‘All right, all right,’ said the boy, ‘but it was only a little magic. I had to. You said yourself people had to forget.’
‘Oook?’
‘I can’t help it! It’s too easy to change things!’ He clutched his head. ‘I’ve only got to think of something! I can’t stay, everything I touch goes wrong, it’s like trying to sleep on a heap of eggs! This world is too thin! Please tell me what to do!’
The Librarian spun around on his bottom a few times, a sure sign of deep thought.
Exactly what he said is not recorded, but Coin smiled, nodded, shook the Librarian’s hand, and opened his own hands and drew them up and around him and stepped into another world. It had a lake in, and some distant mountains, and a few pheasants watching him suspiciously from under the trees. It was the magic all sourcerers learned, eventually.
Sourcerers never become part of the world. They merely wear it for a while.
He looked back, halfway across the turf, and waved at the Librarian. The ape gave him an encouraging nod.
And then the bubble shrank inside itself, and the last sourcerer vanished from this world and into a world of his own. o;No,’ said Nijel.
He was trembling with rage, or possibly with cold, and was nearly as pale as the glaciers that rumbled past below them.
Conina sighed. ‘Well, just how do you think-’ she began.
‘Take me down somewhere a few minutes ahead of them,’ said Nijel.
‘I really don’t see how that would help.’
‘I wasn’t asking your opinion,’ said Nijel, quietly. ‘Just do it. Put me down a little way ahead of them so I’ve got a while to get sorted out.’
‘Get what sorted out?’
Nijel didn’t answer.
‘I said,’ said Conina, ‘get what-’
‘Shut up!’
‘I don’t see why-’
‘Look,’ said Nijel, with the patience that lies just short of axe-murdering. ‘The ice is going to cover the whole world, right? Everyone’s going to die, okay? Except for us for a little while, I suppose, until these horses want their, their, their oats or the lavatory or whatever, which isn’t much use to us except maybe Creosote will just about have time to write a sonnet or something about how cold it is all of a sudden, and the whole of human history is about to be scraped up and in these circumstances I would like very much to make it completely clear that I am not about to be argued with, is that absolutely understood?’
He paused for breath, trembling like a harpstring.
Conina hesitated. Her mouth opened and shut a few times, as though she was considering arguing, and then she thought better of it.
They found a small clearing in a pine forest a mile or two ahead of the herd, although the sound of it was clearly audible and there was a line of steam above the trees and the ground was dancing like a drumtop.
Nijel strolled to the middle of the clearing and made a few practice swings with his sword. The others watched him thoughtfully.
‘If you don’t mind,’ whispered Creosote to Conina, ‘I’ll be off. It’s at times like this that sobriety loses its attractions and I’m sure the end of the world will look a lot better through the bottom of a glass, if it’s all the same to you. Do you believe in Paradise, o peachcheeked blossom?’
‘Not as such, no.’
‘Oh,’ said Creosote. ‘Well, in that case we probably won’t be seeing each other again.’ He sighed. ‘What a waste. All this was just because of a geas. Um. Of course, if by some unthinkable chance-’
‘Goodbye,’ said Conina.
Creosote nodded miserably, wheeled the horse and disappeared over the treetops.
Snow was shaking down from the branches around the clearing. The thunder of the approaching glaciers filled the air.
Nijel started when she tapped him on the shoulder, and dropped his sword.