Eric

pulled himself up on his elbows, and thought: look out, behind you…
    “And so,” said Vassenego, beaming like a coastful of lighthouses, “the Council met and has decided, and may I add, sire, has decided unanimously, to create an entirely new award in honor of your outstanding achievements!”
    “The importance of proper paperwork has—what award?” said Astfgl, the minnows of suspicion suddenly darting across the oceans of self-esteem.
    “The position, sire, of Supreme Life President of Hell!”
    The band struck up again.
    “With your own office—much bigger than the pokey thing you have had to suffer all these years, sire. Or rather, Mr. President!”
    The band had a go at another chord.
    The demons waited.
    “Will there be…potted plants?” said Astfgl, slowly.
    “Hosts! Plantations! Jungles! ”
    Astfgl appeared to be lit by a gentle, inner glow.
    “And carpets? I mean, wall to wall—?”
    “The walls have had to be moved apart especially to accommodate them all, sire. And thick pile, sire? Whole tribes of pygmies are wondering why the light stays on at night, sire!”
    The bewildered King allowed himself to have an expansive arm thrown across his shoulder and was gently led, all thoughts of vengeance forgotten, through the cheering crowds.
    “I’ve always fancied one of those special things for making coffee,” he murmured, as the last vestiges of self-control were eroded.
    “A positive manufactory has been installed, sire! And a speaking tube, sire, for you to communicate your instructions to your underlings. And the very latest in diaries, two eons to a page, and a thing for—”
    “Colored marker pens. I’ve always held that—”
    “Complete rainbows, sire,” Vassenego boomed. “And let us go there without delay, sire, for I suspect that with your normal keen insight you cannot wait to get to grips with the mighty tasks ahead of you, sire.”
    “Certainly, certainly! Time they were done, indeed—” An expression of vague perplexity passed across Astfgl’s flushed face. “These mighty tasks…”
    “Nothing less than a complete, full, authoritative, searching and in-depth analysis of our role, function, priorities and goals, sire!”
    Vassenego stood back.
    The demon lords held their breath.
    Astfgl frowned. The universe appeared to slow down. The stars halted momentarily in their courses.
    “With forward planning?” he said, at last.
    “A top priority, sire, which you have instantly pinpointed with your normal incisiveness,” said Vassenego quickly.
    The demon lords breathed again.
    Astfgl’s chest expanded several inches. “I shall need special staff, of course, in order to formulate—”
    “Formulate! The very thing!” said Vassenego, who was perhaps getting just a bit carried away. Astfgl gave him a faintly suspicious glance, but at that moment the band struck up again.
    The last words that Rincewind heard, as the King was led out of the hall, were: “And in order to analyze information, I shall need—”
    And then he was gone.
    The rest of the demons, aware that the entertainment seemed to be over for the day, started to mill around and drift out of the great doors. It was beginning to dawn on the brightest of them that the fires would soon be roaring again.
    No one seemed to be taking any notice of the two humans. Rincewind tugged at Eric’s robe.
    “ This is where we run, right?” said Eric.
    “Where we walk ,” said Rincewind firmly. “Nonchalantly, calmly, and, er—”
    “Fast?”
    “You pick things up quickly, don’t you?”

    It is essential that the proper use of three wishes should bring happiness to the greatest available number of people, and this is what in fact had happened.
    The Tezumen were happy. When no amount of worshipping caused the Luggage to come back and trample their enemies they poisoned all their priests and tried enlightened atheism instead, which still meant they could kill as many people as they liked but didn’t have to get up so early to do it.
    The people of Tsort and Ephebe were happy—at least, the ones who write and feature in the dramas of history were happy, which is all that mattered. Now their long war was over and they could get on with the proper concern of civilized nations, which is to prepare for the next one.
    The people of Hell were happy, or at least happier than hitherto. The flames were flickering brightly again, the same old familiar tortures were being inflicted on ethereal bodies quite incapable