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No, what he didn’t like about heroes was that they were usually suicidally gloomy when sober and homicidally insane when drunk.
“This morning the Emperor instructed,” the Patrician allowed himself the luxury of a scowl, “instructed me, Gorphal, to protect this Twoflower person. Now it seems I must have him killed. You don’t find that surprising?” “No. The Emperor is no more than a boy. He is—idealistic. Keen. A god to his people. Whereas this afternoon’s letter is, unless I am very much mistaken, from Nine Turning Mirrors, the Grand Vizier. He has grown old in the service of several Emperors. He regards them as a necessary but tiresome ingredient in the successful running of the Empire. He does not like things out of
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The Empire likes people to stay where it puts them. So much more convenient, then, if this Twoflower disappears for good in the barbarian lands. Meaning here, master.”
“To protect our interests, you might say. Meaning the little man.” Ymor wrinkled his brows. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought I heard you say the Guild of Merchants?” “And traders,” agreed Rerpf. Behind him now, in addition to more trolls, were several humans that Ymor vaguely recognized. He had seen them, maybe, behind counters and bars. Shadowy figures, usually—easily ignored, easily forgotten. At the back of his mind a bad feeling began to grow. He thought about how it might be to be, say, a fox confronted with an angry sheep. A sheep, moreover, that could afford to employ wolves.
Twoflower was trying to keep up while at the same time craning round to look at the flying beasts. “You don’t understand!” screamed the tourist, above the terrible noise of the wingbeats. “All my life I’ve wanted to see dragons!”
he would have been even more worried had he known that the nightmare was not, as he thought, just the usual Discworld vertigo. It was a backward memory of an event in his future so terrifying that it had generated harmonics of fear all the way along his lifeline). This was not that event, but it was good practice for it.
If the world didn’t contain those beautiful creatures, he’d decided, it wasn’t half the world it ought to be. And then later he had been bound apprentice to Ninereeds the Masteraccount, who in his gray-mindedness was everything that dragons were not, and there was no time for dreaming.
“I wish I was back in the city,” moaned Rincewind. “I wish I was back on the ground!” “I wonder if dragons can fly all the way to the stars?” mused Twoflower. “Now that would be something . . .” “You’re mad,” said Rincewind flatly. There was no reply from the tourist, and when the wizard craned around he was horrified to see Twoflower looking up at the paling stars with an odd smile on his face.
