The Last Hero by Terry Pratchett

and pink knitting wool?"
    "Sorry for suggestin" it," said Cohen. "Well, we ain't got time for this. Let's go and sort out the Caves of Dread. Where's our bard? Right. Stop throwin' up and get yer notebook out. First man to be cut in half by a concealed blade is a rotten egg, okay? And, everyone... try not to wake up Hamish, all right?"
    The sea was full of cool green light.
    Captain Carrot sat near the prow. To the astonishment of Rincewind, who'd got out for a gloomy evening walk, he was sewing.
    "It's a badge for the mission," said Carrot. "See? This is yours." He held it up.
    "But what is it for ?"
    "Morale."
    "Ah, that stuff," said Rincewind. "Well, you've got lots, Leonard doesn't need it and I've never had any."
    "I know you are being good-humoured about it, but I think it's vital that there is something that holds the crew together," said Carrot, still calmly sewing.
    "Yes, it's called skin. It's important to keep all of you on the inside of it."
    Rincewind stared at the badge. He'd never had one before. Well, that was technically a lie... he'd had one that said 'Hello, I Am 5 Today!', which was just about the worst possible present to get when you are six. That birthday had been the rottenest day of his life.
    "It needs an uplifting motto," said Carrot. "Wizards know about this sort of thing, don't they?"
    "How about Morituri Nolumus Mori , that's got the right ring," said Rincewind gloomily.
    Carrot's lips moved as he parsed the sentence. " We who are about to die ..." he said, "but I don't recognise the rest."
    "It's very uplifting," said Rincewind. "It's straight from the heart."
    "Very well. Many thanks. I'll get to work on it right away," said Carrot.
    Rincewind sighed. "You're finding this exciting, aren't you?" he said. "You actually are ."
    "It will certainly be a challenge to go where no one has gone before," said Carrot.
    "Wrong! We're going where no one has come back from before." Rincewind hesitated. "Well, except me. But I didn't go that far, and I... sort of dropped on to the Disc again."
    "Yes, they told me about it. What did you see?"
    "My whole life, passing in front of my eyes."
    "Perhaps we shall see something more interesting."
    Rincewind glared at Carrot, bent once again over his sewing. Everything about the man was neat, in a workmanlike sort of way: he looked like someone who washed thoroughly. He also seemed to Rincewind to be a complete idiot with gristle between the ears. But complete idiots didn't make comments like that.
    "I'm taking an iconograph and lots of paint for the imp. You know the wizards want us to make all kinds of observations?" Carrot went on. "They say it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
    "You're not making any friends here, you know," said Rincewind.
    "Have you any idea what it is that the Silver Horde wants?"
    "Drink, treasure, and women," said Rincewind. "But I think they may have eased back on the last one."
    "But didn't they have more or less all of that anyway?"
    Rincewind nodded. That was the puzzler. The Horde had it all. They had everything that money could buy, and since there was a lot of money on the Counterweight Continent, that was everything .
    It occurred to him that when you'd had everything, all that was left was nothing.
    The valley was full of cool green light, reflected off the towering ice of the central mountain. It shifted and flowed like water. Into it, grumbling and asking one another to speak up, walked the Silver Horde.
    Behind them, walking almost bent double with horror and dread, white-faced, like a man who has gazed upon direful things, came the minstrel. His clothes were torn. One leg of his tights had been ripped off. He was soaking wet, although parts of his clothing were singed. The twanging remains of the lute in his trembling hand had been half bitten away. Here was a man who had truly seen life, mostly on the point of departure.
    "Not very insane, as monks go," said Caleb. "More sad than mad. I've known monks that frothed ."
    "And