Anyway.
'That's the point! What happened to the war?'
A little cascade of mortar poured down from the ceiling on to Rincewind's hat.
'Something's acting on the stones,' he said quietly. 'They're trying to break free.'
'We're right underneath quite a lot of them,' observed Creosote.
There was a grinding noise above them and a shaft of daylight lanced down. To Rincewind's surprise it wasn't accompanied by sudden death from crushing. There was another silicon creak, and the hole grew. The stones were falling out, and they were falling up.
'I think,' he said, 'that the carpet might be worth a try at this point.'
The wall beside him shook itself like a dog and drifted apart, its masonry giving Rincewind several severe blows as it soared away.
The four of them landed on the blue and gold carpet in a storm of flying rock.
'We've got to get out of here,' said Nijel, keeping up his reputation for acute observation.
'Hang on,' said Rincewind. 'I'll say-’
'You won't,' snapped Conina, kneeling beside him. 'I'll say. I don't trust you.'
'But you've-’
'Shut up,' said Conina. She patted the carpet.
'Carpet — rise,' she commanded.
There was a pause.
,Up.,
'Perhaps it doesn't understand the language,' said Nijel.
'Lift. Levitate. Fly.'
'Or it could be, say, sensitive to one particular voice-’
'Shut. Up.'
'You tried up,' said Nijel. 'Try ascend.'
'Or soar,' said Creosote. Several tons of flagstone swooped past an inch from his head.
'If it was going to answer to them it would have done, wouldn't it?' said Conina. The air round her was thick with dust as the flying stones ground together. She thumped the carpet.
'Take off, you blasted mat! Arrgh!'
A piece of cornice clipped her shoulder. She rubbed the bruise irritably, and turned to Rincewind, who was sitting with his knees under his chin and his hat pulled down over his head.
'Why doesn't it work?' she said.
'You're not saying the right words,' he said.
'It doesn't understand the language?'
'Language hasn't got anything to do with it. You've neglected something fundamental.'
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