Sourcery (Discworld 5)

Hakardly thought that something was expected of him.

‘Absolutely no-one,’ he said. ‘Except for the gods, of course.’

There was a dead silence.

‘The gods?’ said Coin quietly.

‘Well, yes. Certainly. We don’t challenge the gods. They do their job, we do ours. No sense in-’

‘Who rules the Disc? Wizards or gods?’

Hakardly thought quickly.

‘Oh, wizards. Of course. But, as it were, under the gods.’

When one accidentally puts one boot in a swamp it is quite unpleasant. But not as unpleasant as pushing down with the other boot and hearing that, too, disappear with a soft sucking noise. Hakardly pressed on.

‘You see, wizardry is more-’

‘Are we not more powerful than the gods, then?’ said Coin.

Some of the wizards at the back of the crowd began to shuffle their feet.

‘Well. Yes and no,’ said Hakardly, up to his knees in it now.

The truth was that wizards tended to be somewhat nervous about the gods. The beings who dwelt on Cori Celesti had never made their feelings plain on the subject of ceremonial magic, which after all had a certain godness about it, and wizards tended to avoid the whole subject. The trouble with gods was that if they didn’t like something they didn’t just drop hints, so common sense suggested that it was unwise to put the gods in a position where they had to decide.

‘There seems to be some uncertainty?’ said Coin.

‘If I may counsel-’ Hakardly began.

Coin waved a hand. The walls vanished. The wizards stood at the top of the tower of sourcery, and as one man their eyes turned to the distant pinnacle of Cori Celesti, home of the gods.

‘When you’ve beaten everyone else, there’s only the gods left to fight,’ said Coin. ‘Have any of you seen the gods?’

There was a chorus of hesitant denials.

‘I will show them to you.’

‘You’ve got room for another one in there, old son,’ said War.

Pestilence swayed unsteadily. ‘I’m sure we should be getting along,’ he muttered, without much conviction.

‘Oh, go on.’

‘Just a half, then. And then we really must be going.’

War slapped him on the back, and glared at Famine.

‘And wed better have another fifteen bags of peanuts,’ he added.

‘Oook,’ the Librarian concluded.

‘Oh,’ said Rincewind. ‘It’s the staff that’s the problem, then.’

‘Oook.’

‘Hasn’t anyone tried to take it away from him?’