The Last Hero

‘Er… yes. Possibly. Er… if you fall over the edge fast enough, the… world pulls you back… and you go on falling but it's all round the world.’

‘You're saying that by falling off the world we – and by we, I hasten to point out, I don't actually include myself – we can end up in the sky?’ said the Dean.

‘Um… yes. After all, the sun does the same thing every day…’

The Dean looked enraptured. ‘Amazing!’ he said. ‘Then… you could get an army into the heart of enemy territory! No fortress would be safe! You could rain fire down on to—’

He caught the look in Leonard's eye.

‘—on to bad people,’ he finished, lamely.

‘That would not happen,’ said Leonard severely. ‘Ever!’

‘Could the… thing you are planning land on Cori Celesti?’ said Lord Vetinari.

‘Oh, certainly there should be suitable snowfields up there,’ said Leonard. ‘If there are not, I feel sure I can devise some appropriate landing method. Happily, as you have pointed out, things in the air have a tendency to come down.’

Ridcully was about to make an appropriate comment, but stopped himself. He knew Leonard's reputation. This was a man who could invent seven new things before breakfast, including two new ways with toast. This man had invented the ball-bearing, such an obvious device that no one had thought of it. That was the very centre of his genius – he invented things that anyone could have thought of, and men who can invent things that anyone could have thought of are very rare men.

This man was so absent-mindedly clever that he could paint pictures that didn't just follow you around the room but went home with you and did the washing-up.

Some people are confident because they are fools. Leonard had the look of someone who was confident because, so far, he'd never found a reason not to be. He would step off a high building in the happy state of mind of someone who intended to deal with the problem of the ground when it presented itself.

And might.

‘What do you need from us?’ said Ridcully.

‘Well, the… thing cannot operate by magic. Magic will be unreliable near the Hub, I understand. But can you supply me with wind?’

‘You have certainly chosen the right people,’ said Lord Vetinari. And it seemed to the wizards that there was just too long a pause before he went on, ‘They are highly skilled in weather manipulation.’

‘A severe gale would be helpful at the launch…’ Leonard continued.

‘I think I can say without fear of contradiction that our wizards can supply wind in practically unlimited amounts,’ said the Patrician. ‘Is that not so, Archchancellor?’

‘I am forced to agree, my lord.’

‘Then if we can rely on a stiff following breeze. I am sure—’

‘Just a moment, just a moment,’ said the Dean, who rather felt the wind comment had been directed at him. ‘What do we know of this man? He makes… devices, and paints pictures, does he? Well, I'm sure this is all very nice, but we all know about artists, don't we? Flibbertigibbets, to a man. And what about Bloody Stupid Johnson? Remember some of the things he built?4 I'm sure Mr da Quirm draws lovely pictures, but I for one would need a little more evidence of his amazing genius before we entrust the world to his… device. Show me one thing he can do that anyone couldn't do, if they had the time.’

‘I have never considered myself a genius,’ said Leonard, looking down bashfully and doodling on the paper in front of him.

‘Well, if I was a genius I think I'd know it—’ the Dean began, and stopped.

Absent-mindedly, while barely paying attention to what he was doing, Leonard had drawn a perfect circle.

Lord Vetinari found it best to set up a committee system. More of the ambassadors from other countries had arrived at the university, and more heads of the Guilds were pouring in, and every single one of them wanted to be involved in the decision-making process without necessarily going through the intelligence-using process first.

About seven committees, he considered, should be about right. And when, ten minutes later, the first sub-committee had miraculously budded off, he took aside a few chosen people into a small room, set up the Miscellaneous Committee, and locked the door.

‘The flying ship will need a crew, I'm told,’ he said. ‘It can carry three people. Leonard will have to go because, to be frank, he will be working on it even as it departs. And the other two?’

‘There should be an assassin,’ said Lord Downey of the Assassins' Guild.

‘No. If Cohen and his friends were easy to assassinate, they would have been dead long ago,’ said Lord Vetinari.

‘Perhaps a woman's touch?’ said Mrs Palm, head of the Guild of Seamstresses. ‘I know they are elderly gentlemen, but my members are—’

‘I think the problem there, Mrs Palm, is that although the Horde are apparently very appreciative of the company of women, they don't listen to anything they say. Yes, Captain Carrot?’

Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson of the City Watch was standing to attention, radiating keenness and a hint of soap.

‘I volunteer to go, sir,’ he said.