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“This is really boring,” said Eric.
“That's the point,” said Rincewind.
“We shouldn't be lurking here, we should be trying to find a way out!” “Well, yes, but there isn't one.” “There is, in fact,” said a voice behind Rincewind. It was the voice of someone who had seen it all and hadn't liked any of it very much. “Lavaeolus?” said Rincewind. His ancestor was right behind them. “`You'll get home all right,`” said Lavaeolus bitterly. "Your very words. Huh. Ten years of one damn thing after another. You might have told a chap.“ ”Er,“ said Eric. ”We didn't want to upset the course of history.“ ”You didn't want to upset the course of history," said Lavaeolus slowly. He stared down at the woodwork of the treadmill. “Oh. Good. That makes it all right. I feel a lot better for knowing that. Speaking as the course of history, I'd like to say thank you very much.” “Excuse me,” said Rincewind. “Yes?” “You said there's another way out?” “Oh, yes. A back way.” “Where is it?” Lavaeolus stopped treadling for a moment and pointed across the misty hollow. “See that arch over there?” Rincewind peered into the distance. “Just about,” he said. “Is that it?”
“Yes. A long steep climb. Don't know where it comes out, though.”
“How did you find out about it?”
Lavaeolus shrugged. “I asked a demon,” he said. “There's always an easier way of doing everything, you know.” “It'd take forever to get there,” said Eric. “It's right on the other side, we'd never make it.” Rincewind nodded, and glumly continued the endless walk. After a few minutes he said:
“Has it struck you we seem to be going faster?” Eric turned around. The Luggage had stepped aboard and was trying to catch up with them.
Astfgl stood in front of his mirror. “Show me what they can see,” he commanded. Yes, master. Astfgl inspected the whirring image for a moment. “Tell me what this means,” he said. I'm just a mirror, master. What do I know? Astfgl growled. “And I'm Lord of Hades,” he said, gesturing with his trident. "And I'm prepared to risk another seven years' bad luck.“ The mirror considered the available options. I might be able to hear some creaking, lord, it ventured. ”And?" I smell smoke.
"No smoke. I specifically banned all open fires. A very old-fashioned concept. It gave
the place a bad name."
Nevertheless, master.
“Show me... Hades.”
The mirror gave of its best. The King was just in time to see the treadwheel, its bearings glowing red hot, crash down from its mountings and roll, as deceptively slowly as an avalanche, across the country of the damned.
Rincewind hung from the pushbar, watching the rungs whirr past at a speed that would have burned the soles off his sandals if he'd been foolish enough to let his feet down. The dead, however, were taking it all with the cheerful aplomb of those who know that the worst has already happened to them. Cries of “Pass the candyfloss,” drifted down. He heard Lavaeolus commending the wheel's splendid traction and explaining to da Quirm how, if you had a vehicle which put down its road in front of it, just like the Luggage was in fact doing, and then you covered it with armour, then wars would be less bloody, over in half the time and everyone could spend even longer going home.
The Luggage made no comment at all. It could see its master hanging a few feet away, and just kept going. It may have occurred to it that the journey was taking some time, but that was Time's problem. And so, flinging out the occasional screaming soul, bumping and gyrating and crushing the occasional luckless demon, the wheel bowled on.
It smashed against the opposite cliff.
Lord Vassenego smiled.
“Now,” he said, “it is time.”
The other senior demons looked a bit shifty. They were, of course, steeped in evil, and Astfgl was definitely Not One Of Us and the most revolting little oik ever to oil his way into the post...
But... well, this... perhaps there were some things that were too...
“`Learn from the ways of humans`,” mimicked Vassenego. “He bade me learn from humans. Me! The impudence! The arrogance! But I watched, oh, yes. I learned. I planned.”
The look on his face was unspeakable. Even the lords of the nethermost circles, who gloried in villainy, had to turn their heads.
Duke Drazometh the Putrid raised a hesitant talon.
“But if he even suspects,” he said, “I mean, he has a foul temper on him. Those memos -” He shuddered.
“But what are we doing?” Vassenego spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. “Where is the harm in it? Brothers, I ask you: where is the harm?”
His fingers curled. The knuckles shone white under the thin, blue-veined skin as he surveyed the doubting faces.
“Or would you rather receive another statement of policy?” he said.
Expressions twitched as the lords made up their minds like a row of dominoes falling over. There were some things on which even they were united. No more policy statements, no more consultative documents, no more morale-boosting messages to all staff. This was Hell, but you had to draw the line somewhere.
Earl Beezlemoth rubbed one of his three noses. “And humans somewhere thought this up all by themselves?” he said. “We didn't give them any you know, hints?”
Vassenego shook his head.
