The Last Continent - Terry Pratchett [23]
He pulled out the remains of a small notebook. It was standard UU issue. Ridcully would never let anyone have a new one until they’d filled up every page on both sides.
“It was just lying there,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. “I’m afraid ants have been eating it.”
Ridcully flicked it open and read the first page. “‘Some interesting observations on Mono Island,’” he said. “‘A most singular place.’”
He flicked through the rest of the book. “Just a list of plants and fishes,” he said. “Doesn’t look all that special to me, but then I ain’t a geography man. Why’s he callin’ it Mono Island?”
“It means One Island,” said Ponder.
“Well, you’ve just told me it is one island,” said Ridcully. “Anyway, I can see several more out there. Severe lack of imagination, I suggest.” He tucked the notebook into his robe. “Right, then. No sign of the chap himself?”
“Strangely, no.”
“Probably went swimming and was eaten by a pineapple,” said Ridcully. “How’s the Librarian doing, Mister Stibbons? Comfortable, is he?”
“You should know, sir,” said Ponder. “You’ve been sitting on him for three-quarters of an hour.”
Ridcully looked down at the deckchair. It was covered with red fur. “This is—?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I thought perhaps our geography man had brought it with him.”
“Not, er, with the black toenails, sir.”
Ridcully peered further. “Should I get up, do you think?”
“Well, he is a deckchair, sir. So being sat on is a perfectly normal activity for him, I suppose.”
“We must find a cure, Stibbons. This is too strange—”
“Coo-ee, gentlemen!”
There was activity in front of the window. It centered around a vision in pink, although admittedly the sort of vision associated with the more erratic kind of hallucinogen.
In theory there is no dignified way for a lady of a certain age to climb through a window, but nevertheless this one was attempting it. In fact she moved with more than dignity, which is something that is given away free with kings and bishops; what she had was respectability, which is homemade out of cast iron. However, at some point she would have to show a bit of ankle, and she was wedged awkwardly on the sill while trying to prevent this from happening.
The Senior Wrangler coughed. If he had been wearing a tie he would have straightened it.
“Ah,” said Ridcully. “The inestimable Mrs. Whitlow. Someone go and give her a hand, Stibbons.”
“I’ll help,” said the Senior Wrangler, just a little faster than he meant.*
The University’s housekeeper turned and spoke to someone unseen beyond the window and then turned back, her shouting-at-subordinates expression briefly visible before it was eclipsed by her much sunnier talking-to-wizards one.
The Chair of Indefinite Studies had once upset the Senior Wrangler by saying that the housekeeper had a face full of chins, but there was a glossiness about her that put some people in mind of a candle that had been kept in the warm for too long. There wasn’t anything approaching a straight line anywhere on Mrs. Whitlow, until she found that something hadn’t been dusted properly, when you could use her lips as a ruler.
Most of the Faculty walked in dread of her. She had strange powers that they couldn’t quite get a grip on, like the ability to get the beds made and the windows washed. A wizard who could wield a staff crackling with power against dreadful monsters from some ghastly region was nevertheless quite capable of picking up a feather duster by the wrong end and seriously injuring himself with it. At Mrs. Whitlow’s whim people’s clothes got washed and socks got darned.* If anyone annoyed her, they found their study spring-cleaned more often than was good for them, and since to a wizard his room is as personal an item as his trouser pockets this was a terrible vengeance.
“Ai just thought you gentlemen would like a morning snack,” she said, as the wizards helped her down. “So Ai took the liberty of getting the gels to put together a cold collation. Ai’ll just go and fetch it…”
The Archchancellor stood up hastily. “Well done, Mrs. Whitlow.”
“Er…a morning snack?” said the Senior Wrangler.