Ginger looked out at the crowd again. 'I never thought it would be like this, though. They're all shouting our names!'
'We've put a lot of effort into telling people about Blown Away,' said Soll.
'Yes,' said Dibbler. 'We said it was the greatest click in the entire history of Holy Wood.'
'But we've been making clicks for only a couple of months,' Ginger pointed out.
'So what? That's still a history,' said Dibbler.
Victor saw the look in Ginger's face. Exactly how long was Holy Wood's real history? Perhaps there was some ancient stone calendar, down there on the sea bed, among the lobsters. Perhaps there was no way it could be measured. How did you measure the age of an idea?
'A lot of civic dignitaries are going to be there, too,' said Dibbler. 'The Patrician and the nobles and the Guild heads and some of the high priests. Not the wizards, of course, the stuck-up old idiots. But it'll be a night to remember right enough.'
'Will we have to be introduced to them all?' said Victor.
'No. They'll be introduced to you,' said Dibbler. 'It'll be the biggest thrill of their lives.'
Victor stared out at the crowds again.
'Is it my imagination,' he said, 'or is it getting foggy?'
Poons hit the Chair across the back of the legs with his stick.
'What's going on?' he said. 'Why's everyone cheering?'
'The Patrician's just got out of his carriage,' said the Chair.
'Don't see what's so wonderful about that,' said Poons. 'I've got out of carriages hundreds of times. There's no trick to it at all.'
'It's a bit odd,' the Chairman admitted. 'And they cheered the head of the Assassins' Guild and the High Priest of Blind Io, too.
And now someone's rolled out a red carpet.'
'What, in the street? In Ankh-Morpork?'
'Yes.'
'Wouldn't like to have their cleaning bill,' said Poons.
The Lecturer in Recent Runes nudged the Chair heavily in the ribs, or at least at the point where the ribs were overlaid by the strata of fifty years of very good dinners.
'Quiet!' he hissed. 'They're coming!'
'Who?'
'Someone important, by the look of it.'
The Chair's face creased in panic behind his false real beard. 'You don't think they've invited the Archchancellor, do you?'
The wizards tried to shrink inside their robes, like upright turtles.
In fact it was a far more impressive coach than any of the crumbling items in the University's mews. The crowd surged forward against the line of trolls and city guards and stared expectantly at the carriage door; the very air hummed with anticipation.
Mr Bezam, his chest so inflated with self-importance that he appeared to be floating across the ground, bobbed towards the carriage door and opened it.
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