I suppose.” Said the Aggregator, “But if I did know who he was, I certainly wouldn’t know where he was, what with… being in a wall.”

“That also doesn’t explain not knowing where he is.” Ponder pointed out.

“Ah, much to the contrary!” Explained the Aggregator, “Do you know why I’m stuck in this wall, dear boy?”

Ponder shot a glance at Simon, who offered little in the way of help. He looked back, “I guess not. Why?”

“Because the School’s dimensions flip flopped!” He waved a hand and brought his voice to a crescendo, as though this were a third act twist.

“Flip Flopped?” Ponder asked, less than impressed.

The Aggregator pouted, “Yes. For an instant, the expansive dimensions of the inside of the school suddenly inverted. Where I was standing, there was now a wall! And then everything came crashing back, all in an instant.”

“Nearly a second, actually, which is quite a bit longer-“

“AN INSTANT! Of sudden magical distortion, the likes of which I have never seen!” Continued the Aggregator.

Ponder adjusted his glasses, looking over the wall. It must have been true. He didn’t want to believe it, but if such a power was affecting the university’s strange layout² then it must fit Simon’s hypothesis. He eyed the sallow mage beside him, and then met the Aggregator’s angry gaze again. “Well uh… do you need help, sir?”

“Help? From a student?! Of course not. I’m currently gathering the magicka for Cyrus’ Wondrous Wall Redistributor.”

“Gathering the mana, you mean?”

“I just said I don’t need help!” The Aggregator snapped, “Now off with you! I’ve enough of your questions!”

Ponder stared at the wall for a few moments more before giving up, “Yes sir.” He took the handles of Simon’s wheelchair and walked away.

The Aggregator called out, “Oh! But, if you do happen to find the Archchancellor, maybe just… mention that I’m uh… here! So he can see how amazing my escape was. If you can. Please!” But Ponder and Simon were already out of site.

The Aggregator relaxed, and returned to gathering magic.

That’s when he felt something sniffing his trapped hand.

1. A small archipelago nation, mentioned a single time in reference to the source of certain jewelry in Colour of Magic, if you must know. Mithos was ruled by an Autocrat who recently had been overthrown by a Troll. Not for any particular reason, the Troll just happened to wash up nearby and tore his head off. Said troll is currently making her way through the rest of the nation's congress, and will lead the country into a golden age long before falling off a cliff and dying. This will lead to a civil war that will last for a century. Sad, but true. And if it's not true, then anyone who actually knows anything about Mithos is free to argue with me, but I'll remind you, I'm the one with the tidal wave here. return to text

2. The likes of which you’ll only find on the cooler style of glow in the dark posters. return to text