"Not a lot of improvement, I feel," said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.

Englebert's Enhancer was the penultimate ingredient. The Dean dropped in a greenish ball of light that sank under the surface. The only apparent effect was that it caused purple bubbles to creep over the sides of the beaker and drip onto the floor.

"That's it it?" said the oh G.o.d.

"I think the yogurt probably wasn't a good idea," said the Dean.

"I'm not drinking that that," said Bilious firmly, and then clutched at his head.

"But G.o.ds are practically unkillable, aren't they?" said the Dean.

"Oh, good good," muttered Bilious. "Why not stick my legs in a meat grinder, then?"

"Well, if you think it might help-"

"I antic.i.p.ated a certain amount of resistance from the patient," said the Archchancellor. He removed his hat and fished out a small crystal ball from a pocket in the lining. "Let's see what the G.o.d of Wine is up to at the moment, shall we? Shouldn't be too difficult to locate a fun-loving G.o.d like him on an evening like this..."

He blew on the gla.s.s and polished it. Then he brightened up.

"Why, here he is, the little rascal! On Dunmanifestin, I do believe. Yes...yes...reclining on his couch, surrounded by naked maenads."

"What? Maniacs?" said the Dean.

"He means...excitable young women," said Susan. And it seemed to her that there was a general ripple of movement among the wizards, a sort of nonchalant drawing toward the glittering ball.

"Can't quite see what he's doing..." said Ridcully.

"Let me see if I can make it out," said the Chair of Indefinite Studies hopefully. Ridcully half turned to keep the ball out of his reach.

"Ah, yes," he said. "It looks like he's drinking...yes, could very well be lager and black-currant, if I'm any judge..."

"Oh, me me..." moaned the oh G.o.d.

"These young women, now-" the Lecturer in Recent Runes began.

"I can see there's some bottles on the table," Ridcully continued. "That one, hmm, yes, could be sc.u.mble which, as you know, is made from apples-"

"Mainly apples," the Dean volunteered. "Now, about these poor mad girls-" apples," the Dean volunteered. "Now, about these poor mad girls-"

The oh G.o.d slumped to his knees.

"...and there's...that drink, you know, there's a worm in the bottle..."

"Oh, me me..."

"...and...there's an empty gla.s.s, a big one, can't quite see what it contained, but there's a paper umbrella in it. And some cherries on a stick. Oh, and an amusing little monkey."

"...ooohhh..."

"...of course, there's a lot of other bottles, too," said Ridcully, cheerfully. "Different colored drinks, mainly. The sort made from melons and coconuts and chocolate and such like, don'tcherknow. Funny thing is, all the gla.s.ses on the table are pint mugs..."

Bilious fell forward.

"All right," he murmured. "I'll drink the wretched stuff."

"It's not quite ready yet," said Ridcully. "Ah, thank you, Modo."

Modo tiptoed in, pushing a trolley. There was a large metal bowl on it, in which a small bottle stood in the middle of a heap of crushed ice.

"Only just made this for Hogswatch dinner," said Ridcully. "Hasn't had much time to mature yet."

He put down the crystal and fished a pair of heavy gloves out of his hat.

The wizards spread like an opening flower. One moment they were gathered around Ridcully, the next they were standing close to various items of heavy furniture.

Susan felt she was present at a ceremony and hadn't been told the rules.

"What's that?" she said, as Ridcully carefully lifted up the bottle.

"Wow-Wow Sauce," said Ridcully. "Finest condiment known to man. A happy accompaniment to meat, fish, fowl, eggs and many types of vegetable dishes. It's not safe to drink it when sweat's still condensing on the bottle, though." He peered at the bottle, and then rubbed at it, causing a gla.s.sy, squeaky noise. "On the other hand," he said brightly, "if it's a kill-or-cure remedy then we are, given that the patient is practically immortal, probably onto a winner."

He placed a thumb over the cork and shook the bottle vigorously. There was a crash as the Chair of Indefinite Studies and the Senior Wrangler tried to get under the same table.

"And these fellows seem to have taken against it for some reason," he said, approaching the beaker.

"I prefer a sauce that doesn't mean you mustn't make any jolting movements for half an hour after using it," muttered the Dean.

"And that can't be used for breaking up small rocks," said the Senior Wrangler.

"Or getting rid of tree roots," said the Chair of Indefinite Studies.

"And which isn't actually outlawed in three cities," said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.

Ridcully cautiously uncorked the bottle. There was a brief hiss of indrawn air.

He allowed a few drops to splash into the beaker. Nothing happened.

A more generous helping was allowed to fall. The mixture remained irredeemably inert.

Ridcully sniffed suspiciously at the bottle.

"I wonder if I added enough grated wahooni?" he said, and then upturned the sauce and let most of it slide into the mixture.

It merely went gloop gloop.

The wizards began to stand up and brush themselves off, giving one another the rather embarra.s.sed grins of people who know that they've just been part of a synchronized making-a-fool-of-yourself team.

"I know we've had that asafoetida rather a long time," said Ridcully. He turned the bottle round, peering at it sadly.

Finally he tipped it up for the last time and thumped it hard on the base.

A trickle of sauce arrived on the lip of the bottle and glistened there for a moment. Then it began to form a bead.

As if drawn by invisible strings, the heads of the wizards turned to look at it.

Wizards wouldn't be wizards if they couldn't see a little little way into the future. way into the future.

As the bead swelled and started to go pear-shaped they turned and, with a surprising turn of speed for men so wealthy in years and waistline, began to dive for the floor.

The drop fell.

It went gloop gloop.

And that was all.

Ridcully, who'd been standing like a statue, sagged in relief.

"I don't know," he said, turning away, "I wish you fellows would show some backbone-"

The fireball lifted him off his feet. Then it rose to the ceiling, where it spread out widely and vanished with a pop, leaving a perfect chrysanthemum of scorched plaster.

Pure white light filled the room. And there was a sound.

TINKLE. TINKLE.

FIZZ.

The wizards risked looking around.

The beaker gleamed. It was filled with a liquid glow, which bubbled gently and sent out sparkles like a spinning diamond.

"My word..." breathed the Lecturer in Recent Runes.

Ridcully picked himself up off the floor. Wizards tended to roll well, or in any case are well padded enough to bounce.

Slowly, the flickering brilliance casting their long shadows on the walls, the wizards gravitated toward the beaker.

"Well, what is is it?" said the Dean. it?" said the Dean.

"I remember my father tellin' me some very valuable advice about drinks," said Ridcully. "He said, 'Son, never drink any drink with a paper umbrella in it, never drink any drink with a humorous name, and never drink any drink that changes color when the last ingredient goes in. And never, ever, do this-'"

He dipped his finger into the beaker.

It came out with one glistening drop on the end.

"Careful, Archchancellor," warned the Dean. "What you have there might represent pure sobriety."

Ridcully paused with the finger halfway to his lips.

"Good point," he said. "I don't want to start being sober at my time of life." He looked around. "How do we usually test stuff?"

"Generally we ask for student volunteers," said the Dean.

"What happens if we don't get any?"

"We give it to them anyway."

"Isn't that a bit unethical?"

"Not if we don't tell them, Archchancellor."

"Ah, good point."

"I'll try it," the oh G.o.d mumbled.

"Something these clo-gentlemen have cooked up?" said Susan. "It might kill you!"

"You've never had had a hangover, I expect," said the oh G.o.d. "Otherwise you wouldn't talk such rot." a hangover, I expect," said the oh G.o.d. "Otherwise you wouldn't talk such rot."

He staggered up to the beaker, managed to grip it on the second go, and drank the lot.

"There'll be fireworks now," said the raven, from Susan's shoulder. "Flames coming out of the mouth, screams, clutching at the throat, lying down under the cold tap, that sort of thing-"

Death found, to his amazement, that dealing with the queue was very enjoyable. Hardly anyone had ever been pleased to see him before.

NEXT! AND WHAT'S YOUR NAME, LITTLE...He hesitated, but rallied, and continued...PERSON?

"n.o.bby n.o.bbs, Hogfather," said n.o.bby. Was it him, or was this knee he was sitting on a lot bonier than it should be? His b.u.t.tocks argued with his brain, and were sat on.

AND HAVE YOU BEEN A GOOD BO...A GOOD DWA...A GOOD GNO...A GOOD INDIVIDUAL?

And suddenly n.o.bby found he had no control at all of his tongue. Of its own accord, gripped by a terrible compulsion, it said: "'s."

He struggled for self-possession as the great voice went on: SO I I EXPECT YOU'LL WANT A PRESENT FOR A GOOD MON...A GOOD HUM...A GOOD MALE EXPECT YOU'LL WANT A PRESENT FOR A GOOD MON...A GOOD HUM...A GOOD MALE?

Aha, got you bang to rights, you'll be coming along with me me, my old chummy, I bet you don't remember the cellar at the back of the shoelace maker's in Old Cobblers, eh, all those Hogswatch mornings with a little hole in my world, eh?

The words rose in n.o.bby's throat but were overridden by something ancient before they reached his voice box, and to his amazement were translated into: "'s."

SOMETHING NICE?.

"'s."

There was hardly anything left of n.o.bby's conscious will now. The world consisted of nothing but his naked soul and the Hogfather, who filled the universe.