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'Fraid so.'
'I'll help you pack.'
And the night wears on, under a blanket of lowering clouds which covers most of the Disc – which is fortuitous, because when it clears and the astrologers get a good view of the sky they are going to get angry and upset.
And in various parts of the forest parties of wizards are getting lost, and going around in circles, and hiding from each other, and getting upset because whenever they bump into a tree it apologises to them. But, unsteadily though it may be, many of them are getting quite close to the cottage . . .
Which is a good time to get back to the rambling buildings of Unseen University and in particular the apartments of Greyhald Spold, currently the oldest wizard on the Disc and determined to keep it that way.
He has just been extremely surprised and upset.
For the last few hours he has been very busy. He may be deaf and a little hard of thinking, but elderly wizards have very well-trained survival instincts, and they know that when a tall figure in a black robe and the latest in agricultural handtools starts looking thoughtfully at you it is time to act fast. The servants have been dismissed. The doorways have been sealed with a paste made from powdered mayflies, and protective octograms have been drawn on the windows. Rare and rather smelly oils have been poured in complex patterns on the floor, in designs which hurt the eyes and suggest the designer was drunk or from some other dimension or, possibly, both; in the very centre of the room is the eightfold octogram of Witholding, surrounded by red and green candles. And in the centre of that is a box made from wood of the curly-fern pine, which grows to a great age, and it is lined with red silk and yet more protective amulets. Because Greyhald Spold knows that Death is looking for him, and has spent many years designing an impregnable hiding place.
He has just set the complicated clockwork of the lock and shut the lid, lying back in the knowledge that here at last is the perfect defence against the most ultimate of all his enemies, although as yet he has not considered the important part that airholes must play in an enterprise of this kind.
And right beside him, very close to his ear, a voice has just said: DARK IN HERE, ISN'T IT?
It began to snow. The barleysugar windows of the cottage showed bright and cheerful against the blackness.
At one side of the clearing three tiny red points of light-glowed momentarily and there was the sound of a chesty cough, abruptly silenced.
'Shut up!' hissed a third rank wizard. They'll hear us!'
'Who will? We gave the lads from the Brotherhood of the Hoodwink the slip in the swamp, and those idiots from the Venerable Council of Seers went off the wrong way anyway.'
'Yeah,' said the most junior wizard, 'but who keeps talking to us? They say this is a magic wood, it's full of goblins and wolves and —'
'Trees,' said a voice out of the darkness, high above. It possessed what can only be described as timbre.
'Yeah,' said the youngest wizard. He sucked on his dogend, and shivered.
The leader of the party peered over the rock and watched the cottage.
'Right then,' he said, knocking out his pipe on the heel of his seven league boot, who squeaked in protest. 'We rush in, we grab them, we're away. Okay?'
'You sure it's just people?' said the youngest wizard, nervously.
'Of course I'm sure,' snarled the leader. 'What do you expect, three bears?'
'There could be monsters. This is the sort of wood that 45 has monsters.'
'And trees,' said a friendly voice from the branches. 'Yeah,' said the leader, cautiously.
Rincewind looked carefully at the bed. It was quite a nice little bed, in a sort of hard toffee inlaid with caramel, but he'd rather eat it than sleep in it and it looked as though someone already had.
'Someone's been eating my bed,' he said.
'I like toffee,' said Twoflower defensively.
'If you don't watch out the fairy will come and take all your teeth away,' said Rincewind.
'No, that's elves,' said Swires from the dressing table. 'Elves do that. Toenails, too. Very touchy at times, elves can be.'
Twoflower sat down heavily on his bed.
'You've got it wrong,' he said. 'Elves are noble and beautiful and wise and fair; I'm sure I read that somewhere.'
Swires and Rincewind's kneecap exchanged glances.
