'Students,' said the Senior Wrangler morosely. 'Hah, I remember when I was a student,' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. 'Old “Bogeyboy” Swallett took us on an expedition to find the Lost Reading Room. Three weeks we were wandering around. Had to eat our own boots.'
'Did you find it?' said the Dean. 'No, but we found the remains of the previous year's expedition.'
'What did you do?'
'We ate their boots, too.' From beyond the door came a flapping, as of leather covers. There's some pretty vicious grimoires in there,' said the Senior Wrangler. They can take a man's arm right off.'
'Yes, but at least they don't know about doorhandles,' said the Dean. They do if there's a book in there somewhere called Doorknobs for Beginners,' said the Senior Wrangler. They read each other.' The Archchancellor glanced at Ponder. There likely to be a book like that in there, Stibbons?'
'According to L-space theory, it's practically certain, sir.' As one man, the wizards backed away from the doors. 'We can't let this nonsense go on,' said Ridcully. 'We've got to cure the Librarian. It's a magical illness, so we ought to be able to cook up a magical cure, oughtn't we?' That would be exceedingly dangerous, Archchancellor,' said the Dean. 'His whole system is a mess of conflicting magical influences. There's no knowing what adding more magic would do. He's already got a freewheeling temporal gland.[6] Any more magic and . . . well, I don't know what'll happen.'
'We'll find out,' said Ridcully brusquely. 'We need to be able to go into the Library. We'd be doing this for the college, Dean. And Unseen University is bigger than one man—'
'—ape—'
'—thank you, ape, and we must always remember that “I” is the smallest letter in the alphabet.' There was another thud from beyond the doors. 'Actually,' said the Senior Wrangler, 'I think you'll find that, depending on the font, “c” or even “u” are, in fact, even smaller. Well, shorter, anyw—'
'Of course,' Ridcully went on, ignoring this as part of the University's usual background logic, 'I suppose I could appoint another librarian . . . got to be a senior chap who knows his way around . . . hmm . . . now let me see, do any names spring to mind? Dean?'
'All right, all rightl' said the Dean. 'Have it your own way. As usual.'
'Er . . . we can't do it, sir,' Ponder ventured. 'Oh?' said Ridcully. 'Volunteering for a bit of bookshelf tidying yourself, are you?'
'I mean we really can't use magic to change him, sir. There's a huge problem in the way.' There are no problems, Mister Stibbons, there are only opportunities.'
'Yes, sir. And the opportunity here is to find out the Librarian's name.' There was a buzz of agreement from the other wizards. The lad's right,' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. 'Can't magic a wizard without knowing his name. Basic rule.'
'Well, we call him the Librarian,' said Ridcully. 'Everyone calls him the Librarian. Won't that do?' That's just a job description, sir.' Ridcully looked at his wizards. 'One of us must know his name, surely? Good grief, I should hope we at least know our colleagues' names. Isn't that so . . .' He looked at the Dean, hesitated, and then said, 'Dean?'
'He's been an ape for quite a while . . . Archchancellor,' said the Dean. 'Most of his original colleagues have . . . passed on. Gone to the great Big Dinner in the Sky. We were going through one of those periods of droit de mortis.[7]'
'Yes, but he's got to be in the records somewhere.' The wizards thought about the great cliffs of stacked paper that constituted the University's records. The archivist has never found him,' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. 'Who's the archivist?'
'The Librarian, Archchancellor.' Then at least he ought to be in the Year Book for the year he graduated.'
'It's a very funny thing,' said the Dean, 'but a freak accident appears to have happened to every single copy of the Year Book for that year.' Ridcully noted his wooden expression. 'Would it be an accident like a particular page being torn out leaving only a lingering bananary aroma?'
'Lucky guess, Archchancellor.' Ridcully scratched his chin. 'A pattern emerges,' he said. 'You see, he's always been dead set against anyone finding out his name,' said the Senior Wrangler. 'He's afraid we'll try to turn him back into a human.' He looked meaningfully at the
Dean, who put on an offended expression. 'Some people have been going around saying that an ape as Librarian is unsuitable.'
'I merely expressed the view that it is against the traditions of the University—' the Dean began. 'Which consist largely of niggling, big dinners and shouting damnfool things about keys in the middle of the night,' said Ridcully. 'So I don't think we—' The expressions on the faces of the other wizards made him turn around. The Librarian had entered the hall. He walked very slowly, because of the amount of clothing he'd put on; the sheer volume of coats and sweaters meant that his arms, instead of being used as extra feet, were sticking out very nearly horizontally on either side of his body. But the most horrifying aspect of the shuffling apparition was the red woolly bat. It was jolly. It had a bobble on it. It had been knitted by Mrs Whitlow, who was technically an extremely good needlewoman, but if she had a fault it lay in failing to take into account the precise dimensions of the intended recipient. Several wizards had on occasion been presented with one of her creations, which often assumed they had three ankles or a neck two metres across. Most of the things were surreptitiously given away to charitable institutions. You can say this about Ankh-Morpork – no matter how misshapen a garment, there will always be someone somewhere it would fit. Mrs Whitlow's mistake here was the assumption that the Librarian, for whom she had considerable respect, would like a red bobble hat with side flaps that tied under his chin. Given that this would technically require that they be tied under his groin, he'd opted to let them flap loose. He turned a sad face towards the wizards as he stopped outside the Library door. He reached for the handle. He said, in a very weak voice, '
'k,' and then sneezed. The pile of clothing settled. When the wizards pulled it away, they found underneath a very large, thick book bound in hairy red leather. 'Says Ook on the cover,' said the Senior Wrangler after a while, in a rather strained voice. 'Does it say who it's by?' said the Dean. 'Bad taste, that man.'
'I meant that maybe it'd be his real name.'
'Can we look inside?' said the Chair oi Indefinite Studies. 'There may be an index.'
'Any volunteers to look inside the Librarian?' said Ridcully. 'Don't all shout.'
'The morphic instability responds to the environment,' said Ponder. 'Isn't that interesting? He's near the Library, so it turns him into a book. Sort of . . . protective camouflage, you could say. It's as if he evolves to fit in with—'
'Thank you, Mister Stibbons. And is there a point to this?'
'Well, I assume we can look inside,' said Ponder. 'A book is meant to be opened. There's even a black leather bookmark, see?'
'Oh, that's a bookmark, is it?' said the Chair of Indefinite Studies, who had been watching it nervously. Ponder touched the book. It was warm. And it opened easily enough. Every page was covered with 'ook'. 'Good dialogue, but the plot is a little dull.'