Discworld 27 - The Last Hero by Terry Pratchett

silence. And lightness. And peace.
Dreamily, Rincewind pulled down the periscope and saw the huge fish
section curving gently away from them. It came apart as it flew, and more
dragons spread their wings and whirled away behind the Kite. Magnificent.
A device for seeing behind you without slowing down? Just the thing no
coward should be without.
“I've got to get one of these,” he murmured.
“That seemed to go quite well, I thought,” said Leonard. “I'm sure the
little creatures will get hack, too. Flitting from rock to rock ... yes,
I'm sure they will...”
“Er ... there's a strong draught by my seat-” Carrot began.
Ah, yes ... it would be a good idea to keep the helmets handy,“ Leonard
said. ”I've done my best, varnishing and laminating and so forth ... but
the Kite is not, alas, completely airtight. Well, here we are; well on
our way,“ he added brightly. ”Breakfast, anyone?“
”My stomach feels very-“ Rincewind began, but stopped.
A spoon drifted past, tumbling gently.
”What has switched off the downness?“ he demanded.
Leonard opened his mouth to say: No, this was expected, because
everything is falling at the same speed, but he didn't, because he could
see this was not a happy thing to say.
”It's the sort of thing that happens,“ he said. ”It's ... er ... magic.“
”Oh. Really? Oh.“
A cup bumped gently off Carrot's ear. He batted it away and it
disappeared somewhere aft.
”What kind of magic?“ he said.
The wizards were clustered around the piece of omniscope, while Ponder
struggled to
A picture exploded into view. It was horrible. ”Hello? Hello? This is
Ankh-Morpork calling!“
The gibbering face was pushed aside and Leonard's dome rose slowly into
view.
”Ah, yes. Good morning,“ he said. ”We are having a few ... teething
troubles.“
From somewhere offscreen came the sound of someone being sick.
”What is going on“?” bellowed Ridcully.
“Well, you see, it's rather amusing ... I had this idea of putting food
in tubes, you see, so that it could be squeezed out and eaten neatly in
weightless conditions and, er, because we didn't tie everything down, er,
I'm afraid my box of paints came open and the tubes got, er, confused, so
what Mr Rincewind thought was broccoli and ham turned out to be Forest
Green ... er.”
“Let me speak to Captain Carrot, will you?”
“I'm afraid that is not entirely convenient at the moment,” said Leonard,
his face clouded with concern.
     
 
   
“Why? Did he have the broccoli and ham too?”
“No, he had the Cadmium Yellow.” There was a yelp and a series of clangs
somewhere behind Leonard. “On the brighter side, however. I can report
that the Mk II privy appears to function perfectly”
The Kite, in its headlong plunge, curved back towards the Rimfall. Now
the water was a great tumbling cloud of mist.
Captain Carrot hovered in front of a window, taking pictures with the
iconograph. “This is amazing,” he said. “I'm sure we'll find the answers
to some questions that have puzzled mankind for millennia.”
“Good. Can you get this frying pan off my back?” said Rincewind.
“Urn,” said Leonard.
It was a sufficiently troubling syllable for the others to look at him.
“We seem to be, er, losing air rather faster than I thought,” said the
genius. “But I'm sure the hull isn't any leakier than I allowed for. And
we seem to be falling faster, according to Mr Stibbons. Uh ... it's a
little difficult to piece it all together, of course, because of the
uncertain effects of the Disc's magical field. Um ... we should be all
right if we wear our helmets all the time ...”
“There's plenty of air nearer to the world, isn't there?” said Rincewind.
“Can't we just fly into it and open a window?”
Leonard stared mournfully into the mists that filled half of their view.
“We are, er, moving very fast.” he said, slowly. “And air at this speed
... air is ... the