'About 120, 125 pounds. Put another pound or two of junk on the heap. Er. Can you detect... you know... IT?'

'This is all going to go wrong, Mr Stibbons, I just know it.'

'He's only six hundred miles away and we know where we are, and he's on the right half of the Disc. Anyway, I've worked this out on Hex so nothing can possibly go wrong.'

'Yes, but can anyone see... that... you know... with the... feet?'

Rincewind's eyebrows waggled. A sort of choking noise came from his throat.

'Can't see... it. Will you lot stop huffing on my crystal ball?'

'And, of course, if you were to come with us we could promise you... earthly and sensual pleasures such as those of which you may have dreamed...'

'All right. On the count of three—'

The coconut dropped away. Rincewind swallowed. There was a hungry, dreamy look in his eyes.

'Can I have them mashed?' he said.

'NOW!'

First there was the sensation of pressure. The world opened up in front of Rincewind and sucked him into it.

Then it stretched out thin and went twang.

Cloud rushed past him, blurred by speed. When he dared open his eyes again it was to see, far ahead of him, a tiny black dot.

It got bigger.

It resolved itself into a tight cloud of objects. There were a couple of heavy saucepans, a large brass candlestick, a few bricks, a chair and a large brass blancmange mould in the shape of a castle.

They hit him one after the other, the blancmange mould making a humorous clang as it bounced off his head, and then whirled away behind him.

The next thing ahead of him was an octagon. A chalked one.

He hit it.

Ridcully stared down.

'A shade less than 125 pounds, I fancy,' he said. 'All the same... well done, gentlemen.'