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It was Chidder.
Whats it doing now? said Ptaclusp.
His son poked his head cautiously over the ruins of a pillar and watched Hat, the Vulture-Headed God.
Its sniffing around, he said. I think it likes the statue. Honestly, dad, why did you have to go and buy a thing like that?
It was in a job lot, said Ptaclusp. Anyway, I thought it would be a popular line.
With who?
Well, he likes it.
Ptaclusp IIb risked another squint at the angular monstrosity that was still hopping around the ruins.
Tell him he can have it if he goes away, he suggested.
Tell him he can have it at cost.
Ptaclusp winced. At a discount, he said. A special cut rate for our supernatural customers.
He stared up at the sky. From their hiding place in the ruins of the construction camp, with the Great Pyramid still humming like a powerhouse behind them, theyd had an excellent view of the arrival of the gods. At first hed viewed them with a certain amount of equanimity. Gods would be good customers, they always wanted temples and statues, he could deal directly, cut out the middle man.
And then it had occurred to him that a god, when he was unhappy about the product, as it might be, maybe the plasterwork wasnt exactly as per spec, or perhaps a corner of the temple was a bit low on account of unexpected quicksand, a god didnt just come around demanding in a loud voice to see the manager. No. A god knew exactly where you were, and got to the point. Also, gods were notoriously bad payers. So were humans, of course, but they didnt actually expect you to die before they settled the account.
His gaze turned to his other son, a painted silhouette against the statue, his mouth a frozen O of astonishment, and Ptaclusp reached a decision.
Ive just about had it with pyramids, he said. Remind me, lad. If we ever get out of here, no more pyramids. Weve got set in our ways. Time to branch out, I reckon.
Thats what Ive been telling you for ages, dad! said IIb. Ive told you, a couple of decent aqueducts will make a tremendous-
Yes, yes, I remember, said Ptaclusp. Yes. Aqueducts. All those arches and things. Fine. Only I cant remember where you said you have to put the coffin in.
Dad!
Dont mind me, lad. I think Im going mad.
I couldnt have seen a mummy and two men over there, carrying sledgehammers.
It was, indeed, Chidder.
And Chidder had a boat.
Teppic knew that further along the coast the Seriph of Al-Khali lived in the fabulous palace of the Rhoxie, which was said to have been built in one night by a genie and was famed in myth and legend for its splendour. [29]
The Unnamed was the Rhoxie afloat, but more so. Its designer had a gilt complex, and had tried every trick with gold paint, curly pillars and expensive drapes to make it look less like a ship and more like a boudoir that had collided with a highly suspicious type of theatre.
In fact, you needed an assassins eyes for hidden detail to notice how innocently the gaudiness concealed the sleekness of the hull and the fact, even when you added the cabin space and the holds together, that there still seemed to be a lot of capacity unaccounted for. The water around what Ptraci called the pointed end was strangely rippled, but it would be totally ridiculous to suspect such an obvious merchantman of having a concealed ramming spike underwater, or that a mere five minutes work with an axe would turn this wallowing Alcdzar into something that could run away from nearly everything else afloat and make the few that could catch up seriously regret it.
Very impressive, said Teppic.
Its all show, really, said Chidder.
Yes. I can see that.
I mean, were poor traders.
Teppic nodded. The usual phrase is “poor but honest traders”, he said.
Chidder smiled a merchants smile. Oh, I think well stick on “poor” at the moment. How the hell are you, anyway? Last we heard you were going off to be king of some place no-ones ever heard of. And who is this lovely young lady?
Her name Teppic began.
Ptraci, said Ptraci.
Shes a hand- Teppic began.
She must surely be a royal princess, said Chidder smoothly. And it would give me the greatest pleasure if she, if indeed both of you, would dine with me tonight. Humble sailors fare, Im afraid, but we muddle along, we muddle along.
Not Ephebian, is it? said Teppic.
Ships biscuit, salt beef, that sort of thing, said Chidder, without taking his eyes off Ptraci. They hadnt left her since she came on board.
Then he laughed. It was the old familiar Chidder laugh, not exactly without humour, but clearly well under the control of its owners higher brain centres.
What an astonishing coincidence, he said. And us due to sail at dawn, too. Can I offer you a change of clothing? You both look somewhat, er, travel-stained.
Rough sailor clothing, I expect, said Teppic. As befits a humble merchant, correct me if Im wrong?
In fact Teppic was shown to a small cabin as exquisitely and carefully furnished as a jewelled egg, where there was laid upon the bed as fine an assortment of clothing as could be found anywhere on the Circle Sea. True, it all appeared second-hand, but carefully laundered and expertly stitched so that the sword cuts hardly showed at all. He gazed thoughtfully at the hooks on the wall, and the faint patching on the wood which hinted that various things had once been hung there and hastily removed.
He stepped out into the narrow corridor, and met Ptraci. Shed chosen a red court dress such as had been the fashion in Ankh-Morpork ten years previously, with puffed sleeves and vast concealed underpinnings and ruffs the size of millstones.
Teppic learned something new, which was that attractive women dressed in a few strips of gauze and a few yards of silk can actually look far more desirable when fully clad from neck to ankle. She gave an experimental twirl.
There are any amount of things like this in there, she said. Is this how women dress in Ankh-Morpork? Its like wearing a house. It doesnt half make you sweaty.
Look, about Chidder, said Teppic urgently. I mean, hes a good fellow and everything, but-
Hes very kind, isnt he, she agreed.
Well. Yes. He is, Teppic admitted, hopelessly. Hes an old friend.
Thats nice.
One of the crew materialised at the end of the corridor and bowed them into the state cabin, his air of old retainership marred only by the criss-cross pattern of scars on his head and some tattoos that made the pictures in The Shuttered Palace look like illustrations in a DIY shelving manual. The things he could make them do by flexing his biceps could keep entire dockside taverns fascinated for hours, and he was not aware that the worst moment of his entire life was only a few minutes away.
This is all very pleasant, said Chidder, pouring some wine. He nodded at the tattooed man. You may serve the soup, Alfonz, he added.
Look, Chiddy, youre not a pirate, are you? said Teppic, desperately.
Is that whats been worrying you? Chidder grinned his lazy grin.
It wasnt everything that Teppic had been worrying about, but it had been jockeying for top position. He nodded.
No, were not. We just prefer to, er, avoid paperwork wherever possible. You know? We dont like people to have all the worry of having to know everything we do.
Only theres all the clothes-
Ah. We get attacked by pirates a fair amount. Thats why father had the Unnamed built. It always surprises them. And the whole thing is morally sound. We get their ship, their booty, and any prisoners they may have get rescued and given a ride home at competitive rates.
What do you do with the pirates?
Chidder glanced at Alfonz.
That depends on future employment prospects, he said. Father always says that a man down on his luck should be offered a helping hand. On terms, that is. Hows the king business?
Teppic told him. Chidder listened intently, swilling the wine
around in his glass.
So thats it, he said at last. We heard there was going to be a war. Thats why were sailing tonight.
I dont blame you, said Teppic.
No, I mean to get the trade organised. With both sides, naturally, because were strictly impartial. The weapons produced on this continent are really quite shocking. Down-right dangerous. You should come with us, too. Youre a very valuable person.
Never felt more valueless than right now, said Teppic despondently.
Chidder looked at him in amazement.
But youre a king! he said.
Well, yes, but-
Of a country which technically still exists, but isnt actually reachable by mortal man?
Sadly so.
And you can pass laws about, well, currency and taxation, yes?
I suppose so, but-
And you dont think youre valuable? Good grief, Tep, our accountants can probably think up fifty different ways to . . . well, my hands go damp just to think about it. Father will probably ask to move our head office there, for a start.
Chidder, I explained. You know it. No-one can get in, said Teppic.
That doesnt matter.
Doesnt matter?
No, because well just make Ankh our main branch office and pay our taxes in wherever the place is. All we need is an official address in, I dont know, the Avenue of the Pyramids or something. Take my tip and dont give in on anything until father gives you a seat on the board. Youre royal, anyway, thats always impressive . .
Chidder chattered on. Teppic felt his clothes growing hotter. So this was it. You lost your kingdom, and then it was worth more because it was a tax haven, and you took a seat on the board, whatever that was, and that made it all right.
Ptraci defused the situation by grabbing Alfonzs arm as he was serving the pheasant.
The Congress of The Friendly Dog and the Two Small Biscuits! she exclaimed, examining the intricate tattoo. You hardly ever see that these days. Isnt it well done? You can even make out the yoghurt.
Alfonz froze, and then blushed. Watching the glow spread across the great scarred head was like watching sunrise over a mountain range.
Whats the one on your other arm?
Alfonz, who looked as though his past jobs had included being a battering ram, murmured something and, very shyly, showed her his forearm.
Snot really suitable for ladies, he whispered.
Ptraci brushed aside the wiry hair like a keen explorer, while Chidder stared at her with his mouth hanging open.
Oh, I know that one, she said dismissively. Thats out of 130 Days of Pseudopolis. Its physically impossible. She let go of the arm, and turned back to her meal. After a moment she looked up at Teppic and Chidder.
Dont mind me, she said brightly. Do go on.
Alfonz, please go and put a proper shirt on, said Chidder, hoarsely.
Alfonz backed away, staring at his arm.
Er. What was I, er, saying? said Chidder. Sorry. Lost the thread. Er. Have some more wine, Tep?
Ptraci didnt just derail the train of thought, she ripped up the rails, burned the stations and melted the bridges for scrap. And so the dinner trailed off into beef pie, fresh peaches, crystallised sea urchins and desultory small talk about the good old days at the Guild. They had been three months ago. It seemed like a lifetime. Three months in the Old Kingdom was a lifetime.
After some time Ptraci yawned and went to her cabin, leaving the two of them alone with a fresh bottle of wine. Chidder watched her go in awed silence.
Are there many like her back at your place? he said.
I dont know, Teppic admitted. There could be. Usually they lie around the place peeling grapes or waving fans.
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