Terry Pratchett, página 7 de 25

Diggers is the second title in the inventive and hilarious fantasy trilogy about the nomes, a race of little people in a world of humans.

Tres hermanas brujas se oponen radicalmente a los reyes del país de Lancre. Tienen sus motivos para ello, y también un maquiavélico plan para alzarse con la victoria. Naturalmente, los habitantes de Lancre se veran involucrados y todo derivara hacia una convulsion caotica.

Football has come to the city of Ankh-Morpork - not the old fashioned, grubby pushing and shoving, but the new, fast football with pointy hats for goalposts and balls that go gloing when you drop them. And now, the wizards of Unseen University must win a football match, without using magic, so they're in the mood for trying everything else.

Nine-year-old Tiffany Aching thinks her Granny Aching - a wise shepherd - might have been a witch, but now Granny Aching is dead and it''s up to Tiffany to work it all out when strange things begin happening: a fairy-tale monster in the stream, a headless horseman and, strangest of all, the tiny blue men in kilts, the Wee Free Men, who have come looking for the new ''hag''. These are the Nac Mac Feegles, the pictsies, who like nothing better than thievin'', fightin'' and drinkin''. Then Tiffany''s young brother goes missing and Tiffany and the Wee Free Men must join forces to save him from the Queen of the Fairies-

The second in a series of Discworld novels starring the young witch Tiffany Aching.omething is coming after Tiffany...Tiffany Aching is ready to begin her apprenticeship in magic. She expects spells and magic not chores and ill-tempered goats! Surely there must be more to witchcraft than this!What Tiffany doesn''t know is that an insidious, disembodied creature is pursuing her. This time, neither Mistress Weatherwax (the greatest witch in the world) nor the fierce, six-inch-high Wee Free Men can protect her. In the end, it will take all of Tiffany''s inner strength to save herself... if it can be done at all.

''What shall we do?'' said Twoflower. ''Panic?'' said Rincewind hopefully. He always held that panic was the best means of survival. When the very fabric of time and space are about to be put through the wringer - in this instance by the imminent arrival of a very large and determinedly oncoming meteorite - circumstances require a very particular type of hero. Sadly what the situation does not need is a singularly inept wizard, still recovering from the trauma of falling off the edge of the world. Equally it does not need one well-meaning tourist and his luggage which has a mind of its own. Which is a shame because that''s all there is.

Terry Pratchett''s hilarious fourth Discworld novel established once and for all that Death really is a laughing matter...It is known as the Discworld. It is a flat planet, supported on the backs of four elephants, who in turn stand on the back of the great turtle A''Tuin as it swims majestically through space. And it is quite possibly the funniest place in all of creation...Death comes to us all. When he came to Mort, he offered him a job.After being assured that being dead was not compulsory, Mort accepted. However, he soon found that romantic longings did not mix easily with the responsibilities of being Death''s apprentice.

In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was: "Hey, you!" For Brutha the novice is the Chosen One. He wants peace and justice and brotherly love. He also wants the Inquisition to stop torturing hi

'Look after the dead', said the priests, 'and the dead will look after you'. Wise words in all probability, but a tall order when you have just become the pharaoh of a small and penniless country whose largesse - and indeed treasury - is unlikely to stretch to the building of a monumental pyramid to honour your dead father. And particularly when your only visible means of support is a recently acquired qualification from the Guild of Assassins where running a kingdom and basic financial acumen were not prerequisites for course entry...

There was an eighth son of an eighth son. He was, quite naturally, a wizard. And there it should have ended. However (for reasons we'd better not go into), he had seven sons. And then he had an eighth son ...a wizard squared ...a source of magic ...a Sourcerer. Sourcery sees the return of Rincewind and the Luggage as the Discworld faces its greatest - and funniest - challenge yet.

The fairies are back but this time they dont just want your teethIt''s Midsummer Night - no time for dreaming. Because sometimes, when there''s more than one reality at play, too much dreaming can make the walls between them come tumbling down. Unfortunately there''s usually a damned good reason for there being walls between them in the first place - to keep things out. Things who want to make mischief and play havoc with the natural order.Granny Weatherwax and her tiny coven are up against real elves. And even in a world of dwarfs, wizards, trolls, Morris dancers and the odd orang-utan, this is going to cause real trouble. With lots of hey-nonny-nonny and blood all over the place.

''Death has to happen. Thats what bein'' alive is all about. You''re alive, and then you''re dead. It can''t just stop happening.''But it can. And it has. Death is missing presumedergone (and on a little farm far, far away, a tall dark stranger is turning out to be really good with a scythe). Which leads to the kind of chaos you always get when an important public service is withdrawn. If Death doesn''t come for you, then what are you supposed to do in the meantime? You can''t have the undead wandering about like lost souls. There''s no telling what might happen, particularly when they discover that life really is only for the living...

Greetings, adventurer! We lay before you this most comprehensive gazetteer encompassing all the streets of Ankh-Morpork, as well as information on its principal businesses, hotels, taverns, inns, and places of entertainment and refreshment, enhanced by the all-new and compleat map of our great city state.Our city has grown well beyond its ancient walls, but the remit of this commission from the honourable Guild of Merchants was to map the city, the pulsing organ of commerce and culture, the heart as opposed to the body, and this we have done. In spades.We ask that when you pore over this glorious work you spare some thought for the humble cartographers and surveyors who made journeys into the darker corners of our metropolis no less dangerous than the wilds of Skund or Bhangbhangduc. To some the only memorial is the map you now possess. Others, in their quest for knowledge, paid the highest price that scholarship demands, which is to say, a day off in lieu.And so we dedicate this map and these accompanying words to the officers, councilors and members of the Merchants Guild and to all who will find in its pages paths yet to tread and places yet to explore within the magnificentbwonder that is the city of Ankh-Morpork.