Moving Pictures (Discworld 10)

'The teaching staff. Yes. But sometimes . . . well, I wonder, Archchancellor, if you would care to look at these examination results . . . '

It was midnight - not the same midnight as before, but a very similar midnight. Old Tom, the tongueless bell in the University bell tower, had just tolled its twelve sonorous silences.

Rainclouds squeezed their last few drops over the city. Ankh-Morpork sprawled under a few damp stars, as real as a brick.

Ponder Stibbons, student wizard, put down his book and rubbed his face.

'All right,' he said. 'Ask me anything. Go on. Anything at all.'

Victor Tugelbend, student wizard, picked up his battered copy of Necrotelicomnicon Discussed for Students, with Practical Experiments and turned the pages at random. He was lying on Ponder's bed. At least, his shoulder blades were. His body extended up the wall. This is a perfectly normal position for a student taking his ease.

'OK,' he said. 'Right. OK? What, right, what is the name of the outerdimensional monster whose distinctive cry is “Yerwhatyerwhatyerwhat”?'

'Yob Soddoth,' said Ponder promptly.

'Yeah. How does the monster Tshup Aklathep, Infernal Star Toad with A Million Young, torture its victims to death?'

'It . . . don't tell me . . . it holds them down and shows them pictures of its children until their brains implode.'

'Yep. Always wondered how that happens, myself,' said Victor, flicking through the pages. 'I suppose after you've said “Yes, he's got your eyes” for the thousandth time you're about ready to commit suicide in any case.'

'You know an awful lot, Victor,' said Ponder admiringly. 'I'm amazed you're still a student.'

'Er, yes,' said Victor. 'Er. Just unlucky at exams, I guess.'

'Go on,' said Ponder, 'Ask me one more.'

Victor opened the book again.

There was a moment's silence.

Then he said, 'Where's Holy Wood?'

Ponder shut his eyes and pounded his forehead. 'Hang on, hang on . . . don't tell me . . . ' He opened his eyes. 'What do you mean, where's Holy Wood?' he added sharply. 'I don't remember anything about any Holy Wood.'

Victor stared down at the page. There was nothing about any Holy Wood there.

'I could have sworn I heard . . . I think my mind must be wandering,' he finished lamely. 'It must be all this revision.'

'Yes. It really gets to you, doesn't it? But it'll be worth it, to be a wizard.'

'Yes,' said Victor. 'Can't wait.'

Ponder shut the book.

'Rain's stopped. Let's go over the wall,' he said. 'We deserve a drink.'

Victor waggled a finger. 'Just one drink, then. Got to keep sober,' he said. 'It's Finals tomorrow. Got to keep a clear head!'

'Huh!' said Ponder.

Of course, it is very important to be sober when you take an exam. Many worthwhile careers in the street-cleansing, fruit-picking and subway-guitar-playing industries have been founded on a lack of understanding of this simple fact.

But Victor had a special reason for keeping alert.

He might make a mistake, and pass.

His dead uncle had left him a small fortune not to be a wizard. He hadn't realized it when he'd drawn up the will, but that's what the old man had done. He thought he was helping his nephew through college, but Victor Tugelbend was a very bright young lad in an oblique sort of way and had reasoned thusly: