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'Really?' said Rincewind hoarsely. He looked at the other wizards. They were immobile, like statues.
'Oh yes,' said Trymon pleasantly. 'Quite without prompting, too. Very democratic.'
'I preferred tradition,' said Rincewind. 'That way even the dead get the vote.'
'You will give me the spell voluntarily,' said Trymon. 'Do I have to show you what I will do otherwise? And in the end you will still yield it. You will scream for the opportunity to give it to me.'
If it stops anywhere, it stops here, thought Rincewind.
'You'll it. It retreated in astonishment, like a dog faced with a maddened sheep. He followed, stamping angrily through the disused lots and inner-city disaster areas of his subconscious, until he found it cowering behind a heap of condemned memories. It roared silent defiance at him, but Rincewind wasn't having any.have to take it,' he said. 1 won't give it to you.''I remember you,' said Trymon. 'Not much good as a student, as I recall. You never really trusted magic, you kept on saying there should be a better way to run a universe. Well, you'll see. I have plans. We can —''Not we,' said Rincewind firmly.'Give me the Spell!''Try and take it,' said Rincewind, backing away. 1 don't think you can.''Oh?'Rincewind jumped aside as octarine fire flashed from Trymon's fingers and left a bubbling rock puddle on the stones.He could sense the Spell lurking in the back of his mind. He could sense its fear.In the silent caverns of his head he reached out for