Small Gods

by Terry Pratchett

Page 27

 

  He opened his eyes.

  Simony was walking away. Everything looked lighter. It was still dark. But now he could see in the darkness. Everything was shades of gray. And the cobbles under his hand had somehow become a coarse black sand.

  He looked up.

  ON YOUR FEET, PRIVATE ICHLOS.

  He stood up sheepishly. Now he was more than just a soldier, an anonymous figure to chase and be killed and be no more than a shadowy bit-player in other peoples lives. Now he was Dervi Ichlos, aged thirtyeight, comparatively blameless in the general scheme of things, and dead.

  He raised a hand to his lips uncertainly.

  “Youre the judge?” he said.

  NOT ME.

  Ichlos looked at the sands stretching away. He knew instinctively what he had to do. He was far less sophisticated than General Friit, and took more notice of songs hed learned in his childhood. Besides, he had an advantage. Hed had even less religion than the general.

  JUDGEMENT IS AT THE END OF THE DESERT.

  Ichlos tried to smile.

  “My mum told me about this,” he said. “When youre dead, you have to walk a desert. And you see everything properly, she said. And remember everything right. ”

  Death studiously did nothing to indicate his feelings either way.

  “Might meet a few friends on the way, eh?” said the soldier.

  POSSIBLY.

  Ichlos set out. On the whole, he thought, it could have been worse.

  Urn clambered across the shelves like a monkey, pulling books out of their racks and throwing them down to the floor.

  “I can carry about twenty,” he said. “But which twenty?”

  “Always wanted to do that,” murmured Didactylos happily. "Upholding truth in the face of tyranny and so on. Hah! One man, unafraid of the-

  “What to take? What to take?” shouted Urn.

  “We dont need Gridos Mechanics,” said Didactylos. "Hey, I wish I could have seen the look on his face! Damn good shot, considering. I just hope someone wrote down what I-

  “Principles of gearing! Theory of water expansion!” shouted Urn. "But we dont need Ibids Civics or Gnomons Ectopia, thats for sure-

  “What? They belong to all mankind!” snapped Didactylos.

  “Then if all mankind will come and help us carry them, thats fine,” said Urn. “But if its just the two of us, I prefer to carry something useful. ”

  “Useful? Books on mechanisms?”

  “Yes! They can show people how to live better!”

  “And these show people how to be people,” said Didactylos. "Which reminds me. Find me another lantern. I feel quite blind without one-

  The Library door shook to a thunderous knocking. It wasnt the knocking of people who expected the door to be opened.

  "We could throw some of the others into the-

  The hinges leapt out of the walls. The door thudded down.

  Soldiers scrambled over it, swords drawn.

  “Ah, gentlemen,” said Didactylos. “Pray dont disturb my circles. ”

  The corporal in charge looked at him blankly, and then down at the floor.

  “What circles?” he said.

  “Hey, how about giving me a pair of compasses and coming back in, say, half an hour?”

  “Leave him, corporal,” said Brutha.

  He stepped over the door.

  “I said leave him. ”

  "But I got orders to-

  “Are you deaf? If you are, the Quisition can cure that,” said Brutha, astonished at the steadiness of his own voice.

  “You dont belong to the Quisition,” said the corporal.

  “No. But I know a man who does,” said Brutha. “You are to search the palace for books. Leave him with me. Hes an old man. What harm can he do?”

  The corporal looked hesitantly from Brutha to his prisoners.

  “Very good, corporal. I will take over. ”

  They all turned.

  “Did you hear me?” said Sergeant Simony, pushing his way forward.

  "But the deacon told us-

  “Corporal?”

  “Yes, sergeant?”

  “The deacon is far away. I am right here. ”

  “Yes, sergeant. ” Go.

  “Yes, sergeant. ”

  Simony cocked an ear as the soldiers marched away.

  Then he stuck his sword in the door and turned to Didactylos. He made a fist with his left hand and brought his right hand down on it, palm extended.

  “The Turtle Moves,” he said.

  “That all depends,” said the philosopher, cautiously.

  “I mean I am . . . a friend,” he said.

  “Why should we trust you?” said Urn.

  “Because you havent got any choice,” said Sergeant Simony briskly.

  “Can you get us out of here?” said Brutha.

  Simony glared at him. “You?” he said. “Why should I get you out of here? Youre an inquisitor!” He grasped his sword.

  Brutha backed away.

  “Im not!”

  “On the ship, when the captain sounded you, you just said nothing,” said Simony. “Youre not one of us. ”

  “I dont think Im one of them, either,” said Brutha. “Im one of mine. ”

  He gave Didactylos an imploring look, which was a wasted effort, and turned it towards Urn instead.

  “I dont know about this soldier,” he said. “All I know is that Vorbis means to have you killed and he will burn your Library. But I can help. I worked it out on the way here. ”

  “And dont listen to him,” said Simony. He dropped on one knee in front of Didactylos, like a supplicant. “Sir, there are . . . some of us . . . who know your book for what it is . . . see, I have a copy . . . ”

  He fumbled inside his breastplate.

  “We copied it out,” said Simony. “One copy! Thats all we had! But its been passed around. Some of us who could read, read it to the others! It makes so much sense!”

  “Er . . . ” said Didactylos. “What?”

  Simony waved his hands in excitement. “Because we know it-Ive been to places that-its true! There is a Great Turtle. The turtle does move! We dont need gods!”

  “Urn? No ones stripped the copper off the roof, have they?” said Didactylos.

  “Dont think so. ”

  “Remind me not to talk to this chap outside, then. ”

  “You dont understand!” said Simony. “I can save you. You have friends in unexpected places. Come on. Ill just kill this priest . . . ”

  He gripped his sword. Brutha backed away.

  “No! I can help, too! Thats why I came. When I saw you in front of Vorbis I knew what I could do!”

  “What can you do?” sneered Urn.

  “I can save the Library. ”

  “What? Put it on your back and run away?” sneered Simony.

  “No. I dont mean that. How many scrolls are there?”

  “About seven hundred,” said Didactylos.

  “How many of them are important?”

  “All of them!” said Urn.

  “Maybe a couple of hundred,” said Didactylos, mildly.

  “Uncle! ”

  “All the rest is just wind and vanity publishing,” said Didactylos.

  “But theyre books!”

  “I may be able to take more than that,” said Brutha slowly. “Is there a way out?”

  “There . . . could be,” said Didactylos.

  “Dont tell him!” said Simony.

  “Then all your books will burn,” said Brutha. He pointed to Simony. “He said you havent got a choice. So you havent got anything to lose, have you?”

  "Hes a- Simony began.

  “Everyone shut up,” said Didactylos. He stared past Bruthas ear.

  “There may be a way out,” he said. “What do you intend?”

  “I dont believe this!” said Urn. “Theres Omnians here and youre telling them theres another way out!”
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br />   “Theres tunnels all through this rock,” said Didactylos.

  “Maybe, but we dont tell people!”

  “Im inclined to trust this person,” said Didactylos. “Hes got an honest face. Speaking philosophically. ”

  “Why should we trust him?”

  “Anyone stupid enough to expect us to trust him in these circumstances must be trustworthy,” said Didactylos. “Hed be too stupid to be deceitful. ”

  “I can walk out of here right now,” said Brutha. “And where will your Library be then?”

  “You see?” said Simony.

  “Just when things apparently look dark, suddenly we have unexpected friends everywhere,” said Didactylos. “What is your plan, young man?”

  “I havent got one,” said Brutha. “I just do things, one after the other. ”

  “And how long will doing things one after another take you?”

  “About ten minutes, I think. ”

  Simony glared at Brutha.

  “Now get the books,” said Brutha. “And I shall need some light. ”

  “But you cant even read!” said Urn.

  “Im not going to read them. ” Brutha looked blankly at the first scroll, which happened to be De Chelonian Mobile.

  “Oh. My god,” he said.

  “Something wrong?” said Didactylos.

  “Could someone fetch my tortoise?”

  Simony trotted through the palace. No one was paying him much attention. Most of the Ephebian guard was outside the labyrinth, and Vorbis had made it clear to anyone who was thinking of venturing inside just what would happen to the palaces inhabitants. Groups of Omnian soldiers were looting in a disciplined sort of way.

  Besides, he was returning to his quarters.

  There was a tortoise in Bruthas room. It was sit?ting on the table, between a rolled-up scroll and a gnawed melon rind and, insofar as it was possible to tell with tortoises, was asleep. Simony grabbed it without ceremony, rammed it into his pack, and hur?ried back towards the Library.

  He hated himself for doing it. The stupid priest had ruined everything! But Didactylos had made him promise, and Didactylos was the man who knew the Truth.

  All the way there he had the impression that someone was trying to attract his attention.

  “You can remember them just by looking?” said Urn.

  “Yes. ”

  “The whole scroll?”

  “Yes. ”

  “I dont believe you. ”

  “The word LIBRVM outside this building has a chip in the top of the first letter, said Brutha. ”Xeno wrote Reflections, and old Aristocrates wrote Platitudes, and Didactylos thinks Ibids Discourses are bloody stupid. There are six hundred paces from the Tyrants throne room to the Library. There is a-

  “Hes got a good memory, youve got to grant him that,” said Didactylos. “Show him some more scrolls. ”

  “How will we know hes remembered them?” Urn demanded, unrolling a scroll of geometrical theorems. “He cant read! And even if he could read, he cant write! ”

  “We shall have to teach him. ”

  Brutha looked at a scroll full of maps. He shut his eyes. For a moment the jagged outline glowed against the inside of his eyelids, and then he felt them settle into his mind. They were still there somewhere-he could bring them back at any time. Urn unrolled another scroll. Pictures of animals. This one, drawings of plants and lots of writing. This one, just writing. This one, triangles and things. They settled down in his memory. After a while, he wasnt even aware of the scroll unrolling. He just had to keep looking.