He avoided the main entrance and headed as circumspectly as possible for Wizards" Passage, where, halfway down, university access for all was available via several loose bricks. Generations of rascally drunk student wizards had used them to get back in late at night. Later on, they"d become very important and powerful wizards, with full beards and fuller stomachs, but had never lifted a finger to have the wall repaired. It was, after all, Traditional. Nor was it usually patrolled by the Lobsters, who believed in Tradition even more than the wizards.
On this occasion, though, one was lurking in the shadows, and jumped when Vimes tapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, it"s you, Commander Vimes, sir. It"s me, sir, Wiggleigh, sir. The Archchancellor is waiting for you in the gardener"s hut, sir. Follow me, sir. Mum"s the word, eh, sir?"
Vimes trailed after Wiggleigh across the dark, squelchy lawns. Oddly, though, he didn"t feel so tired now. Days and days of bad sleep and he felt quite fresh, in a fuzzy sort of way. It was the smell of the chase, that"s what it was. He"d pay for it later.
Wiggleigh, first looking both ways with a conspiratorial air that would have attracted instant attention had anyone been watching, opened the door of the garden shed.
There was a large figure waiting inside. "Commander!" it bellowed happily. "What larks, eh? Very cloak and dagger!"
Only heavy rain could possibly muffle the voice of Archchancellor Ridcully when he was feeling cheerful.
"Could you keep it down a bit, Archchancellor?" said Vimes, shutting the door quickly.
"Sorry! I mean, sorry," said the wizard. "Do take a seat. The
The university porters, or bledlows, who doubled, with rather more enthusiasm, as its proctors. They commanded their nickname for being thick-shelled, liable to turn red when hot, and having the smallest brain for their size of any known creature.
compost sacks are quite acceptable. Well, er ... how may I help you, Sam?"
"Can we agree for now that you can"t?" said Vimes.
"Intriguing. Do continue," said Ridcully, leaning closer.
"You know I won"t have magic used in the Watch," Vimes went on. As he sat down in the semi-darkness, a coiled-up hosepipe ambushed him from above, as they do, and he had to wrestle it to the shed floor.
"I do, sir, and I respect you for it, although there are those that think you are a damn silly fool."
"Well. .: Vimes said, trying to put "damn silly fool" behind them, "the fact is, I must get to Koom Valley very fast. Er ... very fast indeed."
"One might say- magically fast?" said Ridcully.
"As it were," said Vimes, fidgeting. He really hated having to do this. And what had he sat on?
"Mmm," said Ridcully. "But without, I imagine, any significant hocus-pocus? You appear uncomfortable, sir!"
Vimes triumphantly held up a large onion. "Sorry," he said, tossing it aside. "No, definitely no pocus. Possibly a little hocus. I just need an edge. They"ve got a day"s start on me." "I see. You will be travelling alone?"
"No, there will have to be eleven of us. Two coaches."
"My word! And disappearing in a puff of smoke to reappear elsewhere is-"
"Out of the question. I just need-"
"An edge," said the wizard. "Yes. Something magical in its cause but not in its effect. Nothing too obvious."
"And no chance of anyone being turned into a frog or anything like that," said Vimes quickly.
"Of course," said Ridcully. He clapped his hands together. "Well, commander, I"m afraid we can"t help you. Meddling in things like this is not what wizarding is all about!" He lowered his voice and went on:
"We will particularly not be able to help you if you have the coaches, empty, round the back in, oh, call it about an hour?"
"Oh? Er ... right," said Vimes, trying to catch up. "You"re not going to make them fly or anything, are you?"
"We"re not going to do anything, commander!" said Ridcully jovially, slapping him on the back. "I thought that was agreed! And I think also that you should leave now, although, of course, you have in fact not been here. And neither have I. I say, this spying business is pretty clever, eh?"
When Vimes had gone, Mustrum Ridcully sat back, lit his pipe and, as an afterthought, used the last of the match to light the candle lantern on the potting table. The gardener could get pretty acerbic if people messed about with his shed, so perhaps he ought to tidy up a bit
He stared at the floor, where a tumbled hosepipe and a fallen onion made what looked, at a casual glance, like a large eyeball with a tail.