Interesting Times
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Mighty Battles! Revolution! Death! War! (and his sons Terror and Panic, and daughter Clancy).
The oldest and most inscrutable empire on the Discworld is in turmoil, brought about by the revolutionary treatise What I Did On My Holidays. Workers are uniting, with nothing to lose but their water buffaloes. Warlords are struggling for power. War (and Clancy) are spreading through the ancient cities.
And all that stands in the way of terrible doom for everyone is:
Rincewind the Wizard, who can't even spell the word 'wizard' ...
Cohen the barbarian hero, five foot tall in his surgical sandals, who has had a lifetime's experience of not dying ...
...and a very special butterfly.
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Maskerade
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The Opera House, Ankh Morpork ... a huge, rambling building, where masked figures and hooded shadows do wicked deeds in the wings ... where dying the death on stage is a little bit more than just a metaphor ... where innocent young sopranos are lured to their destiny by an evil mastermind in a hideously deformed evening dress ...
Where ... there's a couple of old ladies in pointy hats eating peanuts in the stalls and looking at the big chandelier and saying things like: 'There's an accident waiting to happen if ever I saw one'.
Yes ... Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg, the Discworld's greatest witches, are back for
an innocent night at the opera...
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Feet of Clay
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A Discworld Whatdunnit
Who's murdering harmless old men?
Who's poisoning the Patrician?
As autumn fogs hold Ankh-Morpork in their grip, the City Watch have to track down a murderer who can't be seen.
Maybe the golems know something - but the solemn men of clay, who work all day and
night and are never any trouble to anyone, have started to commmit suicide...
It's not as if the Watch hasn't got problems of its own. There's a werewolf suffering from
Pre-Lunar Tension. Coporal Nobbs is hobnobbing with the nobs, and there is something
really strange about the new dwarf recruit, especially his earrings and eyeshadow.
Who can you trust when there are mobs on the streets and plotters in the dark and all
clues point the wrong way?
In the gloom of the night, Watch Commander Sir Samuel Vimes finds that the truth might not
be out there at all.
It may be amongst the words in the head.
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Hogfather
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It's the night before Hogswatch. And it's too quiet.
There's snow, there's robins, there're trees covered with decorations, but there's a
notable lack of the big fat man who delivers the toys...
He's gone.
Susan the governess has got to find him before morning, otherwise the sun won't rise.
And unfortunately her only helpers are a raven with an eyeball fixation, the Death of Rats
and an oh god of hangovers.
Worse still, someone is coming down the chimney. This time he's carrying a sack
instead of a scythe, but there's something regrettably familiar...
HO. HO. HO.
It's true what they say.
"You'd better watch out..."
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Jingo
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A weathercock has risen from the sea of Discworld, and suddenly you can tell which way
the wind is blowing.
A new land has surfaced, and so have old feuds. And as two armies march, Commander Vimes
of Ankh-Morpork City Watch has got just a few hours to deal with a crime so big that
there's no law against it. It's called war.
He's facing unpleasant foes who are out to get get him ... and that's just the people on
his side. The enemy might even be worse. And his pocket Dis-organizer says he's got 'Die'
under 'Things To Do Today'.
But he'd better not, because the world's cleverest inventor and it's most devious
politician are on their way to the battlefield with a little package that's guaranteed to
stop a battle ...
Discworld goes to war, with armies of sardines, warriors, fisherman, squid and at least
one very camp follower.
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The Last Continent
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XXXX, the Discworld's last continent, is hot and very dry. There was this thing once called 'The Wet', which no one now believes in.
Practically everything that's not poisonous is venomous.
But who is this hero striding across the red desert? Champion sheep-shearer, horse-rider, road-warrior, beer-drinker, bush-ranger -- someone who's even prepared to eat one of 'Fair Go' Dibbler's Meat Pie Floaters when he's sober!
All this place has between itself and wind-blown doom is the inept wizard Rincewind, who can't even spell wizard.
He's the only hero left.
But it's the best bloody place in the world, all right.
"She'll be right. No worries?!"
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Mightily Oats has not picked a good time to become a priest.
He thought he'd come to the mountain kingdom of Lancre for a simple little religious ceremony. Now he's caught up in a war between vampires and witches, and he's not sure there is a right side.
There're the witches - young Agnes, who is really in two minds about everything, Magrat, who is trying to combine witchcraft and nappies, Nanny Ogg, who is far too knowing...and Granny Weatherwax, who is big trouble.
And the vampires are intelligent - not easily got rid of with a garlic enema or by going to the windows, grasping the curtains and saying, 'I don't know about you, but isn't it a bit stuffy in here?'
They've got style and fancy waistcoats. They're out of the casket and want a bite of the future.
Mightily Oats knows he has a prayer -- but he just wishes he had an axe.
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Havelock Vetinari has a problem. And when Havelock Vetinari has a problem he suddenly becomes very democratic -- he likes to make sure the problem is spread amongst as many people as possible.
The dwarfs of Uberwald are about to crown a new Low King, but there's trouble brewing. Uberwald's dwarfs are traditionalists who would make the Taleban look like radical progressives. The only thing they hate more than their old foes, the trolls, is being forced to admit that there is such a thing as a female dwarf. If you add them together with vampires and werewolves, in a country where there is no law (but only lore), you end up with an explosive mixture -- the humans are caught inbetween, and the Igors have to patch together their own future.
But Uberwald is of considerable economic importance to Ankh-Morpork, so Vetinari needs to send a high-ranking diplomatic representative to the coronation. Of all the serried ranks of aristocracy available, his choice falls on the Duke of Ankh -- much to the dismay of City Watch commander Sam Vimes, who just happens to be the Duke of Ankh.
Sam thinks that Vetinari has got it wrong, and that the diplomatic representative should be a diplomat, not a rough-and-ready copper, but Vetinari is adamant.
So Sam and his wife, Sybil, set off for Uberwald, accompanied by Sergeant Detritus (a troll), Corporal Cheery Littlebottom (a dwarf who pronounces her name 'Cheri'), and one Inigo Skimmer, 'clerk'.
...and rumours are beginning to spread about the fabulous Scone of Stone, on which all Low Kings have been crowned since the days of B'hrian Bloodaxe, fifteen hundred years ago...
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