The Last Hero

‘“If you look out of the left window you can see practically everywhere”,’ Rincewind translated.

‘Ook!’

‘“And if you look out of the right window, you can see—” Good grief!’

There was the Mountain. And there, glittering in the sunlight, was the home of the gods. Above it, just visible even in the brilliant air, was the shimmering misty funnel of the world's magical field earthing itself at the centre of the world.

‘Are you, er, are you much of a religious man yourself?’ said Rincewind as clouds whipped by the window.

‘I believe all religions do reflect some aspect of an eternal truth, yes,’ said Carrot.

‘Good wheeze,’ said Rincewind. ‘You might just get away with it.’

‘And you?’ said Carrot.

‘We-ll… you know that religion that thinks that whirling round in circles is a form of prayer?’

‘Oh, yes. The Hurtling Whirlers of Klatch.’

‘Mine is like that, only we go more in… straight lines. Yes. That's it. Speed is a sacrament.’

‘You believe it gives you some sort of eternal life?’

‘Not eternal, as such. More… well, just more, really. More life. That is,’ Rincewind added, ‘more life than you would have if you did not go very fast in a straight line. Although curving lines are acceptable in broken country.’

Carrot sighed. ‘You're just a coward really, aren't you?’

‘Yes, but I've never understood what's wrong with the idea. It takes guts to run away, you know. Lots of people would be as cowardly as me if they were brave enough.’

They looked out of the window again. The mountain was nearer.

‘According to the mission notes,’ said Carrot, thumbing through the sheaf of hastily written research notes that Ponder had thrust into his hand just before departure, ‘a number of humans have entered Dunmanifestin in the past and returned alive.’

‘Returned alive perse is not hugely comforting,’ said Rincewind. ‘With their arms and legs? Sanity? All minor extremities?’

‘Mostly they were mythical characters,’ said Carrot, uncertainly.

‘Before or after?’

‘The gods traditionally look favourably on boldness, daring and audacity,’ Carrot went on.

‘Good. You can go in first.’

‘Ook,’ said the Librarian.

‘He says we'll have to land soon,’ said Carrot. ‘Was there some position we're supposed to get into?’

‘Ook!’ said the Librarian. He seemed to be fighting the levers.

‘What do you mean, “lie on your back with your arms folded across your chest”?’

‘Eek!’

‘Didn't you watch what Leonard did when he landed us on the moon?’

‘Ook!’

‘And that was a good landing,’ said Rincewind. ‘Oh well, shame about the end of the world, but these things happen, eh?’

WOULD YOU LIKE A PEANUT? I AM AFRAID IT IS A LITTLE HARD TO GET THE PACKET OPEN.

A ghostly chair hung in the air next to Rincewind. A violet flaring round the edge of his vision told him that he was suddenly in a little private time and space of his own.

‘So we are going to crash?’ he said.

POSSIBLY. I'M AFRAID THE UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE IS MAKING MY JOB VERY DIFFICULT. HOW ABOUT A MAGAZINE?

The Kite curved around and began to glide gently towards the clouds around Cori Celesti. The Librarian glared at the levers, bit one or two of them, tugged the handle of Prince Haran's Tiller and then swung himself back along the cabin and hid under a blanket.

‘We're going to land in that snowfield,’ said Carrot, slipping into the pilot's seat. ‘Leonard designed the ship to land in snow, didn't he? After all—’

The Kite did not so much land as kiss the snow. It bounced up into the air, glided a little further, and touched down again. There were a few more skips, and then the keel was running crisply and smoothly over the snowfield.

‘Outstanding!’ said Carrot. ‘It's just a walk in the park!’

‘You mean people are going to mug us and steal all our money and kick us viciously in the ribs?’ said Rincewind. ‘Could be. We're heading directly towards the city. Have you noticed?’

They stared ahead. The gates of Dunmanifestin were getting closer very quickly. The Kite breasted a snowdrift and sailed on.

‘This is not the time to panic,’ said Rincewind.

The Kite hit the snow, rebounded into the air and flew through the gateway of the gods.

Halfway through the gateway of the gods.

‘So… seven and I win,’ said Cohen. ‘It comes down showin' seven and I win, right?’

‘Yes. Of course,’ said Fate.

‘Sounds like a million-to-one chance to me,’ said Cohen.

He tossed the die high in the air, and it slowed as it rose, tumbling glacially with a noise like the swish of windmill blades.

It reached the top of its arc and began to fall.

Cohen was staring fixedly at it, absolutely still. Then his sword was out of its scabbard and it whirled around in a complex curve. There was a snick and a green flash in the middle of the air and…

…two halves of an ivory cube bounced across the table.

One landed showing the six. The other landed showing the one.

One or two of the gods, to the minstrel's amazement, began to applaud.

‘I think we had a deal?’ said Cohen, still holding his sword.

‘Really? And have you heard the saying “You cannot cheat Fate”?’ said Fate.