They were side by side now, watching the river.
“Trousers of Time,” said Ridcully. “One of you goes down one leg, one of you goes down the other. And there's all these continuinuinuums all over the place. When I was a lad there was just one decent universe and this was it, and all you had to worry about was creatures breaking through from the Dungeon Dimensions, but at least there was this actual damn universe and you knew where you stood. Now it turns out there's millions of the damn things. And there's this damn cat they've discovered that you can put in a box and it's dead and alive at the same time. Or something. And they all run around saying marvellous, marvellous, hooray, here comes another quantum. Ask 'em to do a decent levitation spell and they look at you as if you've started to dribble. You should hear young Stibbons talk. Went on about me not inviting me to my own wedding. Me!”
From the side of the gorge a kingfisher flashed, hit the water with barely a ripple, and ricocheted away with something silver and wriggly in its beak.
“Kept going on about everything happening at the same time,” Ridcully went on morosely. “Like there's no such thing as a choice. You just decide which leg you're heading for. He says that we did get married, see. He says all the things that might have been have to be. So there's thousands of me out there who never became a wizard, just like there's thousands of you who, oh, answered letters. Hah! To them, we're something that might have been. Now, d'you call that proper thinking for a growing lad? When I started wizarding, old 'Tudgy' Spold was Archchancellor, and if any young wizard'd even mentioned that sort of daft thing, he'd feel a staff across his backside. Hah!”
Somewhere far below, a frog plopped off a stone. “Mind you, I suppose we've all passed a lot of water since then.”
It dawned gently on Ridcully that the dialogue had become a monologue. He turned to Granny, who was staring round-eyed at the river as if she'd never seen water before.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she said.
“I beg your pardon? I was only-”
“Not you. I wasn't talking to you. Stupid! I've been stupid. But I ain't been daft! Hah! And I thought it was my memory going! And it was, too. It was going and fetching!”
“What?”
"I was getting scared! Me! And not thinking clear!
Except I was thinking clear!"
“What!”
“Never mind! Well, I won't say this hasn't been . . . nice,” said Granny. “But I've got to get back. Do the thing with the fingers again. And hurry.”
Ridcully deflated a little.
“Can't,” he said.
“You did it just now.”
“That's the point. I wasn't joking when I said I couldn't do it again. It takes a lot out of you, transmigration.”
“You used to be able to do it all the time, as I recall,” said Granny. She risked a smile. “Our feet hardly touched the ground.”
“I was younger then. Now, once is enough.” Granny's boots creaked as she turned and started to walk quickly back toward the town. Ridcully lumbered after her.
“What's the hurry?”
“Got important things to do,” said Granny, without turning around. “Been letting everyone down.”
“Some people might say this is important.”
“No. It's just personal. Personal's not the same as important. People just think it is.”
“You're doing it again!”
“What?”
“I don't know what the other future would have been like,” said Ridcully, “but I for one would have liked to give it a try.”
Granny paused. Her mind was crackling with relief. Should she tell him about the memories? She opened her mouth to do so, and then thought again. No. He'd get soppy.
“I'd have been crabby and bad-tempered,” she said, instead.
“That goes without saying.”