Sourcery

'Oh, this old thing,' he said. 'I'm on time share. Two weeks every August but, of course, usually one can never get away.'

'Got a lot of lamps, have you?' said Nijel.

'I am somewhat over-committed on lamps,' the genie agreed. 'In fact I am thinking of diversifying into rings. Rings are looking big at the moment. There's a lot of movement in rings. Sorry, people; what can I do you for?’ The last phrase was turned in that special voice which people use for humorous self-parody, in the mistaken hope that it will make them sound less like a prat.

'We-’ Conina began.

'I want a drink,' snapped Creosote. 'And you are supposed to say that my wish is your command.'

'Oh, absolutely no-one says that sort of thing any more,' said the genie, and produced a glass out of nowhere. He treated Creosote to a brilliant smile lasting a small percentage of one second.

'We want you to take us across the sea to Ankh-Morpork,' said Conina firmly.

The genie looked blank. Then he pulled a very thick book[21] from the empty air and consulted it.

'It sounds a really neat concept,' he said eventually. 'Let's do lunch next Tuesday, okay?'

'Do what?'

'I'm a little energetic right now.'

'You're a little-?' Conina began.

'Great,' said the genie, sincerely, and glanced at his wrist. 'Hey, is that the time?' He vanished.

The three of them looked at the lamp in thoughtful silence, and then Nijel said, 'Whatever happened to, you know, the fat guys with the baggy trousers and I Hear And Obey O Master?'

Creosote snarled. He'd just drunk his drink. It had turned out to be water with bubbles in it and a taste like warm flatirons.

'I'm bloody well not standing for it,' snarled Conina. She snatched the lamp from his hand and rubbed it as if she was sorry she wasn't holding a handful of emery cloth.

The genie reappeared at a different spot, which still managed to be several feet away from the weak explosion and obligatory cloud of smoke.

He was now holding something curved and shiny to his ear, and listening intently. He looked hurriedly at Conina's angry face and contrived to suggest, by waggling his eyebrows and waving his free hand urgently, that he was currently and inconveniently tied up by irksome matters which, regretfully, prevented him giving her his full attention as of now but, as soon as he had disentangled himself from this importunate person, she could rest assured that her wish, which was certainly a wish of tone and brilliance, would be his command.

'I shall smash the lamp,' she said quietly.

The genie flashed her a smile and spoke hastily into the thing he was cradling between his chin and his shoulder.

'Fine,' he said. 'Great. It's a slice, believe me. Have your people call my people. Stay beyond, okay? Bye.' He lowered the instrument. 'Bastard,' he said vaguely.

'I really shall smash the lamp,' said Conina.

'Which lamp is this?' said the genie hurriedly.

'How many have you got?' said Nijel. 'I always thought genies had just the one.'

The genie explained wearily that in fact he had several lamps. There was a small but well- appointed lamp where he lived during the week, another rather unique lamp in the country, a carefully restored peasant rushlight in an unspoilt winegrowing district near Quirm, and just recently a set of derelict lamps in the docks area of Ankh-Morpork that had great potential, once the smart crowd got there, to become the occult equivalent of a suite of offices and a wine bar.