Ridcully wasn't listening. “And there's deer. Thousands of head of deer. And elk. Wolves all over the place. Mountain lions too, I shouldn't wonder. I heard that Ice Eagles have been seen up there again, too.”
His eyes gleamed.
“There's only half a dozen of 'em left,” he said.
Mustrum Ridcully did a lot for rare species. For one thing, he kept them rare.
“It's the back of beyond,” said the Dean. “Right off the edge of the map.”
“Used to stay with my uncle up there, in the holidays,” said Ridcully, his eyes misty with distance. “Great days I had up there. Great days. The summers up there . . . and the sky's a deeper blue than anywhere else, it's very . . . and the grass. . . and. . .”
He returned abruptly from the landscapes of memory.
“Got to go, then,” he said. “Duty calls. Head of state gettin' married. Important occasion. Got to have a few wizards there. Look of the thing. Nobblyess obligay.”
“Well, I'm not going,” said the Dean. “It's not natural, the countryside. Far too many trees. Never could stand it.”
“The Bursar could do with an outing,” said Ridcully. “Seems a bit jumpy just lately, can't imagine why.” He leaned forward to look along the High Table. “Bursaaar!”
The Bursar dropped his spoon into his oatmeal.
“See what I mean?” said Ridcully. “Bundle o' nerves the whole time. I WAS SAYING YOU COULD DO WITH SOME FRESH AIR, BURSAR.” He nudged the Dean heavily. “Hope he's not going off his rocker, poor fella,” he said, in what he chose to believe was a whisper. “Spends too much time indoors, if you get my drift.”
The Dean, who went outdoors about once a month, shrugged his shoulders.
“I EXPECT YOU'D LIKE A LITTLE TIME AWAY FROM THE UNIVERSITY, EH?” said the Archchancellor, nodding and grimacing madly. “Peace and quiet? Healthy country livin'?”
“I, I, I, I should like that very much, Archchancellor,” said the Bursar, hope rising in his face like an autumn mushroom.
“Good man. Good man. You shall come with me,” said Ridcully, beaming.
The Bursar's expression froze.
“Got to be someone else, too,” said Ridcully. “Volunteers, anyone?”
The wizards, townies to a man, bent industriously over their food. They always bent industriously over their food in any case, but this time they were doing it to avoid catching Ridcully's eye.
“What about the Librarian?” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, throwing a random victim to the wolves.
There was a sudden babble of relieved agreement.
“Good choice,” said the Dean. “Just the thing for him. Countryside. Trees. And. . . and. . . trees.”
“Mountain air,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
“Yes, he's been looking peaky lately,” said the Reader in Invisible Writings.[7]
“It'd be a real treat for him,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
“Home away from home, I expect,” said the Dean. “Trees all over the place.”
They all looked expectantly at the Archchancellor.
“He doesn't wear clothes,” said Ridcully. “And he goes 'ook' all the time.”
“He does wear the old green robe thing,” said the Dean.
“Only when he's had a bath.”