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little. After a while, a couple of pieces of shark skin floated up.
    Rincewind sighed and put down his fishing rod. The rest of the shark would be dragged ashore later, he knew it. He couldn’t imagine why. It wasn’t as if they were good eating. They tasted like old boots soaked in urine.
    He picked up a makeshift oar and set out for the beach.
    It wasn’t a bad little island. Storms seemed to pass it by. So did ships. But there were coconuts, and breadfruit, and some sort of wild fig. Even his experiments in alcohol had been quite successful, although he hadn’t been able to walk properly for two days. The lagoon provided prawns and shrimps and oysters and crabs and lobsters, and in the deep green water out beyond the reef big silver fish fought each other for the privilege of biting a piece of bent wire on the end of a bit of string. After six months on the island, in fact, there was only one thing Rincewind lacked. He’d never really thought about it before. Now he thought about it—or, more correctly, them —all the time.
    It was odd. He’d hardly ever thought about them in Ankh-Morpork, because they were there if ever he wanted them. Now they weren’t, and he craved .
    His raft bumped the white sand at about the same moment as a large canoe rounded the reef and entered the lagoon.

    Ridcully was sitting at his desk now, surrounded by his senior wizards. They were trying to tell him things, despite the known danger of trying to tell Ridcully things, which was that he picked up the facts he liked and let the others take a running jump.
    “So,” he said, “ not a kind of cheese.”
    “ No , Archchancellor,” said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. “Rincewind is a kind of wizard.”
    “Was,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
    “Not a cheese,” said Ridcully, unwilling to let go of a fact.
    “No.”
    “Sounds a sort of name you’d associate with cheese. I mean, a pound of Mature Rincewind, it rolls off the tongue…”
    “ Godsdammit , Rincewind is not a cheese!” shouted the Dean, his temper briefly cracking. “Rincewind is not a yogurt or any kind of sour milk derivative! Rincewind is a bloody nuisance! A complete and utter disgrace to wizardry! A fool! A failure! Anyway, he hasn’t been seen here since that…unpleasantness with the Sourcerer, years ago.”
    “Really?” said Ridcully, with a certain kind of nasty politeness. “A lot of wizards behaved very badly then, I understand.”
    “Yes indeed,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, scowling at the Dean, who bridled.
    “I don’t know anything about that, Runes. I wasn’t Dean at the time.”
    “No, but you were very senior.”
    “Perhaps, but it just so happens that at the time I was visiting my aunt, for your information.”
    “They nearly blew up the whole city!”
    “She lives in Quirm.”
    “ And Quirm was heavily involved, as I recall.”
    “— near Quirm. Near Quirm. Not all that near, actually. Quite a way along the coast—”
    “Hah!”
    “Anyway, you seem to be very well informed, eh, Runes?” said the Dean.
    “I—What?—I—was studying hard at the time. Hardly knew what was going on—”
    “Half the University was blown down!” The Dean remembered himself and added, “That is, so I heard. Later. After getting back from my aunt’s.”
    “Yes, but I’ve got a very thick door—”
    “And I happen to know the Senior Wrangler was here, because—”
    “—with that heavy green baize stuff you can hardly hear any—”
    “Nap my for time it’s think I.”
    “ Will you all shut up right now this minute! ”
    Ridcully glared at his faculty with the clear, innocent glare of someone who was blessed at birth with no imagination whatsoever, and who had genuinely been hundreds of miles away during the University’s recent embarrassing history.
    “Right,” he said, when they had quietened down. “This Rincewind. Bit of an idiot, yes? You talk, Dean. Everyone else will shut up.”
    The Dean looked