Sourcery

'I was asking you.'

'Oh. No. I shouldn't think so. It's just ordinary stone. The right spell and ... phooey.'

'Phooey?'

'Right.'

'Shall we run away again?'

'It's worth a try.'

They made it to another upright wall a few seconds before a randomly spitting ball of yellow fire landed where they had been lying and turned the ground into something awful. The whole area around the tower was a tornado of sparkling air.

'We need a plan,' said Nijel.

'We could try running again,' said Rincewind.

'That doesn't solve anything!'

'Solves most things,' said Rincewind.

'How far do we have to go to be safe?' said Conina.

Rincewind risked a look around the wall.

'Interesting philosophical question,' he said. 'I've been a long way, and I've never been safe.'

Conina sighed and stared at a pile of rubble nearby. She stared at it again. There was something odd there, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

'I could rush at them,' said Nijel, vaguely. He stared yearningly at Conina's back.

'Wouldn't work,' said Rincewind. 'Nothing works against magic. Except stronger magic. And then the only thing that beats stronger magic is even stronger magic. And next thing you know...'

'Phooey?' suggested Nijel.

'It happened before,' said Rincewind. 'Went on for thousands of years until not a-’

'Do you know what's odd about that heap of stone?' said Conina.

Rincewind glanced at it. He screwed up his eyes.

'What, apart from the legs?' he said.

It took several minutes to dig the Seriph out. He was still clutching a wine bottle, which was almost empty, and blinked at them all in vague recognition.

'Powerful,' he said, and then after some effort added, 'stuff, this vintage. Felt,' he continued, 'as though the place fell on me.'

'It did,' said Rincewind.

'Ah. That would be it, then.' Creosote focused on Conina, after several attempts, and rocked backwards. 'My word,' he said, 'the young lady again. Very impressive.'

'I say-’ Nijel began.

'Your hair,' said the Seriph, rocking slowly forward again, 'is like, is like a flock of goats that graze upon the side of Mount Gebra.'

'Look here

'Your breasts are like, like,' the Seriph swayed sideways a little, and gave a brief, sorrowful glance at the empty bottle, 'are like the jewelled melons in the fabled gardens of dawn.'