This was turn­ing out to be the longest winter in living memory, so long, in fact, that living memory itself was being shortened as some of the older citizens succumbed. The cold had penetrated even the thick and ancient walls of Unseen University itself, to the general concern and annoyance of the faculty. Wizards can put up with any amount of deprivation and discomfort, provided it is not happening to them.

And so, at long last, Ponder Stibbons's project had been author­ized. He'd been waiting three years for it. His plea that splitting the thaum would push back the boundaries of human knowledge had fallen on deaf ears; the wizards considered that pushing back the boundaries of anything was akin to lifting up a very large, damp stone. His assertion that splitting the thaum might significantly increase the sum total of human happiness met with the rejoinder that everyone seemed pretty happy enough already.

Finally he'd ventured that splitting the thaum would produce vast amounts of raw magic that could very easily be converted into cheap heat. That worked. The Faculty were lukewarm on the sub­ject of knowledge for knowledge's sake, but they were boiling hot on the subject of warm bedrooms.

Now the other senior wizards wandered around the suddenly-cramped court, prodding the new thing. Their Archchancellor took out his pipe and absent-mindedly knocked out the ashes on its matt black side.

'Um ... please don't do that, sir,' said Ponder.

'Why not?'

'There might be ... it might... there's a chance that...' Ponder stopped. 'It will make the place untidy, sir,' he said.

'Ah. Good point. So it's not that the whole thing might explode, then?'

'Er ... no, sir. Haha,' said Ponder miserably. 'It'd take a lot more than that, sir...'

There was a whack as a squash ball ricocheted off the wall, rebounded off the casing, and knocked the Archchancellor's pipe out of his mouth.