Angalo rubbed his hands and pulled every lever right back.
"So far up," he said, with satisfaction, "that there is no down."
The Ship curved away, toward the stars.
Below, the world stopped unrolling because it had reached its edges, and became a black disc against the sun.
Nomes and frogs looked down on it.
And the sunlight caught it and made it glow around the rim, sending rays up into the darkness, so that it looked exactly like a flower.
About the Author
TERRY PRATCHETT is the author of the immensely satisfying group of Discworld novels, which includes Mort, Wyrd Sisters, and Equal Rites. Although these books were intended for adults, they have a devoted following among younger readers as well. He is also coauthor of the highly acclaimed fantasy novel Good Omens.
Terry Pratchett's body lives in England. It says that the whereabouts of his mind is probably not locatable in any normal atlas.
[1] The only time the nomes had seen the word "Florida" before was on an old carton of orange juice. When nomes get hold of an idea, they don't let go without a struggle.
[2] About three seconds. Frogs don't have good memories.
[3] An hour lasts nearly as long as half a day, to a nome.
[4] Little dishes of strange wobbly stuff tasting like pink turn up in nearly every meal on all airplanes. No one knows why. There's probably some sort of special religious reason.
[5] For generations the Store nomes had known that temperature was caused by air conditioning and the heating system; like many of them, Gurder never quite gave up certain habits of thinking.
The Bromeliad Trilogy Page 41
