The Last Continent

'I'm sure there must be something to eat,' mumbled the Chair of Indefinite Studies, looking around aimlessly. 'There usually is.'

'After all, nothing is beyond men like us,' said Ridcully.

'That's true,' said Ponder. 'Oh gods, yes. That's true.'

'And at least a wizard can always make a decent fire.'

Ponder's eyes opened wide. He rose in one movement aimed at Ridcully, but was still airborne when the Archchancellor tossed a small fireball at a heap of driftwood. By the time the glowing ball was halfway to the wood Ponder had hit Ridcully in the back, so that both of them were sprawled on the wet sand when the world went whooph.

When they looked up the heap of driftwood was a blackened crater.

'Well, thank you,' said the Dean, behind them. 'I feel lovely and dry now, and I never did like my eyebrows all that much.'

'High thaumic field, sir,' Ponder panted. 'I did say.'

Ridcully stared at his hands. 'I was going to light my pipe with one...' he muttered. He held the hand away from him. 'It was only a Number Ten,' he said.

The Dean stood up, brushing away some tufts of burnt beard.

'I'm not sure I believe what I just saw,' he said, and pointed a finger at a nearby rock.

'No, sir, I don't think you—'

Most of the rock was lifted off the ground and Sanded a hundred yards away. The rest of it sizzled in a red-hot puddle.

'Can I have a go?' said the Senior Wrangler.

'Sir, I really think—'

'Oh, well done, Senior Wrangler,' said the Dean, as another rock fractured into fragments.

'Ye gods, you were right, Stibbons,' said Ridcully. 'The magic field here is hugeV

'Yes, sir, but I really don't think we should be using it, sir!' Ponder shrieked.

'We're wizards, young man. Using magic is what wizarding is all about.'

'No, sir! Not using magic is what wizarding is all about!'

Ridcully hesitated.

This is fossil magic, sir!' said Ponder, speaking fast. 'It's what's being used to create this place! We could do untold damage if we're not careful!'

'All right, all right, no one do anything for a moment,' said Ridcully. 'Now... what are you talking about, Mister Stibbons?'

'I don't think the place is properly, well, finished, sir. I mean, there're no plants or animals, are there?'

'Nonsense. I saw a camel a little while ago.'

'Yes, sir, but that came with us. And there's seaweed and crabs on the beach and they got washed up too. But where are the trees and bushes and grasses?'

'Interesting,' said Ridcully. 'Place is as bald as a baby's bottom.'

'Still under construction, sir. The god did say it was being built.'

'Unbelievable, really,' said Ridcully. 'A whole continent being created out of nothing?'

'Exactly, sir.'

'Gazillions of thaums of magic pouring into the world.'

'You've got it, sir.'

'Whole mountains and cliffs and beaches where once there was nothing, style of thing.'

That's right, sir.'

'Bit of a miracle, you could say.'

'I certainly would, sir.'

'Unimaginably vast amounts of magic doing their stuff.'

'Astonishing, sir.'

'So I expect no one will miss a little bit, eh?'

'No! That's not how it works, sir! If we use it, it's like... like treading on ants, sir! This isn't like... finding an old staff in a cupboard and using up the magic that's left. This is the real primal energy! Anything we do might well have an effect.'

The Dean tapped him on the shoulder. 'Then here we are, young Stibbons, stuck on this forsaken shore. What do you suggest? We're thousands of years from home. Perhaps we should just sit and wait? That Rincewind fellow's bound to be along in a few millennia?'

'Er, Dean...' said the Senior Wrangler.

'Yes?'

'Are you standing behind Stibbons there, or are you sitting on this rock over here?'

The Dean looked at himself, sitting on the rock.

'Oh, blast,' he muttered. Temporal discontinuity again.'

'Again?' said Ponder.

'We had a patch of it in Room 5b once,' said the Senior Wrangler. 'Ridiculous. You had to cough before you went in, in case you were already there. Anyway, you shouldn't be surprised, young man. Enough magic distorts all physical la—'

The Senior Wrangler vanished, leaving only a pile of clothes.

'Took a while to take hold,' said Ridcully. 'I remember when—'

His voice suddenly rose in pitch. Ponder spun around and saw a small heap of clothing with a pointed hat on top of it.

He raised the hat gingerly. A pink face under a mop of curls looked up at him.

'Bugger!' squeaked Ridcully. 'How old am I, mister?'

'Er... you look about six, sir,' said Ponder. His back twinged.

The small worried face crinkled up. 'I want my mum!' The little nose sniffed. 'Was that me who just said that?'

'Er, yes...'

'You can keep on top of it if you concentrate,' the Archchancellor squeaked. 'It resets the tempor— I wanna sweetie! – it resets the temporal gl— I wanna sweetie, oh, you wait till I get me home, I'll give me such a smack – it resets the body's clo— where's Mr Pootle? – it resets the body's clock – wanna wanna Mr Pootle! – don't worry, I think I've got the hang of it—'