Interesting Times - Terry Pratchett [117]
“You never bothered about the floor yesterday,” Truckle grumbled.
“’Tweren’t my floor then.”
“Yes, it was,” said Mr. Saveloy.
“Not properly,” said Cohen. “Rite of conquest, that’s the thing. Blood. People understand blood. You just walk in and take over and no one takes it seriously. But seas of blood…Everyone understands that.”
“Mountains of skulls,” said Truckle approvingly.
“Look at history,” said Cohen. “Whenever you—Hey, you, the man with the hat, that’s my…”
“Inlaid mahogany Shibo Yangcong-san table,” murmured Mr. Saveloy.
“—so put it back, d’you hear? Yes, whenever you comes across a king where everyone says, ‘Oo, he was a good king all right,’ you can bet your sandals he was a great big bearded bastard who broke heads a lot and laughed about it. Hey? But some king who just passed decent little laws and read books and tried to look intelligent…‘Oh,’ they say, ‘oh, he was all right, a bit wet, not what I’d call a proper king.’ That’s people for you.”
Mr. Saveloy sighed.
Cohen grinned at him and slapped him on the back so hard he stumbled into two women trying to carry off a bronze statue of Ly Tin Wheedle.
“Can’t quite face it, Teach, can you? Can’t get your mind round it? Don’t worry about it. Basically, you ain’t a barbarian. Put the damn statue back, missus, or you’ll feel the flat of my sword, so you will!”
“But I thought we could do it without anyone getting hurt. By using our brains.”
“Can’t. History don’t work like that. Blood first, then brains.”
“Mountains of skulls,” said Truckle.
“There’s got to be a better way than fighting,” said Mr. Saveloy.
“Yep. Lots of ’em. Only none of ’em work. Caleb, take those…those…”
“—fine Bhong jade miniatures—” muttered Mr. Saveloy.
“—take them off that feller. He’s got one under his hat.”
Another set of carved doors was swung open. This room was already crowded, but the people shuffled backwards as the doors parted and tried to look keen while avoiding catching Cohen’s eye.
As they pulled away they left Six Beneficent Winds standing all alone. The court had become very good at this maneuver.
“Mountains of skulls,” said Truckle, not a man to let go in a hurry.
“Er. We saw the Red Army rise out of the ground, er, just as the legend foretold. Er. Truly you are the preincarnation of One Sun Mirror.”
The little taxman had the decency to look embarrassed. As speeches went it was on a dramatic level with the one that traditionally began, “As you know, your father—the king—” Besides, he’d never believed in legends up to now—not even the one about the peasant who every year filed a scrupulously honest tax return.
“Yeah, right,” said Cohen.
He strode to the throne and stuck his sword in the floor, where it vibrated.
“Some of you are going to get your heads cut off for your own good,” he said. “But I haven’t decided who yet. And someone show Boy Willie where the privy is.”
“No need,” said Boy Willie. “Not after them big red statues turned up behind me so sudden.”
“Mountains of—” Truckle began.
“Dunno about mountains,” said Cohen.
“And where,” said Six Beneficent Winds tremulously, “is the Great Wizard?”
“Great Wizard,” said Cohen.
“Yes, the Great Wizard who summoned the Red Army from the earth,” said the taxman.
“Don’t know anything about him,” said Cohen.
The crowd staggered forward as more people piled into the room.
“They’re coming!”
A terracotta warrior clomped its way into the room, its face still wearing a very faint smile.
It stopped, rocking a little, while water dripped off it.
People had crouched back in terror. Except the Horde, Mr. Saveloy noticed. Faced with unknown yet terrible dangers, the Horde were either angry or puzzled.
Then he cheered up. They weren’t better, just different. They’re all right facing huge terrible creatures, he told himself, but ask them to go down the street and buy a bag of rice and they go all to pieces…
“What’s my move now, Teach?” Cohen whispered.
“Well, you’re Emperor,” said Mr. Saveloy.