Lord Vetinari stared along the table. A lot had been happening in the past few hours.

‘If I may recap, then, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, as the hubbub died away, ‘according to the authorities in Hunghung, the capital of the Agatean Empire, the Emperor Ghengiz Cohen, formerly known to the world as Cohen the Barbarian, is well en route to the home of the gods with a device of considerable destructive power and the intention, apparently, of, in his words, “returning what was stolen”. And, in short, they ask us to stop him.’

‘Why us?’ said Mr Boggis, head of the Thieves' Guild. ‘He's not our Emperor!’

‘I understand the Agatean government believes us to be capable of anything,’ said Lord Vetinari. ‘We have zip, zing, vim and a go-getting, can-do attitude.’

‘Can do what?’

Lord Vetinari shrugged. ‘In this case, save the world.’

‘But we'll have to save it for everyone, right?’ said Mr Boggis. ‘Even foreigners?’

‘Well, yes. You cannot just save the bits you like,’ said Lord Vetinari. ‘But the thing about saving the world, gentlemen and ladies, is that it inevitably includes whatever you happen to be standing on. So let us move forward. Can magic help us, Archchancellor?’

‘No. Nothing magical can get within a hundred miles of the mountains,’ said the Archchancellor.

‘Why not?’

‘For the same reason you can't sail a boat into a hurricane. There's just toomuchmagic. It overloads anything magical. A magic carpet would unravel in midair.’

‘Or turn into broccoli,’ said the Dean. ‘Or a small volume of poetry.’

‘Are you saying that we cannot get there in time?’

‘Well… yes. Exactly. Of course. They're already near the base of the mountain.’

‘And they're heroes,’ said Mr Betteridge of the Guild of Historians.

‘And that means, exactly?’ said the Patrician, sighing.

‘They're good at doing what they want to do.’