SUIT OF SPELLS

A FIGURE WAS FROGMARCHED through the early-morning corridors, surrounded by the senior wizards. It wore a long white nightshirt, and a nightcap with the word 'Wizzard' embroidered, inexpertly, on it. It was Unseen University's least qualified but most well-travelled member, usually away from some­thing. And it was in trouble.

'This won't hurt a bit,' said the Senior Wrangler.

'It's right up your street,' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.

'It's on a log and in your face,' explained the Dean.

'That isn't what HEX said, is it?' said the Senior Wrangler, as the sleepy figure was hustled around a corner.

'Very similar, but what HEX said made less sense,' said the Dean.

They hurried across the lawn and barged through the doors in the High Energy Magic Building.

Mustrum Ridcully finished filling his pipe, and struck a match on the dome of the Project. Then he turned, and smiled.

'Ah, Rincewind,' he said. 'Good of you to come.'

'I was dragged, sir.'

'Well done. And I have good news. I intend to appoint you Egregious Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography. The post is vacant.'

Rincewind looked past him. On the far side of the room some of the junior wizards were working in a haze of magic that made it hard to see exactly what it was they were working on, but it looked almost like ... some sort of skeleton.

'Oh,' he said. 'Er ... but I'm very happy as assistant librarian. I'm getting really good at peeling the bananas.'

'But the new post offers you room, board and all your laundry done,' said the Archchancellor.

'But I get that already, sir.'

Ridcully drew leisurely on his pipe and blew out a cloud of blue smoke.

'Up until now,' he said.

'Oh. I see. And you're about to send me somewhere really dan­gerous, yes?'

Ridcully beamed. 'How did you guess?'

'It wasn't a guess.'

Fortunately the Dean had been forewarned and had grabbed the back of Rincewind's nightshirt, and so he was ready. The wizard's bedroom slippers skidded uselessly on the tiles as he tried to make for the door.

'It's best to let him run for a little while,', said the Senior Wrangler. 'It's a nervous reaction.'

'And the best thing is,' said Ridcully, to Rincewind's back, 'that although we are sending you to a place of immense danger where no living thing could possibly survive, you will not, in so many words, actually be there. Won't that be nice?'

Rincewind hesitated.

'How many words?'

'It'll be like being in a ... story,' said the Archchancellor. 'Or ... or a dream, as far as I can understand it. Mister Stibbons! Come and explain!'

'Oh, hello, Rincewind,' said Ponder, stepping out of the mist and wiping his hands on a rag. 'Twelve spells HEX has amalgamated for this! It's an amazing piece of thaumaturgical engineering! Do come and see!'

There are creatures which have evolved to live in coral reefs and simply could not survive in the rough, tooth-filled wastes of the open sea. They continue to exist by lurking among the dangerous tentacles of the sea anemone or around the lips of the giant clam and other perilous crevices shunned by all sensible fish.

A university is very much like a coral reef. It provides calm waters and food particles for delicate yet marvellously constructed organisms that could not possibly survive in the pounding surf of reality, where people ask questions like 'Is what you do of any use?' and other nonsense.

In fact Rincewind in his association with UU had survived dan­gers that would have stripped a hero to the bone, but he nevertheless believed, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that he was safe in the university. He would do anything to stay on the roll.

At the moment this involved looking at some sort of skeletal armour made out of smoke while Ponder Stibbons gabbled incom­prehensible words in his ear. As far as he could understand it, the thing put all your senses somewhere else when you stayed here. So far, that sounded quite acceptable, since it had always seemed to Rincewind that if you had to go a long way away it'd be nice to stay at home while you did it, but people seemed a little unclear about where pain fitted in.

'We'll send you, that is, your senses, somewhere,' said Ridcully.

'Where?' said Rincewind.

'Somewhere amazing,' said Ponder. 'We just want you to tell us what you see. And then we'll bring you back.'

'At what point will things go wrong?' said Rincewind.

'Nothing can possibly go wrong.'

'Oh,' Rincewind sighed. There was no point in arguing with a statement like that. 'Could I have some breakfast first?'

'Of course, dear fellow,' said Ridcully, patting him on the back. 'Have a hearty meal!'

'Yes, I thought that'd probably be the case,' said Rincewind gloomily.

When he'd been taken away, under escort by the Dean and a cou­ple of college porters, the wizards clustered around the project.

'We've found a suitably large "sun", sir,' said Ponder, taking care to annunciate the inverted commas. 'We're moving the world now,'

'A very suspicious idea, this,' said the Archchancellor. 'Suns go around. We see it happen every day. It's not some kind of optical illusion. This is a bit of a house of cards we're building here.'

'It's the only one available, sir.'

'I mean, things fall down because they're heavy, you see? The thing that causes them to fall down because they're heavy is, in fact, the fact that they're heavy. 'Heavy' means inclined to fall down. And, while you can call me Mr Silly...'

'Oh, I wouldn't do that, sir,' Ponder said, glad that Ridcully couldn't see his face.

‘...I somehow feel that a crust of rock floating around on a ball of red-hot iron should not be thought of as "solid ground".'

'I think, sir, that this universe has a whole parcel of rules that take the place of narrativium,' said Ponder. 'It's ... sort of ... copy­ing us, as you so perspicaciously pointed out the other day. It's making the only kind of suns that can work in it, and the only worlds that can exist if you don't have chelonium.'

'Even so ... going around a sun ,.. that's the sort of thing the Omnian priests used to teach, you know. Mankind is so insignificant that we just float around on some speck, and all that superstitious stuff. You know they used to persecute people for saying the turtle existed? And any fool can see it exists.'

'Yes, sir It certainly does.'

There were problems, of course

'Are you sure it's the right sort of sun?' said Ridcully.

'You told HEX to find one that was "nice and yellow, nice and dull, and not likely to go off bang", sir,' said Ponder. 'It seems to be a pretty average one for this universe.'

'Even so ... tens of millions of miles ... that's a long way away for our world.'

'Yes, sir. But we tried some experimental worlds close to and they fell in, and we tried one a bit further out and that's baked like a biscuit, and there's one ... well, it's a bit of an armpit, really. The students have got quite good at making different sorts. Er ... we're calling them planets.'

'A planet, Stibbons, is a lump of rock a mere few hundred yards across which gives the night sky a little, oh, I don't know, what's the word, a little je ne sais quoi'

'These will work, sir, and we've such a lot of them. As I said, sir, I've come to agree with your theory that, within the Project, matter is trying to do all by itself what in the real world is done by purpose, probably conveyed via narrativium.'

'Was that my theory?' said Ridcully.

'Oh, yes, sir,' said Ponder, who was learning the particular sur­vival skills of the academic reef.