Eric (Discworld, #9; Rincewind, #4)

by Terry Pratchett

There is nowhere Death will not go, no matter how distant and dangerous. In fact the more dangerous it is, the more likely he is to be there already.

This was very embarrassing. He’d enjoyed being the Tezuman god, he’d been really impressed by their single-minded devotion to duty, he’d been very gratified by the incredible lifelike statue in the pyramid, and it really hurt to have to reveal that, in one important particular, it was incorrect. He was six inches high.

This is because most of the first type of commander are brave men, whereas cowards make far better strategists.

“I want to be a eunuch, sir,” Eric added. Rincewind’s head turned as though it was being dragged. “Why?” he said, and then came up with the obvious answer at the same time as Eric: “Because you get to work in a harem all day long,” they chorused slowly. The captain coughed. “You’re not this boy’s teacher, are you?” he said. “No.” “Do you think anyone has explained to him—?” “No.” “Perhaps it would be a good idea if I got one of the centurions to have a word? You’d be amazed at the grasp of language those chaps have got.”

“But I read where she was the most beautiful—” “Ah, well,” said the sergeant. “If you’re going to go around reading—” “The thing is,” said Rincewind quickly, “it’s what they call dramatic necessity. No one’s going to be interested in a war fought over a, a quite pleasant lady, moderately attractive in a good light. Are they?” Eric was nearly in tears. “But it said her face launched a thousand ships—” “That’s what you call metaphor,” said Rincewind. “Lying,” the sergeant explained kindly. “Anyway, you shouldn’t believe everything you read in the Classics,” Rincewind added. “They never check their facts. They’re just out to sell legends.”

“Multiple exclamation marks,” he went on, shaking his head, “are a sure sign of a diseased mind.”

This has always come as a bit of a surprise to many working demons, who had always thought that hell was sticking sharp things into people and pushing them into lakes of blood and so on. This is because demons, like most people, have failed to distinguish between the body and the soul.

Now he realized what made boredom so attractive. It was the knowledge that worse things, dangerously exciting things, were going on just around the corner and that you were well out of them. For boredom to be enjoyable there had to be something to compare it with.

The one he was just stepping on to, for example, read: I Meant It For The Best. The next one was: I Thought You’d Like It. Eric was standing on: For the Sake of the Children. “Weird, isn’t it?” he said. “Why do it like this?” “I think they’re meant to be good intentions,” said Rincewind. This was a road to Hell, and demons were, after all, traditionalists. And, while they are of course irredeemably evil, they are not always bad. And so Rincewind stepped off We Are Equal Opportunity Employers and through a wall, which healed up behind him, and into the world. It could, he had to admit, have been a lot worse.