SORRY. Rincewind froze, both hands clutching his aching foot. He knew only one person with a voice like a cemetery in midwinter. He tried to hop backwards, and collided with another horse. RINCEWIND, ISN’T IT? said Death. YES. GOOD EVENING. I DON’T BELIEVE YOU HAVE MET WAR. RINCEWIND, WAR. WAR, RINCEWIND.
