‘Like a sort of ringing noise?’
‘Watch…
Rincewind walked jerkily up the beach, carrying a large round rock in both hands. He walked past them without a word, his eyes staring straight ahead.
They followed him along the cold beach until he reached a bare area between the dunes, where he stopped and, still moving with all the grace of a clothes horse, dropped the rock. It made a clinking noise.
There was a wide circle of other stones. Very few of them had actually stayed on top of another one.
The three of them crouched down and watched him.
‘Is he asleep?’ said Creosote.
Conina nodded.
‘What’s he trying to do?’
‘I think he’s trying to build a tower.’
Rincewind lurched back into the ring of stones and, with great care, placed another rock on empty air. It fell down.
‘He’s not very good at it, is he,’ said Nijel.
‘It is very sad,’ said Creosote.
‘Maybe we ought to wake him up,’ said Conina. ‘Only I heard that if you wake up sleepwalkers their legs fall off, or something. What do you think?’
‘Could be risky, with wizards,’ said Nijel.
They tried to make themselves comfortable on the chilly sand.
‘It’s rather pathetic, isn’t it?’ said Creosote. ‘It’s not as if he’s really a proper wizard.’
Conina and Nijel tried to avoid one another’s gaze. Finally the boy coughed, and said, ‘I’m not exactly a barbarian hero, you know. You may have noticed.’
They watched the toiling figure of Rincewind for a while, and then Conina said, ‘If it comes to that, I think I lack a certain something when it comes to hairdressing.’
They both stared fixedly at the sleepwalker, busy with their own thoughts and red with mutual embarrassment.
Creosote cleared his throat.
‘If it makes anyone feel better,’ he said, ‘I sometimes perceive that my poetry leaves a lot to be desired.’
Rincewind carefully tried to balance a large rock on a small pebble. It fell off, but he appeared to be happy with the result. >‘They’re building another tower!’ said Nijel.
‘Out of my palace, too,’ said Creosote.
‘The hat’s won,’ said Rincewind. ‘That’s why it’s building its own tower. It’s a sort of reaction. Wizards always used to build a tower around themselves, like those … what do you call those things you find at the bottom of rivers?’
‘Frogs.’
‘Stones.’
‘Unsuccessful gangsters.’
‘Caddis flies is what I meant,’ said Rincewind. ‘When a wizard set out to fight, the first thing he always did was build a tower.’
‘It’s very big,’ said Nijel.