“Are you really a wizard?” Ranma asked. Somehow, he just couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept.
Akane nodded. “Yup, yup. That’s the one. He was right here when I saw him last.” She cocked her head and sniffed. “Yup, the smell’s the same.” She wrinkled her nose and whined. She had been such a good girl, only to be assaulted by that.
“Er, well…as to answering your question, not as such, no. I never actually passed my exams. But I’ve got the hat!” He insisted, pointing to the “wizzard” hat, still resting in his barrel.
Ranma’s eyes narrowed. “So, you’re not really a wizard? Then what happened? What did you do?”
“No, you don’t understand,” the wizard insisted. “It was an accident. It wasn’t supposed to happen. She got in the way of my spell and I didn’t have another egg.”
The two teens looked confused, so Rincewind (AN: yes, from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld) had to explain further. “I was trying to invoke the Rite of AshkEnte, when your dog, er girlfriend here, ran through it and broke the spell. Now I can’t summon Death again until I get another egg!”
Akane asked “So why did I change?”
Rincewind shrugged. “Random side effects, I’m guessing. I can’t do anything about it. You’re going to need Death’s help on this one, and I’m out of eggs.”
Eggs? Hold on. Perhaps a moment should be taken to explain just a little about the Discworld. Wizards love pomp and pageantry and will do anything they can to make things more elaborate or difficult than they can, which is why at Unseen University in Ankh-Morpork, the main college for magic, as soon as a wizard has passed his exams he will immediately go out and buy tons of trimming and lace and velvet to go on his wizards robes. The frillier and nancier, the better. This translates, of course, into their spells. Nothing can be done without great ceremony and process. One of the most important spells, the summoning of Death himself, is called the Rite of AshkEnte, and requires eight eighth-level wizards, a ceremonial octogram, several rams' skulls, and many dribbly candles. Of course, the wizards will never actually admit that the rite can just as easily be done with either three small bits of wood and 2cc of mouse blood, or two small bits of wood and a fresh egg.
As Rincewind did not have the luxury of eight ninth-level wizards to summon death for him, he had to make do with one of the lesser forms, and as he preferred to run from any conflict, the mouse blood was also out of the question. This left him with the third, but quite acceptable third choice, the egg. Then, all he needed to do was summon Death who could help him find a way back to his own existence. This place was strange indeed. For one thing, their world was spherical.
“Look,” says Rincewind,
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(Posted Sat, 05 Apr 2003 12:33)
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