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“What fire? I dont know anything about any fire?”
Granny turned around.
"Of course not! It didnt happen. But the point is, it might have happened. You cant say if this didnt happen then that would have happened because you dont know everything that might have happened. You might think somethingd be good, but for all you know it could have turned out horrible. You cant say If only Id . . . because you could be wishing for anything. The point is, youll never know. Youve gone past. So theres no use thinking about it.
So I dont. "
“The Trousers of Time,” said Ridcully, moodily. He picked a fragment off the crumbling stonework and dropped it into the water. It went plunk, as is so often the case.
“What?”
“Thats the sort of thing they go on about in the High Energy Magic building. And they call themselves wizards! You should hear them talk. The buggers wouldnt know a magic sword if it bit them on the knee. Thats young wizards today. Think they bloody invented magic. ”
“Yes? You should see the girls that want to be witches these days,” said Granny Weatherwax. “Velvet hats and black lipstick and lacy gloves with no fingers to em. Cheeky, too. ”
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 theres 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 theres millions of the damn things. And theres this damn cat theyve discovered that you can put in a box and its 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 youve 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 theres no such thing as a choice. You just decide which leg youre heading for. He says that we did get married, see. He says all the things that might have been have to be. So theres thousands of me out there who never became a wizard, just like theres thousands of you who, oh, answered letters. Hah! To them, were something that might have been. Now, dyou call that proper thinking for a growing lad? When I started wizarding, old Tudgy Spold was Archchancellor, and if any young wizardd even mentioned that sort of daft thing, hed feel a staff across his backside. Hah!”
Somewhere far below, a frog plopped off a stone. “Mind you, I suppose weve 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 shed never seen water before.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she said.
“I beg your pardon? I was only-”
“Not you. I wasnt talking to you. Stupid! Ive been stupid. But I aint 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 wont say this hasnt been . . . nice,” said Granny. “But Ive got to get back. Do the thing with the fingers again. And hurry. ”
Ridcully deflated a little.
“Cant,” he said.
“You did it just now. ”
“Thats the point. I wasnt joking when I said I couldnt 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. ” Grannys boots creaked as she turned and started to walk quickly back toward the town. Ridcully lumbered after her.
“Whats the hurry?”
“Got important things to do,” said Granny, without turning around. “Been letting everyone down. ”
“Some people might say this is important. ”
“No. Its just personal. Personals not the same as important. People just think it is. ”
“Youre doing it again!”
“What?”
“I dont 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. Hed get soppy.
“Id have been crabby and bad-tempered,” she said, instead.
“That goes without saying. ”
“Hah! And what about you? Id have put up with all your womanizing and drunkenness, would I?”
Ridcully looked bewildered.
“What womanizing?”
“Were talking about what might have been. ”
“But Im a wizard! We hardly ever womanize. Theres laws about it. Well. . . rules. Guidelines, anyway. ”
“But you wouldnt have been a wizard then. ”
“And Im hardly ever drunk. ”
“You would have been if youd been wedded to me. ”
He caught up with her.
“Even young Ponder doesnt think like this,” he said. “Youve made up your mind that it would have been dreadful, have you?”
“Yes. ”
“Why?”
“Whyd you think?”
“I asked you!”
“Im too busy for this,” said Granny. “Like I said, personal aint the same as important. Make yourself useful, Mr. Wizard. You know its circle time, dont you?”
Ridcullys hand touched the brim of his hat.
“Oh, yes. ”
“And you know what that means?”
“They tell me it means that the walls between realities get weaker. The circles are . . . whats the word Stibbons uses? Isoresons. They connect levels of, oh, something daft . . . similar levels of reality. Which is bloody stupid. Youd be able to walk from one universe to another. ”
“Ever tried it?”
“No!”
“A circle is a door half open. It doesnt need much to open it up all the way. Even beliefll do it. Thats why they put the Dancers up, years ago. We got the dwarfs to do it. Thunderbolt iron, those stones. Theres something special about em. Theyve got the love of iron. Dont ask me how it works. Elves hate it even more than ordinary iron. It . . . upsets their senses, or something. But minds can get through. . . ”
“Elves? Everyone knows elves dont exist anymore. Not proper elves. I mean, theres a few folk who say theyre elves-”
“Oh, yeah. Elvish ancestry. Elves and humans breed all right, as if thats anything to be proud of. But you just get a race oskinny types with pointy ears and a tendency to giggle and burn easily in sunshine. I aint talking about them. Theres no harm in them. Im talking about real wild elves, what we aint seen here for-”
The road from the bridge to the town curved between high banks, with the forest crowding in on either side and in places even meeting overhead. Thick ferns, already curling like green breakers, lined the clay banks.
They rustled.
The unicorn leapt on the road.
Thousands of universes, twisting together like a rope being plaited from threads . . .
Theres bound to be leakages, a sort of mental equivalent of the channel breakthrough on a cheap hi-fi that gets you the news in Swedish during quiet bits in the music. Especially if youve spent your life using your mind as a receiver.
Picking up the thoughts of another human being is very hard, b
ecause no two minds are on the same, er, wavelength.
But somewhere out there, at the point where the parallel universes tangle, are a million minds just like yours. For a very obvious reason.
Granny Weatherwax smiled.
Millie Chillum and the king and one or two hangers-on were clustered around the door to Magrats room when Nanny Ogg arrived.
“Whats happening?”
“I know shes in there,” said Verence, holding his crown in his hands in the famous At-Senor-Mexican-Bandits-Have-Raided-Our-Village position. “Millie heard her shout go away and I think she threw something at the door. ”
Nanny Ogg nodded sagely.
“Wedding nerves,” she said. “Bound to happen. ”
“But were all going to attend the Entertainment,” said Verence. “She really ought to attend the Entertainment. ”
“Well, I dunno,” said Nanny. “Seeing our Jason and the rest of em prancing about in straw wigs . . . I mean, they mean well, but its not something a young - a fairly young - girl has to see on the night before her nuptials. You asked her to unlock the door?”
“I did better than that,” said Verence. “I instructed her to. That was right, wasnt it? If even Magrat wont obey me, Im a poor lookout as king. ”
“Ah,” said Nanny, after a moments slow consideration. “Youve not entirely spent a lot of time in female company, have you? In a generalized sort of way?”
“Well, I-”
The crown spun in Verences nervous fingers. Not only had the bandits invaded the village, but the Magnificent Seven had decided to go bowling instead.
“Tell you what,” said Nanny, patting him on the back,
“you go and preside over the Entertainment and hobnob with the other nobs. Ill see to Magrat, dont you worry. Ive been a bride three times, and thats only the official score. ”
“Yes, but she should-”
“I think if we go easy on the shoulds,” said Nanny, “we might all make it to the wedding. Now, off you all go. ”
“Someone ought to stay here,” said Verence. “Shawn will be on guard, but-”
“No ones going to invade, are they?” said Nanny. “Let me sort this out. ”
“Well. . . if youre sure . . . ”
“Go on!”
Nanny Ogg waited until she heard them go down the main staircase. After a while a rattle of coaches and general shouting suggested that the wedding party was leaving, minus the bride-to-be.
She counted to a hundred, under her breath.
Then:
“Magrat?”
“Go away!”
“I know how it is,” said Nanny. “I was a bit worried on the night before my wedding. ” She refrained from adding:
because there was a reasonable chance Jason would turn up as an extra guest.
“I am not worried! I am angry!”
“Why?”
“You know!”
Nanny took off her hat and scratched her head.
“Youve got me there,” she said.
“And he knew. I know he knew, and I know who told him,” said the muffled voice behind the door. “It was all arranged. You must all have been laughing!”
Nanny frowned at the impassive woodwork.
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