Interesting Times - Terry Pratchett [56]
“Nah, I only set fire to him a bit.”
“Whut?”
“Teach?”
“Yes, Cohen?”
“Why did you tell that firework merchant that everyone you knew had died suddenly?”
Mr. Saveloy’s foot tapped gently against the large parcel under the table, alongside a nice new cauldron.
“So he wouldn’t get suspicious about what I was buying,” he said.
“Five thousand firecrackers?”
“Whut?”
“Well,” said Mr. Saveloy. “Did I ever tell you that after I taught geography in the Assassins’ Guild and the Plumbers’ Guild I did it for a few terms in the Alchemists’ Guild?”
“Alchemists? Loonies, the lot of them,” said Truckle.
“But they’re keen on geography,” said Mr. Saveloy. “I suppose they need to know where they’ve landed. Eat up, gentlemen. It may be a long night.”
“What is this stuff?” said Truckle, spearing something with his chopstick.
“Er. Chow,” said Mr. Saveloy.
“Yes, but what is it?”
“Chow. A kind of…er…dog.”
The Horde looked at him.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” he said hurriedly, with the sincerity of a man who had ordered bamboo shoots and bean curd for himself.
“I’ve eaten everything else,” said Truckle, “but I ain’t eating dog. I had a dog once. Rover.”
“Yeah,” said Cohen. “The one with the spiked collar? The one who used to eat people?”
“Say what you like, he was a friend to me,” said Truckle, pushing the meat to one side.
“Rabid death to everyone else. I’ll eat yours. Order him some chicken, Teach.”
“Et a man once,” mumbled Mad Hamish. “In a siege, it were.”
“You ate someone?” said Mr. Saveloy, beckoning to the waiter.
“Just a leg.”
“That’s terrible!”
“Not with mustard.”
Just when I think I know them, Mr. Saveloy mused…
He reached for his wine glass. The Horde reached for their glasses, too, while watching him carefully.
“A toast, gentlemen,” he said. “And remember what I said about not quaffing. Quaffing just gets your ears wet. Just sip. To Civilization!”
The Horde joined in with their own toasts.
“‘Pcharn’kov!’”*
“‘Lie down on the floor and no one gets hurt!’”
“‘May you live in interesting pants!’”
“‘What’s the magic word? Gimme!’”
“‘Death to most tyrants!’”
“Whut?”
“The walls of the Forbidden City are forty feet high,” said Butterfly.
“And the gates are made of brass. There are hundreds of guards. But of course we have the Great Wizard.”
“Who?”
“You.”
“Sorry, I was forgetting.”
“Yes,” said Butterfly, giving Rincewind a long, appraising look. Rincewind remembered tutors giving him a look like that when he’d got high marks in some test by simply guessing at the answers.
He looked down hurriedly at the charcoal scrawls Lotus Blossom had made.
Cohen’d know what to do, he thought. He’d just slaughter his way through. It’d never cross his mind to be afraid or worried. He’s the kind of man you need at a time like this.
“No doubt you have magic spells that can blow down the walls,” said Lotus Blossom.
Rincewind wondered what they would do to him when it turned out that he couldn’t. Not a lot, he thought, if I’m already running. Of course they could curse his memory and call him names, but he was used to that. Sticks and stones may break my bones, he thought. He was vaguely aware that there was a second half to the saying, but he’d never bothered because the first half always occupied all his attention.
Even the Luggage had left him. That was a minor bright spot, but he missed that patter of little feet…
“Before we start,” he said, “I think you ought to sing a revolutionary song.”
The cadre liked the idea. Under cover of their chanting he sidled over to Butterfly, who gave him a knowing smile.
“You know I can’t do it!”
“The Master said you were very resourceful.”
“I can’t magic a hole in a wall!”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something. And…Great Wizard?”
“Yes, what?”
“Favorite Pearl, the child with the toy rabbit…”
“Yes?”
“The cadre is all she has. The same goes for many of the others. When the warlords fight, lots of people die. Parents. Do you understand? I was one of the first to read What I Did On My Holidays, Great Wizard, and what I saw in there was a foolish man who for some reason