Omtale fra Den Norske Bokdatabasen
Det er varmt, det er tørt og nesten alt er giftig. Da dukker helten Rincewind opp, en øldrikkende kriger med bagasjen festet til bena. Kanskje han, sammen med hjelperne sine, kan redde landet fra den evige tørke. Dette er den 22. romanen om Skiveplaneten.
Genre Humor Fantasy
Finner du ikke ditt favorittbibliotek på lista? Send oss e-post til email@example.com med navn på biblioteket og fylket det ligger i. Kanskje vi kan legge det til!
Ingen diskusjoner ennå.Start en diskusjon om verket Se alle diskusjoner om verket
Creators aren’t gods. They make places, which is quite hard. It’s men that make gods. This explains a lot.
Rincewind had always been happy to think of himself as a racist. The One Hundred Meters, the Mile, the Marathon - he'd run them all. Later, when he learned with some surprise what the word actually meant, he'd been equally certain he wasn't one. He was a person who divided the world quite simply into people who were trying to kill him and people who weren't. That didn't leave much room for fine details like what colour anyone was.
Wizards, when faced with danger, would immediately stop and argue amongst themselves about exactly what kind of danger it was. By the time everyone in the party understood, either it had become the sort of danger where your options are so very, very clear that you instantly take one of them or die, or it had got bored and gone away. Every danger has its pride.