The Last Hero

it…’

‘My paints, where are my paints…?’ mumbled Leonard.

‘Well, some of them are in the privy,’ said Rincewind.

Carrot turned, and looked puzzled. The iconograph floated away, trailing small curses.

‘And where's my apple?’ he said.

‘What?’ said Rincewind, perplexed at the sudden subject of fruit.

‘I'd just started eating an apple, and I just rested it in the air… and it's gone.’

The ship creaked in the glaring sunlight.

And an apple core came tumbling gently through the air.

‘I suppose there are just the three of us aboard?’ said Rincewind innocently.

‘Don't be silly,’ said Carrot. ‘We're sealed in!’

‘So… your apple ate itself?’

They looked at the jumble of bundles held in the webbing behind them.

‘I mean, call me Mr Suspicious,’ said Rincewind, ‘but if the ship is heavier than Leonard thought, and we're using up more air, and food is vanishing—’

‘You're not suggesting that there's some kind of monster floating around below the Rim that can bore into wooden hulls, are you?’ said Carrot, drawing his sword.

‘Ah, I hadn't thought of that one,’ said Rincewind. ‘Well done.’

‘Interesting,’ said Leonard. ‘It would be, perhaps, a cross between a bird and a bivalve. Somewhat squid- like, possibly, using jets of—’

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, yes!’

Carrot pulled out a roll of blankets and tried to look back along the cabin.

‘I think I saw something move,’ he said. ‘Just behind the air reservoirs…’

He ducked under a bundle of skis and disappeared into the shadows.

They heard him groan.

‘Oh, no…’

‘What? What?’ said Rincewind. Carrot's voice was muffled.

‘I've found a… it looks like a… skin…’

‘Ah, fascinating,’ said Leonard, sketching on his notepad. ‘Possibly, once aboard a hospitable vessel, such a creature would metamorphose into—’

Carrot emerged, a banana skin kebabed on the end of his sword.

Rincewind rolled his eyes. ‘I have a very definite feeling about this,’ he said.

‘So have I,’ said Carrot.

It took them some time, but finally they pushed away a box of dishcloths and there were no more hiding places.

A worried face looked out of the nest it had made.

‘Ook?’ it said.

Leonard sighed, laid aside his pad and opened up the omniscope's box. He banged on it once or twice, and it flickered and showed the outline of a head.

Leonard took a deep breath.

‘Ankh-Morpork, we have an orangutan…’

Cohen sheathed his sword.

‘Wouldn't have expected much to be living up here,’ he said, surveying the carnage.

‘There's even less now,’ said Caleb.

The latest fight had been over in the twinkling of an eye and the cleaving of a backbone. Any… creatures that ambushed the Horde did so at the end of their lives.

‘The raw magic here must be huge,’ said Boy Willie. ‘I suppose creatures like this get used to living off it. Sooner or later something will learn to live anywhere.’

‘It's certainly doing Mad Hamish good,’ said Cohen. ‘I'll swear he's not as deaf as he was.’

‘Whut?’

‘I SAID YOU'RE NOT AS DEAF AS YOU WERE, HAMISH!’

‘There's no need to shout, mon!’

‘Can we cook 'em, do you think?’ said Boy Willie.

‘They'll probably taste a bit like chicken,’ said Caleb. ‘Everything does, if you're hungry enough.’

‘Leave it to me,’ said Mrs McGarry. ‘You get a fire going, and I'll make this taste more like chicken than… chicken.’

Cohen wandered off to where the minstrel was sitting by himself, working on the remains of his lute. The lad had brightened up considerably as the climb progressed, Cohen thought. He had completely stopped whimpering.

Cohen sat down next to him.

‘What're you doing, lad?’ he said. ‘I see you found a skull.’

‘It's going to be the sound box,’ said the minstrel. He looked worried for a moment. ‘That is all right, isn't it?’

‘Sure. Good fate for a hero, having his bones made into a harp or something. It should sing out wonderful.’

‘This will be a kind of lyre,’ said the minstrel. ‘It's going to be a bit primitive, I'm afraid.’

‘Even better. Good for the old songs,’ said Cohen.

‘I have been thinking about the… the saga,’ the minstrel admitted.

‘Good lad, good lad. Plenty of spakes?’

‘Um, yes. But I thought I'd start off with the legend of how Mazda stole fire for mankind in the first place.’

‘Nice,’ said Cohen,

‘And then a few verses about what the gods did to him,’ the minstrel went on, tightening a string.

‘Did to him? Did to him?’ said Cohen. ‘They made him immortal!’

‘Er… yes. In a way, I suppose.’

‘What do you mean, “in a way”?’

‘It's classical mythology, Cohen,’ said the minstrel. ‘I thought everyone knew. He was chained to a rock for eternity and every day an eagle comes and pecks out his liver.’

‘Is that true?’

‘It's mentioned in many of the classic texts.’

‘I'm not much of a reader,’ said Cohen. ‘Chained to a rock? For a first offence? He's still there?’

‘Eternity isn't finished yet, Cohen.’

‘He must've had a big liver!’

‘It grows again every night, according to the legend,’ said the minstrel.

‘I wish my kidneys did,’ said Cohen. He stared at the distant clouds that hid the snowy top of the mountain. ‘He brought fire to everyone, and the gods did that to him, eh? Well… we'll have to see about that.’

The omniscope showed a snowstorm.

‘Bad weather down there, then,’ said Ridcully.

‘No, it's thaumic interference,’ said Ponder. ‘They're passing under the elephants. We'll get a lot more of it, I'm afraid.’

‘Did they really say “Ankh-Morpork, we have an orangutan”?’ said the Dean.

‘The Librarian must have got on board somehow,’ said Ponder. ‘You know what he's like for finding odd corners to sleep in. And that, I'm afraid, explains about the weight and the air. Er… I have to tell you that I'm not sure that they have enough time or power to get back on to the Disc now.’

‘What do you mean, you're notsure?’ said Lord Vetinari.

‘Er… I mean I am sure but, er, no one likes bad news all at once, sir.’