“I wish I had my crossbow,” muttered Ridcully. “With that head on my wall I'd always have a place to hang my hat.”
The unicorn tossed its head and pawed the ground. Steam rose from its flanks.
“I ain't sure that would work,” said Granny. “You sure you've got no whoosh left in them fingers of yours?”
“I could create an illusion,” said the wizard. “That's not hard.”
“It wouldn't work. The unicorn is an elvish creature. Magic don't work on 'em. They see through illusions. They ought to, they're good enough at 'em. How about the bank? Reckon you could scramble up it?”
They both glanced at the banks. They were red clay, slippery as priests.
“Let's walk backward,” said Granny. “Slowly.”
“How about its mind? Can you get in?”
“There's someone in there already. The poor thing's her pet. It obeys only her.”
The unicorn walked after them, trying to watch both of them at the same time.
“What shall we do when we come to the bridge?”
“You can still swim, can't you?”
“The river's a long way down.”
“But there's a deep pool there. Don't you remember? You dived in there once. One moonlit night. . .”
“I was young and foolish then.”
“Well? You're old and foolish now.”
“I thought unicorns were more . . . fluffy.”
“See clear! Don't let the glamour get you! See what's in front of your eyes! It's a damn great horse with a horn on the end!” said Granny.
The unicorn pawed the ground.
Granny's feet scraped the bridge.
“Got here by accident, can't get back,” she said. “Ifn there'd been one of us it'd be charging by now. We're about halfway across the bridge-”
“Lot of snow runoff in that river,” said Ridcully, doubtfully
“Oh, yes,” said Granny “See you at the weir.”
And she was gone.
The unicorn, which had been trying to decide between targets, was left with Ridcully.
It could count up to one.
It lowered its head.
Ridcully had never liked horses, animals which seemed to him to have only the weakest possible grip on sanity
As the unicorn charged, he vaulted the parapet and dropped, without much aerodynamic grace, into the icy waters of the Lancre.
The Librarian liked the stage. He was always in the front seat on the first night of a new production at any of Ankh's theatres, his prehensile abilities allowing him to clap twice as hard as anyone else or, if necessary, hurl peanut shells.