Leonard was still out cold. Rincewind tried mopping his brow with a wet sponge.

"Of course I watched him," said Carrot, glancing back at the gently moving levers. "But he built it, so it was easy for him. Um . . . I shouldn't touch that, sir . . ."

The Librarian had swung himself into the driver's seat and was sniffing the levers. Somewhere underneath them, the automatic tiller clicked and purred.

"We're going to have to come up with some ideas soon," Rincewind said. "It won't fly itself for ever."

"Perhaps if we gently . . . I shouldn't do that, sir ―"

The Librarian gave the pedals a cursory glance. Then he pushed Carrot away with one hand while the other unhooked Leonard's flying goggles from their hook. His feet curled around the pedals. He pushed the handle that operated Prince Haran's Tiller and, far under his feet, something went thud .

Then, as the ship shook, he cracked his knuckles, reached out, waggled his fingers for a moment, and grabbed the steering column.

Carrot and Rincewind dived for their seats.