Pyramids (Discworld 7) - Page 185

'There are any amount of things like this in there,' she said. 'Is this how women dress in Ankh-Morpork? It's like wearing a house. It doesn't half make you sweaty.'

'Look, about Chidder,' said Teppic urgently. 'I mean, he's a good fellow and everything, but-'

'He's very kind, isn't he,' she agreed.

'Well. Yes. He is,' Teppic admitted, hopelessly. 'He's an old friend.'

'That's nice.'

One of the crew materialised at the end of the corridor and bowed them into the state cabin, his air of old retainership marred only by the criss-cross pattern of scars on his head and some tattoos that made the pictures in The Shuttered Palace look like illustrations in a DIY shelving manual. The things he could make them do by flexing his biceps could keep entire dockside taverns fascinated for hours, and he was not aware that the worst moment of his entire life was only a few minutes away.

'This is all very pleasant,' said Chidder, pouring some wine. He nodded at the tattooed man. 'You may serve the soup, Alfonz,' he added.

'Look, Chiddy, you're not a pirate, are you?' said Teppic, desperately.

'Is that what's been worrying you?' Chidder grinned his lazy grin.

It wasn't everything that Teppic had been worrying about, but it had been jockeying for top position. He nodded.

'No, we're not. We just prefer to, er, avoid paperwork wherever possible. You know? We don't like people to have all the worry of having to know everything we do.'

'Only there's all the clothes-'

'Ah. We get attacked by pirates a fair amount. That's why father had the Unnamed built. It always surprises them. And the whole thing is morally sound. We get their ship, their booty, and any prisoners they may have get rescued and given a ride home at competitive rates.'

'What do you do with the pirates?'

Chidder glanced at Alfonz.

'That depends on future employment prospects,' he said. 'Father always says that a man down on his luck should be offered a helping hand. On terms, that is. How's the king business?'

Teppic told him. Chidder listened intently, swilling the wine around in his glass.

'So that's it,' he said at last. 'We heard there was going to be a war. That's why we're sailing tonight.'

'I don't blame you,' said Teppic.

'No, I mean to get the trade organised. With both sides, naturally, because we're strictly impartial. The weapons produced on this continent are really quite shocking. Down-right dangerous. You should come with us, too. You're a very valuable person.'

'Never felt more valueless than right now,' said Teppic despondently.

Chidder looked at him in amazement.

'But you're a king!' he said.

'Well, yes, but-'

'Of a country which technically still exists, but isn't actually reachable by mortal man?'

'Sadly so.'

'And you can pass laws about, well, currency and taxation, yes?'

'I suppose so, but-'

'And you don't think you're valuable? Good grief, Tep, our accountants can probably think up fifty different ways to . . . well, my hands go damp just to think about it. Father will probably ask to move our head office there, for a start.'

'Chidder, I explained. You know it. No-one can get in,' said Teppic.

Tags: Terry Pratchett Discworld Fantasy
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