'Oh, certainly. I have my... people in' - he tried the alien syllables - 'Ankh-More-Pork. The one so foolishly called the Great Wizzard does exist. But, I might tell you, he is renowned for being incompetent, cowardly and spineless. Quite proverbially so. So I think the Red Army should have their leader, don't you? It will... raise their morale.'

He smiled again. 'This is politics,' he said.

'Ah.'

'Now go.'

Lord Hong picked up a book as his visitor left. But it was hardly a real book; pieces of paper had simply been fastened together with string, and the text was handwritten.

He'd read it many times before. It still amused him, mainly because the author had managed to be wrong about so many things.

Now, every time he finished a page, he ripped it out and, while reading the next page, carefully folded the paper into the shape of a chrysanthemum.

'Great Wizard,' he said, aloud. 'Oh, indeed. Very great.'

Rincewind awoke. There were clean sheets and no-one was saying 'Go through his pockets,' so he chalked that up as a promising beginning.

He kept his eyes shut, just in case there was anyone around who, once he was seen to be awake, would make life complicated for him.

Elderly male voices were arguing.

'You're all missin' the point. He survives. You keep on tellin' me he's had all these adventures and he's still alive.'

'What do you mean? He's got scars all over him!'

'My point exactly, Dean. Most of 'em on his back, too. He leaves trouble behind. Someone Up There smiles on him.'

Rincewind winced. He had always been aware that Someone Up There was doing something on him. He'd never considered it was smiling.

'He's not even a proper wizard! He never got more than two per cent in his exams!'

'I think he's awake,' said someone.