Sourcery: (Discworld Novel 5) (Discworld series)

THERE WAS A man and he had eight sons. Apart from that, he was nothing more than a comma on the page of History. It’s sad, but that’s all you can say about some people.

‘I can’t hear anything,’ said Nijel loudly. Nijel was one of those people who, if you say ‘don’t look now’, would immediately swivel his head like an owl on a turntable. These are the same people who, when you point out, say, an unusual crocus just beside them, turn round aimlessly and put their foot down with a sad little squashy noise. If they we

There was a pause full of philosophy.

‘My son,’ he said. ‘I shall call him Coin.’ A NAME AS GOOD AS ANY OTHER, said Death politely. His empty sockets stared down at a small round face wrapped in sleep. Despite rumour, Death isn’t cruel – merely terribly, terribly good at his job.

But the third was the voice. It was beautiful. It sounded like wild silk looks.

After that one thing sort of led to another and pretty soon everyone was fighting to get something – either away, out or even.

Abrim laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. It sounded as though he had had laughter explained to him, probably slowly and repeatedly, but had never heard anyone actually do it.

Little particles of inspiration sleet through the universe all the time travelling through the densest matter in the same way that a neutrino passes through a candyfloss haystack, and most of them miss.

It made you knurd.17