Interesting Times - Terry Pratchett [73]
Mr. Saveloy beamed. “Ah, yes,” he said. “Civilization.”
The last ninja was upright, but only just; Hamish had run his wheelchair over his foot. Mr. Saveloy patted the taxman’s arm. “Excuse me,” he said. “I find I often have to intervene at this stage.”
He padded over to the surviving man, who was looking around wildly. Six swords had become interlaced around his neck as though he’d taken part in a rather energetic folk dance.
“Good morning,” said Mr. Saveloy. “I should just point out that Ghenghiz here is, despite appearances, a remarkably honest man. He finds it hard to understand empty bravura. May I venture to suggest therefore that you refrain from phrases like ‘I would rather die than betray my Emperor’ or ‘Go ahead and do your worst’ unless you really, really mean them. Should you wish for mercy, a simple hand signal will suffice. I strongly advise you not to attempt to nod.”
The young man looked sideways at Cohen, who gave him an encouraging smile.
Then he waved a hand quickly.
The swords unwove. Truckle hit the ninja over the head with a club.
“It’s all right, you don’t have to go on about it, I didn’t kill him,” he said sulkily.
“Ow!” Boy Willie had been experimenting with a rice flail and had hit his own ear. “How’d they manage to fight with this rubbish?”
“Whut?”
“These little Hogswatch decoration thingies look the business, though,” said Vincent, picking up a throwing star. “Aaargh!” He sucked his fingers. “Useless foreign junk.”
“That bit where that lad sprang backwards right across the room with them axes in his hands was impressive, though.”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t ought to have stuck your sword out like that, I thought.”
“He’s learned an important lesson.”
“It won’t do him much good now where he’s gone.”
“Whut?”
Six Beneficent Winds was half laughing, half shocked.
“But…but…I’ve seen these guards fight before!” he said. “They’re invincible!”
“No one told us.”
“But you beat them all!”
“Yep!”
“And you’re just eunuchs!”
There was a scrape of steel. Six Beneficent Winds closed his eyes. He could feel metal touching his neck in at least five places.
“There’s that word again,” said the voice of Cohen the Barbarian.
“But…you’re…dressed…as…eunuchs…” murmured Six Beneficent Winds, trying not to swallow.
Mr. Saveloy backed away, chuckling nervously.
“You see,” he said, speaking fast, “you’re too old to be taken for guards and you don’t look like bureaucrats, so I thought it would be, er, a very good disguise to—”
“Eunuch?” roared Truckle. “You mean people’ve been looking at me and thinking I mince around saying, Helluo, Saltat?”
Like many men whose testosterone had always sloshed out of their ears, the Horde had never finetuned their approach to the more complex areas of sexuality. A teacher to the core, Mr. Saveloy couldn’t help correcting them, even at swordpoint.
“That means, ‘the glutton dances,’ not, as you seem to think, ‘hello, sailor,’ which is heus nauta,” he said. “And eunuchs don’t say it. Not as a matter of course. Look, it’s an honor to be a eunuch in the Forbidden City. Many of them occupy very exalted positions in—”
“Then prepare yourself for high office, teacher!” Truckle shouted.
Cohen knocked the sword out of his hand.
“All right, none of that. I don’t like it either,” he said, “but it’s just a disguise. Shouldn’t mean anything to a man who once bit a bear’s head off, should it?”
“Yeah, but…you know…it’s not…I mean, when we went past those young ladies back there they all giggled…”
“Maybe later you can find them and make them laugh,” said Cohen. “But you should’ve told us, Teach.”
“Sorry.”
“Whut? Whatseesay?”
“He said you’re a EUNUCH!” Boy Willie bellowed in Hamish’s ear.
“Yep!” said Hamish happily.
“What?”
“That’s me! The one an’ only!”
“No, he didn’t mean—”
“Whut?”
“Oh, never mind. It’s all pretty much the same to you, Hamish.”
Mr. Saveloy surveyed the wrecked gym. “I wonder what time it is?” he said.
“Ah,” gurgled Six Beneficent Winds, happy to lighten things a little. “Here, you know, we have an