“We can land away from the ports,” said Simony eagerly.
“Ankh-Morpork!” shouted Om.
“First we should take Mr. Didactylos to Ankh-Morpork,” said Brutha. “Then-I'll come back to Omnia.”
“You can damn well leave me there too!” said Om.
“I'll soon find some believers in Ankh-Morpork, don't you worry, they believe anything there!”
“Never seen Ankh-Morpork,” said Didactylos. “Still, we live and learn. That's what I always say.” He turned to face the soldier. “Kicking and screaming.”
“There's some exiles in Ankh,” said Simony. “Don't worry. You'll be safe there.”
“Amazing!” said Didactylos. “And to think, this morning, I didn't even know I was in danger.”
He sat back in the boat.
“Life in this world,” he said, “is, as it were, a sojourn in a cave. What can we know of reality? For all we see of the true nature of existence is, shall we say, no more than bewildering and amusing shadows cast upon the inner wall of the cave by the unseen blinding light of absolute truth, from which we may or may not deduce some glimmer of veracity, and we as troglodyte seekers of wisdom can only lift our voices to the unseen and say, humbly, `Go on, do Deformed Rabbit . . . it's my favorite.' ”
Vorbis stirred the ashes with his foot.
“No bones,” he said.
The soldiers stood silently. The fluffy gray flakes collapsed and blew a little way in the dawn breeze.
“And the wrong sort of ash,” said Vorbis.
The sergeant opened his mouth to say something.
“Be assured I know that of which I speak,” said Vorbis.
He wandered over to the charred trapdoor, and prodded it with his toe.
“We followed the tunnel,” said the sergeant, in the tones of one who hopes against experience that sounding helpful will avert the wrath to come. “It comes out near the docks.”
“But if you enter it from the docks it does not come out here,” Vorbis mused. The smoking ashes seemed to hold an endless fascination for him.
The sergeant's brow wrinkled.
“Understand?” said Vorbis. “The Ephebians wouldn't build a way out that was a way in. The minds that devised the labyrinth would not work like that. There would be . . . valves. Sequences of triggerstones, perhaps. Trips that trip only one way. Whirring blades that come out of unexpected walls.”
` Ah.
“Most intricate and devious, I have no doubt.”
The sergeant ran a dry tongue over his lips. He could not read Vorbis like a book, because there had never been a book like Vorbis. But Vorbis had certain habits of thought that you learned, after a while.
“You wish me to take the squad and follow it up from the docks,” he said hollowly.
“I was just about to suggest it,” said Vorbis.
“Yes, lord.”
Vorbis patted the sergeant on the shoulder.
“But do not worry!” he said cheerfully. “Om will protect the strong in faith.”
“Yes, lord.”