Miss Flitworth peered around him.
“What happened?”
I THINK THE ELLIPTICAL CAM HAS GRADUALLY SLID UP THE BEAM SHAFT AND CAUGHT ON THE FLANGE REBATE, WITH DISASTROUS RESULTS.
Death stared defiantly at the gray watchers. One by one, they began to disappear.
He picked up the scythe.
AND NOW I MUST GO, he said.
Miss Flitworth looked horrified. “What? Just like that?”
YES. EXACTLY LIKE THAT. I HAVE A LOT OF WORK TO DO.
“And I won’t see you again? I mean—”
OH, YES. SOON. He sought for the right words, and gave up. THAT’S A PROMISE.
Death pulled up his robe and reached into the pocket of his Bill Door overall, which he was still wearing underneath.
WHEN MR. SIMNEL COMES TO COLLECT THE BITS IN THE MORNING HE WILL PROBABLY BE LOOKING FOR THIS, he said, and dropped something small and bevelled into her hand.
“What is it?”
A THREE-EIGHTHS GRIPLEY.
Death walked over to his horse, and then remembered something.
AND HE OWES ME A FARTHING, TOO.
Ridcully opened one eye. People were milling around. There were lights and excitement. Lots of people were talking at once.
He seemed to be sitting in a very uncomfortable pram, with some strange insects buzzing around him.
He could hear the Dean complaining, and there were groans that could only be coming from the Bursar, and the voice of a young woman. People were being ministered to, but no one was paying him any attention. Well, if there was ministering going on, he was damn well going to get ministered to as well.
He coughed loudly.
“You could try,” he said, to the cruel world in general, “forcing some brandy between m’lips.”
An apparition appeared above him holding a lamp over its head. It was a size five face in a size thirteen skin; it said “Oook?” in a concerned way.
“Oh, it’s you,” said Ridcully. He tried to sit up quickly, just in case the Librarian tried the kiss of life.
Confused memories wobbled across his brain. He could remember a wall of clanking metal, and then pinkness, and then…music. Endless music, designed to turn the living brain to cream cheese.
He turned around. There was a building behind him, surrounded by crowds of people. It was squat and clung to the ground in a strangely animal way, as if it might be possible to lift up a wing of the building and hear the pop-pop-pop of suckers letting go. Light streamed out of it, and steam curled out of its doors.
“Ridcully’s woken up!”
More faces appeared. Ridcully thought: it’s not Soul Cake Night, so they’re not wearing masks. Oh, blast.
Behind them he heard the Dean say, “I vote we work up Herpetty’s Seismic Reorganizer and lob it through the door. No more problem.”
“No! We’re too close to the city walls! We just need to drop Quondum’s Attractive Point in the right place—”
“Or Sumpjumper’s Incendiary Surprise, perhaps?” This was the Bursar’s voice. “Burn it out, it’s the best way—”