Interesting Times (27 page)

“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.”

“Okay,” 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, anyone’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.

“Marvelous,” 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 hiccupped 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 honorable 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 favor 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 everyone’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.

“From
legendum
, which means ‘something written down’,” said Mr. Saveloy. “Books, you know. Reading and writing. Which incidentally is as alien to you as the Lost City of Ee—”

Truckle’s hand went up, a little nervously.

“Actually, I once discovered the Lost City of—”

“Shut up! I’m saying…What was I saying?…yes…you don’t read, do you? You never learned to read? Then you’ve wasted half your life. You could have been accumulating pearls of wisdom instead of rather shoddy gems. It’s just as well people read about you and don’t meet you face to face because, gentlemen, you are a big disappointment!”

Rincewind watched, fascinated, waiting for Mr. Saveloy to have his head cut off. But this didn’t seem about to happen. He was possibly too angry to be beheaded.

“What have you actually
done
, gentlemen? And don’t tell me about stolen jewels and demon lords. What have you done that’s
real?
”

Truckle raised a hand again.

“Well, I once killed all four of the—”

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Mr. Saveloy. “You killed
this
and you stole
that
and you defeated the giant man-eating avocados of somewhere else, but…it’s all…
stuff
. It’s just wallpaper, gentlemen! It never changes anything! No one
cares!
Back in Ankh-Morpork I’ve taught boys who think you are myths. That’s what you’ve achieved. They don’t believe you ever really existed. They think someone made you up. You’re
stories
, gentlemen. When you die no one will know, because they think you’re already dead.”

He paused for breath, and then continued more slowly. “But here…here you
could
be real. You could stop playing at your lives. You could take this ancient and somewhat rotten Empire back into the world. At least…” he trailed off. “That’s what I’d hoped. I really thought that, perhaps, we might actually achieve something…”

He sat down.

The Horde stood staring at its various feet or wheels.

“Um. Can I say something? The warlords will all be against you,” said Six Beneficent Winds. “They’re out there now, with their armies. Normally they’d fight amongst themselves, but they’ll
all
fight you.”

“They’d rather have some poisoner like this Hong instead of me?” said Cohen. “But he’s a bastard!”

“Yes, but…he’s
their
bastard, you see.”

“We could hold out here. This place has got thick walls,” said Vincent. “The ones not made of paper, that is.”

“Don’t think about that,” said Truckle. “Not a siege. Sieges are messy. I hate eating boots and rats.”

“Whut?”

“He said WE DON’T WANT A SIEGE WHERE WE HAVE TO EAT BOOTS AND RATS, Hamish.”

“Run outa legs, have we?”

“How many soldiers have they got?” said Cohen.

“I think…six or seven hundred thousand,” said the taxman.

“Excuse us,” said Cohen, getting off the throne. “I have to join my Horde.”

The Horde went into a huddle. There was an occasional “Whut?” in the hoarse whispered interchanges. Then Cohen turned round.

“Seas of blood, wasn’t it?” he said.

“Er. Yes,” said the taxman.

The huddle resumed.

After some further exchanges Truckle’s head poked up.

“Did you say
mountain
of skulls?” he said.

“Yes. Yes, I think that’s what I said,” said the taxman. He glanced nervously at Rincewind and Mr. Saveloy, who shrugged.

Whisper, whisper, Whut…

“Excuse me?”

“Yes?”

“About how big a mountain? Skulls don’t pile up that well.”

“I don’t know how big a mountain! A lot of skulls!”

“Just checking.”

The Horde seemed to reach a decision. They turned to face the other men.

“We’re going to fight,” said Cohen.

“Yes, you should have said all that about skulls and blood before,” said Truckle.

“We’ll show ye whether we’m dead or not!” cackled Hamish.

Mr. Saveloy shook his head.

“I think you must have misheard. The odds are a hundred thousand to one!” he said.

“I reckon
that’ll
show people we’re still alive,” said Caleb.

“Yes, but the whole point of my plan was to show you that you could get to the top of the pyramid without having to fight your way up,” said Mr. Saveloy. “It really is possible in such a stale society. But if you try to fight hundreds of thousands of men you’ll
die
.”

And then, to his surprise, he found himself adding: “Probably.”

The Horde grinned at him.

“Big odds don’t frighten us,” said Truckle.

“We
like
big odds,” said Caleb.

“Y’see, Teach, odds of a thousand to one ain’t a lot worse than ten to one,” said Cohen. “The reasons bein’—” He counted on his fingers. “One, your basic soldier who’s fightin’ for pay rather than his life ain’t goin’ to stick
his
neck out when there’s all these other blokes around who might as well do the business, and, two, not very many of ’em are goin’ to be able to get near us at one time and they’ll all be pushin’ and shovin’, and…” He looked at his fingers with an expression of terminal calculation.

“…Three…” said Mr. Saveloy, hypnotized by this logic.

“…three, right…Half the time when they swings their swords they’ll hit one of their mates, savin’ us a bit of effort. See?”

“But even if that were true it’d only work for a little while,” Mr. Saveloy protested. “Even if you killed as many as two hundred you’d be tired and there’d be fresh troops attacking you.”