Interesting Times - Terry Pratchett [45]
The Hunghungese were an outdoor kind of people; from the look of it, they conducted most of their lives on the street and at the top of their voice.
Progress was made by viciously elbowing and shoving people until they got out of the way. Standing still and saying, “Er, excuse me” was a recipe for immobility.
The crowds did part, though, at the banging of a gong and a succession of loud “pops.” A group of people in white robes danced past, throwing fireworks around and banging on gongs, saucepans and odd bits of metal. The din contrived to be louder than the street noise, but only by very great effort.
Rincewind had been getting the occasional puzzled glance from people who stopped screaming long enough to notice him. Perhaps it was time to act like a native.
He turned to the nearest person and screamed, “Pretty good, eh?”
The person, a little old lady in a straw hat, stared at him in distaste.
“It’s Mr. Whu’s funeral,” she snapped, and walked off.
There were a couple of soldiers nearby. If this had been Ankh-Morpork, then they’d have been sharing a cigarette and trying not to see anything that might upset them. But these had an alert look.
Rincewind backed into another alley. An untutored visitor could clearly find himself in big trouble here.
This alley was quieter and, at the far end, opened into something much wider and empty looking. On the basis that people also meant trouble, Rincewind headed in that direction.
Here, at last, was an open space. It was very open indeed. It was a paved square, big enough to hold a couple of armies. It had cherry trees growing along the verges. And, given the heaving mob everywhere else, a surprising absence of anyone…
“You!”
…apart from the soldiers.
They appeared abruptly from behind every tree and statue.
Rincewind tried to back away, but that proved unfortunate since there was a guard behind him.
A terrifying armored mask confronted him.
“Peasant! Do you not know this is the Imperial Square?”
“Was that a capital S on Square, please?” said Rincewind.
“You do not ask questions!”
“Ah. I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ So it’s important, then. Sorry. I’ll just sort of go away, then…”
“You stay!”
But what struck Rincewind as amazingly odd was that none of them actually took hold of him. And then he realized that this must be because they hardly ever needed to. People did what they were told.
There’s something worse than whips in the Empire, Cohen had said.
At this point, he realized, he should be on his knees. He crouched down, hands placed lightly in front of him.
“I wonder,” he said brightly, rising into the starting position, “if this is the time to draw your attention to a famous saying?”
Cohen was familiar with city gates. He’d broken down a number in his time, by battering ram, siege gun, and on one occasion with his head.
But the gates of Hunghung were pretty damn good gates. They weren’t like the gates of Ankh-Morpork, which were usually wide open to attract the spending customer and whose concession to defense was the sign “Thank You For Not Attacking Our City. Bonum Diem.” These things were big and made of metal and there was a guardhouse and a squad of unhelpful men in black armor.
“Teach?”
“Yes, Cohen?”
“Why’re we doing this? I thought we were going to use the invisible duck the mice use.”
Mr. Saveloy waggled a finger.
“That’s for the Forbidden City itself. I hope we’ll find that inside. Now, remember your lessons,” he said. “It’s important that you all learn how to behave in cities.”
“I know how to bloody well behave in cities,” said Truckle the Uncivil. “Pillage, ravish, loot, set fire to the damn place on your way out. Just like towns only it takes longer.”
“That’s all very well if you’re just passing through,” said Mr. Saveloy, “but what if you want to come back next day?”
“It ain’t bloody well there next day, mister.”
“Gentlemen! Bear with me. You will have to learn the ways of civilization!”
People couldn’t just walk through. There was a line. And the guards gathered rather offensively