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    The Light Fantastic: A Discworld Novel
    The Light Fantastic: A Discworld Novel
    The Light Fantastic: A Discworld Novel
    Ebook278 pages4 hours

    The Light Fantastic: A Discworld Novel

    By Terry Pratchett

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    “Humorously entertaining. . . subtly thought-provoking. . . . Pratchett’s Discworld books are filled with humor and with magic, but they're rooted in—of all things—real life and cold, hard reason.”—Chicago Tribune

    Bumbling wizard Rincewind and hapless tourist Twoflower have survived a host of misadventures . . . only to face annihilation as a red star hurtles towards the Discworld in this gloriously funny second installment in Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series (also the second book in the Wizards collection)

    It’s just one of those days when nothing seems to go right—and a most inopportune time for the first tourist ever to set foot in Discworld—accompanied by the carnivorous Luggage—to extend his already eventful vacation, even if it’s not quite by choice. A monstrous red star is on a direct collision course with the Discworld and the future appears uncertain at best.

    Discworld needs a hero to save it from total destruction. Unfortunately, it’s got the bumbling Rincewind, still recovering from the trauma of falling off the edge of the world. The alternative couldn’t be much worse. . . .

    The Discworld novels can be read in any order, but The Light Fantastic is the second book in the Wizards collection. The other books in the collection include:

    • The Color of Magic
    • Sourcery
    • Eric
    • Interesting Times
    • The Last Continent
    • Unseen Academicals
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateOct 13, 2009
    ISBN9780061801150
    The Light Fantastic: A Discworld Novel
    Author

    Terry Pratchett

    Terry Pratchett (1948–2015) was the acclaimed creator of the globally revered Discworld series. In all, he authored more than fifty bestselling books, which have sold more than one hundred million copies worldwide. His novels have been widely adapted for stage and screen, and he was the winner of multiple prizes, including the Carnegie Medal. He was awarded a knighthood by Queen Elizabeth II for his services to literature in 2009, although he always wryly maintained that his greatest service to literature was to avoid writing any.

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    Reviews for The Light Fantastic

    4.5/5

    166 ratings54 reviews

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    • 4/5
      Not his best but still a lot of fun -- a really quick read.
    • 4/5
      Another strange twisting of the Disc wherein Rincewind once again manages to survive. And the luggage gets a new owner.
    • 5/5
      I just love Rincewind. What else is there to say?
    • 5/5
      Terry Pratchett weaves together a number of different threads to create a very pleasing story with a humorous bent. It is a pleasure to read.

      2 people found this helpful

    • 5/5
      The fantasy novel that Terry Pratchett paints is extraordinary. I found myself constantly laughing aloud. Read it faggot
    • 4/5
      I think I still am not as enthralled with the Wizards arc as with some of the others in this series, but still, this was a very good book. The further adventures of Rincewind, Twoflower and the Luggage, with the addition of Cohen the Barbarian, gave me plenty of chuckles as well as some hair-raising moments, even though I was pretty sure everything would turn out OK. Definitely recommended.
    • 4/5
      To truly enjoy Pratchett's Discworld novels, requires two things: a love of fanciful silliness, and a reasonable working knowledge of the real world.

      I've heard it said that the Discworld books are too "far out there" for some folks. IMO, these books are an assessment of your experience/knowledge of history/science/philosophy/religion/etc. I say this, because everything in this book is a spin/joke about something in the real world. So the more you already know, the more you will laugh.

      Pratchett's breadth of experience/knowledge is awe inspiring. The man can do funny spins on Mongolian culture, druid religious practices, geological nomenclature, integrated circuit materials, and probably tons more things that I simply don't yet have the experience needed to 'get' the joke. Well, I'll have to work on that.
    • 4/5
      Once again, as with The Colour of Magic, I was glad to have watched this on television first as it made things less confusing (I listen via audiobook during work, so it occasionally turns into background noise for my other thoughts and I don't realize what is happening until it's too late and my options are to move forward or try to figure out at what point I stopped listening). I have heard that the series gets better (and I'm prone to believe things like that as The Dresden Files got much better with time), so I'm eager to listen to some of the later books.
    • 3/5
      Enjoyed Pratchett's tongue-in-cheek humour throughout this novel. I picked these up again since I read them when I was much younger.
    • 4/5
       Rincewind & Twoflower were last seen disappearing off the edge of the world, but this world is not the usual kind and this proves no impediment to the story. Introduces a barbarian hero, deals with the birth of worlds and the importance of going home.



      This is one of the few books in the series that requires you've read the previous book - this series make little sense at the best of times, but you really would miss half the joke without the first one.
    • 5/5
      Ebook. Very entertaining. I was actually laughing out loud at multiple parts. Definitely recommend for anyone who enjoyed The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series. I will read more of this series whenever I am in the mood for something funny and entertaining.
    • 4/5
      In this second Discworld novel we continue to follow the exploits of the wizard to be Rincewind and the Discworld's first tourist, Twoflower. At the end of the previous book we saw Rincewind and Twoflower going over the edge of the world, each in a different way and after a miraculous escape from their doom find themselves back on the Disc for a grand adventure in which they meet Druids about to sacrifice a juicy virgin, Cohan, the world's greatest hero, mysterious shops, gorgeous female mercenaries, and creatures from another dimension. We also discover why Rincewind is such a failure at wizardry, and perhaps some redemption. Can be enjoyed on its own, but works best if you have read The Colour of Magic
    • 5/5
      This book made me laugh. A lot.
    • 4/5
      I like this series so far. Of course I had just read 2 books. The junction of a pretty negative character with one that just can see the reality on things because he is a tourist and has a different point of view makes things interesting while reading. The sarcasm of the author is amazingly funny. And after I imagine the discworld in the book 1 ( the color of Magic) this was easier to read having a mental image of that crazy world .. Looking forward to read the next one.
    • 5/5
      Another 'fantastic' book by Terry. It was a shame i didn't read the book before the TV dramatisation of this book (along with the colour of magic). I thouroughly enjoyed it and couldn't put it down, sooooo many things were omitted from the tv staging.
    • 4/5
      My second foray into the Discworld. I've been told that the first two books are sort of background for what's to come, so I'm going to stick with the series awhile longer. Amusing, certainly, but I wasn't particularly drawn in by this one.
    • 4/5
      In this the second book of Terry Pratchett's Discworld series, we continue with the adventures of Rincewind, Twoflowers and best of all, the Luggage. (I love the Luggage!) We meet with Cohen the Barbarian (love it!), trolls with diamond teeth, feisty maidens being sacrificed to prevent the red star from crashing into Discworld, and even at the end have an opportunity to share in Great A'Tuin's blessed event. Pratchett's wit, humour and intelligence are sharp and rapid. Reading this at bedtime proved problematic, in that in a somnolent state I'd completely miss the lampooning of some real world star, and have to go back and reread just so I wouldn't miss out on yet another delightful giggle. Honestly, I haven't laughed so much reading books in my lifetime. I'm hooked. Completely, hopelessly hooked on Pratchett's Discworld. Some of the best entertainment of the 20th and 21st centuries, and I daresay destined to become classics in generations to come.
    • 4/5
      Always fun to read along a discworld novel, although Rincewind isn't my favourite character so far. I'm not really sure why. But Rincewind and Twoflower do make for an interesting duo! The Luggage is still wonderfull and I feel it has gained more of a personality in this book. (Compared to 'The Colour of Magic'.) I've been happy reading this book as it has made me smile many times during the course of the last few days. I have yet to come across a Discworld Novel that I don't like!
    • 3/5
      I enjoyed this one more than I have in the past and more than The Colour of Magic (which I read last year).I love the sense of humour, there were so many bits that I wanted to quote that it was really hard picking which ones I should use. Some are just little throw-away lines, but others go on for pages and pages!Sometimes I get confused about what's going on in the Discworld stories, because they're so fast moving. Didn't happen this time. I think reading it quickly helped. :-)
    • 4/5
      This book continues off where The Color of Magic finishes off. The protagonist is still our friend Rincewind, the incompetent and cowardly wizard along with the rest of our party including Twoflower, "The world's first tourist," and The Luggage. The pace from the first book really continues here right from the start as Pratchett really hits a groove early on and keeps it going throughout the entire story. His excellent sense of humor and satirical wit really shine here as the book is really funny on many different levels. His ability to incorporate so many references to other fantasy and the real world so seamlessly is fantastic.While I guess it would be possible to read as a standalone book, reading The Color of Magic before The Light Fantastic would be recommended. This is one of the only true sequels in the Discworld series, and most of the novels can be picked up out of order. The Light Fantastic really builds up to a fun conclusion as we see the character of Rincewind develop a bit from his normal almost pathetic self. Overall, a great conclusion to the story of The Color of Magic and definitely recommended for those who enjoyed it.
    • 4/5
      Better than the Color of Magic, Pratchett has shown improvement in this novel. There are still parts which seem a little slow and disconnected from the main plot, or perhaps those sections of the main plot are just a little dull. However, in the end, the pieces really come together in what is an amazing climactic scene. The highest point of action is the most potent and also most vulnerable part of a story, and as long as it is done well, the reader cannot truly be disappointed. And Pratchett fortifies the climax of this story with everything the reader could want: our characters step up to do amazing things while never stepping out of the bounds of their flaws, everything that happens is epic yet not so epic that is becomes detached from the rest of the plot, and nothing happens in the way the reader anticipates as is Pratchett's signature style.
    • 4/5
      'I mean - you know the Horse people's yurt, where we were last night?''Yesh.''Would you say it was a bit dark and greasy and smelt like a very ill horse?''Very accurate description, I'd shay.''He wouldn't agree. He'd say it was a magnificent barbarian tent, hung with the pelts of the great beasts hunted by the lean-eyed warriors from the edge of civilisation, and smelt of the rare and curious resins plundered from the caravans as they crossed the trackless - well, and so on. I mean it,' he added.'He'sh mad?''Sort of mad. But mad with lots of money.''Ah, then he can't be mad. I've been around; if a man hash lotsh of money he'sh just ecshentric.'"The Light Fantastic" continues the story of Rincewind the failed wizard, who is working as a tour guide for Twoflower (the Disc World's first tourist) and his magical Luggage, started in "The Colour of Magic". As Rincewind struggles to keep himself and Twoflower alive, and cope with the great spell that is hiding in his mind, the Great A'Tuin is carrying the Disc World directly towards an ominous-looking red star, and the people are beginning to panic.Not as good as later Disc World novels, but still very funny and worth reading.
    • 4/5
      Short and punny. This is some respects is the first full Discworld Novel. CoM contains four short stories, but here the action follows through continuously. The book opens with a horrendous duex et machina - Pratchett finished CoM with his heros falling off the Edge of the World. Suddenly he's faced with the prospect of having to write the sequel. Oh no, my heros! they're falling off the Edge of the World! Quick cast a spell to change the entire world so that they aren't. Its very very contrived. The rest of the book proceeds as normally as Pratchett book can. The Disk is heading towards annihilation in the light of giant Star. The main body of Wizards learnthat only Rincewind can help them whent he end times are near. They set out - independantly - to track him down. Rincewind meanwhile has found Twoflower again, and the famous (and now ancient) barbarian Cohen. But he's getting homesick for Ankh Morpock. A few of the more famous characters are properly introduced. Luggage is obviously the star. But I've only just realsied that this is the first mention of Swires the gnome - who later joins the Watch. The creation of the famous Librarian, is merely a passing mention here, adapted too within days by the senior wizzarding staff. There are lots of really dreadful puns inserted (often forcibly) all over the place. That is the main hightlight of this book really. the biting satire hasn't really kicked in yet, adn there's almost no social commentry either. Rincewind manages to be less annoying than usual. I smiles in a few places, but unless you think puns are really funny, Pratchett has written many far more humerous books.
    • 3/5
      A slightly confusing but often very amusing book, second in the Discwold series. My absolute highlight had to be the section where Death attempts to play bridge.
    • 5/5
      One of my favorite of the series. Pratchett is hilarious. I would recommend reading it!
    • 4/5
      A great continuation from the first book, and I'm still impressed at the writing style I mentioned in the first book that terry's form of writing reminded me not so much as writing, but as a delightful series of plays on phrases and paragraphs, that all just happened to fall in a certain order that makes sense.
    • 2/5
      I thought this one was ok, but I didn't like it as much as the first one.
    • 3/5
      Great little read with lots of puns and fun. The luggage is probably the most fun of all.
    • 5/5
      I love The Light Fantastic. This is my second or third time reading it - the first time(s?) I read it were when I wasn't as familiar with the whole series. Now that I am, I'm starting to really like Rincewind. I think he's an awesome character, especially his relative pragmatism (and eventual - though reluctant - heroism) in the face of all the Discworld insanity. I wish I had read this directly after The Color of Magic, because I couldn't quite remember how they had ended up falling off the Rim, which is where the book starts, but I recalled enough of the details to be able to follow the book anyway.
    • 4/5
      Picking up, right where The Color of Magic left off, The Light Fantastic seeks to answer most of the unanswered questions of the Octavo, how one gets ahead at the Unseen University, key points in tourism, the role of dentistry in a barbarian's later years, gender politics in the warrior class, the religious afterlife aspirations of trees and the inherent risks of philosophy in the life of a troll. Of course, as the ominous red star gets bigger and bigger in the sky each day, this could well mean the end of everything for Discworld and all of these questions.Pratchett moves the adventure briskly in this installment as the pressure of introductions and the need to force traveling companions together is no longer necessary. As an added bonus, this newly found real estate seems to leave room for humor to find room to roam more freely. Of course, it's still a fun adventure story about friends true and finding the strength to use the strengths you've always had, but aren't they all? Well, most of them probably don't have orangutan librarians...

    Book preview

    The Light Fantastic - Terry Pratchett

    Introducing Discworld®

    The Discworld is a world not totally unlike our own, except that it is flat, sits on the backs of four elephants who hurtle through space balanced on a giant turtle, and magic is as integral as gravity to the way it works. Though some of its inhabitants are witches, dwarfs, wizards and even policemen, their stories are fundamentally about people being people.

    The Discworld novels can be read in any order, but the Wizards series is a good place to start.

    DISCWORLD NOVELS STARRING THE WIZARDS

    The Color of Magic

    The Light Fantastic

    Sourcery

    Eric

    Interesting Times

    The Last Continent

    Unseen Academicals

    A full list of the Discworld novels in order can be found at the end of this book.

    Contents

    Cover

    Title Page

    Introducing Discworld®

    The Light Fantastic

    The Discworld Novels

    About the Author

    Books by Terry Pratchett

    Copyright

    About the Publisher

    The Light Fantastic

    THE SUN ROSE SLOWLY, as if it wasn’t sure it was worth all the effort.

    Another Disc day dawned, but very gradually, and this is why.

    When light encounters a strong magical field it loses all sense of urgency. It slows right down. And on the Discworld the magic was embarrassingly strong, which meant that the soft yellow light of dawn flowed over the sleeping landscape like the caress of a gentle lover or, as some would have it, like golden syrup. It paused to fill up valleys. It piled up against mountain ranges. When it reached Cori Celesti, the ten-mile spire of gray stone and green ice that marked the hub of the Disc and was the home of its gods, it built up in heaps until it finally crashed in great lazy tsunami as silent as velvet, across the dark landscape beyond.

    It was a sight to be seen on no other world.

    Of course, no other world was carried through the starry infinity on the backs of four giant elephants, who were themselves perched on the shell of a giant turtle. His name—or Her name, according to another school of thought—was Great A’Tuin; he—or, as it might be, she—will not take a central role in what follows but it is vital to an understanding of the Disc that he—or she—is there, down below the mines and sea ooze and fake fossil bones put there by a Creator with nothing better to do than upset archaeologists and give them silly ideas.

    Great A’Tuin the star turtle, shell frosted with frozen methane, pitted with meteor craters, and scoured with asteroidal dust. Great A’Tuin, with eyes like ancient seas and a brain the size of a continent through which thoughts moved like little glittering glaciers. Great A’Tuin of the great slow sad flippers and star-polished carapace, laboring through the galactic night under the weight of the Disc. As large as worlds. As old as Time. As patient as a brick.

    Actually, the philosophers have got it all wrong. Great A’Tuin is in fact having a great time.

    Great A’Tuin is the only creature in the entire universe that knows exactly where it is going.

    Of course, philosophers have debated for years about where Great A’Tuin might be going, and have often said how worried they are that they might never find out.

    They’re due to find out in about two months. And then they’re really going to worry . . .

    Something else that has long worried the more imaginative philosophers on the Disc is the question of Great A’Tuin’s sex, and quite a lot of time and trouble has been spent in trying to establish it once and for all.

    In fact, as the great dark shape drifts past like an endless tortoiseshell hairbrush, the results of the latest effort are just coming into view.

    Tumbling past, totally out of control, is the bronze shell of the Potent Voyager, a sort of neolithic spaceship built and pushed over the edge by the astronomer-priests of Krull, which is conveniently situated on the very rim of the world and proves, whatever people say, that there is such a thing as a free launch.

    Inside the ship is Twoflower, the Disc’s first tourist. He had recently spent some months exploring it and is now rapidly leaving it for reasons that are rather complicated but have to do with an attempt to escape from Krull.

    This attempt has been one thousand percent successful.

    But despite all the evidence that he may be the Disc’s last tourist as well, he is enjoying the view.

    Plunging along some two miles above him is Rincewind the wizard, in what on the Disc passes for a spacesuit. Picture it as a diving suit designed by men who have never seen the sea. Six months ago he was a perfectly ordinary failed wizard. Then he met Twoflower, was employed at an outrageous salary as his guide, and has spent most of the intervening time being shot at, terrorized, chased and hanging from high places with no hope of salvation or, as is now the case, dropping from high places.

    He isn’t looking at the view because his past life keeps flashing in front of his eyes and getting in the way. He is learning why it is that when you put on a spacesuit it is vitally important not to forget the helmet.

    A lot more could be included now to explain why these two are dropping out of the world, and why Twoflower’s Luggage, last seen desperately trying to follow him on hundreds of little legs, is no ordinary suitcase, but such questions take time and could be more trouble than they are worth. For example, it is said that someone at a party once asked the famous philosopher Ly Tin Weedle Why are you here? and the reply took three years.

    What is far more important is an event happening way overhead, far above A’Tuin, the elephants and the rapidly expiring wizard. The very fabric of time and space is about to be put through the wringer.

    The air was greasy with the distinctive feel of magic, and acrid with the smoke of candles made of a black wax whose precise origin a wise man wouldn’t inquire about.

    There was something very strange about this room deep in the cellars of Unseen University, the Disc’s premier college of magic. For one thing it seemed to have too many dimensions, not exactly visible, just hovering out of eyeshot. The walls were covered with occult symbols, and most of the floor was taken up by the Eightfold Seal of Stasis, generally agreed in magical circles to have all the stopping power of a well-aimed halfbrick.

    The only furnishing in the room was a lectern of dark wood, carved into the shape of a bird—well, to be frank, into the shape of a winged thing it is probably best not to examine too closely—and on the lectern, fastened to it by a heavy chain covered in padlocks, was a book.

    A large, but not particularly impressive, book. Other books in the University’s libraries had covers inlaid with rare jewels and fascinating wood, or bound with dragon skin. This one was just a rather tatty leather. It looked the sort of book described in library catalogues as slightly foxed, although it would be more honest to admit that it looked as though it had been badgered, wolved and possibly beared as well.

    Metal clasps held it shut. They weren’t decorated, they were just very heavy—like the chain, which didn’t so much attach the book to the lectern as tether it.

    They looked like the work of someone who had a pretty definite aim in mind, and who had spent most of his life making training harness for elephants.

    The air thickened and swirled. The pages of the book began to crinkle in a quite horrible, deliberate way, and blue light spilled out from between them. The silence of the room crowded in like a fist, slowly being clenched.

    Half a dozen wizards in their nightshirts were taking turns to peer in through the little grille in the door. No wizard could sleep with this sort of thing going on—the build-up of raw magic was rising through the University like a tide.

    Right, said a voice. What’s going on? And why wasn’t I summoned?

    Galder Weatherwax, Supreme Grand Conjuror of the Order of the Silver Star, Lord Imperial of the Sacred Staff, Eighth Level Ipsissimus and 304th Chancellor of Unseen University, wasn’t simply an impressive sight even in his red nightshirt with the hand-embroidered mystic runes, even in his long cap with the bobble on, even with the Wee Willie Winkie candlestick in his hand. He even managed to very nearly pull it off in fluffy pompom slippers as well.

    Six frightened faces turned toward him.

    Um, you were summoned, lord, said one of the underwizards.

    That’s why you’re here, he added helpfully.

    "I mean why wasn’t I summoned before?" snapped Galder, pushing his way to the grille.

    Um, before who, lord? said the wizard.

    Galder glared at him, and ventured a quick glance through the grille.

    The air in the room was now sparkling with tiny flashes as dust motes incinerated in the flow of raw magic. The Seal of Stasis was beginning to blister and curl up at the edges.

    The book in question was called the Octavo and, quite obviously, it was no ordinary book.

    There are of course many famous books of magic. Some may talk of the Necrotelicomnicon, with its pages made of ancient lizard skin; some may point to the Book of Going Forth Around Elevenish, written by a mysterious and rather lazy Llamaic sect; some may recall that the Bumper Fun Grimoire reputedly contains the one original joke left in the universe. But they are all mere pamphlets when compared with the Octavo, which the Creator of the Universe reputedly left behind—with characteristic absentmindedness—shortly after completing his major work.

    The eight spells imprisoned in its pages led a secret and complex life of their own, and it was generally believed that—

    Galder’s brow furrowed as he stared into the troubled room. Of course, there were only seven spells now. Some young idiot of a student wizard had stolen a look at the book one day and one of the spells had escaped and lodged in his mind. No one had ever managed to get to the bottom of how it had happened. What was his name, now? Winswand?

    Octarine and purple sparks glittered on the spine of the book. A thin curl of smoke was beginning to rise from the lectern, and the heavy metal clasps that held the book shut were definitely beginning to look strained.

    Why are the spells so restless? said one of the younger wizards.

    Galder shrugged. He couldn’t show it, of course, but he was beginning to be really worried. As a skilled eighth-level wizard he could see the half-imaginary shapes that appeared momentarily in the vibrating air, wheedling and beckoning. In much the same way that gnats appear before a thunderstorm, really heavy build-ups of magic always attracted things from the chaotic Dungeon Dimensions—nasty Things, all misplaced organs and spittle, forever searching for any gap through which they might sidle into the world of men.*

    This had to be stopped.

    I shall need a volunteer, he said firmly.

    There was a sudden silence. The only sound came from behind the door. It was the nasty little noise of metal parting under stress.

    Very well, then, he said. In that case I shall need some silver tweezers, about two pints of cat’s blood, a small whip and a chair—

    It is said that the opposite of noise is silence. This isn’t true. Silence is only the absence of noise. Silence would have been a terrible din compared to the sudden soft implosion of noiselessness that hit the wizards with the force of an exploding dandelion clock.

    A thick column of spitting light sprang up from the book, hit the ceiling in a splash of flame, and disappeared.

    Galder stared up at the hole, ignoring the smoldering patches in his beard. He pointed dramatically.

    To the upper cellars! he cried, and bounded up the stone stairs. Slippers flapping and nightshirts billowing the other wizards followed him, falling over one another in their eagerness to be last.

    Nevertheless, they were all in time to see the fireball of occult potentiality disappear into the ceiling of the room above.

    Urgh, said the youngest wizard, and pointed to the floor.

    The room had been part of the library until the magic had drifted through, violently reassembling the possibility particles of everything in its path. So it was reasonable to assume that the small purple newts had been part of the floor and the pineapple custard may once have been some books. And several of the wizards later swore that the small sad orangutan sitting in the middle of it all looked very much like the head librarian.

    Galder stared upward. To the kitchen! he bellowed, wading through the custard to the next flight of stairs.

    No one ever found out what the great cast-iron cooking range had been turned into, because it had broken down a wall and made good its escape before the disheveled party of wild-eyed mages burst into the room. The vegetable chef was found much later hiding in the soup cauldron, gibbering unhelpful things like The knuckles! The horrible knuckles!

    The last wisps of magic, now somewhat slowed, were disappearing into the ceiling.

    To the Great Hall!

    The stairs were much wider here, and better lit. Panting and pineapple-flavored, the fitter wizards got to the top by the time the fireball had reached the middle of the huge drafty chamber that was the University’s main hall. It hung motionless, except for the occasional small prominence that arched and spluttered across its surface.

    Wizards smoke, as everyone knows. That probably explained the chorus of coffin coughs and sawtooth wheezes that erupted behind Galder as he stood appraising the situation and wondering if he dare look for somewhere to hide. He grabbed a frightened student.

    Get me seers, farseers, scryers and withinlook-men! he barked. I want this studied!

    Something was taking shape inside the fireball. Galder shielded his eyes and peered at the shape forming in front of him. There was no mistaking it. It was the universe.

    He was quite sure of this, because he had a model of it in his study and it was generally agreed to be far more impressive than the real thing. Faced with the possibilities offered by seed pearls and silver filigree, the Creator had been at a complete loss.

    But the tiny universe inside the fireball was uncannily—well, real. The only thing missing was color. It was all in translucent misty white.

    There was Great A’Tuin, and the four elephants, and the Disc itself. From this angle Galder couldn’t see the surface very well, but he knew with cold certainty that it would be absolutely accurately modeled. He could, though, just make out a miniature replica of Cori Celesti, upon whose utter peak the world’s quarrelsome and somewhat bourgeois gods lived in a palace of marble, alabaster and uncut moquette three-piece suites they had chosen to call Dunmanifestin. It was always a considerable annoyance to any Disc citizen with pretensions to culture that they were ruled by gods whose idea of an uplifting artistic experience was a musical doorbell.

    The little embryo universe began to move slowly, tilting . . .

    Galder tried to shout, but his voice refused to come out.

    Gently, but with the unstoppable force of an explosion, the shape expanded.

    He watched in horror, and then in astonishment, as it passed through him as lightly as a thought. He held out a hand and watched the pale ghosts of rock strata stream through his fingers in busy silence.

    Great A’Tuin had already sunk peacefully below floor level, larger than a house.

    The wizards behind Galder were waist deep in seas. A boat smaller than a thimble caught Galder’s eye for a moment before the rush carried it through the walls and away.

    To the roof! he managed, pointing a shaking finger skyward.

    Those wizards with enough marbles left to think with and enough breath to run followed him, running through continents that sleeted smoothly through the solid stone.

    It was a still night, tinted with the promise of dawn. A crescent moon was just setting. Ankh-Morpork, largest city in the lands around the Circle Sea, slept.

    That statement is not really true.

    On the one hand, those parts of the city which normally concerned themselves with, for example, selling vegetables, shoeing horses, carving exquisite small jade ornaments, changing money and making tables, on the whole, slept. Unless they had insomnia. Or had got up in the night, as it might be, to go to the lavatory. On the other hand, many of the less law-abiding citizens were wide awake and, for instance, climbing through windows that didn’t belong to them, slitting throats, mugging one another, listening to loud music in smoky cellars and generally having a lot more fun. But most of the animals were asleep, except for the rats. And the bats, too, of course. As far as the insects were concerned . . .

    The point is that descriptive writing is very rarely entirely accurate and during the reign of Olaf Quimby II as Patrician of Ankh some legislation was passed in a determined attempt to put a stop to this sort of thing and introduce some honesty into reporting. Thus, if a legend said of a notable hero that all men spoke of his prowess any bard who valued his life would add hastily except for a couple of people in his home village who thought he was a liar, and quite a lot of other people who had never really heard of him. Poetic simile was strictly limited to statements like his mighty steed was as fleet as the wind on a fairly calm day, say about Force Three, and any loose talk about a beloved having a face that launched a thousand ships would have to be backed by evidence that the object of desire did indeed look like a bottle of champagne.

    Quimby was eventually killed by a disgruntled poet during an experiment conducted in the palace grounds to prove the disputed accuracy of the proverb The pen is mightier than the sword, and in his memory it was amended to include the phrase only if the sword is very small and the pen is very sharp.

    So. Approximately sixty-seven, maybe sixty-eight percent, of the city slept. Not that the other citizens creeping about on their generally unlawful occasions noticed the pale tide streaming through the streets. Only the wizards, used to seeing the invisible, watched it foam across the distant fields.

    The Disc, being flat, has no real horizon. Any adventurous sailors who got funny ideas from staring at eggs and oranges for too long and set out for the antipodes soon learned that the reason why distant ships sometimes looked as though they were disappearing over the edge of the world was that they were disappearing over the edge of

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