Interesting Times d-17

by Terry Pratchett

  It was at exactly this point that someone behind him shouted, "Hey, you!" and hit Rincewind across the shoulders with a stick.

  The irate face of a servant appeared in front of him. The man waved a finger in front of Rincewind's nose.

  "You are late! You are a bad man! Get inside right now!"

  "I—"

  The stick hit Rincewind again. The servant pointed at a distant doorway.

  "Insolence! Shame! Go to work!"

  Rincewind's brain prepared the words: Oh, so we think we're Clever-san just because we've got a big stick, do we? Well, I happen to be a great wizard and you know what you can do with your big stick.

  Somewhere between the brain and his mouth they became:

  "Yessir! Right away!"

  The Horde were left alone.

  "Well, gentlemen, we did it," said Mr Saveloy eventually. "You have the world on a plate."

  "All the treasure we want," said Truckle.

  "That's right."

  "Let's not hang around, then," said Truckle. "Let's get some sacks."

  "There's no point," said Mr Saveloy. "You'd only be stealing from yourselves. This is an Empire. You don't just shove it in a bag and divvy it up at the next campfire!"

  "How about the ravishing?"

  Mr Saveloy sighed. "There are, I understand, three hundred concubines in the imperial harem. I'm sure they will be very pleased to see you, although matters will be improved if you take your boots off."

  The old men wore the puzzled look such as might be worn by fish trying to understand the concept of the bicycle.

  "We ought to take just small stuff," said Boy Willie at last. "Rubies and emeralds, for preference."

  "And chuck a match on the place as we go out," said Vincent. "These paper walls and all this lacquered wood should go up a treat."

  "No, no, no!" said Mr Saveloy. "The vases in this room alone are priceless!"

  "Nah, too big to carry. Can't get 'em onna horse."

  "But I've shown you civilization!" said Mr Saveloy.

  "Yeah. It's all right to visit. Ain't that so, Cohen?"

  Cohen was hunched down in the throne, glaring at the far wall.

  "What's that?"

  "I'm saying we take everything we can carry and head off back home, right?"

  "Home… yeah…"

  "That was the Plan, yeah?"

  Cohen didn't look at Mr Saveloy's face.

  "Yeah… the Plan…" he said.

  "It's a good plan," said Truckle. "Great idea. You move in as boss? Fine. Great scam. Saves trouble. None of that fiddling with locks and things. So we'll all be off home, OK? With all the treasure we can carry?"

  "What for?" said Cohen.

  "What for? It's treasure."

  Cohen seemed to reach a decision.

  "What did you spend your last haul on, Truckle? You said you got three sacks of gold and gems from that haunted castle."

  Truckle looked puzzled, as if Cohen had asked what purple smelled like.

  "Spend it on?" dunno. You know how it is. What's it matter what you spend it on? It's loot. Anyway… what do you spend yours on?"

  Cohen sighed.

  Truckle gaped at him.

  "You're not thinking of really staying here?" He glared at Mr Saveloy. "Have you two been cooking up something?"

  Cohen drummed his fingers on the arm of the throne. "You said go home," he said. "Where to?"

  "Well… wherever…"

  "And Hamish there—"

  "Whut? Whut?"

  "I mean… he's a hundred and five, right? Time to settle down, maybe?"

  "Whut?"

  "Settle down?" said Truckle. "You tried it once. Stole a farm and said you was goin' to raise pigs! Gave it up after… What was it?… three hours?"

  "Whutzeesayin'? Whutzeesayin'?"

  "He said IT'S TIME YOU SETTLED DOWN, Hamish."

  "Bugrthat!"

  The kitchens were in uproar. Half the court had ended up there, in most cases for the first time. The place was as crowded as a street market, through which the servants tried to go about their business as best they could.

  The fact that one of them seemed a little unclear as to what his business actually consisted of was quite unnoticed in the turmoil.

  "Did you smell him?" said Lady Two Streams. "The stink!"

  "Like a hot day in a pig yard!" said Lady Peach Petal.

  "I'm pleased to say I have never experienced that," said Lady Two Streams haughtily.

  Lady Jade Night, who was rather younger than the other two, and who had been rather attracted to Cohen's smell of unwashed lion, said nothing.

  The head cook said: "Just that? Big lumps? Why doesn't he just eat a cow while he's about it?"

  "You wait till you hear about this devil food called sausage," said the Lord Chamberlain.

  "Big lumps." The cook was almost in tears. "Where's the skill in big lumps of meat? Not even sauce? I'd rather die than simply heat up big lumps of meat!"

  "Ah," said the new Lord Chamberlain, "I should think very carefully about that. The new Emperor, may he have a bath for ten thousand years, tends to interpret that as a request—"

  The babble of voices stopped. The cause of the sudden silence was one small, sharp noise. It was a cork, popping.

  Lord Hong had a Grand Vizier's talent for apparently turning up out of nowhere. His gaze swept the kitchens. It was certainly the only housework that he had ever done.

  He stepped forward. He'd taken a small black bottle from out of the sleeve of his robe.

  "Bring me the meat," he said. "The sauce will take care of itself."

  The assembled people watched with horrified interest. Poison was all part of the Hunghungese court etiquette but people generally did it while hidden from sight somewhere, out of good manners.

  "Is there anyone," said Lord Hong, "who has anything they would like to say?"

  His gaze was like a scythe. As it swung around the room people wavered, and hesitated, and fell.

  "Very well," said Lord Hong. "I would rather die than see a… barbarian on the Imperial throne. Let him have his… big lumps. Bring me the meat."

  There was movement in the ground, and the sound of shouting and the thump of a stick. A peasant scuttled forward, reluctantly wheeling a huge covered dish on a trolley.

  At the sight of Lord Hong he pushed the trolley aside, flung himself forward and grovelled.

  "I avert my gaze from your… an orchard in a favourable position… damn… countenance, o lord."

  Lord Hong prodded the prone figure with his foot.

  "It is good to see the arts of respect maintained," he observed. "Remove the lid."

  The man got up and, still bowing and ducking, lifted the cover.

  Lord Hong upended the bottle and held it there until the last drop had hissed out. His audience was transfixed.

  "And now let it be taken to the barbarians," he said.

  "Certainly, your celestial… ink brush… willow frond… righteousness."

  "Where are you from, peasant?"

  "Bes Pelargic, o lord."

  "Ah. I thought so."

  The big bamboo doors slid back. The new Lord Chamberlain stepped in, followed by a caravan of trolleys.

  "Breakfast, o lord of a thousand years," he said. "Big lumps of pig, big lumps of goat, big lumps of ox and seven fried rice."

  One of the servants lifted the lid of a dish. "But take my tip and don't go for this pork," he said. "It's been poisoned."

  The Chamberlain spun around.

  "Insolent pig! You will die for this."

  "It's Rincewind, isn't it?" said Cohen. "Looks like Rincewind—"

  "Got my hat here somewhere," said Rincewind. "Had to stuff it down my trousers—"

  "Poison?" said Cohen. "You sure?"

  "Well, OK, it was a black bottle and it had a skull and crossbones on it and when he tipped it out it smoked," said Rincewind, as Mr Saveloy helped him up. "Was it anchovy essence? I don't think so."

  "Poiso
n," said Cohen. "I hate poisoners. Just about the worst sort, poisoners. Creeping around, putting muck in a man's grub…"

  He glared at the Chamberlain.

  "Was it you?" He looked at Rincewind and jerked a thumb towards the cowering Chamberlain. "Was it him? Because if it was he's going to get done to him what I did to the mad Snake Priests of Start, and this time I'll use both thumbs!"

  "No," said Rincewind. "It was someone they called Lord Hong. But they all watched him do it."

  A little scream erupted from the Lord Chamberlain. He threw himself to the floor and was about to kiss Cohen's foot until he realized that this would have about the same effect as eating the pork.

  "Mercy, o celestial being! We are all pawns in the hands of Lord Hong!"

  "What's so special about Lord Hong, then?"

  "He's… a fine man!" the Chamberlain gibbered. "I won't say a word against Lord Hong! I certainly don't believe it's true that he has spies everywhere! Long life to Lord Hong, that's what I say!"

  He risked looking up and found the point of Cohen's sword just in front of his eyes.

  "Yeah, but right now who're you more frightened of? Me or this Lord Hong?"

  "Uh… Lord Hong!"

  Cohen raised an eyebrow. "I'm impressed. Spies everywhere, eh?"

  He looked around the huge room and his gaze came to rest on a very large vase. He sauntered over to it and raised the lid.

  "You OK in there?"

  "Er… yes?" said a voice from the depths of the vase.

  "Got everythin' you want? Spare notebook? Potty?"

  "Er… yes?"

  "Would you like, oh, let's say about sixty gallons of boiling water?"

  "Er… no?"

  "Would you rather die than betray Lord Hong?"

  "Er… can I have a moment to think about it, please?"

  "No problem. It takes a long time to heat the water in any case. As you were, then."

  He replaced the lid.

  "One Big Mother?" he said.

  "That's One Big River, Ghenghiz," said Mr Saveloy.

  The guard rumbled into life.

  "Just you watch this vase and if it moves again you do to it what I once did to the Green Necromancer of the Night, all right?"

  "Don't know what that was you did, lord," said the soldier.

  Cohen told him. One Big River beamed. From inside the jar came the noise of someone trying not to be sick.

  Cohen strolled back to the throne.

  "So tell me a bit more about Lord Hong, then," he said.

  "He's the Grand Vizier," said the Chamberlain.

  Cohen and Rincewind looked at one another.

  "That's right. And everyone knows," said Rincewind, "that Grand Viziers are always—"

  "—complete and utter bastards," said Cohen. "Dunno why. Give 'em a turban with a point in the middle and their moral wossname just gets eaten away. I always kill 'em soon as I meet 'em. Saves time later on."

  "I thought there was something fishy about him as soon as I saw him," said Rincewind. "Look, Cohen—"

  "That's Emperor Cohen to you," said Truckle. "I've never trusted wizards, mister. Never trusted any man in a dress."

  "Rincewind's all right—" said Cohen.

  "Thank you!" said Rincewind.

  "—but a bloody useless wizard."

  "I just happened to risk my neck to save you, thank you so very much," said Rincewind. "Look, some friends of mine are in the prison block. Could you… Emperor?"

  "Sort of," said Cohen.

  "Temp'ry," said Truckle.

  "Technically," said Mr Saveloy.

  "Does that mean you can get my friends somewhere safe? I think Lord Hong has murdered the old Emperor and wants them to take the blame. I'm just hoping he won't believe they'll be hiding in the cells."

  "Why in the cells?" said Cohen.

  "Because if I had the chance to get away from Lord Hong's cells I would," said Rincewind, fervently. "No-one in their right minds'd go back inside if they thought they had a chance to get away."

  "OK," said Cohen. "Boy Willie, One Big Mother, go and round up some of your mates and bring those people here."

  "Here?" said Rincewind. "I wanted them to be somewhere safe!"

  "Well, we're here," said Cohen. "We can protect 'em."

  "Who's going to protect you?"

  Cohen ignored this. "Lord Chamberlain," he said, "I don't 'spect Lord Hong'll be around but… in the court was a guy with a nose like a badger. A fat bugger, he was, with a big pink hat. And a skinny woman with a face like a hatful of pins."

  "That would be Lord Nine Mountains and Lady Two Streams," said the Lord Chamberlain. "Er. You are not angry with me, o lord?"

  "Gods bless you, no," said Cohen. "In fact, mister, I'm so impressed I'm going to give you extra responsibilities."

  "Lord?"

  "Food taster, for a start. And now go and fetch them other two. Didn't like the look of them at all."

  Nine Mountains and Two Streams were ushered in a few moments later. Their merest glance from Cohen to the untouched food would have passed entirely unnoticed by those who weren't watching for it.

  Cohen nodded cheerfully at them. "Eat it," he said.

  "My lord! I had a large breakfast! I am entirely full!" said Nine Mountains.

  "That's a pity," said Cohen. "One Big Mother, before you go off just see Mr Nine Mountains over there and make some room in him so he can have another breakfast. The same goes for the lady, too, if I don't hear chomping in the next five seconds, A good mouthful of everything, understand? With lots of sauce."

  One Big River drew his sword.

  The two nobles stared fixedly at the glistening mounds.

  "Looks good to me," said Cohen conversationally. "The way you're looking at it, any one'd think there was something wrong with it."

  Nine Mountains gingerly put a piece of pork into his mouth.

  "Extremely good," he said, indistinctly.

  "Now swallow," said Cohen.

  The mandarin gulped.

  "Marvellous," he said. "And now, if your excellency will excuse me, I—"

  "Don't rush off," said Cohen. "We don't want you accidentally sticking your fingers down your throat or anything like that, do we?"

  Nine Mountains hiccuped.

  Then he hiccuped again.

  Smoke appeared to be rising from the bottom of his robe.

  The Horde dived for cover just as the explosion removed an area of floorboards, a circular part of the ceiling and all of Lord Nine Mountains.

  A black hat with a ruby button on it spun around on the floor for a moment.

  "That's just like me and pickled onions," said Vincent.

  Lady Two Streams was standing with her eyes shut.

  "Not hungry?" said Cohen.

  She nodded.

  Cohen leaned back.

  "One Big Mother?"

  "It's 'River', Cohen," said Mr Saveloy, as the guard lumbered forward.

  "Take her with you and put her in one of the dungeons. See that she has plenty to eat, if you know what I mean."

  "Yes, excellency."

  "And Mr Chamberlain here can push off down to the kitchen again and tell the chef he's going to share what we eat this time, and he's gonna eat it first, all right?"

  "Yes indeed, excellency."

  "Call this living?" Caleb burst out, as the Lord Chamberlain scuttled away. "This is being Emperor, is it? Can't even trust the food? We'll probably be murdered in our beds!"

  "Can't see you being murdered in your bed," said Truckle.

  "Yeah, 'cos you're never in it," said Cohen.

  He walked over to the big jar and gave it a kick.

  "You getting all this?"

  "Yessir," said the jar.

  There was some laughter. But it had an edge of nervousness. Mr Saveloy realized that the Horde weren't used to this. If a true barbarian wanted to kill someone during a meal, he'd invite him in with all his henchmen, sit them down, get them drunk and sleepy and then summon his
own men from hiding places to massacre them instantly in a straight-forward, no-nonsense and honourable manner. It was completely fair. The 'get them drunk and butcher the lot of them' stratagem was the oldest trick in the book, or would have been if barbarians bothered with books. Anyone falling for it would be doing the world a favour by being slaughtered over the pudding. But at least you could trust the food. Barbarians didn't poison food. You never knew when you might be short of a mouthful yourself.

  "Excuse me, your excellency," said Six Beneficent Winds, who had been hovering, "I think Lord Truckle is right. Er. I know a little history. The correct method of succession is to wade to the throne through seas of blood. That is what Lord Hong is planning to do."

  "You say? Seas of blood, right?"

  "Or over a mountain of skulls. That's an option, too."

  "But… but… I thought the Imperial crown was handed down from father to son," said Mr Saveloy.

  "Well, yes," said Six Beneficent Winds. "I suppose that could happen in theory."

  "You said once we were at the top of the pyramid every one'd do what we said," said Cohen to Mr Saveloy.

  Truckle looked from one to the other. "You two planned this?" he said accusingly. "This is what it's all been about, isn't it? All that learnin' to be civilized? And right at the start you just said it was going to be a really big theft! Eh? I thought we were just going to nick a load of stuff and push off! Loot and pillage, that's the way—"

  "Oh, loot and pillage, loot and pillage, I've had it up to here with loot and pillage!" said Mr Saveloy. "Is that all you can think of, looting and pillaging?"

  "Well, there used to be ravishing, too," said Vincent wistfully.

  "I hate to tell you, but they've got a point, Teach," said Cohen. "Fightin' and lootin'… that's what we do. I ain't happy with all this bowing and scraping business. I ain't sure if I was cut out for civilization."

  Mr Saveloy rolled his eyes. "Even you, Cohen? You're all so… dim-witted!" he snapped. "I don't know why I bother! I mean, look at you! You know what you are? You're legends!"

  The Horde stepped back. No-one had ever seen Teach lose his temper before.