The Last Continent

'Mrs, er, Whitlow is, er, a lady,' he said.

'Ah, I shall make a note of it,' said the god. 'And what sort of thing do they do?'

They're, um, the same species as, er, us,' said Ponder, miserably. 'Um... the... um...'

'Weaker sex,' Ridcully supplied.

'Sorry, you've lost me there,' said the god.

'Er... she's, um, er, a... of the female persuasion,' said Ponder.

The god smiled happily. 'Oh, how very convenient,' he said.

'Excuse me,' said Mrs Whitlow, in as sharp a tone as she cared to use around the wizards, 'but will someone introduce this gentleman to me?'

'Oh, yes, of course,' said Ridcully. 'Do excuse me. God, this is Mrs Whitlow. Mrs Whitlow, this is God. A god. God of this island, in fact. Uh...'

'Charmed, Ai'm sure,' said Mrs Whitlow. In Mrs Whitlow's book, gods were socially very acceptable, at least if they had proper human heads and wore clothes; they rated above High Priests and occupied the same level as Dukes.

'Should Ai kneel?' she said.

'Mwaaa,' whimpered the Senior Wrangler.

'Genuflection of any sort is not required,' said the god.

'He means no,' said Ponder.

'Oh, as you wish,' said Mrs Whitlow. She extended a hand.

The god grasped it and waggled her thumb backwards and forwards.

'Very practical,' he said. 'Opposable, I see. I think I should make a note of this. Do you brachi-ate? Are you bipedal by habit? Oh, I notice your eyebrows go up, too. Is this a signal of some sort? I also note that you are a different shape from the others and don't have a beard. I assume that means you are less wise?'

Ponder saw Mrs Whitlow's eyes narrow and her nostrils flare.

'Is there some sort of problem, sirs?' she said. 'Ai followed your footprints to that funny boat, and this was the only other path, so—'

'We were discussing sex,' said the god enthusiastically. 'It sounds very exciting, don't you think?'

The wizards held their breath. This was going to make the Dean's sheets look very minor.

'It's not a subject on which Ai would venture an opinion,' said Mrs Whitlow carefully.

'Mwaa,' squeaked the Senior Wrangler.

'No one seems to want to tell me,' said the god irritably. A spark leapt from his fingers and blew a very small crater in the floor, and that seemed to shock him as much as it did the wizards.

'Oh dear, what can you think of me? I'm so sorry!' he said. 'I'm afraid it's a sort of natural reaction if I get a bit, you know... testy.'

Everyone looked at the crater. The rock bubbled gently by Fender's feet. He didn't dare move his sandal, just in case he fainted.

'That was just... testy, was it?' said Ridcully.

'Well, it may have been more... vexed, I suppose,' said the god. 'I can't really help it, it's a god-given reflex. I'm afraid as a... well, species, we're not good with, you know, defiance. I'm so sorry. So sorry.' He blew his nose, and sat down on a half-finished panda. 'Oh, dear. There I go again...' A tiny bolt of lightning flashed off his thumb and exploded. 'I hope it's not going to be the city of Quint all over again. Of course, you know what happened there...'

'I've never heard of the city of Quint,' said Ponder.

'Yes, I suppose you wouldn't have,' said the god. 'That's the whole point, really. It wasn't much of a city. It was mostly made of mud. Well, I say mud. Afterwards, of course, it was mainly ceramics.' He turned a wretched face to them. 'You know those days you get when you just snap at everyone?'

Out of the corner of his eye Ponder had noticed that the wizards, in a rare show of unanimity, were shuffling sideways, very slowly, towards the door.

A much bigger thunderbolt blew a hole in the floor near the cave entrance.

'Oh dear, where can I put my face?' said the god. 'It's all subconscious, I'm afraid.'

'Could you get treatment for premature incineration?'

'Dean! This is not the time!'

'Sorry, Archchancellor.'

'If only they hadn't turned up their noses at my inflammable cows,' said the god, sparks fizzing off his beard. 'All right, I would agree that on hot days, in certain rare circumstances, they would spontaneously combust and burn down the village, but is that any excuse for ingratitude?'

Mrs Whitlow had been giving the god a long, cool stare. 'What exactly is it you wish to know?' she said.

'Huh?' said Ridcully.

'Well, Ai mean no offence, but Ai for one would like to get out of here without mai hair on fire,' said the housekeeper.

The god looked up. This male and female concept seems really rather promising,' he said, sniffing. 'But no one seems to want to go into detail...'

'Oh, that,' said Mrs Whitlow. She glanced at the wizards, and then gently pulled the god to his feet. 'If you will excuse me for one moment, gentlemen...'

The wizards watched them in even more shock than had attended the lightning display, and then the Chair of Indefinite Studies pulled his hat over his eyes.

'I daren't look,' he said, and added, 'What are they doing?'

'Er... just talking...' said Ponder.

'Talking?'

'And she's... sort of... waving her hands about.'

'Mwaa!' said the Senior Wrangler.