"Phooey?"

"Right."

"Shall we run away again?"

"It's worth a try."

They made it to another upright wall a few seconds before a randomly spitting ball of yellow fire landed where they had been lying and turned the ground into something awful. The whole area around the tower was a tornado of sparkling air.

"We need a plan," said Nijel.

"We could try running again," said Rincewind.

"That doesn't solve anything!"

"Solves most things," said Rincewind.

"How far do we have to go to be safe?" said Conina.

Rincewind risked a look around the wall.

"Interesting philosophical question," he said. "I've been a long way, and I've never been safe."

Conina sighed and stared at a pile of rubble nearby. She stared at it again. There was something odd there, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"I could rush at them," said Nijel, vaguely. He stared yearningly at Conina's back.

"Wouldn't work," said Rincewind. "Nothing works against magic. Except stronger magic. And then the only thing that beats stronger magic is even stronger magic. And next thing you know..."

"Phooey?" suggested Nijel.

"It happened before," said Rincewind. "Went on for thousands of years until not a-"

"Do you know what's odd about that heap of stone?" said Conina.

Rincewind glanced at it. He screwed up his eyes.

"What, apart from the legs?" he said.

It took several minutes to dig the Seriph out. He was still clutching a wine bottle, which was almost empty, and blinked at them all in vague recognition.

"Powerful," he said, and then after some effort added, "stuff, this vintage. Felt," he continued, "as though the place fell on me."

"It did," said Rincewind.

"Ah. That would be it, then." Creosote focused on Conina, after several attempts, and rocked backwards. "My word," he said, "the young lady again. Very impressive."

"I say-" Nijel began.

"Your hair," said the Seriph, rocking slowly forward again, "is like, is like a flock of goats that graze upon the side of Mount Gebra."

"Look here-"

"Your b.r.e.a.s.t.s are like, like," the Seriph swayed sideways a little, and gave a brief, sorrowful glance at the empty bottle, "are like the jewelled melons in the fabled gardens of dawn."

Conina's eyes widened. "They are?" she said.

"No," said the Seriph, "doubt about it. I know jewelled melons when I see them. As the white does in the meadows of the water margin are your thighs, which-"

"Erm, excuse me-" said Nijel, clearing his throat with malice aforethought.

Creosote swayed in his direction.

"Hmm?" he said.

"Where I come from," said Nijel stonily, "we don't talk to ladies like that."

Conina sighed as Nijel shuffled protectively in front of her. It was, she reflected, absolutely true.

"In fact," he went on, sticking out his jaw as far as possible, which still made it appear like a dimple, "I've a jolly good mind-"

"Open to debate," said Rincewind, stepping forward. "Er, sir, sire, we need to get out. I suppose you wouldn't know the way?"

"Thousands of rooms," said the Seriph, "in here, you know. Not been out in years." He hiccuped. "Decades. Ians. Never been out, in fact." His face glazed over in the act of composition. "The bird of Time has but, um, a little way to walk and lo! the bird is on its feet."

"It's a geas," muttered Rincewind.

Creosote swayed at him. "Abrim does all the ruling, you see. Terrible hard work."

"He's not," said Rincewind, "making a very good job of it just at present."

"And we'd sort of like to get away," said Conina, who was still turning over the phrase about the goats.

"And I've got this geas," said Nijel, glaring at Rincewind.

Creosote patted him on the arm.

"That's nice," he said. "Everyone should have a pet.

"So if you happen to know if you own any stables or anything..." prompted Rincewind.

"Hundreds," said Creosote. "I own some of the finest, most...finest horses in the world." His brow wrinkled. "So they tell me."

"But you wouldn't happen to know where they are?"

"Not as such," the Seriph admitted. A random spray of magic turned the nearby wall into a.r.s.enic meringue.

"I think we might have been better off in the snake pit," said Rincewind, turning away.

Creosote took another sorrowful glance at his empty wine bottle.

"I know where there's a magic carpet," he said.

"No," said Rincewind, raising his hands protectively. "Absolutely not. Don't even-"

"It belonged to my grandfather-"

"A real magic carpet?" said Nijel.

"Listen," said Rincewind urgently. "I get vertigo just listening to tall stories."

"Oh, quite," the Seriph burped gently, "genuine. Very pretty pattern." He squinted at the bottle again, and sighed. "It was a lovely blue color," he added.

"And you wouldn't happen to know where it is?" said Conina slowly, in the manner of one creeping up very carefully to a wild animal that might take fright at any moment.

"In the treasury. I know the way there there. I'm extremely rich, you know. Or so they tell me." He lowered his voice and tried to wink at Conina, eventually managing it with both eyes. "We could sit on it," he said, breaking into a sweat. "And you could tell me a story..."

Rincewind tried to scream through gritted teeth.

His ankles were already beginning to sweat.

"I'm not going to ride on a magic carpet!" he hissed. "I'm afraid of grounds!"

"You mean heights," said Conina. "And stop being silly."

"I know what I mean! It's the grounds that kill you!"

The battle of Al Khali was a hammer-headed cloud, in whose roiling depths weird shapes could be heard and strange sounds were seen. Occasional misses seared across the city. Where they landed things were...different.

For example, a large part of the soak soak had turned into an impenetrable forest of giant yellow mushrooms. No one knew what effect this had on its inhabitants, although possibly they hadn't noticed. had turned into an impenetrable forest of giant yellow mushrooms. No one knew what effect this had on its inhabitants, although possibly they hadn't noticed.

The temple of Offler the Crocodile G.o.d, patron deity of the city, was now a rather ugly sugary thing constructed in five dimensions. But this was no problem because it was being eaten by a herd of giant ants.

On the other hand, not many people were left to appreciate this statement against uncontrolled civic alteration, because most of them were running for their lives. They fled across the fertile fields in a steady stream. Some had taken to boats, but this method of escape had ceased when most of the harbor area turned into a swamp in which, for no obvious reason, a couple of small pink elephants were building a nest.

Down below the panic on the roads the Luggage paddled slowly up one of the reed-lined drainage ditches. A little way ahead of it a moving wave of small alligators, rats and snapping turtles was pouring out of the water and scrambling frantically up the bank, propelled by some vague but absolutely accurate animal instinct.

The Luggage's lid was set in an expression of grim determination. It didn't want much out of the world, except for the total extinction of every other lifeform, but what it needed more than anything else now was its owner.

It was easy to see that the room was a treasury by its incredible emptiness. Doors hung off hooks. Barred alcoves had been smashed in. Lots of smashed chests lay around, and this gave Rincewind a pang of guilt and he wondered, for about two seconds, where the Luggage had got to.

There was a respectful silence, as there always is when large sums of money have just pa.s.sed away. Nijel wandered off and prodded some of the chests in a forlorn search for secret drawers, as per the instructions in Chapter Eleven.

Conina reached down and picked up a small copper coin.

"How horrible," said Rincewind eventually. "A treasury with no treasure in it."

The seriph stood and beamed. "Not to worry," he said.

"But all your money has been stolen!" said Conina.

"The servants, I expect," said Creosote. "Very disloyal of them."

Rincewind gave him an odd look. "Doesn't it worry you?"

"Not much. I never really spent anything. I've often wondered what being poor was like."

"You're going to get a huge opportunity to find out."

"Will I need training?"

"It comes naturally," said Rincewind. "You pick it up as you go along." There was a distant explosion and part of the ceiling turned to jelly.

"Erm, excuse me," said Nijel, "this carpet..."

"Yes," said Conina, "the carpet."

Creosote gave them a benevolent, slightly tipsy smile.

"Ah, yes. The carpet. Push the nose of the statue behind you, peach-b.u.t.tocked jewel of the desert dawn."

Conina, blushing, performed this act of minor sacrilege on a large green statue of Offler the Crocodile G.o.d.

Nothing happened. Secret compartments a.s.siduously failed to open.

"Um. Try the left hand."

She gave it an experimental twist. Creosote scratched his head.

"Maybe it was the right hand..."

"I should try and remember, if I were you," said Conina sharply, when that didn't work either. "There aren't many bits left that I'd care to pull."

"What's that thing there?" said Rincewind.

"You're really going to hear about it if it isn't the tail," said Conina, and gave it a kick.

There was a distant metallic groaning noise, like a saucepan in pain. The statue shuddered. It was followed by a few heavy clonks somewhere inside the wall, and Offler the Crocodile G.o.d grated ponderously aside. There was a tunnel behind him.

"My grandfather had this built for our more interesting treasure," said Creosote. "He was very"-he groped for a word-"ingenious."