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'It's just a list of the things we've got to discuss. It's very simple, I'm sorry if you feel that—'
'We've never needed one before!'
'I think perhaps you have needed one, you just haven't used one,' said Trymon, his voice resonant with reasonableness.
Wert hesitated. 'Well, all right,' he said sullenly, looking around the table for support, 'but what's this here where it says—' he peered closely at the writing – ' “Successor to Greyhald Spold”. It's going to be old Rhunlet Yard, isn't it? He's been waiting for years.'
'Yes, but is he sound?' said Trymon.
'What?'
I'm sure we all realise the importance of proper leadership,' said Trymon. 'Now, Vard is – well, worthy, of course, in his way, but —'
'It's not our business,' said one of the other wizards.
'No, but it could be,' said Trymon.
There was silence.
'Interfere with the affairs of another order?' said Wert.
'Of course not,' said Trymon. 'I merely suggest that we could offer . . . advice. But let us discuss this later . . .'
The wizards had never heard of the words 'power base', otherwise Trymon would never have been able to get away with all this. But the plain fact was that helping others to achieve power, even to strengthen your own hand, was quite alien to them. As far as they were concerned, every wizard stood alone. Never mind about hostile paranormal entities, an ambitious wizard had quite enough to do fighting his enemies in his own Order.
'I think we should now consider the matter of Rincewind,' said Trymon.
'And the star,' said Wert. 'People are noticing, you know.'
'Yes, they say we should be doing something,' said Lumuel Panter, of the Order of Midnight. 'What, I should like to know?'
'Oh, that's easy,' said Wert. They say we should read the Octavo. That's what they always say. Crops bad? Read the Octavo. Cows ill? Read the Octavo. The Spells will make everything all right.'
'There could be something in that,' said Trymon. 'My, er, late predecessor made quite study of the Octavo.'
'We all have,' said Panter, sharply, 'but what's the use? The Eight Spells have to work together. Oh, I agree, if all else fails maybe we should risk it, but the Eight have to be said together or not at all – and one of them is inside this Rincewind's head.'
'And we cannot find him,' said Trymon. That is the case, isn't it? I'm sure we've all tried, privately.'
The wizards looked at one another, embarrassed. Eventually Wert said. 'Yes. All right. Cards on the table. I an't seem to locate him.'
'I've tried scrying,' said another. 'Nothing.'
'I've sent familiars,' said a third. The others sat up. If confessing failure was the order of the day, then they were damn well going to make it clear that they had failed heroically.
'Is that all? I've sent demons.'
'I've looked into the Mirror of Oversight.'
'Last night I sought him out in the Runes of M'haw.'
'I'd like to make it clear that I tried both the Runes and the Mirror and the entrails of a manicreach.'
'I've spoken to the beasts of the field and the birds of the Air.'
'Any good?'
'Nah.'
