Hogfather - Terry Pratchett [51]
His eyes shut, and he slid down to the floor.
“What was all that about?” said Ridcully.
“I think it was some kind of nervous reaction,” said Susan diplomatically. “Something nasty’s happening tonight. I’m hoping he can tell me what it is. But he’s got to be able to think straight first.”
“And you brought him here?” said Ridcully.
HO. HO. HO. YES INDEED, HELLO, SMALL CHILD CALLED VERRUCA LUMPY, WHAT A LOVELY NAME, AGED SEVEN, I BELIEVE? GOOD. YES, I KNOW IT DID. ALL OVER THE NICE CLEAN FLOOR, YES. THEY DO, YOU KNOW. THAT’S ONE OF THE THINGS ABOUT REAL PIGS. HERE WE ARE, DON’T MENTION IT. HAPPY HOGSWATCH AND BE GOOD. I WILL KNOW IF YOU’RE GOOD OR BAD, YOU KNOW. HO. HO. HO.
“Well, you brought some magic into that little life,” said Albert, as the next child was hurried away.
IT’S THE EXPRESSION ON THEIR LITTLE FACES I LIKE, said the Hogfather.
“You mean sort of fear and awe and not knowing whether to laugh or cry or wet their pants?”
YES. NOW THAT IS WHAT I CALL BELIEF.
The oh god was carried into the Great Hall and laid out on a bench. The senior wizards gathered round, ready to help those less fortunate than themselves remain that way.
“I know what’s good for a hangover,” said the Dean, who was feeling in a party mood.
They looked at him expectantly.
“Drinking heavily the previous night!” he said.
He beamed at them.
“That was a good word joke,” he said, to break the silence.
The silence came back.
“Most amusing,” said Ridcully. He turned back and stared thoughtfully at the oh god.
“Raw eggs are said to be good—” he glared at the Dean “—I mean bad for a hangover,” he said. “And fresh orange juice.”
“Klatchian coffee,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, firmly.
“But this fellow hasn’t just got his hangover, he’s got everyone’s hangover,” said Ridcully.
“I’ve tried it,” mumbled the oh god. “It just makes me feel suicidal and sick.”
“A mixture of mustard and horseradish?” said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. “In cream, for preference. With anchovies.”
“Yogurt,” said the Bursar.
Ridcully looked at him, surprised.
“That sounded almost relevant,” he said. “Well done. I should leave it at that if I were you, Bursar. Hmm. Of course, my uncle always used to swear at Wow-Wow Sauce,” he added.
“You mean swear by, surely?” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
“Possibly both,” said Ridcully. “I know he once drank a whole bottle of it as a hangover cure and it certainly seemed to cure him. He looked very peaceful when they came to lay him out.”
“Willow bark,” said the Bursar.
“That’s a good idea,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. “It’s an analgesic.”
“Really? Well, possibly, though it’s probably better to give it to him by mouth,” said Ridcully. “I say, are you feeling yourself, Bursar? You seem somewhat coherent.”
The oh god opened his crusted eyes.
“Will all that stuff help?” he mumbled.
“It’ll probably kill you,” said Susan.
“Oh. Good.”
“We could add Englebert’s Enhancer,” said the Dean. “Remember when Modo put some on his peas? We could only manage one each!”
“Can’t you do something more, well, magical?” said Susan. “Magic the alcohol out of him or something?”
“Yes, but it’s not alcohol by this time, is it?” said Ridcully. “It’ll have turned into a lot of nasty little poisons all dancin’ round on his liver.”
“Spold’s Unstirring Divisor would do it,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. “Very simply, too. You’d end up with a large beaker full of all the nastiness. Not difficult at all, if you don’t mind the side effects.”
“Tell me about the side effects,” said Susan, who had met wizards before.
“The main one is that the rest of him would end up in a somewhat larger beaker,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
“Alive?”
The Lecturer in Recent Runes screwed up his face and waggled his hands. “Broadly, yes,” he said. “Living tissue, certainly. And definitely sober.”
“I think we had in mind something that would leave him the same shape and still breathing,” said Susan.
“Well, you might’ve said…”
Then the Dean repeated the mantra that has had such a marked effect on the progress of knowledge