“Dear me, I seem to have run out of power. Can't understand it, very embarrassing, fingers gone all limp,” said Ridcully. “Of course, we could walk. It's a lovely evening. You always did get lovely evenings here.”
“It was all fifty or sixty years ago!” said Granny. “You can't suddenly turn up and say all those years haven't happened.”
“Oh, I know they've happened all right,” said Ridcully. “I'm the head wizard now. I've only got to give an order and a thousand wizards will. . . uh . . . disobey, come to think of it, or say 'What?', or start to argue. But they have to take notice.”
“I've been to that University a few times,” said Granny. “A bunch of fat old men in beards.”
“That's right! That's them!”
“A lot of 'em come from the Ramtops,” said Granny. “I knew a few boys from Lancre who became wizards.”
“Very magical area,” Ridcully agreed. “Something in the air.”
Below them, the cold black waters raced, always dancing to gravity, never flowing uphill.
“There was even a Weatherwax as Archchancellor, years ago,” said Ridcully.
“So I understand. Distant cousin. Never knew him,” said Granny.
They both stared down at the river for a moment. Occasionally a twig or a branch would whirl along in the current.
“Do you remember-”
“I have a . . . very good memory, thank you.”
"Do you ever wonder what life would have been like if
you'd said yes?" said Ridcully.
“No.”
“I suppose we'd have settled down, had children, grandchildren, that sort of thing . . .”
Granny shrugged. It was the sort of thing romantic idiots said. But there was something in the air tonight. . .
“What about the fire?” she said.
“What fire?”
"Swept through our house just after we were married.
Killed us both."
“What fire? I don't know anything about any fire?”
Granny turned around.
"Of course not! It didn't happen. But the point is, it might have happened. You can't say 'if this didn't happen then that would have happened' because you don't know everything that might have happened. You might think something'd be good, but for all you know it could have turned out horrible. You can't say 'If only I'd . . . ' because you could be wishing for anything. The point is, you'll never know. You've gone past. So there's no use thinking about it.
So I don't."
“The Trousers of Time,” said Ridcully, moodily. He picked a fragment off the crumbling stonework and dropped it into the water. It went plunk, as is so often the case.
“What?”
“That's the sort of thing they go on about in the High Energy Magic building. And they call themselves wizards! You should hear them talk. The buggers wouldn't know a magic sword if it bit them on the knee. That's young wizards today. Think they bloody invented magic.”
“Yes? You should see the girls that want to be witches these days,” said Granny Weatherwax. “Velvet hats and black lipstick and lacy gloves with no fingers to 'em. Cheeky, too.”