Pyramids (Discworld 7)

The new king examined himself in the mirror, and frowned.

'What's it made of?' he said. 'It's rather foggy.'

'Bronze, sire. Polished bronze,' said Dios, handing him the Flail of Mercy.

'In Ankh-Morpork we had glass mirrors with silver on the back. They were very good.'

'Yes, sire. Here we have bronze, sire.'

'Do I really have to wear this gold mask?'

'The Face of the Sun, sire. Handed down through all the ages. Yes, sire. On all public occasions, sire.'

Teppic peered out through the eye slots. It was certainly a handsome face. It smiled faintly. He remembered his father visiting the nursery one day and forgetting to take it off; Teppic had screamed the place down.

'It's rather heavy.'

'It is weighted with the centuries,' said Dios, and passed over the obsidian Reaping Hook of Justice.

'Have you been a priest long, Dios?'

'Many years, sire, man and eunuch. Now-'

'Father said you were high priest even in grandad's time. You must be very old.'

'Well-preserved, sire. The gods have been kind to me,' said Dios, in the face of the evidence. 'And now, sire, if we could just hold this as well . .

'What is it?'

'The Honeycomb of Increase, sire. Very important.'

Teppic juggled it into position.

'I expect you've seen a lot of changes,' he said politely.

A look of pain passed over the old priest's face, but quickly, as if it was in a hurry to get away. 'No, sire,' he said smoothly, 'I have been very fortunate.'

'Oh. What's this?'

'The Sheaf of Plenty, sire. Extremely significant, very symbolic.'

'If you could just tuck it under my arm, then. . . Have you ever heard of plumbing, Dios?'

The priest snapped his fingers at one of the attendants. 'No, sire,' he said, and leaned forward. 'This is the Asp of Wisdom. I'll just tuck it in here, shall I?'

'It's like buckets, but not as, um, smelly.'

'Sounds dreadful, sire. The smell keeps bad influences away, I have always understood. This, sire, is the Gourd of the Waters of the Heavens. If we could just raise our chin . . .'

'This is all necessary, is it?' said Teppic indistinctly. 'It is traditional, sire. If we could just rearrange things a little, sire. . . here is the Three-Pronged Spear of the Waters of the Earth; I think we will be able to get this finger around it. We shall have to see about our marriage, sire.'

'I'm not sure we would be compatible, Dios.'

The high priest smiled with his mouth. 'Sire is pleased to jest, sire,' he said urbanely. 'However, it is essential that you marry.'

'I am afraid all the girls I know are in Ankh-Morpork,' said Teppic airily, knowing in his heart that this broad statement referred to Mrs Collar, who had been his bedder in the sixth form, and one of the serving wenches who'd taken a shine to him and always gave him extra gravy. (But . . . and his blood pounded at the memory.. . there had been the annual Assassins' Ball and, because the young assassins were trained to move freely in society and were expected to dance well, and because well-cut black silk and long legs attracted a certain type of older woman, they'd whirled the night away through baubons, galliards and slow-stepping pavonines, until the air thickened with musk and hunger. Chidder, whose simple open face and easygoing manner were a winner every time, came back to bed very late for days afterwards and tended to fall asleep during lessons . .

'Quite unsuitable, sire. We would require a consort well-versed in the observances. Of course, our aunt is available, sire.'