Read Online The Last Continent by Terry Pratchett - Free Book Online
Authors: Terry Pratchett
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous stories, Science-Fiction, Fantasy fiction, Fiction - Fantasy, Fantasy, Epic, Satire, Discworld (Imaginary place), Fantasy:Humour, Fantasy - Series, Wizards, Fantastic fiction
Ads: Link
and horses are not frightened. There may be strapping young wizards with copper-colored skins and muscles as solid as a plank, but not after sixty years of UU dinners. It gives senior wizards what they think is called gravitas but is more accurately called gravity.
Also, it takes heavy machinery to part a wizard from his pointy hat.
The Chair of Indefinite Studies looked sidelong at the Dean. They both wore a variety of garments, in which red and white stripes predominated.
“Last one into the water’s a man standing all by himself on the beach!” he shouted. *
Out on a point of rock, surf washing over his bare feet, Mustrum Ridcully lit his pipe and cast a line on the end of which was such a fearsome array of spinners and weights that any fish it didn’t hook it might successfully bludgeon.
The change of scenery seemed to be working on the Librarian. Within a few minutes of being laid in the sunlight he’d sneezed himself back into his old shape, and he now sat on the beach with a blanket around him and a fern leaf on his head.
It was, indeed, a lovely day. It was warm, the sea murmured beautifully, the wind whispered in the trees. The Librarian knew he ought to be feeling better, but, instead, he was beginning to feel extremely uneasy.
He stared around him. The Lecturer in Recent Runes had gone to sleep with his book carefully shading his eyes. It had originally been entitled Principles of Thaumic Propagation but, because of the action of the sunlight and some specialized high-frequency vibrations from the sand granules on the beach the words on the cover now read The Omega Conspiracy . *
In the middle distance was the window. It hung in the air, a simple square into a shadowy room. The Archchancellor hadn’t trusted the window catch and had propped up the window with a piece of wood. A warning label pinned to it showed that some thought had gone into the wording: “Do not remove this wood. Not even to see what happens. IMPORTANT!”
There appeared to be some forest behind the beach which rose a little way up the side of a small yet quite pointy mountain, certainly not tall enough to have snow on it.
Some of the trees lining the beach looked hauntingly familiar, and spoke to the Librarian of home. This was strange, because he had been born in Moon Pond Lane, Ankh-Morpork, next to the saddle-makers. But they spoke to the home in his bones. He had an urge to climb…
But there was something wrong with the trees. He looked down at the pretty shells on the beach. There was something wrong with them, too. Creepily, worryingly wrong.
A few birds wheeled overhead, and they were wrong. They were the right shape, as far as he knew, and they seemed to be making the right noises. But they were still wrong .
Oh, dear…
He tried to stop the sneeze as it gathered nasal momentum, but this is impossible for anyone who wants to continue to go through life with their eardrums.
There was a snort, a clattering sound, and the Librarian changed into something suitable for the beach.
It is often said about desert environments that there is in fact a lot of nutritious food around, if only you know what to look for.
Rincewind mused on this as he pulled a plate of chocolate-covered sponge cakes from their burrow. They had dried coconut flakes on them.
He turned the plate cautiously.
Well, you couldn’t argue with it. He was finding food in the desert. In fact, he was even finding dessert in the desert.
Perhaps it was some special talent hitherto undiscovered by the kind people who had occasionally shared their food with him in the last few months. They hadn’t eaten this sort of thing. They’d ground up seeds and dug up skinny yams and eaten things with more eyeballs than the Watch had found after that business with Medley the Medical Kleptomaniac.
So something was going right for him. Out here in the red-hot wilderness something wanted him to stay alive . This was a worrying thought. No one ever wanted him alive for
Also, it takes heavy machinery to part a wizard from his pointy hat.
The Chair of Indefinite Studies looked sidelong at the Dean. They both wore a variety of garments, in which red and white stripes predominated.
“Last one into the water’s a man standing all by himself on the beach!” he shouted. *
Out on a point of rock, surf washing over his bare feet, Mustrum Ridcully lit his pipe and cast a line on the end of which was such a fearsome array of spinners and weights that any fish it didn’t hook it might successfully bludgeon.
The change of scenery seemed to be working on the Librarian. Within a few minutes of being laid in the sunlight he’d sneezed himself back into his old shape, and he now sat on the beach with a blanket around him and a fern leaf on his head.
It was, indeed, a lovely day. It was warm, the sea murmured beautifully, the wind whispered in the trees. The Librarian knew he ought to be feeling better, but, instead, he was beginning to feel extremely uneasy.
He stared around him. The Lecturer in Recent Runes had gone to sleep with his book carefully shading his eyes. It had originally been entitled Principles of Thaumic Propagation but, because of the action of the sunlight and some specialized high-frequency vibrations from the sand granules on the beach the words on the cover now read The Omega Conspiracy . *
In the middle distance was the window. It hung in the air, a simple square into a shadowy room. The Archchancellor hadn’t trusted the window catch and had propped up the window with a piece of wood. A warning label pinned to it showed that some thought had gone into the wording: “Do not remove this wood. Not even to see what happens. IMPORTANT!”
There appeared to be some forest behind the beach which rose a little way up the side of a small yet quite pointy mountain, certainly not tall enough to have snow on it.
Some of the trees lining the beach looked hauntingly familiar, and spoke to the Librarian of home. This was strange, because he had been born in Moon Pond Lane, Ankh-Morpork, next to the saddle-makers. But they spoke to the home in his bones. He had an urge to climb…
But there was something wrong with the trees. He looked down at the pretty shells on the beach. There was something wrong with them, too. Creepily, worryingly wrong.
A few birds wheeled overhead, and they were wrong. They were the right shape, as far as he knew, and they seemed to be making the right noises. But they were still wrong .
Oh, dear…
He tried to stop the sneeze as it gathered nasal momentum, but this is impossible for anyone who wants to continue to go through life with their eardrums.
There was a snort, a clattering sound, and the Librarian changed into something suitable for the beach.
It is often said about desert environments that there is in fact a lot of nutritious food around, if only you know what to look for.
Rincewind mused on this as he pulled a plate of chocolate-covered sponge cakes from their burrow. They had dried coconut flakes on them.
He turned the plate cautiously.
Well, you couldn’t argue with it. He was finding food in the desert. In fact, he was even finding dessert in the desert.
Perhaps it was some special talent hitherto undiscovered by the kind people who had occasionally shared their food with him in the last few months. They hadn’t eaten this sort of thing. They’d ground up seeds and dug up skinny yams and eaten things with more eyeballs than the Watch had found after that business with Medley the Medical Kleptomaniac.
So something was going right for him. Out here in the red-hot wilderness something wanted him to stay alive . This was a worrying thought. No one ever wanted him alive for
Similar Books
