Small Gods

underpants on the outside, shyly offered him congratulations.
    “Mmm?” said Brutha, his gruel dripping off the spoon.
    “One hundred years,” said the subdeacon. “Since you walked in the desert, sir.”
    “Really? I thought it was, mm, fifty years? Can’t be more than sixty years, boy.”
    “Uh, one hundred years, lord. We had a look in the records.”
    “Really. One hundred years? One hundred years’ time?” Brutha laid down his spoon very carefully, and stared at the plain white wall opposite him. The subdeacon found himself turning to see what it was the Cenobiarch was looking at, but there was nothing, only the whiteness of the wall.
    “One hundred years,” mused Brutha. “Mmm. Good lord. I forgot.” He laughed. “I forgot . One hundred years, eh? But here and now, we—”
    The subdeacon turned around.
    “Cenobiarch?”
    He stepped closer, the blood draining from his face.
    “Lord?”
    He turned and ran for help.
    Brutha’s body toppled forward almost gracefully, smacking into the table. The bowl overturned, and gruel dripped down on to the floor.
    And then Brutha stood up, without a second glance at his corpse.
    “Hah. I wasn’t expecting you,” he said.
    Death stopped leaning against the wall.
    H OW FORTUNATE YOU WERE .
    “But there’s still such a lot to be done…”
    Y ES . T HERE ALWAYS IS .
    Brutha followed the gaunt figure through the wall where, instead of the privy that occupied the far side in normal space, there was…
    …black sand.
    The light was brilliant, crystalline, in a black sky filled with stars.
    “Ah. There really is a desert. Does everyone get this?” said Brutha.
    W HO KNOWS ?
    “And what is at the end of the desert?”
    J UDGMENT .
    Brutha considered this.
    “ Which end?”
    Death grinned and stepped aside.
    What Brutha had thought was a rock in the sand was a hunched figure, sitting clutching its knees. It looked paralyzed with fear.
    He stared.
    “Vorbis?” he said.
    He looked at Death.
    “But Vorbis died a hundred years ago!”
    Y ES . H E HAD TO WALK IT ALL ALONE . A LL ALONE WITH HIMSELF . I F HE DARED .
    “He’s been here for a hundred years?”
    P OSSIBLY NOT . T IME IS DIFFERENT HERE . I T IS…MORE PERSONAL .
    “Ah. You mean a hundred years can pass like a few seconds?”
    A HUNDRED YEARS CAN PASS LIKE INFINITY .
    The black-on-black eyes stared imploringly at Brutha, who reached out automatically, without thinking…and then hesitated.
    H E WAS A MURDERER , said Death. A ND A CREATOR OF MURDERERS . A TORTURER . W ITHOUT PASSION . C RUEL . C ALLOUS . C OMPASSIONLESS .
    “Yes. I know. He’s Vorbis,” said Brutha. Vorbis changed people. Sometimes he changed them into dead people. But he always changed them. That was his triumph.
    He sighed.
    “But I’m me,” he said.
    Vorbis stood up, uncertainly, and followed Brutha across the desert.
    Death watched them walk away.

About the Author
    Terry Pratchett is one of the most popular living authors in the world. His first story was published when he was thirteen, and his first full-length book when he was twenty. He worked as a journalist to support the writing habit, but gave up the day job when the success of his books meant that it was costing him money to go to work.
    Pratchett’s acclaimed novels are bestsellers in the U.S. and the United Kingdom and have sold more than twenty-seven million copies worldwide. He lives in England, where he writes all the time. (It’s his hobby, as well.)
    Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

THE WORLD LOVES TERRY PRATCHETT…
AND SO WILL YOU!

    “Nothing short of magical.”
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    “Unadulterated fun…witty, frequently hilarious…Pratchett parodies everything in sight.”
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    “Acclaimed British author Pratchett continues to distinguish himself from his colleagues with clever plot lines and genuinely likable characters.”
    Publishers Weekly (*Starred Review*)
    “Truly original…Discworld is more complicated and satisfactory than Oz…. Brilliant.”
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    “Think J.R.R. Tolkien with a sharper, more satiric edge.”
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    “A hearty dose of comedy and genuine slapstick humor.”
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    “If I were making my list of Best Books of the Twentieth Century, Terry Pratchett’s would be most of them.”
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Also by Terry Pratchett
    The Carpet People • The Dark Side of the Sun • Strata
    Truckers • Diggers •