The elephant was enraged. Vague confusing recollections flooded its aching head, of fires and shouts and men with nets and cages and spears and too many years hauling heavy tree trunks. It brought its trunk down across the altar stone and somewhat to its own surprise smashed it in two, levered the two parts into the air with its tusks, tried unsuccessfully to uproot a stone pillar and then, feeling the sudden need for a breath of fresh air, started to charge arthritically down the length of the hall.
It hit the door at a dead run, its blood loud with the call of the herd and fizzing with alcohol, and took it off at the hinges. Still wearing the frame on its shoulders it careened across the courtyard, smashed the outer gates, burped, thundered through the sleeping city and was still slowly accelerating when it sniffed the distant dark continent of Klatch on the night breeze and, tail raised, followed the ancient call of home.
Back in the hall there was dust and shouts and confusion. Cutwell pushed his hat out of his eyes and got to his hands and knees.
'Thank you,' said Keli, who had been lying underneath him. 'And why did you jump on top of me?'
'My first instinct was to protect you, your Majesty.'
'Yes, instinct it may have been, but —' She started to say that maybe the elephant would have weighed less, but the sight of his big, serious and rather flushed face stopped her.
'We will talk about this later,' she said, sitting up and brushing the dust off her. 'In the meantime, I think we will dispense with the sacrifice. I'm not your Majesty yet, just your Highness, and now if someone will fetch the crown —'
There was the snick of a safety catch behind them.
The wizard will put his hands where I can see them,' said the duke.
Cutwell stood up slowly, and turned around. The duke was backed by half a dozen large serious men, the type of men whose only function in life is to loom behind people like the duke. They had a dozen large serious crossbows, whose main purpose was to appear to be on the point of going off.
The princess sprang to her feet and launched herself at her uncle, but Cutwell grabbed her.
'No,' he said, quietly. This isn't the kind of man who ties you up in a cellar with just enough time for the mice to eat your ropes before the flood-waters rise. This is the kind of man who just kills you here and now.'
The duke bowed.
'I think it can be truly said that the gods have spoken,' he said. 'Clearly the princess was tragically crushed by the rogue elephant. The people will be upset. I will personally decree a week of mourning.'
'You can't do that, all the guests have seen – !' the princess began, nearly in tears.
Cutwell shook his head. He could see the guards moving through the crowds of bewildered guests.
They haven't,' he said. 'You'll be amazed at what they haven't seen. Especially when they learn that being tragically crushed to death by rogue elephants can be catching. You can even die of it in bed.'
The duke laughed pleasantly.
'You really are quite intelligent for a wizard,' he said. 'Now, I am merely proposing banishment —'
'You won't get away with this,' said Cutwell. He thought for a bit, and added, 'Well, you will probably get away with it, but you'll feel bad about it on your deathbed and you'll wish —'
He stopped talking. His jaw dropped.
The duke half turned to follow his gaze.
'Well, wizard? What have you seen?'
'You won't get away with it,' said Cutwell hysterically. 'You won't even be here. This is going to have never happened, do you realise?'
'Watch his hands,' said the duke. 'If he even moves his fingers, shoot them.'
He looked around again, puzzled. The wizard had sounded genuine. Of course, it was said wizards could see things that weren't there. . . .
'It doesn't even matter if you kill me,' Cutwell babbled, 'because tomorrow I'll wake up in my own bed and this won't have happened anyway. It's come through the wall!'
Night rolled onwards across the Disc. It was always there, of course, lurking in shadows and holes and cellars, but as the slow light of day drifted after the sun the pools and lakes of night spread out, met and merged. Light on the Discworld moves slowly because of the vast magical field.
Light on the Discworld isn't like light elsewhere. It's grown up a bit, it's been around, it doesn't feel the need to rush everywhere. It knows that however fast it goes darkness always gets there first, so it takes it easy.
Midnight glided across the landscape like a velvet bat. And faster than midnight, a tiny spark against the dark world of the Disc, Binky pounded after it. Flames roared back from his hooves. Muscles moved under his glistening skin like snakes in oil.