AN: This takes place after The Last Continent. You don't have to read TLC to understand…but it's a great book, so read it anyway. I hope those of you who haven't played Grim Fandango will still enjoy reading this.
After several weeks on the sea, Rincewind's knees felt wobbly and almost gave up on him when he finally had ground beneath his feet once more.
Ankh-Morpork!
Oh sweet old Ankh-Morpork. Rincewind felt tears form in his eyes.
Both due to emotions and Ankh's familiar odour.
Home.
He was finally home again. Rincewind was so lost in bliss that he
even didn't find time to heed the warning that was shouted.
Really, it was a stupid way to die.
"After all I've been through. Monsters too horrible to name. I've suffered a deity's wrath and once I was attacked by drop bears," said Rincewind, watching the Luggage curiously prod his broken body. "And in the end…crushed by a crate."
People were beginning to gather. Unexpected deaths were always fun to gossip about. Rincewind wasn't so pleased with that fact; he always felt that a death should be a little more personal. Not regarded as some kind of public entertainment.
A
warm breath tickled his neck, and he turned around, faced with a
magnificent white horse. At least he was getting what every wizard
deserved…or wizzard in his case.
"Um…nice
horse," Rincewind muttered.
The
horse looked at him with eyes that clearly told Rincewind that being
called 'nice horse' usually entailed being treated to carrots.
I
TOLD YOU IT WOULDN'T HURT. The rider said with a grave voice.
"I
can't be a judge of that. All I remember is 'Look out!' and
'Look out for wha-' SPLAT!"
The sailors began removing the crate and Rincewind averted his eyes. He wasn't morbid and even if he was, there was still some things he'd like avoid seeing, "So what happens now?" he asked, feeling lost. His whole life had been spent on concentrating on getting away from angry and armed people. Pondering on what would happen if he was caught had never been a top priority for Rincewind.
I'M
NOT ENTIRELY SURE. YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN A GLITCH IN THE SYSTEM.
Rincewind
tugged at his beard, "Hmm, you don't have a clue either?"
They
looked at each other.
A
wizard and a seven foot skeleton.
Must've
been peculiar to see if anyone could've seen them.
HOW
ABOUT…A DRINK?
And
that was by far the best suggestion Rincewind had heard in a long
time.
Once you got used to the banjo music, it wasn't so bad. And the drinks weren't too mediocre either; to Rincewind's surprise they even began to make him feel a bit tipsy.
"This
isn't what imagined it to be you know…" he slurred, "…green
grass, good music, good drinks…skeleton pigeons…s'not so bad."
THIS
IS JUST ONE OF MANY SO CALLED GREAT BEYONDS. Death was currently
nursing a drink with a little pink umbrella, PERSONALLY, THIS IS ONE
MY FAVOURITES. THEY'VE GOT GREAT PEANUTS.
"That
too," agreed Rincewind.
Watching
the musicians play their happy-go-lucky tune and the other patrons
Rincewind emptied his glass, "It's very nice. A lot of people
without skin. Can see why you like it," he said.
WELL,
THEY SAY THAT BEAUTY IS ONLY SKIN DEEP.
Rincewind
tried to blink a few times in a desperate effort to regain his
footing, the room was spinning. It really shouldn't be. A queasy
feeling got a hold of his stomach, and it wasn't just because of
the drinks he had.
"What's
that supposed to mean?" he asked, vision starting to blur. He
hadn't had so much
to drink…
I
DON'T KNOW, Death answered a bit sheepish, and it was the last
thing Rincewind heard before he fainted, IT JUST SEEMED TO BE THE
APPROPRIATE THING TO SAY.
Waking had rarely been a pleasant experience, so if he hadn't already expired Rincewind could've very well suffered a heart attack and died on the spot when he found himself in an extremely boring room.
There was even an ugly clock that ticked too loudly and a brightly coloured sofa, on which he'd been resting on. It was like waking up in an accountant's office after a wild night with Smithy who was getting married. Very anti-climax.
He swung his legs over the edge of the sofa and started screaming.
The
door slammed open almost instantly and someone who had the appearance
of Death rushed in, but there was something odd about him.
"Dios
mio, what is going on?" he cried, "I leave you for one second to
get paper clips and you start screaming bloody murder," he sounded
very annoyed. And this was enough to silence Rincewind, who actually
couched nervously.
"Um…sorry, it's just that usually when I wake up something horrible happens," he explained, "I wanted to prepare," Rincewind eyed the newly arrived man…he guessed that it was a man from the sound of the voice, "Um…are you Death?"
"More of a travel agent, my friend," was the answer Rincewind received from what he thought was towering skeleton turned out to be a short, shorter than him even, skeleton who had a moment ago, been standing on a couple of hydraulic stilts, "The name is Manuel Calavera but you can call me Manny if you like. Who might you be?"
Well,
this was new; people asking for his name and not just skipping to the
part where they threatened him and he ran for his life.
Go
for it, something inside Rincewind whispered, what could
happen? You're already dead. Things usually don't get any worse.
"Eh…I'm
Rincewind, but how did I get here?" Rincewind asked tentatively,
"Where am I for that matter?"
Manny
slipped out of his black robe and revealed that he was wearing a
neat, blue suit underneath, "Your friend dropped you off here at
the Department of Death. Told me to help you out," he said and then
sat down comfortably in the chair behind the desk. Truthfully,
Rincewind's friend had creeped him out. It wasn't unusual that
the guy came around and dropped people off, but somehow Manny had a
strong hunch that he wasn't on the DoD's pay list. Either way, he
didn't mind having clients actually brought to him. "Please, take
a seat," said the travel agent to the fidgeting wizard.
Having nothing better to do, Rincewind did as he was told and watched intently as Manny began tinkering with some kind of machine. Leaning over the desk, the wizard caught a sight of the screen which Manny's eyes were fastened on. The words that began to appear were about him. Rincewind. Yes, there was his name in writing.
The
machine suddenly screeched, and judging by the way Manny jumped at
the sound of it, this was no regular occurrence, "This is strange,
Mr Rincewind. Very strange indeed," he muttered.
"You
can just call me Rincewind if you like," Rincewind said, "What is
it?"
"Well,
Rincewind. The DoD seems to have several files on you, but there's
something wrong."
Rincewind looked gloom, "There's always something odd or wrong. That's the story of my life," he murmured to no one in particular and then added, "And apparently it's also going to be story of my unlife."
Even
though grin was all Manny could really do in the line of facial
expressions, this specific grin he gave Rincewind was slightly wry,
"Do not despair, just because something is amiss doesn't mean
your whole life is over."
"Really?
I thought that was the reason I'm here," Rincewind couldn't
help to remark a tad sarcastic.
"Ah-ha!
I knew you had sense of humour in you somewhere, Rincewind," the
skeleton cheered, "Now if you will just sit back," with a push,
he sent the wizard back into his chair, "Relax and I'll take care
of everything," if Manny had still been in possession of his
eyebrows, he'd be waggling one of them right now, "After all,
it's my job."
Manny
tapped away at the machine, humming some strange tune. It sounded a
lot like the tune the skeletons with the banjos had played.
Seconds
became minutes, and soon ten minutes had passed. Over this time,
Manny's calm, but strange, humming had become more of an annoyed
hum.
"What's
wrong with this thing! It can't decide what sort of travelling
package you're qualified for," Manny complained, "I've never
even seen this happen before."
"So
what does it mean?" Rincewind asked, not as astonished as Manny
seemed to be at the moment, "As you said; it's your job."
Staring
intently at Rincewind while playing absentmindedly with a pencil,
Manny seemed to come to a decision, "You could always work here,"
he offered, "It's not much, but if you want time to choose what
you want to do this is not a bad way to occupy your time."
"What
are my other options?" Rincewind wondered and watched a bony pigeon
land on the window sill.
"A
four year trek across the Land of the Dead," Manny said, "It's
not a bad option, I think. Not that I've ever gone, have to earn it
first. Anything could happen out there."
Rincewind
got a blank expression on his face, "I take it there could be a lot
of strange or maybe amazing adventures awaiting me out there?"
The
pigeon cooed and was joined by another pigeon.
"I
could probably fall asleep and have no idea where'd I wake up,
right?"
Manny
nodded enthusiastically, "I can probably give you a walking staff
and a compass if you wish."
"And
if I stay here?" Rincewind asked.
"You'd
have a job," Manny pulled out some papers from one his drawers and
handed over to Rincewind, grinning, "You seem to have made up your
mind, compadre."
"I
have," confirmed the wizard, "And the books here are a lot more
tranquil than the ones at home."
Anxiously
glancing around at the few books in his office, Manny asked; "What?
Do you mean they move around a lot?" he eyed his reading material
as if they might suddenly get a pair of legs and take a little walk
around the block
"Like
you wouldn't believe," Rincewind said, "What do I do with
these?" he asked, waving the papers about.
"Sign
them and give them to Eva, our receptionist reception."
Manny
got up from his chair and led Rincewind to the door, he pointed down
the corridor to show where the receptionist was. She seemed busier
with a magazine than actually doing her…uh…receptionist things…
Beginning
to experience anxiety, Rincewind's steps faltered and brought him
to stop outside Manny's door, "I'm not exactly sure I'm going
to fit in here," he said, trying not to look at the receptionist's
flawlessly white bones.
"Why
not? We're all very nice," Manny protested, and then he seemed to
remember something and added, "Well, most of us are very nice."
"It's just that I'm not a…" Rincewind's gaze moved from the receptionist to Manny's door, the glass had recently cleaned; you could see your own reflection clearly as you would in a mirror. Staring back at Rincewind was a skeleton, although its appearance was not as frightening as the fact that it wore a pointy hat with the word 'wizzard' written upon it. Rincewind took a deep breath, "I'm going to start screaming again," he calmly stated, "And this time I may never stop."
AN: This is the result of fawning over the possibility that there might be one more novel from Terry Pratchett that involves Rincewind.
Oh sure, it's never boring to read about Vimes or Granny, and I love how Pratchett has let them evolve as characters but after all, Rincewind is Rincewind and there's no way I'll ever love a Discworld book more than I love The Colour of Magic and The Last Continent.