'Oh, good.'
'My granny did a wonderful sheep's head mould,' said Adora Belle. 'That's where you use pig's trotters to thicken the broth so that when it gets cold you - '
'You know, sometimes there's such a thing as too much information?' said Moist. 'This evening, then. Now let's go and see your dead wizard. You should enjoy it. There's bound to be skulls.'
There were skulls. There were black drapes. There were complex symbols drawn on the floor. There were spirals of incense from black thuribles. And in the middle of all this the Head of Post-Mortem Communications, in a fearsome mask, was fiddling with a candle.
He stopped when he heard them come in, and straightened up hurriedly.
'Oh, you're early,' he said, his voice somewhat muffled by the fangs. 'Sorry. It's the candles. They should be cheap tallow for the proper black smoke, but wouldn't you know it, they've given me beeswax. I told them just dribbling is no good to me, acrid smoke is what we want. Or what they want, anyway. Sorry, John Hicks, head of department. Ponder has told me all about you.'
He took off the mask and extended a hand. The man looked as though he'd tried, like any self-respecting necromancer, to grow a proper goatee beard, but owing to some basic lack of malevolence it had turned out a bit sheepish. After a few seconds Hicks realized why they were staring, and pulled off the fake rubber hand with the black fingernails.
'I thought necromancy was banned,' said Moist.
'Oh, we don't do necromancy here,' said Hicks. 'What made you think that?'
Moist looked around at the furnishings, shrugged, and said, 'Well, I suppose it first crossed my mind when I saw the way the paint was flaking off the door and you can still just see a crude skull and the letters NECR...'
'Ancient history, ancient history,' said Hicks quickly. 'We are the Department of Post-Mortem Communications. A force for good, you understand. Necromancy, on the other hand, is a very bad form of magic done by evil wizards.'
'And since you are not evil wizards, what you are doing can't be called necromancy?'
'Exactly!'
'And, er, what defines an evil wizard?' said Adora Belle.
'Well, doing necromancy would definitely be there right on top of the list.'
'Could you just remind us what you are going to do?'
'We're going to talk to the late Professor Flead,' said Hicks.
'Who is dead, yes?'
'Very much so. Extremely dead.'
'Isn't that just a tiny bit like necromancy?'
'Ah, but, you see, for necromancy you require skulls and bones and a general necropolitan feel,' said Dr Hicks. He looked at their expressions. 'Ah, I see where you're going here,' he said, with a little laugh that cracked a bit around the edges. 'Don't be deceived by appearances. I don't need all this. Professor Flead does. He's a bit of a traditionalist and wouldn't get out of his urn for anything less than the full Rite of Souls complete with Dread Mask of Summoning.' He twanged a fang.
'And that's the Dread Mask of Summoning, is it?' said Moist. The wizard hesitated for a moment before saying: 'Of course.'
'Only it looks just like the Dread Sorcerer mask they sell in Boffo's shop in Tenth Egg Street,' said Moist. 'Excellent value at five dollars, I thought.'
'I, er, think you must be mistaken,' said Hicks.
'I don't think so,' said Moist. 'You left the label on.'
'Where? Where?' The I'm-not-a-necromancer-at-all snatched up the mask and turned it over in his hands, looking for -
He saw Moist's grin and rolled his eyes. 'All right, yes,' he muttered. 'We lost the real one. Everything gets lost round here, you just wouldn't believe it. They're not clearing up the spells properly. Was there a huge squid in the corridor?'
'Not this afternoon,' said Adora Belle.
'Yes, what's the reason for the squid?'
'Oooh, let me tell you about the squid!' said Hicks.