The Last Hero

The whole of the Disc was… well, there was the problem, from Rincewind's point of view. It was below them now. It looked below, even if it was really just overthere. He couldn't get over the dreadful feeling that once the Kite was airborne it would simply drop down to those distant, fleecy clouds.

The Librarian helped him winch in the wing on his side, as Leonard made ready to depart.

‘Well, I mean, I know we've got wings and everything,’ Rincewind said. ‘It's just that I'm not at home in an environment where every direction is down.’

‘Ook.’

‘I don't know what I'll say to him. “Don't blow the world up” sounds a pretty persuasive argument to me. I'd listen to it. And I don't like the idea of going anywhere near the gods. We're like toys to them, you know.’ And they don't realise how easily the arms and legs come off, he added to himself.

‘Ook?’

‘Pardon? Do you really say that?’

‘Ook.’

‘There is a… monkey god?’

‘Ook?’

‘No, no, that's fine, fine. Not one of our locals ones, is he?’

‘Eek.’

‘Oh, the Counterweight Continent. Well, they'll believe just about anything over…’ He glanced out of the window and shuddered, ‘Down there.’

There was a thud as the ratchet clicked into place.

‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ said Leonard. ‘Now if you'll just take your seats we—’

The thump of an explosion rocked the Kite and knocked Rincewind off his feet.

‘How curious, one of the dragons appears to have fired a little earl—’

‘Behold!’ said Cohen, striking a pose.

The Silver Horde looked around.

‘What?’ said Evil Harry.

‘Behold, the citadels of the gods!’ said Cohen, striking the pose again.

‘Yes, well, we can see it,’ said Caleb. ‘Is there something wrong with your back?’

‘Write down that I spake “Behold!”,’ said Cohen to the minstrel. ‘You don't have to write down any of this other stuff.’

‘You wouldn't mind saying—’

‘—spaking—’

‘—sorry, spaking, “Behold the temples of the gods”, would you?’ said the minstrel. ‘It's got a better rhythm.’

‘Hah, this takes me back,’ said Truckle. ‘Remember, Hamish? You and me signed on with Duke Leofric the Legitimate when he invaded Nothingfjord?’

‘Aye, I mind it.’

‘Five damn days, that battle took,’ said Truckle, ‘'cos the Duchess was doing a tapestry to commemorate it, right? We had to keep doing the fights over and over again, and there was the devil to pay when she was changing needles. There's no place for the media on the field of battle, I've always said.’

‘Aye, and I mind you makin' a rude sign to the ladies!’ Hamish cackled. ‘I saw that ol' tapestry in the castle of Rosante years later and I could tell it wuz you!’

‘Could we just get on with it?’ said Vena.

‘Y'see, there's the problem,’ said Cohen. ‘It's no good just doin' it. You got to remember your posterity.’

‘Hur, hur, hur,’ said Truckle.

‘Laugh away,’ said Cohen. ‘But what about all those heroes that aren't remembered in songs and sagas, eh? You tell me about them.’

‘Eh? What heroes that aren't remembered in songs and sagas?’

‘Exactly!’

‘What's the plan?’ said Evil Harry, who had been watching the shimmering light over the city of the gods.

‘Plan?’ said Cohen. ‘I thought you knew. We're going to sneak in, smash the igniter, and run like hell.’

‘Yes, but how do you plan to do this?’ said Evil Harry. He sighed when he saw their faces. ‘You haven't got one, have you?’ he said wearily. ‘You were just going to rush in, weren't you? Heroes never have a plan. It's always left up to us Dark Lords to have the plans. This is the home of the gods, lads! You think they won't notice a bunch of humans wandering around?’

‘We are intendin' to have a magnificent death,’ said Cohen.

‘Right, right. Afterwards. Oh, deary me. Look, I'd be thrown out of the secret society of evil madmen if I let you go at it mob-handed.’ Evil Harry shook his head. ‘There's hundreds of gods, right? Everyone knows that. And new gods turning up all the time, right? Well? Doesn't a plan suggest itself? Anyone?’

Truckle raised a hand. ‘We rush in?’ he said.

‘Yes, we're all real heroes here, aren't we?’ said Evil Harry. ‘No. That wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Lads, it's lucky for you that you've got me…’

It was the Chair of Indefinite Studies who saw the light on the moon. He was leaning on the ship's rail at the time, having a quiet afternoon smoke.

He was not an ambitious wizard, and generally just concentrated on keeping out of trouble and not doing anything very much. The nice thing about Indefinite Studies was that no one could describe exactly what they were. This gave him quite a lot of free time.

He watched the moon's pale ghost for a while, and then went and found the Archchancellor, who was fishing.

‘Mustrum, should the moon be doing that?’ he said.

Ridcully looked up. ‘Good grief! Stibbons! Where's the man got to?’