Pyramids (Discworld 7)

Teppic glared at him. 'I am the king, you know,' he said sharply.

'The fact attends me with every waking hour, sire.'

'Dios?' said Teppic, as the high priest was leaving.

'Sire?'

'I ordered a feather bed from Ankh-Morpork some weeks ago. I suppose you would not know what became of it?'

Dios waved his hands in an expressive gesture. 'I gather, sire, that there is considerable pirate activity off the Khalian coast,' he said.

'Doubtless the pirates are also responsible for the non-appearance of the expert from the Guild of Plumbers and Dunnikindivers?' Teppic said sourly.[15]

'Yes, sire. Or possibly bandits, sire.'

'Or perhaps a giant two-headed bird swooped down and carried him off,' said Teppic.

'All things are possible, sire,' said the high priest, his face radiating politeness.

'You may go, Dios.'

'Sire. May I remind you, sire, that the emissaries from Tsort and Ephebe will be attending you at the fifth hour.'

'Yes. You may go.'

Teppic was left alone, or at least as alone as he ever was, which meant that he was all by himself except for two fan wavers, a butler, two enormous Howonder guards by the door, and a couple of handmaidens.

Oh, yes. Handmaidens. He hadn't quite come to terms with the handmaidens yet. Presumably Dios chose them, as he seemed to oversee everything in the palace, and he had shown surprisingly good taste in the matter of, for example, olive skins, bosoms and legs. The clothing these two wore would between them have covered a small saucer. And this was odd, because the net effect was to turn them into two attractive and mobile pieces of furniture, as sexless as pillars. Teppic sighed with the recollection of women in Ankh-Morpork who could be clothed from neck to ankle in brocade and still cause a classroom full of boys to blush to the roots of their hair.

He reached down for the fruit bowl. One of the girls immediately grasped his hand, moved it gently aside, and took a grape.

'Please don't peel it,' said Teppic. 'The peel's the best part. Full of nourishing vitamins and minerals. Only I don't suppose you've heard about them, have you, they've only been invented recently,' he added, mainly to himself. 'I mean, within the last seven thousand years,' he finished sourly.

So much for time flowing past, he thought glumly. It might do that everywhere else, but not here. Here it just piles up, like snow. It's as though the pyramids slow us down, like those things they used on the boat, whatd'youcallem, sea anchors. Tomorrow here is just like yesterday, warmed over.

She peeled the grape anyway, while the snowflake seconds drifted down.

At the site of the Great Pyramid the huge blocks of stone floated into place like an explosion in reverse. They were flowing between the quarry and the site, drifting silently across the landscape above deep rectangular shadows.

'I've got to hand it to you,' said Ptaclusp to his son, as they stood side by side in the observation tower. 'It's astonishing. One day people will wonder how we did it.'

'All that business with the log rollers and the whips is old hat,' said IIb. 'You-can throw them away.' The young architect smiled, but there was a manic hint to the rictus.

It was astonishing. It was more astonishing than it ought to be. He kept getting the feeling that the pyramid was . . .

He shook himself mentally. He should be ashamed of that sort of thinking. You could get superstitious if you weren't careful, in this job.

It was natural for things to form a pyramid - well, a cone, anyway. He'd experimented this morning. Grain, salt, . . . not water, though, that'd been a mistake. But a pyramid was only a neat cone, wasn't it, a cone which had decided to be a bit tidier.

Perhaps he'd overdone it just a gnat on the paracosmic measurements?

His father slapped him on the back.

'Very well done,' he repeated. 'You know, it almost looks as though it's building itself.'

IIb yelped and bit his wrist, a childish trait that he always resorted to when he was nervous. Ptaclusp didn't notice, because at that moment one of the foremen was running to the foot of the tower, waving his ceremonial measuring rod.

Ptaclusp leaned over.