“Yeah? Yeah? And what do you know about military tactics? You can’t even say ‘yo’ properly!”
Ridcully gripped the sides of the trolley.
“Would anyone mind tellin’ me,” he said, “what the—what the heck is goin’ on?”
Ludmilla pushed her way through the members of the Fresh Start Club.
“You’ve got to stop them, Archchancellor!” she said. “They’re talking about destroying the big shop!”
More nasty recollections settled on Ridcully’s mind.
“Good idea,” he said.
“But Mr. Poons is still in there!”
Ridcully tried to focus on the glowing building.
“What, dead Windle Poons?”
“Arthur flew back when we realized he wasn’t with us and he said Windle was fighting something that’d come out of the walls! We saw lots of trolleys but they weren’t bothered about us! He let us get out!”
“What, dead Windle Poons?”
“You can’t magic the place to bits with one of your wizards in there!”
“What, dead Windle Poons?”
“Yes!”
“But he’s dead,” said Ridcully. “Isn’t he? He said he was.”
“Ha!” said someone who had much less skin than Ridcully would have liked him to have. “That’s typical. That’s naked vitalism, that is. I bet they’d rescue someone in there if they happened to be alive.”
“But he wanted…he wasn’t keen on…he…” Ridcully hazarded. A lot of this was beyond him, but to people like Ridcully this didn’t matter for very long. Ridcully was simple-minded. This doesn’t mean stupid. It just meant that he could only think properly about things if he cut away all the complicated bits around the edges.
He concentrated on the single main fact. Someone who was technically a wizard was in trouble. He could relate to that. It struck a chord. The whole dead-or-alive business could wait.
There was another minor point that nagged at him, though.
“…Arthur?…flew?…”
“Hallo.”
Ridcully turned his head. He blinked slowly.
“Nice teeth you got there,” he said.
“Thank you,” said Arthur Winkings.
“All your own, are they?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Amazing. Of course, I expect you brush regularly.”
“Yes?”
“Hygienic. That’s the important thing.”