The Last Continent

on them fatal shores rather than get carried right over the Rim, and regretted it, I expect. Dry as a statue’s ti—Very dry, master, or so they say. And hotter’n a demon’s joc—Very hot, too. But you must’ve been there yourself?”
    O H, YES . B UT YOU KNOW HOW IT IS WHEN YOU’RE THERE ON BUSINESS AND THERE’S HARDLY ANY TIME TO SEE THE COUNTRY …
    Death pointed to the great spiral of clouds that turned slowly around the continent, like jackals warily circling a dying lion which looked done for but which might yet be capable of one last bite.
    V ERY STRANGE , he said. A PERMANENT ANTICYCLONE . A ND INSIDE, A HUGE, CALM LAND, THAT NEVER SEES A STORM . A ND NEVER HAS A DROP OF RAIN .
    “Good place for a holiday, then.”
    C OME WITH ME .
    The two of them, trailed by the Death of Rats, walked into Death’s huge library. There were clouds here, up near the ceiling.
    Death held out a hand. I WANT , he said, A BOOK ABOUT THE DANGEROUS CREATURES OF F OURECKS —
    Albert looked up and dived for cover, receiving only mild bruising because he had the foresight to curl into a ball.
    After a while Death, his voice a little muffled, said: A LBERT , I WOULD BE SO GRATEFUL IF YOU COULD GIVE ME A HAND HERE .
    Albert scrambled up and pulled at some of the huge volumes, finally dislodging enough of them to allow his master to clamber free.
    H MM …Death picked up a book at random and read the cover.
    D ANGEROUS M AMMALS , R EPTILES , A MPHIBIANS , B IRDS , F ISH , J ELLYFISH , I NSECTS , S PIDERS , C RUSTACEANS , G RASSES , T REES , M OSSES , AND L ICHENS OF T ERROR I NCOGNITA , he read. His gaze moved down the spine. V OLUME 29c, he added. O H . P ART T HREE , I SEE .
    He glanced up at the listening shelves. P OSSIBLY IT WOULD BE SIMPLER IF I ASKED FOR A LIST OF THE HARMLESS CREATURES OF THE AFORESAID CONTINENT ?
    They waited.
    I T WOULD APPEAR THAT —
    “No, wait, master. Here it comes.”
    Albert pointed to something white zigzagging lazily through the air. Finally Death reached up and caught the single sheet of paper.
    He read it carefully and then turned it over briefly just in case anything was written on the other side.
    “May I?” said Albert. Death handed him the paper.
    “‘Some of the sheep,’” Albert read aloud. “Oh, well. Maybe a week at the seaside’d be better, then.”
    W HAT AN INTRIGUING PLACE , said Death. S ADDLE UP THE HORSE , A LBERT . I FEEL SURE I’ M GOING TO BE NEEDED .
    S QUEAK , said the Death of Rats.
    P ARDON ?
    “He said, ‘No worries,’ master,” said Albert.
    I CAN’T IMAGINE WHY .

    Four huge blooms of silence rolled over the city as Old Tom so emphatically did not strike the hour.
    Several servants rumbled a trolley along the corridor. The Archchancellor had given in. An early breakfast was on the way.
    Ridcully lowered his tape measure.
    “Let’s try that again, shall we?” he said. He stepped out of the window and picked a seashell out of the sand. It was warm from the sun. Then he pulled himself back into the bathroom and walked around to a door beside the window.
    It led to a dank, moss-grown light well, which allowed secondhand and grubby daylight into these dismal floors. Even the snow hadn’t managed to get more than a brushing of flakes down this far.
    The window on this side glimmered in the light from the doorway like a pool of very black oil.
    “Okay, Dean,” he said. “Push your staff through. Now waggle it about.”
    The wizards looked at the gently rippling surface. There should have been several feet of solid wood sticking out of it.
    “Well, well, well,” said the Archchancellor, going back in out of the cold air. “Do you know, I’ve never actually seen one of these?”
    “Anyone remember Archchancellor Bewdley’s boots?” said the Senior Wrangler, helping himself to some cold mutton from the trolley. “He made a mistake and got one of the things opened up in the left boot. Very tricky. You can’t go walking around with one foot in another dimension.”
    “Well, no…” said Ridcully, staring at the tropical scene and tapping his chin thoughtfully with the seashell.
    “Can’t see what you’re treading in, for one thing,” said the Senior Wrangler.
    “One opened up in one of the cellars once, all by itself,” said the Dean. “Just a round black hole. Anything you put in it just disappeared. So old Archchancellor Weatherwax had a privy built over it.”
    “Very sensible idea,” said Ridcully, still looking thoughtful.
    “We