Enchantress

Once across the drawbridge the visitors were greeted with the scent of piping hot polenta. The scalding hot paste made of cornmeal, a staple of the diet of the lower classes, was poured down onto unwelcome or unruly guests through murder holes in the ceiling of the portcullis where it would stick to the skin of the malefactors causing severe and extremely painful burns. At the same time, it allowed the Patrician to claim that he was merely providing a hot lunch to his guests.

The graduation attendees may get a glimpse of the park through ranks of guards that lined their route to the ceremony area. Someone who was tall enough to see over the guard's shoulders would have seen the park filled with tree lined paths, singing flower gardens, laughing fountains, decorative waterfalls, overelaborate lawns, ornate bridges over babbling brooks streaming with actual water {a rare and expensive commodity in Ankh-Morpork}, and rose covered pavilions perfect for a romantic tête-à-tête.

A stage was set up for the ceremony and it was filled with the faculty of the Unseen University, and also with local celebrities, such as Stench Reinhart, the Patrician's executive assistant for mundane appearances, Lady Sybil Vimes and her husband Samuel Vimes, the Duke of Ankh, Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson commander of the city watch and his wife Angua Ironfoundersson. Captain Carrot is the tallest dwarf in history, being a human raised by dwarves, and his wife Angua is a housebroken werewolf.

A flyover by the Sunshine Sanctuary for Sick Dragons Precision Flight Team of seven well trained swamp dragons streaming black and blue smoke {the official colors of the City of Ankh-Morpork} entertained the attendees. Swamp Dragons, Draco Vulgaris which means "common dragon," are small, about the size of the average beagle, and the duchess, Lady Sybil Vimes, spends her free time caring for abandoned swamp dragons. Her husband Sam, the Duke of Ankh, has a small dragon perched on his shoulder as a handy cigar lighter. Unfortunately, regardless of how cute they are, swamp dragons actually make horrible pets mostly due to their habit of exploding without warning. Swamp dragons are difficult to house break, but they can be litter box trained, just be sure to use non-flammable litter.

With the flyover completed without loss of life the ceremony was set to begin. Meanwhile in his palace the Patrician, Havelock Vetinari, looked out from his balcony where the park blocks his view of the city of Ankh-Morpork {by design}. He noticed that there was a notable person missing from the faculty. A faculty member that never misses a party.

"Mister Handletyre, do you see anyone missing from the dais?"

The Patrician's social secretary, Tredwell Handletyre, pulled a brass and crystal monocular out of his frock coat and studied the stage as Havelock sat at his desk. "All that is missing, that I can see, is the monkey."

"Now, now," said Vetinari wagging a finger without looking up from a report, "somehow those inept magicians have accumulated a collection of the most powerful books of magic in the multiverse. Their librarian is the only thing keeping that library from exploding in a thaumo-nuclear blast taking us, and everything down to the turtle with it." He muttered under his breath as he folded the report, sealing it with each fold. He dripped wax from a red candle on the last fold, pressed the seal with his ring, then looked up at Handltyre. "We need to find out what the librarian is doing. Handle that for me, will you? And be sure to remember that he is an ape, not a monkey. And drop this off with the Assassination Guild please?"

Tredwell watched the Patrician inscribe the folded report with red ink handling instructions F.H.&K.H. {Find Him & Kill Him} "That is a bit severe for missing a graduation ceremony, is it not?" asked Tredwell.

"Hmm? Oh that. No, that's not for the librarian, that's for Mister Ving."

"Ohy! Of course. I'll get right on it." Mr. Ohy Ving ran a sandwich shop around the corner from the Patrician's palace and earlier this week put mustard on Lord Vetinari's roast beef sandwich instead of horseradish. There are things that just cannot be condoned, like incorrect condiments.

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As Lady Sybil Vimes addressed the graduating students on the need to work together for the good of society {the newly minted wizards thought this was a wonderful bit of comedy crafted to entertain them. They couldn't wait to graduate and get on to the real work of wizarding: large meals, long naps, and creating spells that will never get cast}, back on campus Octavia adjusted her backpack and said, "I've got it all dad, we spent all of last night packing." Octavia had a small backpack that was a cute pink and purple pack barely large enough to hold a change of clothing. Meanwhile, Nick had a backpack that was nearly as big as he was. Admittedly that's not very big as men go, but somehow he and Octavia packed everything they would need in that one pack.

Octavia held up a banana stained parchment with her father's list of things she would need to take with her on the journey. "We got it all, we're ready to go."

"Ook?" asked the worried father.

"Got it!"

"Ook?"

"Got it."

"Ook?"

"Daddy, that was not on the list," scolded Octavia, "and stop laughing at me." She hugged her foster father and realized that he was trying to cheer both of them up.

"Ook," he said sadly.

"Oh daddy, we'll be ok, and I'll be back so soon you will hardly notice that I was gone," she said trying to sound cheerful, but for someone who was raised in L-Space traveling from one library to another, from one time to another slipping back and forth through time as casually as slipping into a new outfit, she looked nervous. She reached out a hand to Nick who took it and she gave him a gentle tug. "Come on honey."

As she urged him on, Nick paused in front of the librarian and said, "Don't worry sir, I'll take good care of your little girl."

The librarian patted him on the shoulder and taking a deep breath he nodded and grinned. "Ook."

"Daddy!" gasped a blushing Octavia. "I can't believe you said that!"

"What? What did he say?" asked Nick as Octavia tugged him through the tall shelves of books that seemed to be sniggering at them.

"Never mind, just come on." Their voices faded into the distance as Octavia led Nick deep into the stacks.

"No really, I want to know..."

Grinning, the librarian knuckled his way back to his desk, he had a stack of books to return to the shelves and they were starting to flap they were so nervous. {Books, especially books in the vicinity of wizards, have an innate fear of being used as a coffee cup holder} He checked the card in the back of each book and divided them into separate piles, defensive astral projection over here, theodicy for financial gain over there... Eventually an eight-year-old girl with long wavy dark hair stepped out of the aisle that Octavia disappeared in less than half an hour ago. The young girl stepped up to the tall desk and looking up the librarian's large flat face softly said, "Excuse me..."

The librarian held a long finger to his prehensile lips. "Shh!"

"Daddy!" pouted the miffed child, but before she could say another word the head of housekeeping, Mrs. Witlow, and several members of the laundry staff sprung out from their hiding places and happily whispered, "Happy First Octet!"

The librarian swung down from his stool and hugged this young vision of his daughter and informed her that there was a party planned for her in the kitchen and urged her to hurry along with an "Ook."

"Ok daddy, but don't take too long," said Octavia as she skipped off to the kitchen with Mrs. Witlow and her staff.

The librarian swung back up on his stool and finished checking in the returned books. He got them settled down on their shelves, happy to be back where they belong, when a small, wiry man dressed in black stepped into the library. "Oy! Monkey boy! Th' Patrician wants t' know why yer not at the graduation ceremony!"

As an Assassins Guild trained "personal secretary" Tredwell Handletyre committed a grievous error when he failed to ensure that he had solid footing and lost precious lead time when his foot slipped on the remains of a banana peel. The last time anyone saw Tredwell Handletyre in a healthy state he was lying face down being dragged backwards into the library, his fingernails gouging the wooden floor and he shrieked, "For the love of the gods, someone please help..." the rest was lost in the sound of screaming and crunching bones.

Several hours later the remains of Tredwell Handletyre came to consciousness and the Patrician saw the swollen eye start to open. "Don't cry, please stop... Gods I hate it when they cry..." when Tredwell's tears stopped flowing and his howls of pain and agony diminished to a pitiful whimpering, the Patrician asked in a soothing voice, "Did you find out why the librarian wasn't there?" Tredwell tried to nod his head, but he found that he was in a metal frame that was bolted to his head and shoulders, it prevented any head movements and was incredibly painful. "Don't try to move your head, just blink once for yes twice for no. Did you find out why the librarian wasn't there?"

Slowly, painfully, the lid covering Tredwell's remaining eye blinked twice.

"And the librarian did all of this to you?" Havelock asked incredulously. This time, a slow, pain filled single blink of his eye. The patrician's greatest fear that the librarian was too ill to attend was in vain, clearly if he was able to do this to one of the best assassins that the guild ever put out, then he was in perfect health. The patrician smiled and chuckled. "Cheeky monkey."

The howls of agony filled the hospital wing of the prison.

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"Ok, the book says: "the blokes are a friendly people in Four Ecks, and they will greet you by saying "G'day mate," and you reply by saying "G'day Bruce."

"Interesting," said Nick. "Then what?"

Octavia flipped the page back and forth then shrugged; the pamphlet titled "How to Speak XXXX Mate!" didn't seem to cover conversational XXXXian. "It's not pronounced Ecks Ecks Ecks Ecks, it's Four Ecks, or as the locals call it for short, Ecksas, and the locals call themselves Ecksans." {DO NOT say Texas without a T, the local ecksans will "crack the shits" and "have a go at you" {{but that is how it's pronounced}}}

As they hiked through the cavernous bookshelves Octavia began to notice a sound following them... it sounded like a brick sliding across a concrete floor coming from behind and above them. "It doesn't say what to say next."

"Then what's a bloke?" asked Nick as he tried to step into Octavia's line of sight.

"It doesn't say that either," she said waving the pamphlet under Nick's chin, "and you're hiding something from me."

"I take offense to that accusation!" said Nick with faux offense as he moved to hide what was behind him from Octavia.

Octavia's expression soon began to soften. "I'm sorry," she whispered as tears slowly filled her huge brown eyes. She stepped up to him, her fingers traced the buttons on his shirt as she sadly whispered, "I just want you to remember that I never wanted to hurt you..." then peaking over his shoulder she said, "... and I'm also taller than you."

"Most people are."

"Nick honey," she whispered softly, her eyes were now gentle, their noses almost touching, her lips came closer and closer to his, "...why is there a gargoyle following us?" She drew back slightly, her face now covered with a smug smile, pleased with herself that she easily fooled him, which allowed her to peek over his shoulder.

"Gula wanted to come with, and I told her it was OK if she could keep up..." and quick as a wink he leaned forward and stole a quick kiss. Now he was the one pleased with himself for drawing her in close enough for a kiss.

Octavia huffed in anger - how dare he steal a kiss from her! And why did he wait so long? And oh yeah, what about the gargoyle... and he called it a she? "Her name is Gula?"

"Yes... isn't she cute?"

Gula was now hanging from a bookshelf posed like a rooftop gargoyle, hanging out as far as she could, her mouth wide open ready to drain rainwater from the bookshelf and siphon off any moss, lichen, or dead animals for a snack. Gula's eyes were fixed on Octavia and Octavia was sure she saw Gula's eyebrow waggle at her. With a sigh Octavia said "Ok, but she has to keep up, we're on a timeline."

"Thank you," said Nick with a happy grin, he was beginning to really like Gula. His reverie was interrupted by an abrupt kiss from Octavia.

"There, we're even. Let's get going," and she led the party of three through the stacks.

"What exactly are we doing?" asked Nick.

"There were eight great spells that created the discworld," explained Octavia, "One caused eight eggs to hatch and now our world is being followed by eight tiny discworlds each on the back of four elephant calves riding on a baby turtle."

"I was told that the world was round, like a ball, spinning through space," said Nick, "and if you could go as far as you want in any direction and you would end up right back where you started."

Octavia tried to hold back her laughter and Gula was making a sound that resembled rocks being dropped into a pile one by one. Octavia finally said, "that sounds so dangerous! Centrifugal force would throw you off into space before you got anywhere."

Nick thought about it and frowned; the roundworld theory did sound pretty silly once you applied science to it. "So, what are we doing?"

"The eight spells created the world and a series of baby worlds, we need to set the baby worlds free, to head out to grow, to hide in the nebula where they can eat and remain safe, or they'll be stuck in their mother's shadows forever, like college freshmen who never advance except we don't have a basement for them to live in.

Nick considered it, and the consequences were too terrible to imagine. Their beautiful world being held in stasis by eight little emotional anchors...

Octavia continued, "Trapped in our wake like this they are a prime target for a planet killer."

It was too horrible to contemplate. "What do we do?" asked Nick.

"We perform the rite of Prose Mino. We have to collect the three parts of the spell from the three university libraries, then we perform the combined spell from Krull. We already have the second part, I copied it down in the Unseen University library. We search in XXXX to get the third part, then we travel to Pseudopolis to get the first part, they should be right there in their university libraries. After that we go to Krull, step out on Tähelepanek Point, cast the spell and Kong's your uncle! The world is saved." {Kong is the Librarian's stepbrother, he's a magnate somewhere.}

"I'm so proud of you," said Nick as he put his arms around Octavia from behind and held her close. She was so warm and so soft with curves in all the right places... he found himself holding her tight, grinding his cock into her ass, and Octavia found herself grinding her ass back at Nick, his hand was so close to her breast... But no! They have a rite to perform, they don't have time for this...

With a sigh Octavia said, "Wait here, I need to check directions, don't go anywhere! If you get lost I have no way of finding you." And with that she disappeared into a side aisle. Nick and Gula looked at each other in confusion, but before the fear of being abandoned set in, Octavia came back, a huge smile of relief on her face. "We're on course," she said happily and tugged Nick onward.

Soon they emerged from the rows of shelves into an area in front of a librarian's desk. The desk had a line of what appeared to be empty beer cans and a couple of glass boxes filled with brightly colored pieces of pasteboard and each box had a sign advertising the Bugarup University lottery. Behind the desk was a series of shelves on a credenza but instead of containing books they had a series of bottles that appeared to be different types of liquor.

A smiling man stood behind the bar, he had a beard like a wizard and robes like a wizard, but his wizard hat was quite different. It came to a point but wasn't nearly as tall as a common wizard's hat, and instead of stars and other mystical symbols, this hat appeared to be decorated with labels peeled off of beer bottles. One side of the wide, flat brim was folded straight upwards and there were corks hanging from strings all around the brim of his hat. The wizard stood behind the desk; he was wiping the desktop with a rag. The oddest thing about him was that he had a smile; wizards in Ankh-Morpork don't smile. {No one does} "G'day mates!" said the wizard cheerfully.

Octavia opened her pamphlet and read out, "G'day Bruce."

"Strewth! That's me, Bruce Dinkum," grinned the Ecksan librarian, he folded back his lapel showing his Master Librarian badge. In response Octavia revealed her Senior Master Librarian badge. Smiling they gave each other the secret Librarian's Salute {the right index finger is held to the lips} "I can tell from your accent you blokes must be from Ankh-Morpork." As for himself, Bruce's accent was so thick you could cut it with a chainsaw; the way he chewed on his vowels made translating his words into language a chore for Octavia.

"He thinks I'm a bloke," whispered Nick with a chuckle, thinking that a bloke was a racial distinction.

Octavia pressed on ignoring Nick's stifled giggling. "I'm Façade Incognito and this is my associate, Porter Strongback. We are doing a paper on Multi-theistic Amphibology and need more info on the Rite of Prose Mino to finish our work."

"Crikey! Keep it down mate!" said Bruce indicating a group of wizards at a table behind him with a jerk of his thumb. "It's London to a brick that the boys will throw a wobbly hearing talk like that, especially coming from a Sheila."

Furiously flipping through her pamphlet Octavia discovered that he said that he was certain that the men behind him sitting at a table covered with empty beer bottles and cans will become upset over something said by a woman. She lowered her voice and said, "I'm sorry that I mentioned the Rite of Prose Mino."

Bruce leaned close and said softly, "Nah, it ain't that, it's the W word. Th' boys ain't here in th' library to work, they're here to avoid work, y'know, ta knock back five or six tallies and whinge about th' pommy freshmen."

This time Octavia didn't try to translate, she was pretty sure this had something to do with beer. In fact, most of the slang in her translation pamphlet had something to do with beer - or vomiting. She handed the pamphlet to Nick who used it to fan the flies away from his face, and said in an equally quiet voice, "I need to find a book... the Tome of Inverse Disambiguation."

Bruce nodded and said, "let me see if it was checked out first," and he took a large wooden box marked "Checked Out" from the credenza covered with bottles of hard liquor behind him, placed it on the desk and opened it up. It was clear to see that there was only one small card inside the box. He inspected the card and said, "Yep, checked out. Bruce has it."

"Bruce?" asked Octavia.

"Bruce Bockschecker, he's the new Assistant Vice Dean of Thaumistic Sustainability and a bit of a bogan if you ask me." Seeing the confused look on Octavia's face, the librarian explained, "his dad has moolah. Heaps and heaps of moolah. He became a wizard and suddenly there's a position in the faculty available."