Pyramids (Discworld 7)

'But we'll need some light,' protested Dil.

The nearest mummies lurched back sharply as Gern timidly took a tinderbox out of his pocket.

'We'll need something to burn,' said Dil. The mummies shuffled further back, muttering.

'There's torches in here,' said Teppicymon, his voice slightly muffled. 'And you can keep them away from me, lad.'

It was a small pyramid, mazeless, without traps, just a stone passage leading upwards. Tremulously, expecting at any moment to see unnamed terrors leap out at them, the embalmers followed the king into a small, square chamber that smelled of sand. The roof was black with soot.

There was no sarcophagus within, no mummy case, no terror named or nameless. The centre of the floor was occupied by a raised block, with a blanket and a pillow on it.

Neither of them looked particularly old. It was almost disappointing.

Gern craned to look around.

'Quite nice, really,' he said. 'Comfy.'

'No,' said Dil.

'Hey, master king, look here,' said Gern, trotting over to one of the walls. 'Look. Someone's been scratching things. Look, all little lines all over the wall.'

'And this wall,' said the king, 'and the floor. Someone's been counting. Every ten have been crossed through, you see. Someone's been counting things. Lots of things.' He stood back.

'What things?' said Dil, looking behind him.

'Very strange,' said the king. He leaned forward. 'You can barely make out the inscriptions underneath.'

'Can you read it, king?' said Gern, showing what Dil considered to be unnecessary enthusiasm.

'No. It's one of the really ancient dialects. Can't make out a blessed hieroglyph,' said Teppicymon. 'I shouldn't think there's a single person alive today who can read it.'

'That's a shame,' said Gern.

'True enough,' said the king, and sighed. They stood in gloomy silence.

'So perhaps we could ask one of the dead ones?' said Gern.

'Er. Gern,' said Dil, backing away.

The king slapped the apprentice on the back, pitching him forward.

'Damn clever idea!' he said. 'We'll just go and get one of the real early ancestors. Oh.' He sagged. 'That's no good. No-one will be able to understand them-'

'Gern!' said Dil, his eyes growing wider.

'No, it's all right, king,' said Gern, enjoying the new-found freedom of thought, 'because, the reason being, everyone understands someone, all we have to do is sort them out.'

'Bright lad. Bright lad,' said the king.

'Gern!'

They both looked at him in astonishment.

'You all right, master?' said Gern. 'You've gone all white.'

'The t-' stuttered Dil, rigid with terror.

'The what, master?'