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The beginning of the story happened tens of thousands of years ago, on a wild and
stormy night, when a speck of flame came down the mountain at the center of the world. It
moved in dodges and jerks, as if the unseen person carrying it was sliding and falling
from rock to rock.
At one point the line became a streak of sparks, ending in a snowdrift at the bottom of a
crevasse. But a hand thrust up thru the snow held the smoking embers if the torch, and the
wind, driven by the anger of the gods, and with a sense of humor of its own, whipped the
flame back into life…
And, after that, it never died.
The end of the story began high above the world, but got lower as it circled down towards
the ancient ad modern city al Ankh-Morpork, where it was said anything could be bought and
sold - and if they didn't have what you wanted they could steal it for you.
Some of them could even dream it…
The creature mow seeking out a particular building below was a trained Pointless Albatross
and, by the standards of the world, was not particularly unusual.* It was, though,
pointless. Its spent its entire life in a series of lazy journeys between the Rim and Hub,
and where was the point in that?
This one was more or less tame. Its beady mad eye spotted where, for reasons entirely
beyond it comprehension, anchovies could be found. And someone would remove this
uncomfortable cylinder from it leg. It seemed a pretty good deal to the albatross and from
this it can be deduced that these albatrosses are, if not completely pointless, at least
rather dumb.
Not at all like humans, therefore.
*Compared to, say. The Republican bees, who committed rather than swarmed and ended to
stay in the hive a lot, voting for more honey.
Excerpted from THE LAST HERO © Copyright 2001 by Terry Pratchett. Reprinted with permission from HarperCollins. All rights reserved.
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