“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.”
“Hah! And what about you? I'd have put up with all your womanizing and drunkenness, would I?”
Ridcully looked bewildered.
“What womanizing?”
“We're talking about what might have been.”
“But I'm a wizard! We hardly ever womanize. There's laws about it. Well. . . rules. Guidelines, anyway.”
“But you wouldn't have been a wizard then.”
“And I'm hardly ever drunk.”
“You would have been if you'd been wedded to me.”
He caught up with her.
“Even young Ponder doesn't think like this,” he said. “You've made up your mind that it would have been dreadful, have you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why'd you think?”
“I asked you!”
“I'm too busy for this,” said Granny. “Like I said, personal ain't the same as important. Make yourself useful, Mr. Wizard. You know it's circle time, don't you?”
Ridcully's hand touched the brim of his hat.
“Oh, yes.”