The warder was wearing a big grin and carrying a tray. 'Got some dinnah for you,' he said.

'I won't tell you anything, no matter how much you feed me,' Rincewind warned.

'You'll like this,' the warder urged, pushing the tray forward. There was a covered bowl on it. 'I done it special for you. It's a regional speciality mate.'

'I thought you said bread and water's what you're good at.'

'Well, yeah... but I had a bash at this anyway...'

Rincewind watched gloomily as the warder lifted the cover.

It looked fairly inoffensive, but they often did. It looked, in fact, like—

'Pea soup?' he said.

'Yep.'

'The leguminous vegetable? Comes in pods?'

'Yep.'

'I thought I'd better check that point.'

'No worries.'

Rincewind looked down at the knobbly green surface. Was it just possible that someone had invented a regional speciality you could eat?

And then something rose out of the depths. For a moment Rincewind thought it was a very small shark. It bobbed to the surface and then settled back down, while the soup slopped over it.

'What was that?'

'Meat pie floater,' said the warder. 'Meat pie floating in pea soup. Best bloody supper on earth, mate.'

'Ah, supper,' said Rincewind, as realization dawned. 'This is another one of those late-night, after-the-pub foods, right? And what kind of meat is in it? No, forget I asked, it's a stupid question. I know this sort of food. If you have to ask "What kind of meat is in it?" you're too sober. Ever tried spaghetti and custard?'

'Can you sprinkle coconut on top of it?'

'Probably.'

'Thanks, mate, I'll surely give it a go,' said the warder. 'Got some other good news for you, too.'

'You're letting me out?'

'Oh, you wouldn't want that, a hard-bitten larrikin like yourself. Nah, Greg and Vince here will be coming back later to put you in irons.'

He stepped aside. The wall-shaped men were holding a length of chain, several shackles and a small but very, very heavy-looking ball.

Rincewind sighed. One door closes, he thought, and another door slams shut. 'This is good, is it?' he said.

'Oh, yew'll get an extra verse for that, for sure,' said the warder. 'No one's been hung in irons since Tinhead Ned.'

'I thought there wasn't a prison cell that could hold him,' said Rincewind.

'Oh, he could get out of 'em,' said the warder. 'He just couldn't run very far.'

Rincewind eyed the metal ball. 'Oh, gods...'

'Vince says how much do you weigh, 'cos he has to add the chains to your weight to get the drop right,' said the warder.

'Does that matter?' said Rincewind in a hollow voice. 'I mean, I die anyway, don't I?'

'Yeah, no worries there, but if he gets it wrong, see, you either end up with a neck six feet long or, you'll laugh about this, your head flies off like a perishin' cork!'

'Oh, good.'

'With Larrikin Larry we had to search the roof all arvo!'

'Marvellous. All arvo, eh?' said Rincewind. 'Well, you won't have that problem with me. I shall be elsewhere when I'm being hanged.'

'That's what we like to hear!' said the warder, punching him jovially in the elbow. 'A battler to the end, eh?'

There was a rumbling from Mt Vince.

'And Vince says he'll be very privileged if you'd care to spit in his eye when he puts the rope aroun' your neck,' the warder went on. 'That'll be something to show his grandchildren—'

'Will you all please go away!' Rincewind shouted.

'Ah, you'll be wanting some time to plot your getaway,' said the warder knowingly. 'No worries. We'll be leavin' you alone, then.'

'Thank you.'

'Until about five a.m.'

'Good,' said Rincewind gloomily.

'Got any requests for your last breakfast?'

'Something that takes a really really long time to prepare?' said Rincewind.

'That's the spirit!'

'Go away!'

'No worries.'

The men walked off, but the warder strolled back after a while as if he had something on his mind.

'There is something that you ought to know about the hanging, though,' he said. 'Might brighten up your night.'

'Yes?'

'We've got a special humanitarian tradition if the trapdoor sticks three times.'

'Yes?'

'Sounds a bit odd, but it's happened once or twice, believe it or not.'

A tiny green shoot rose from the blackened branches of hope.

'And what's the tradition?' said Rincewind.

'It's on account of it being heartless to have a man standing there more than three times, knowing that at any second his—'

'Yes, yes—'

'—and then all his—'

'Yes—'

'—and the worst part to my mind is where your—'

'Yes, I understand! And so... after the third time...?'

'He's allowed back into his cell while we get a carpenter in to repair the trapdoor,' said the warder. 'We even give him his dinner, if it's gone on a long time.'

'And?'

'Well, when the carpenter's given it a good test, then we take him out again and hang him.' He saw Rincewind's expression. 'No need to look like that, 's better than having to stand around in the cold all morning, isn't it? That wouldn't be nice.'

When he'd gone, Rincewind sat and stared at the wall.

'Baa!'

'Shut up.'

So it was down to this, then. One brief night left, and then, if these clowns had anything to do with it, happy people would be wandering the streets to see where his head had come down. There was no justice!

G'DAY, MATE.

'Oh, no. Please.'

I JUST THOUGHT I SHOULD ENTER INTO THE SPIRIT OF THE THING. A VERY CONVIVIAL PEOPLE, AREN'T THEY? said Death. He was sitting beside Rincewind.

'You just can't wait, can you?' said Rincewind bitterly.

NO WORRIES.

'So this is really it, then. I was supposed to have saved this country, you know. And I'm going to really die.'

OH, YES. THIS IS CERTAIN, I'M AFRAID.

'It's the stupidity of it that gets me. I mean, think of all the times I've nearly died in the past. I could've been flamed by dragons, right? Or eaten by huge things with tentacles. Or even had every single particle of my body fly off in a different direction.'

YOU HAVE CERTAINLY HAD AN INTERESTING LIFE.

'Is it true that your life passes before your eyes before you die?'

YES.

'Ghastly thought, really,' Rincewind shuddered. 'Oh, gods, I've just had another one. Suppose I am just about to die and this is my whole life passing in front of my eyes?'

I THINK PERHAPS YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND. PEOPLE'S WHOLE LIVES DO PASS IN FRONT OF THEIR EYES BEFORE THEY DIE. THE PROCESS IS CALLED 'LIVING'. WOULD YOU LIKE A PRAWN?

Rincewind looked down at the bucket on Death's lap.

'No, thank you. I really don't think so. They can be pretty deadly. And I must say it's a bit much of you to come here and gloat and eat prawns at me.'

I BEG YOUR PARDON?

'Just because I'm being hanged in the morning, I mean.'

ARE YOU? THEN I SHALL LOOK FORWARD TO HEARING HOW YOU ESCAPED. I'M DUE TO MEET A MAN IN... IN... Death's eyesockets glowed as he interrogated his memory. AH, YES... INSIDE A CROCODILE. SEVERAL HUNDRED MILES AWAY, I BELIEVE.

'What? Then why are you here?'

OH, I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT LIKE TO SEE A FRIENDLY FACE. AND NOW I THINK I HAD BETTER BE GOING. Death stood up. VERY PLEASANT CITY IN MANY RESPECTS. TRY TO SEE THE OPERA HOUSE WHILE YOU'RE HERE.

'Hang on... I mean, hold on, you told me I was certainly going to die!'

EVERYONE IS. EVENTUALLY.

The wall opened and closed around Death as if it wasn't there, which was, from his lengthy perspective, quite true.

'But how? I can't walk through—' Rincewind began.

He sat down again. The sheep cowered in the corner.

Rincewind looked at the untouched meat pie floater and gave the pie a prod. It sank slowly beneath the vivid green soup.