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Die heldenhaftesten Helden der Scheibenwelt sind zurück.
Gevatter Tod, die Hexen und die Nachtwache zählen zu den bekanntesten Bewohnern der Scheibenwelt. In diesem Dreifachband versammelt, werden sie nicht nur Fans begeistern, sondern auch solche, die zum ersten Mal einen Fuß auf die flachste aller Welten setzen: In »Gevatter Tod« will der Tod endlich wohlverdienten Urlaub nehmen. Doch sein Vertreter richtet allerlei Chaos an. In »MacBest« müssen Oma Wetterwachs und ihre hexenden Kolleginnen dem wahren Erben auf den Thron helfen. Und in »Wachen! Wachen!«...

The thirteenth Discworld novel.

'Just because you can't explain it, doesn't mean it's a miracle.'

In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was: 'Hey, you ' This is the Discworld, after all, and religion is a controversial business. Everyone has their own opinion, and indeed their own gods, of every shape and size, and all elbowing for space at the top. In such a competitive environment, shape and size can be pretty crucial to make one's presence felt. So it's certainly not helpful to be reduced to appearing in the form of a tortoise, a manifestation far...

For members of the City Watch, life consists of troubling times, linked together by periods of torpid inactivity. Now is one such troubling time. People are being murdered, but there's no trace of anything alive having been at the crime scene. Is there ever a circumstance in which you can blame the weapon not the murderer? Such philosophical questions are not the usual domain of the city's police, but they're going to have to start learning fast.

The first Discworld novel, revamped for a new generation of readers.

Somewhere on the frontier between thought and reality exists the Discworld, a parallel time and place which might sound and smell very much like our own, but which looks completely different. It plays by different rules. Certainly it refuses to succumb to the quaint notion that universes are ruled by pure logic and the harmony of numbers.

But just because the Disc is different doesn't mean that some things don't stay the same. Its very existence is about to be threatened by a strange new blight: the...

Terry Pratchett puts his stamp on the thirty-third Discworld novel.

The post was an old thing, of course, but it was so old that it had magically become new again.

The post office is an ailing institution belonging to the olden days. New technology overshadows its mind-numbing bureaucracy and the creakingly slow pace of change. You can call them nostalgic, but there are still people who believe in the post: in the beauty of stamps and cast-iron pillar boxes, and the dignity of the postman braving hail, wind and troublesome dogs. And sometimes it's worth standing up...

Although the scythe isn't pre-eminent among the weapons of war, anyone who has been on the wrong end of, say, a peasants' revolt will know that in skilled hands it is fearsome.

For Mort however, it is about to become one of the tools of his trade. From henceforth, Death is no longer going to be the end, merely the means to an end. He has received an offer he can't refuse. As Death's apprentice he'll have free board, use of the company horse and being dead isn't compulsory. It's the dream job until he discovers that it can be a killer on his love life.