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be all kinds of wars and monsters and stuff. Most of history is pretty appalling, when
you look hard at it. Or even not very hard.“ ”But what I meant was, I just wanted to go on living for ever from now,“ said Eric frantically. ”I mean, from then. I mean, look at this place. No girls. No people. Nothing to do on Saturday nights..."
“It won't even have any Saturday nights for thousands of years,” said Rincewind. “Just nights.” “You must take me back at once,” said Eric. “I order it. Avaunt!” “You say that one more time and I will give you a thick ear,” said Rincewind. “But all you have to do is snap your fingers!” “It won't work. You've had your three wishes. Sorry.”
“What shall I do?” “Well, if you see anything crawl out of the sea and try to breathe, you could try telling it not to bother.”
“You think this is funny, don't you?” “It is rather amusing, since you mention it,” said Rincewind, his face expressionless. “The joke's going to be wearing pretty thin over the years, then,” said Eric.
“What?”
“Well, you're not going to go anywhere, are you? You'll have to stay with me.”
“Nonsense, I'll - ” Rincewind looked around desperately. I'll what? He thought.
The waves rolled peacefully up the beach, not very strongly at the moment because they were still feeling their way. The first high tide was coming in, cautiously. There was no tideline, no streaky line of old seaweed and shells to give it some idea of what was expected of it. The air had the clean, fresh smell of air that has yet to know the effusions of a forest floor or the ins and outs of a ruminant's digestive system.
Rincewind had grown up in Ankh-Morpork. He liked air that had been around a bit, had got to know people, had been lived in.
“We've got to get back,” he said urgently.
“That's what I've been saying,” said Eric, with strained patience.
Rincewind took another bite of the sandwich. He'd looked death in the face many times, or more precisely Death had looked him in the back of his rapidly-retreating head many times, and suddenly the prospect of living forever didn't appeal. There were of course great questions he might learn the answer to, such as how life evolved and all the rest of it, but looked at as a way of spending all your spare time for the next infinity it wasn't a patch on a quiet evening strolling through the streets of Ankh.
Still, he'd acquired an ancestor. That was something. Not everyone had an ancestor. What would his ancestor have done in a situation like this?
He wouldn't have been here.
Well, yes, of course, but apart from that, he would have - he would have used his fine military mind to consider the tools available, that's what he would have done.
He had: item, one half-eaten egg and cress sandwich. No help there. He threw it away.
He had: item, himself. He drew a tick in the sand. He wasn't certain what use he could be, but he could come back to that later.
He had: item, Eric. Thirteen-year-old demonologist and acne attack ground zero.
That seemed to be about it.
He stared at the clean, fresh sand for a while, doodling in it.
Then he said, quietly: “Eric. Come here a moment...”
The waves were a lot stronger now. They had really got the hang of the tide thing, and were venturing a little ebb and flow.
Astfgl materialised in a puff of blue smoke.
“Aha!” he said, but this fell rather flat because there was no-one to hear it.
He looked down. There were footprints in the sand. Hundreds of them. They ran backwards and forwards, as if something had been frantically searching, and then vanished.
He leaned nearer. It was hard to make out, what with all the footprints and the effects of the wind and the tide, but just on the edge of the encroaching surf were the unmistakable signs of a magic circle.
Astfgl said a swearword that fused the sand around him into glass, and vanished.
The tide got on with things. Further down the beach the last surge poured into a hollow in the rocks, and the new sun beamed down on the soaking remains of a half-eaten egg and cress sandwich. Tidal action turned it over. Thousands of bacteria suddenly found themselves in the midst of a taste explosion, and started to breed like mad.
If only there had been some mayonnaise, life might have turned out a whole lot different. More piquant, and perhaps with a little extra cream in it.
