Discworld 27 - The Last Hero (11 page)

 
 
   
There was greenery, too. except that it was silver. Lunar vegetation
covered most of the surface. The Kite's third bounce and long slide had
left a trail through it. The leaves were-
“Hold still, will you?” Rincewind's attention was drawn to his patient as
the Librarian struggled; the problem with bandaging an orangutan's head
is knowing when to stop. “It's your own fault,” he said. “I told you.
Small steps, I said. Not giant leaps.”
Carrot and Leonard bounced around the side of the Kite.
“Hardly any damage at all,” said the inventor as he drifted down. “The
whole thing took the shock remarkably well. And we're pointing slightly
upwards. In this ... general lightness, that should be quite sufficient
to allow us to take off again, although there is one minor problem- Shoo,
will you?”
He waved away a small silver dragon that was sniffing at the Kite, and it
took off vertically on a needle of blue flame.
“We're out of food for our dragons,” said Rincewind. “I've looked. The
fuel bunker broke open when we landed for the first time.”
“But we can feed them some of the silver plants, can't we?” said Carrot.
“The ones here seem to do very well on them.”
“Aren't they magnificent creatures?” said Leonard as a squadron of the
creatures sailed overhead.
They turned to watch the flight, and then stared beyond it. There was
possibly no limit to how often the view could amaze you.
The moon was rising over the world, and elephant's head filled half the
sky.
It was ... simply big. Too big to describe.
Wordlessly, all four voyagers climbed a small mound to get a clear view,
and they stood in silence for some time. Dark eyes the size of oceans
stared at them. Great crescents of ivory obscured the stars.
There was no sound but the occasional click and swish as the iconograph
imp painted picture after picture.
Space wasn't big. It wasn't there. It was just nothing and therefore, in
Rincewind's view; nothing to get humble about. But the world was big, and
the elephant was huge.
“Which one is it?” said Leonard, after a while.
“I don't know.” said Carrot. “You know, I'm not sure I ever really
believed it before. You know about the turtle and the elephants and
everything. Seeing it all like this makes me feel very ... very ...”
“Scared?” suggested Rincewind.
“No.”
“Upset?”
“No.”
“Easily intimidated?”
“No.”
Beyond the Rimfall, the continents of the world were coming into view
under swirls of white cloud.
“You know ... from up here ... you can't see the boundaries between
nations,” said Carrot, almost wistfully.
“Is that a problem?” said Leonard. “Possibly something could be done.”
“Maybe huge, really huge buildings in lines, along the frontiers,” said
Rincewind. “Or ... or very wide roads. You could paint them different
colours to save confusion.”
“Should aerial travel become widespread.” said Leonard, “it would be a
useful idea to grow forests in the shape of the name of the country, or
of other areas of note. I will bear this in mind.”
“I wasn't actually sugges-” Carrot began. And then be stopped, and just
sighed.

 
 
   
They went on watching, unable to tear themselves away from the view. Tiny
sparkles in the sky showed where more flocks of dragons were sweeping
between the world and the moon.
“We never see them back home,” said Rincewind.
“I suspect the swamp dragons are their descendants, poor little things,”
said Leonard. “Adapted for heavy air.”
“I wonder what else lives down here that we don't know about?” said
Carrot.
“Well, there's always the invisible squid-like creature that sucks all
the air out of-” Rincewind began, but sarcasm did not carry very well out
here. The universe diluted it. The huge, black, solemn eyes in the sky
withered it.
Besides, there was just... too much. Too much of everything. He wasn't
used to seeing this much universe all in one go. The blue disc of the
world, unrolling slowly as the moon rose, looked outnumbered,
“It's all too big.” said Rincewind.
“Yes.”
“Ook.”
There was nothing to do but wait for full moonrise. Or Discsink.
Carrot carefully lifted a small dragon out of a coffee cup. “The little
ones get everywhere,” he said. “Just like kittens. But the adults just
keep their distance and stare at us.”
“Like cats, then.,” said Rincewind. He lifted up his hat and untangled a
small silvery dragon from his hair.
“I wonder if we ought to take a few back?”
“We'll be taking them all back if we're not careful!”
“They look a bit like Errol,” said Carrot. “You know, the little dragon
that was our Watch mascot? He saved the city by working out how to, er
flame backwards. We all thought he was some new kind of dragon,” Carrot
added, “but now it looks as though he was a throwback. Is Leonard still
out there?”
They looked out at Leonard, who had taken half an hour off to do some
painting. A small dragon had perched on his shoulder.
“He says he's never seen light like it,” said Rincewind. “He says he must
have a picture. He's doing very well, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“Considering that two of the tubes he was using contain tomato puree and
cream cheese.”
“Did you tell him?”
“I didn't like to. He was so enthusiastic.”
“We'd better start feeding the dragons,” said Carrot, putting his cup
down.
“All right. Can you unstick this frying pan from my head, please?”
Half an hour later the flicker of the omniscope screen illuminated
Ponder's cabin. “We've fed the dragons,” said Carrot. “The plants here
are... odd. They seem to be made of a sort of glassy metal. Leonard has a
rather impressive theory that they absorb sunlight during the day and
then shine at night, thus creating ”moonlight“. The dragons seem to find
it very tasty. Anyway, we shall be leaving shortly. I am just collecting
some rocks.”
“I'm sure they will come in useful,” said Lord Vetinari.
“Actually, sir, they will be very valuable,” whispered Ponder Stibbons.
“Really?” said the Patrician.
“Oh, yes! They may well be completely different from rocks on the Disc!”
“And if they are exactly the same?”
“Oh, that would be even more interesting, sir!”
Lord Vetinari looked at Ponder without speaking. He could deal with most
types of mind, but the one apparently operating Ponder Stibbons was of a

 
 
   
sort he had yet to find the handles on. It was best to nod and smile and
give it the bits of machinery it seemed to think were so important, lest
it run amok.
“Well done,” he said. “Ah, yes, of course ... and the rocks may contain
valuable ores, or possibly even diamonds?”
Ponder shrugged. “I wouldn't know about that. sir. But they may tell us
more about the history of the moon.”
Vetinari's brow wrinkled. “History?” he said. “But no one lives th- I
mean, yes. well done. Tell me, do you have all the machinery you need?”
The swamp dragons chewed at the moon leaves. They were metallic, with a
glassy surface, and little blue and green sparks sizzled over the
dragons' teeth when they bit into them. The voyagers piled them up high
in front of the cages.
Unfortunately, the only explorer who would have noticed that the moon
dragons ate only the occasional leaf was Leonard, and he had been too
busy painting.
Swamp dragons, on the other hand, were used to eating a lot of things in
the energy-poor environment of their world.
Stomachs used to transmuting the equivalent of stale cakes into usable
flame took delivery of dialectric surfaces chock-full of almost pure
energy. It was the food of the gods.
It was only going to be a matter of time before one of them burped.
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 over there. 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 yon, 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. ”Yon
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?"

 
 
   
Ponder was located in the bunk where he had flopped asleep fully dressed.
He was hustled up the ladder half-asleep, but he awoke quickly when he
saw the sky.
“Should it he doing that?” Ridcully demanded, pointing at the moon.
“No, sir! It certainly shouldn't!”
“It's a definite problem, is it?” said the Chair, hopefully.
“It certainly is! Where's the omniscope? Has anyone tried to talk to
them?”
“Ah, well, not my field then,” said the Chair of Indefinite Studies,
backing away. “Sorry. Would help if I could. Can see you're busy. Sorry.”
All the dragons must have fired by now. Rincewind felt his eyeballs being
pressed into the back of his head.
Leonard was unconscious in the next seat. Carrot was presumably lying in
the debris that had been rammed to the other end of the cabin.
By the ominous creaking, and the smell, an orangutan was hanging on to
the back of Rincewind's seat.
Oh, and when he managed to turn his head to see out of the window, one of
the dragon pods was on fire. It was no wonder - the flame coming from the
dragons was almost pure white.
Leonard had mentioned one of these levers ... Rincewind stared at them
through a red mist. “If we have to drop all the dragons,” Leonard had
said, “we-” What? Which lever?
Actually, at a time like this the choice was plain.
Rincewind, his vision blurred, his ears insulted by the sound of a ship
in pain, pulled the only one he could reach.
I can't put this in a saga, the minstrel thought. No one will ever
believe it. I mean, they just won't ever believe it...
“Trust me, right?” said Evil Harry, inspecting the Horde. “I mean, yes,
obviously I am untrustworthy, point taken, but it's a matter of pride
here, you understand? Trust me. This will work. I bet even the gods don't
know all the gods, right?”
“I feel a right twerp with these wings.” Caleb complained.
“Mrs McGarry did a very good job on'em, so don't complain,” snapped Evil
Harry. “You make a very good God of Love. What kind of love. I wouldn't
like to say. And you are ... ?”
“God of Fish, Harry,” said Cohen, who had stuck scales on his skin and
made himself a sort offish-head helmet from one of their late
adversaries.
Evil Harry tried to breathe. “Good, good, a very old fish god. yes. And
you. Truckle, are ... ?”
“The God of bloody Swearing.” said Truckle the Uncivil firmly.
“Er, that could actually work,” said the minstrel, as Evil Harry frowned.
“After all. there are Muses of dance and song, and there's even a Muse of
erotic poetry-”
“Oh, I can do that, said Truckle dismissively. ”“There was a young lady
from Quirm. Whose grip was-”
“All right, all right. And you. Hamish?” “God o' Stuff,” said Hamish.
“What stuff?”
Hamish shrugged. He hadn't survived all this time by being unnecessarily
imaginative. “Just... things, y”ken,“ he said. ”Lost things, mebbe.
Things lyin' aroound?“ The Silver Horde turned to the minstrel, who
nodded after some thought.
”Could work,“ he said, at last. Evil Harry moved on to Boy Willie.
”Willie, why have you got a tomato on your head and a carrot in your
ear?“
Boy Willie grinned proudly. ”You'll love this one,“ he said. ”God of
Bein“ Sick.”