“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.
And he was feeling let down. There were hardly any books in the castle, except for serious volumes on etiquette and animal breeding and estate management. As a rule, royalty doesn't read much.
He wasn't expecting to be amazed at the Entertainment. He'd peered behind the bit of sacking that was doing service as a dressing room, and seen half a dozen heavily built men arguing with one another. This did not bode well for an evening of thespianic splendor, although there was always the possibility that one of them might hit another one in the face with a custard pie.[33]
He had managed to get the three of them seats in the front row. This wasn't according to the rules of precedence, but it was amazing how everyone squeezed up to make room. He'd also found some peanuts. No one ever knew how he managed that.
“Oook?”
“No, thank you,” said Ponder Stibbons. “They give me wind.”
“Oook?”
“I like to listen to a man who likes to talk! Whoops! Sawdust and treacle! Put that in your herring and smoke it!”
“I don't think he wants one,” said Ponder.
The curtain went up, or at least was pulled aside by Carter the baker.
The Entertainment began.
The Librarian watched in deepening gloom. It was amazing. Normally he quite liked a badly acted play, provided enough confectionery stayed airborne, but these people weren't even good at bad acting. Also, no one seemed to be on the point of throwing anything.
He fished a peanut out of the bag and rolled it in his fingers, while staring intently at the left ear of Tailor the other weaver.
And felt his hair rise. This is very noticeable on an orang-utan.
He glanced up at the hill behind the erratic actors, and growled under his breath.
“Oook?”