Pyramids (Discworld 7)

'Right you are, master. Master?'

'Yes, lad?'

'Which bit's got the god in it, master?'

Dil squinted up the king's nostril, trying to concentrate. 'That gets sorted out before he comes down here,' he said patiently.

'I wondered,' said Gern, 'because there's not a jar for it, see.'

'No. There wouldn't be. It'd have to be a rather strange jar, Gern.'

Gern looked a bit disappointed. 'Oh,' he said, 'so he's just ordinary, then, is he?'

'In a strictly organic sense,' said Dil, his voice slightly muffled.

'Our mum said he was all right as a king,' said Gern. 'What do you think?'

Dil paused with a jar in his hand, and seemed to give the conversation some thought for the first time.

'Never think about it until they come down here,' he said. 'I suppose he was better than most. Nice pair of lungs. Clean kidneys. Good big sinuses, which is what I always look for in a king.' He looked down, and delivered his professional judgement. 'Pleasure to work with, really.'

'Our mum said his heart was in the right place,' said Gern. The king, hovering dismally in the corner, gave a gloomy nod. Yes, he thought. Jar three, top shelf.

ok the liberty of attending to that myself, O Dios,' he purred.

Dios tapped his fingers on his staff. 'Yes,' he said, 'I have no doubt that you did.'

It was widely expected by the priesthood that Koomi would be the one to succeed Dios in the event of Dios ever actually dying, although hanging around waiting for Dios to die had never seemed to be a rewarding occupation. The only dissenting opinion was that of Dios himself, who, if he had any friends, would probably have confided in them certain conditions that would need to apply first, viz., blue moons, aerial pigs and he, Dios, being seen in Hell. He would probably have added that the only difference between Koomi and a sacred crocodile was the crocodile's basic honesty of purpose.

'Very well,' he said.

'If I may remind your lordship?' said Koomi. The faces of the other priests went a nice safe blank as Dios glared.

'Yes, Koomi?'

'The prince, O Dios. Has he been summoned?'

'No,' said Dios.

'Then how will he know?' said Koomi.

'He will know,' said Dios firmly.

'How will this be?'

'He will know. And now you are all dismissed. Go away. See to your gods!'

They scurried out, leaving Dios alone on the steps. It had been his accustomed position for so long that he'd polished a groove in the stonework, into which he fitted exactly.

Of course the prince would know. It was part of the neatness of things. But in the grooves of his mind, ground deep by the years of ritual and due observance, Dios detected a certain uneasiness. It was not at home in there. Uneasiness was something that happened to other people. He hadn't got where he was today by allowing room for doubt. Yet there was a tiny thought back there, a tiny certainty, that there was going to be trouble with this new king.

Well. The boy would soon learn. They all learned.

He shifted position, and winced. The aches and pains were back, and he couldn't allow that. They got in the way of his duty, and his duty was a sacred trust.

He'd have to visit the necropolis again. Tonight.

'He's not himself, you can see that.'