Interesting Times - Terry Pratchett [123]
“Man wants to be a hero. That’s fine by me,” said Cohen.
“He’ll be slaughtered!”
“Might do. Might do. Might do. He might do that, certainly,” Cohen conceded. “That’s not up to me.”
“Father!”
Lotus Blossom grabbed Twoflower’s arm.
“He will kill you! Come away!”
“No.”
Butterfly took her father’s other arm.
“No good purpose will be served,” she said. “Come on. We can find a better time—”
“He killed your mother,” said Twoflower flatly.
“His soldiers did.”
“That makes it worse. He didn’t even know. Please get back, both of you.”
“Look, Father—”
“If you don’t both do what you’re told I shall get angry.”
Lord Hong drew his long sword. The blade gleamed.
“Do you know anything about fighting, clerk?”
“No, not really,” said Twoflower. “But the important thing is that someone should stand up to you. Whatever happens to them afterwards.”
The Horde were watching with considerable interest. Hardened as they were, they had a soft spot for pointless bravery.
“Yes,” said Lord Hong, looking around at the silent crowd. “Let everyone see what happens.”
He raised his sword.
The air crackled.
The Barking Dog dropped on to the flagstones in front of him.
It was very hot. Its string was alight.
There was a brief sizzle.
Then the world went white.
After some time, Twoflower picked himself up. He seemed to be the first one upright; those people who hadn’t flung themselves to the ground had fled.
All that remained of Lord Hong was one shoe, which was smouldering. But there was a smoking trail all the way up the steps behind it.
Staggering a little, Twoflower followed the trail.
A wheelchair was on its side, one wheel spinning.
He peered over it.
“You all right, Mr. Hamish?”
“Whut?”
“Good.”
The rest of the Horde were crouched in a circle at the top of the steps. Smoke billowed around them. In its continuing passage, the ball had set fire to part of the palace.
“Can you hear me, Teach?” Cohen was saying.
“’Course he can’t hear you! How can he hear you, looking like that?” said Truckle.
“He could still be alive,” said Cohen defiantly.
“He is dead, Cohen. Really, really dead. Alive people have more body.”
“But you’re all alive?” said Twoflower. “I saw it bark straight at you!”
“We got out of the way,” said Boy Willie. “We’re good at getting out of the way.”
“Poor ole Teach didn’t have our experience of not dyin’,” said Caleb.
Cohen stood up.
“Where’s Hong?” he said grimly. “I’m going to—”
“He’s dead, too, Mr. Cohen,” said Twoflower.
Cohen nodded, as if this was all perfectly normal.
“We owe it to ole Teach,” he said.
“He was a good sort,” Truckle conceded. “Funny ideas about swearing, mind you.”
“He had brains. He cared about stuff! And he might not have lived like a barbarian, but he’s bloody well going to be buried like one, all right?”
“In a longship, set on fire,” suggested Boy Willie.
“My word,” said Mr. Saveloy.
“In a big pit, on top of the bodies of his enemies,” suggested Caleb.
“Good heavens, all of 4B?” said Mr. Saveloy.
“In a burial mound,” suggested Vincent.
“Really, I wouldn’t put you to the trouble,” said Mr. Saveloy.
“In a longship set on fire, on top of a heap of the bodies of his enemies, under a burial mound,” said Cohen flatly. “Nothing’s too good for ole Teach.”
“But I assure you, I feel fine,” said Mr. Saveloy. “Really, I—er…Oh…”
RONALD SAVELOY?
Mr. Saveloy turned.
“Ah,” he said. “Yes. I see.”
IF YOU WOULD CARE TO STEP THIS WAY?
The palace and the Horde froze and faded gently, like a dream.
“It’s funny,” said Mr. Saveloy, as he followed Death. “I didn’t expect it to be this way.”
FEW PEOPLE EVER EXPECT IT TO BE ANY WAY.
Gritty black sand crunched under what Mr. Saveloy supposed he should still call his feet.
“Where is this?”
THE DESERT.
It was brilliantly lit, and yet the sky was midnight-black. He stared at the horizon.
“How big is it?”
FOR SOME, VERY BIG. FOR LORD HONG, FOR INSTANCE, IT CONTAINS A LOT OF IMPATIENT GHOSTS.
“I thought Lord Hong didn’t believe in ghosts.”
HE MAY DO SO NOW. A LOT OF GHOSTS BELIEVE IN LORD HONG.
“Oh. Er. What happens