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They’d never stopped, or even thought of stopping. You couldn’t stop Tradition. You could only add to it.
Ponder tended to be isolated at one end of the High Table as the unwilling architect of this sudden tendency on the part of the Archchancellor to try to Weld Them Into A Lean Mean Team. The wizards had no intention of being lean, but were getting as mean as anything.
Above Ponder, he felt, were a lot of dead men’s shoes. And they had living men’s feet in them, and were stamping down hard. They never bothered to learn anything, they never bothered to remember anything apart from how much better things used to be, they bickered like a lot of children and the only one who ever said anything sensible said it in orang-utan.
Of course, more time was spent setting it up than was ever saved by using it, but this is the case in many similar fields and is a sign of Progress.
‘We put all our politicians in prison as soon as they’re elected. Don’t you?’ ‘Why?’ ‘It saves time.’
