`The stone dropping out of the sky was sensible?' said Ridcully.
`Compared to the attack of the giant squid, Archchancellor, I would say so,' said Ponder. `And the enormous waterspout. And the shipwreck off the coast of Norway.'
`Well, ships do get wrecked,' said the Dean.
`Yes, sir. But the country known as Norway is in the wrong direction. The Beagle would only get there by sailing backwards. Hex is right, sir. This is insane. The moment that we decided to change one simple little history, the whole of the universe is trying to stop the voyage happening! And mathematically speaking, this is illegal!'
Ponder thumped the table, his face red. The senior wizards shied. This was as unnerving as hearing a sheep roar.
'My word!' said Ridcully. `Is it?
'Yes! There must be room in phase space for the possibility that Origin gets written! It's not against the physical laws of this universe!'
`That a young inexperienced man takes a voyage around this world and has an insight that changes mankind's view of itself?' said the Dean. `You must admit it looks a bit unlikely - sorry, sorry, sorry!' He backed away as Ponder advanced.
`One of the biggest religions on Roundworld was founded by a carpenter's son!' Ponder snarled. `For years, the most powerful person on the planet was an actor! There's got to be room for Darwin!'
He stamped back to the table and picked up a handful of papers. `Look at this stuff! "Darwin bitten by poisonous spider ... Darwin savaged by kangaroo ... stung by jellyfish ... eaten by shark ... Beagle found floating, table laid for a meal, this time in a different ocean, still no one on board ... Darwin struck by lightning ... killed by volcanic activity ... Beagle sunk by freak wave" ... does anyone expect us to believe this for one minute?'
There was a ringing silence.
`I can see this is worrying you, Mr Stibbons,' said Ridcully.
`Well, yes, I mean, yes, it's so ... wrong! The multiverse is not supposed to change the rules. Anything that's possible to happen has a universe for it to happen in! I mean, here, yes, the rules can be bent in all kinds of ways, but in Roundworld there's no one to bend them!'
`I've got an idea,' said Rincewind. The other wizards turned, amazed at this revelation.
`Yes?' said Ponder.
`Why not just take it for granted that someone is out to get you?' said Rincewind. `That's what I do. Don't bother to work out the fine detail. Look, when you first started to tinker, it was all going to be plain sailing, right? Make a few little adjustments, pinch a fish, and it'd all be OK? But now there are nearly fifteen hundred new reasons-'
With a rattle, Hex's writing desk started up. The pens wrote: +++ 3563 reasons now +++
`They're breeding!' said Ridcully.
`There you are, then,' said Rincewind, almost cheerfully. `Something down there is frightened. It's so frightened that it's not even going to let him get on the boat. I mean, he has to take the voyage whatever book he writes, isn't that right!'
`Yes, of course,' said Ponder. Theology of Species gets taken seriously because it's written by a renowned and respected scientist whose research was meticulous. So was The Origin. Either way, he needs to be on that boat. But the moment we take an interest, the voyage doesn't happen!'
`Then if it was me, I'd say that something's got really worried,' said Rincewind. `They don't mind if The Ology doesn't get written in just one universe, but they hate the idea of The Origin being written at all.
`Oh, really?' said Ridcully. `The nerve! I am the master of this college, and that - ' he pointed to the little globe ' - is university property! Now I'm getting angry. We're going to fight back, Mr Stibbons!'
`I don't think you can fight a whole universe, sir! 'It's the prerogative of every life form, Mr Stibbons!'
Gales roared for three weeks. Roundworld time was mutable for the wizards; it only affected them if they wanted it to.
Something or someone didn't want the Beagle to sail, and they could influence the weather. They could influence anything. But of them, there was still no sign.
The Dean watched the storm in the big omniscope in the HEM.
`That's what happened when Darwin gets on board in this universe,' said Ponder, adjusting the omniscope. `If he hadn't gone, his place is taken by an artist, who produced a famous portfolio as a result. His name was Preserved J. Nightingale. You met his wife.'
`Preserved?' said the Dean, watching the dismal gale.
`Short for Preserved-by-God,' said Ponder. `He was found as a child in the wreckage of a ship. His adopted parents were very religious. And ... ah yes ... this is the weather they get when he is on board.'
The omniscope flickered.
`No gale?' said the Dean, looking at the blue sky.
`Brisk winds from the north-east. They're ball-world directions, sir. For the purposes of the voyage, they are ideal. I see you have your "Born to Rune" jacket on, sir.'
`We've got a fight on our hands, Stibbons,' said the Dean, severely. `It's a long time since I've seen the Archchancellor so angry at anyone but me! Have you finished?'
'Just finishing, sir,' said Ponder.
The HEM had a deserted look. That was because it had been, by and large, deserted. Thick tubes led out from Hex, across the floor and out over the lawn towards UU's Great Hall.
The wizards were going to war. It took a lot to make that happen, but you couldn't let any old universe push you around. Gods, demons and Death were one thing, but mindless matter shouldn't be allowed to get ideas.
`Couldn't we just find a way to bring Darwin back here?' said the Dean, watching Ponder prod buttons on Hex's keyboard.
`Quite probably, sir,' said Ponder.
`Well, then, why don't we just bring him here, explain the situation, and drop him off on his island? We could even give him a copy of his book.'
Ponder shuddered.
`There are quite a lot of reasons why that course of action might not, with ease, be rescued in any coherent way from the category of the insanely unwise, Dean,' he said, having worked out that the senior wizards lost interest in any sentence that went on past twenty words. `For one thing, he'd know.'
`We could bop him on the head,' said the Dean. `Or put a 'fluence on him. Yes, that'd be a good idea,' he said, because it was his. `We could sit him in a comfy chair and read out the right book to him. He'd wake up back home and think he's made it all up.'
`But he wouldn't have been there,' said Ponder. He waved a hand. In the air overhead, a little ball of multicoloured light appeared. It looked like a tangle of glowing strings, or the mating of rainbows.
`Oh, we could sort that out,' said the Dean airily. `Stick some sand in his boots, a few finch feathers in his pocket ... we are wizards, after all.'
`That would be unethical, Dean,' said Ridcully. `Why? We're the Good Guys, aren't we?'
`Yes, but that rather hinges on doing certain things and not doing others, sir,' said Ponder. `Playing around with people's heads against their will is almost certainly one of the nots. You should get ready to move quickly, sir.'
`What are you doing, Stibbons?'
`I've got Hex to cast a thaumatic glyph in conditional Darwin space,' said Ponder. `But to resolve it properly Hex will have to run the thaumic reactor a little higher than usual.'
`How much higher?' said the Dean suspiciously. `About 200 per cent, sir.'
`Is that safe?'
`Absolutely not, sir. Hex, glyphic resolution in twenty seconds. Dean, run! Run, sir!'
From the direction of the Old Squash Court came a sound that had been there all the time, unheeded, and was now growing louder. It was the whum whum of dying thaums, each one yielding up its intrinsic magic ...