The Last Hero

from the sky, as a result of a star exploding a billion years ago.
    What goes around, comes around. If not examined too closely, it passes for justice.
    In the shaking, rattling Kite , Rincewind watched the last two dragon pods drop from the wings. They tumbled alongside for a moment, broke up, and fell away.
    He stared at the levers again. Someone, he thought muzzily, really should be doing something with them, shouldn't they?
    Dragons contrailed across the sky. Now they were free of the pods, they were in a hurry to get home.
    The wizards had created Thurlow's Interesting Lens just above the deck. The display was quite impressive.
    "Better than fireworks," observed the Dean.
    Ponder banged on the omniscope. "Ah, it's working now," he said, "but all I can see is this huge —"
    More of Rincewind's face than a giant nose became visible as he drew back.
    "What levers do I pull? What levers do I pull?" he screamed.
    "What's happened?"
    "Leonard's still out cold and the Librarian is pulling Carrot out of all the junk and this is definitely a bumpy ride! We've got no dragons left! What are all these dials for? I think we're falling! What shall I do? "
    "Didn't you watch how Leonard did it?"
    "He had his feet on two pedals and was pulling all the levers all the time!"
    "All right, all right, I'll see if I can work out what to do from his plans and we can talk you down!"
    "Don't! Talk me Up ! Up is where we want to stay! Not down!"
    "Are any of the levers marked?" said Ponder, scrabbling through Leonard's sketches.
    "Yes, but I don't understand them! Here's one marked 'Troba'!"
    Ponder scanned the pages, covered in Leonard's backwards writing. "Er... er..." he muttered.
    "Do not pull the lever marked 'Troba'!" snapped Lord Vetinari, leaning forward.
    "My lord!" said Ponder, and went red as Lord Vetinari's gaze fell upon him. "I'm sorry, my lord, but this is rather technical, it is about machinery , and it would perhaps be better if those whose education had been more in the field of the arts did not..."
    His voice faded under the Patrician's stare.
    "This one's got a normal label! It's called 'Prince Haran's Tiller'!" said a desperate voice from the omniscope.
    Lord Vetinari patted Ponder Stibbons on the shoulder.
    "I quite understand," he said. "The last thing a trained machinery person wants at a time like this is well-meant advice from ignorant people. I do apologise. And what is it that you intend to do?"
    "Well, I, er, I..."
    "As the Kite and all our hopes plunge towards the ground, I mean," Lord Vetinari went on.
    "I, er, I, let's see, we've tried..."
    Ponder stared at the omniscope, and at his notes. His mind had become a huge, white, sticky field of hot fluff.
    "I imagine we have at least a minute left," said Lord Vetinari. "No rush."
    "I, er, perhaps we, er..."
    The Patrician leaned down towards the omniscope. "Rincewind, pull Prince Haran's Tiller," he said.
    "We don't know what it does —" Ponder began.
    "Do tell me if you have a better idea," said Lord Vetinari. "In the meantime, I suggest that the lever is pulled."
    On the Kite , Rincewind decided to respond to the voice of authority.
    "Er... there's a lot of clicking and whirring..." he reported. "And... some of the levers are moving by themselves ... now the wings are unfolding... we're sort of flying in a straight line, at least... quite gently, really..."
    "Good. I suggest you apply yourself to waking up Leonard," said the Patrician. He turned and nodded at Ponder. "You yourself have not studied the classics, young man? I know Leonard has."
    "Well... no, sir."
    "Prince Haran was a legendary Klatchian hero who sailed around the world on a ship with a magical tiller," said Lord Vetinari. "It steered the ship while he slept. If I can be of any further help, don't hesitate to ask."
    Evil Harry stood frozen with terror as Cohen advanced across the snow, hand raised.
    "You tipped off the gods, Harry," said Cohen.
    "We all heard yez," said Mad Hamish.
    "But it's okay ," Cohen added. "Makes it more interestin'." His hand came down and slapped the small man on the back.
    "We thought: That Evil Harry, he may be dumber'n a thick brick, but betrayin' us at a time like this... well, that's what we call nerve ," said Cohen. "I've known a few Evil Dark Lords in my time, Harry, but I'd def'nit'ly give you three great big goblins' heads for style. You might have never made it into the, you know, big Dark Lord league, but you've got... well, Harry, you've definitely got