The Carpet People

by Terry Pratchett

So this is it. It’s not exactly the book I wrote at seventeen. It’s not exactly the book I’d have written at forty-three. It’s a joint effort but, heh-heh, I don’t have to give him half the royalties. He’d only waste them.

From the delightful authors note

And then one day the tribe meets some other people, and gives them a name like The Other People or, if it’s not been a good day, The Enemy. If only they’d think up a name like Some More True Human Beings, it’d save a lot of trouble later on.

Oh, I know it’s useless to say all this,” he added, catching Bane’s grin, “but I wish that the people who sing about the deeds of heroes would think about the people who have to clear up after them.”

The Carpet was big, but the Carpet was . . . everything. It didn’t count. It was too big to have a size. But the High Gate Land was small enough to be really huge.