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'Is there anything we can get you?' said Twoflower anxiously.
'You could try getting us out.'
'Could we pick the lock?' said Bethan.
'No use,' said Rincewind. 'Totally thief-proof.'
'I expect Cohen would have been able to,' said Bethan loyally. 'Wherever he's got to.'
'The Luggage would soon smash it down,' agreed Twoflower.
'Well, that's it then,' said Bethan. 'Let's get out into the fresh air. Fresher air, anyway.' She turned to walk away.
'Hang on, hang on,' said Rincewind. That's just typical, isn't it? Old Rincewind won't have any ideas, will he? Oh, no, he's just a makeweight, he is. Kick him as you pass. Don't rely on him, he's —'
'All right,' said Bethan. 'Let's hear it, then.'
'— a nonentity, a failure, just a – what?'
'How are you going to get the door open?' said Bethan.
Rincewind looked at her with his mouth open. Then he looked at the door. It really was very solid, and the lock had a smug air.
But he had got in, once, long ago. Rincewind the student had pushed at the door and it had swung open, and then a moment later the Spell had jumped into his mind and ruined his life.
'Look,' said a voice from behind the grille, as kindly as it could manage. 'Just go and find us a wizard, there's a good fellow.'
Rincewind took a deep breath.
'Stand back,' he rasped.
'What?'
'Find something to hide behind,' he barked, with his voice shaking only slightly. 'You too,' he said to Bethan and Twoflower.
'But you can't —'
'I mean it!'
'He means it,' said Twoflower. 'That little vein on the side of his forehead, you know, when it throbs like that, well —'
'Shut up!'
Rincewind raised one arm uncertainly and pointed it at the door.
There was total silence.
Oh gods, he thought, what happens now?
In the blackness at the back of his mind the Spell shifted uneasily.
Rincewind tried to get in tune or whatever with the metal of the lock. If he could sow discord amongst its atoms so that they flew apart —
Nothing happened.
He swallowed hard, and turned his attention to the wood. It was old and nearly fossilised, and probably wouldn't burn even if soaked in oil and dropped into a furnace. He tried anyway, explaining to the ancient molecules that they should try to jump up and down to keep warm —
In the strained silence of his own mind he glared at the Spell, which looked very sheepish.
