AllFreeNovel
Share Us
his unresisting fingers and manhandled a new slab of granite into position. One of the problems of being a Tezuman, apart from having a god like Quezovercoatl, is that if you unexpectedly need to order an extra pint of milk tomorrow you should have started writing the note last month. Tezumen are the only people who beat themselves to death with their own suicide notes.
It was late afternoon by the time the chariot trotted into the slab city around the largest
pyramid, between lines of cheering Tezumen. “This is more like it,” said Eric, graciously acknowledging the cheers. “They're very pleased to see us.”
“Yes,” said Rincewind, gloomily. “I wonder why?” “Well, because I'm the new ruler, of course.” “Hmm.” Rincewind glanced sidelong at the parrot, who had been unnaturally silent for
some time and was now cowering up against his ear like an elderly spinster in a strip
club. It was having serious thoughts about the exquisite feather headdresses. “Wossname bastards,” it croaked. “Any wossname lays a hand on me and that wossname is minus one finger, I'm telling you.”
“There's something not right about this,” said Rincewind. “What's that?”
“Everything.”
“I'm telling you, one feather out of place -”
Rincewind wasn't used to people being pleased to see him. It was unnatural, and boded no good. These people were not only cheering, they were throwing flowers and hats. The hats were made out of stone, but the thought was there.
Rincewind thought they were rather odd hats. They didn't have crowns. They were, in fact, mere discs with holes in the middle.
The procession trotted up the wide avenues of the city to a cluster of buildings at the foot of the pyramid, where another group of dignitaries was waiting for them.
They were wearing lots of jewelry. It was all basically the same. There are quite a lot of uses to which you can put a stone disc with a hole in the middle, and the Tezumen had explored all but one of them.
More important, though, were the boxes and boxes of treasure stacked in front of them. They were stuffed with jewels.
Eric's eyes widened.
“The tribute!” he said.
Rincewind gave up. It was really working. He didn't know why, but at last it was all going Right. The setting sun glinted off a dozen fortunes. Of course, it belonged to Eric, presumably, but maybe there was enough for him too...
“Naturally,” he said weakly. “What else did you expect?”
And there was feasting, and long speeches that Rincewind couldn't understand but which were punctuated with cheers and nods and bows in Eric's direction. And there were long recitals of Tezuman music, which sounds like someone clearing a particularly difficult nostril.
Rincewind left Eric sitting proudly enthroned in the firelight and wandered disconsolately across to the pyramid.
“I was enjoying the wossname,” said the parrot reproachfully.
“I can't settle down,” said Rincewind. “I'm sorry, but this sort of thing has never happened to me before. All the jewels and things. Everything going as expected. It's not right.”
He looked up the monstrous face of the steep pyramid, red and flickering in the firelight. Every huge block was carved with a bas-relief of Tezumen doing terribly inventive things to their enemies. It suggested that the Tezumen, whatever sterling qualities they possessed, were not traditionally inclined to welcome perfect strangers and heap them with jewels. The overall effect of the great heap of carvings was very artistic - it was just the details that were horrible.
While working his way along the wall he came to a huge door, which artistically portrayed a group of prisoners apparently being given a complete medical check-up*. (*From a distance it did, anyway. Close to, no.)
It opened into a short, torch-lit tunnel. Rincewind took a few steps along it, telling himself he could always hurry out again, and came out into a lofty space which occupied most of the inside of the pyramid.
There were more torches all around the walls, which illuminated everything quite well.
That wasn't really welcome because what they mainly illuminated was a giant-sized statue of Quezovercoatl, the Feathered Boa.
If you had to be in a room with that statue, you'd prefer it to be pitch black.
Or, then again, perhaps not. A better option would be to put the thing in a darkened room while you had insomnia a thousand miles away, trying to forget what it looked like.
It's just a statue, Rincewind told himself. It's not real. They've just used their imagination, that's all.
