The Discworld, according to all the rules, rests on the backs of elephants, which, in turn, stand on the shell of a gigantic turtle. Naturally, such a world without magic is absolutely impossible. And where there is magic, there are also wizards—who can cast even the most complex spells, summon demons, bravely face danger… or flee from it at full speed, as Rincewind does, the only wizard on the entire Discworld who can’t cast even the simplest enchantment. And yet, it is precisely his lot to experience the wildest adventures—and it is precisely with his clumsy hands that magic is made, magic that sometimes determines the fate of the universe.
In Rincewind’s adventures, he is never alone—he is accompanied sometimes by that naive and friendly tourist Twoflower, and sometimes by the ferocious and merciless old man Cohen-the-Barbarian; and everywhere, underfoot, a magical chest keeps getting in Rincewind’s way—one that eats the wizard’s enemies and keeps his personal laundry in perfect order!
In Ankh-Morpork, the largest city on the Discworld—a disk resting on the backs of four elephants held up by the gigantic turtle Great A’Tuin—appeared the first tourist. Nothing special would have happened—except that the city’s ruler ordered Rincewind to escort him: the most timid and incompetent wizard on the whole Discworld.