'There's only thirty of you!' said Rincewind. 'You're not a storm! You're a shower!'
'There are hardly any guards within the city itself,' said Butterfly. 'If we can overcome those around the Emperor's apartments—'
'You'll be killed!' said Rincewind. She turned on him. 'Then at least we shall have died for something!'
'Cleanse The State With The Blood Of Martyrs,' rumbled Three Yoked Oxen. Rincewind spun around and waved a finger under Three Yoked Oxen's nose, which was as high as he could reach. 'I'll bloody well thump you if you trot out something like that one more time!' he shouted, and then grimaced at the realization that he had just threatened a man three times heavier than he was. 'Listen to me, will you?' he said, settling down a lettle. 'I know about people who talk about suffering for the common good. It's never bloody them! When you hear a man shouting “Forward, brave comrades!” you'll see he's the one behind the bloody big rock and wearing the only really arrow-proof helmet! Understand?' He stopped. The cadre were looking at him as if he was mad. He stared at their young, keen faces, and felt very, very old. 'But there are causes worth dying for,' said Butterfly. 'No, there aren't! Because you've only got one life but you can pick up another five causes on any street corner!'
'Good grief, how can you live with a philosophy like that?' Rincewind took a deep breath. 'Continuously!'
Six Beneficent Winds had thought it was a pretty good plan.. The horrible old men were lost in the Forbidden City. Although they had a wiry look, rather like natural bonsai trees that had managed to flourish on a wind-swept cliff, they were nevertheless very old and not at all heavily armed. So he led them in the direction of the gymnasium. And when they were inside he screamed for help at top of his voice. To his amazement, they didn't turn and run. 'Can we kill him now?' said Truckle. A couple of dozen muscular men had stopped pounding logs of wood and piles of bricks and were regarding them suspiciously. 'Got any ideas?' said Cohen to Mr Saveloy. 'Oh, dear. They're so very tough looking, aren't they?'
'You can't think of anything civilized?'
'No. It's over to you, I'm afraid.'
'Hah! Hah! I bin waiting for this,' said Caleb, pushing forward. 'Bin practising every day, 'n I? With my big lump o' teak.'
'These are ninjas,' said Six Beneficent Winds proudly, as a couple of the men wandered towards the door and pulled it shut. 'The finest fighters in the world! Yield now!'
'That's interesting,' said Cohen. 'Here, you, in the black pyjamas . .. Just got out of bed, have you? Who's the best out of all of you?' One of the men stared fixedly at Cohen and thrust out a hand at the nearest wall. It left a dent. Then he nodded at the tax gatherer. 'What are these old fools you've brought us?'
'I think they're barbarian invaders,' said the tax-man. 'How'd you - How'd he know that?' said Boy Willie. 'We're wearin' itchy trousers and eatin' with forks and every thin'—' The leading ninja sneered. 'Heroic eunuchs?' he said. 'Old men?'
'Who're you calling a eunuch?' Cohen demanded. 'Can I just show him what I've been practising with my lump o' teak?' said Caleb, hopping arthritically from one foot to the other.
The ninja eyed the slab of timber. 'You could not make a dent on that, old man,' he said. 'You watch,' said Caleb. He held out the wood at arm's length. Then he raised his other hand, grunting a little as it got past shoulder height. 'You watching this hand? You watching this hand?' he demanded. 'I am watching,' said the laugh. 'Good,' said Caleb. He kicked the man squarely in the groin and then, as he doubled up, hit him over the head with the teak.'
'Cos you should've been watchin' this foot.' And that would have been all there was to it if there had only been one ninja. But there was a clatter of rice flails and an unsheathing of long, curved swords. The Horde drew closer together. Hamish pushed back his rug to reveal their armoury, although the collection of notched blades looked positively homely compared with the shiny toys ranged against them. 'Teach, why don't you take Mr Taxman over to the corner out of harm's way?' said Ghenghiz. This is madness!' said Six Beneficent Winds. 'They're the finest fighters in the world and you're just old men! Give in now and I'll see if I can get you a rebate!'
'Calm down, calm down,' said Mr Saveloy. 'No-one's going to get hurt. Metaphorically, at least.' Ghenghiz Cohen waved his sword a few times. 'OK, you lads,' he said. 'Give us your best ninje.' Six Beneficent Winds looked on in horror as the Horde squared up. 'But it will be terrible slaughter!' he said. 'I'm afraid so,' said Mr Saveloy. He fished in his pockets for a bag of peppermints. 'Who are these mad old men? What do they do?'
'Barbarian heroing, generally,' said Mr Saveloy, 'Rescuing princesses, robbing temples, fighting mon-sters, exploring ancient and terror-filled ruins . . . that sort of thing.'
'But they look old enough to be dead! Why do they do it?' Saveloy shrugged. 'That's all they've ever done.'
A ninja somersaulted down the room, screaming, a sword in either hand; Cohen waited in an attitude rather similar to that of a baseball batter. 'I wonder,' said Mr Saveloy, 'if you have ever heard of the term “evolution”?' The two met. The air blurred. 'Or “survival of the fittest”?' said Mr Saveloy. The scream continued, but rather more urgently. 'I didn't even see his sword move!' whispered Six Beneficent Winds. 'Yes. People often don't,' said Mr Saveloy. 'But . . . they're so old!'
'Indeed,' said the teacher, raising his voice above the screams, 'and of course this is true. They are very old barbarian heroes.' The taxman stared. 'Would you like a peppermint?' said Mr Saveloy, as Hamish's wheelchair thundered past in pursuit of a man with a broken sword and a pressing desire to stay alive. 'You may find it helps, if you are around the Horde for any length of time.' The aroma from the proffered paper bag hit Six Beneficent Winds like a flamethrower. 'How can you smell anything after eating those?'
'You can't,' said Mr Saveloy happily. The taxman continued to stare. The fighting was a fast and furious affair but, somehow, only on one side. The Horde fought like you'd expect old men to fight - slowly, and with care. All the activity was on the part of the ninjas, but no matter how well flung the throwing star or speedy the kick, the target was always, without any obvious effort, not there. 'Since we have this moment to chat,' said Mr Saveloy, as something with a lot of blades hit the wall just above the taxman's head, 'I wonder: could you tell me about the big hill just outside the city? It is quite a remarkable feature.'
'What?' said Six Beneficent Winds distractedly. 'The big hill.'
ing! Good trick!' Despite several years of exposure to the facts of the matter, Rincewind remembered, Twoflower had never really wanted to grasp the fact that his companion had the magical abilities of the common house fly. It was useless to try to dissuade him. It just meant that modesty was added to the list of non-existent virtues. He tried some of the keys in other cell doors. Various raggedy people emerged, blinking in the slightly better light. One of them, turning his body slightly in order to get it through the door, was Three Yoked Oxen. From the look of him he'd been beaten up, but this might just have been someone's attempt to attract his attention. 'This is Rincewind,' said Twoflower proudly. 'The Great Wizard. Did you know he killed the guard from inside the cell?' They politely inspected the corpse. 'I didn't, really,' said Rincewind. 'And he's modest, too!'
'Long Life To The People's Endeavour!' said Three Yoked Oxen through rather swollen lips. ' “Mine's A Pint!” ' said Rincewind. 'Here's bigfella keys belong door, you go lettee people outee chop-chop.' One of the freed prisoners limped to the end of the passage. 'There's a dead guard here,' he said. 'It wasn't me,' said Rincewind plaintively. 'I mean, perhaps I wished they were dead, but—' People edged away. You didn't want to be too close to anyone who could wish like that. If this had been Ankh-Morpork someone would have said, 'Oh, yeah, sure, he magically stabbed them in the back?' But that was because people in Ankh-Morpork knew Rincewind, and they knew that if a wizard really wanted you dead you'd have no back left to stab.
Three Yoked Oxen had been able to master the technical business of opening doors. More swung open . . . 'Lotus Blossom?' said Rincewind. She clung to Oxen's arm and smiled at Rincewind. Other members of the cadre trooped out behind her. Then, to Rincewind's amazement, she looked at Twoflower, screamed, and threw her arms around his neck. 'Extended Continuation To Filial Affection!' chanted Three Yoked Oxen. ' “Close Cover Before Striking!” ' said Rincewind. 'Er. What exactly is happening?' A very small Red soldier tugged at his robe. 'He is her daddy,' it said. 'You never said you had children!'
'I'm sure I did. Often,' said Twoflower, disentangling himself. 'Anyway . . . it is allowed.'
'You're married!'
'I was, yes. I'm sure I must have said.'
'We were probably running away from something at the time. So there's a Mrs Twoflower, is there?'
'There was for a while,' said Twoflower, and for a moment an expression almost of anger distorted his preternaturally benign countenance. 'Not, alas, any more.' Rincewind looked away, because that was better than looking at Twoflower's face. Butterfly had also emerged. She stood just outside the cell door, with her hands clasped in front of her. looking down demurely at her feet. Twoflower rushed over to her. 'Butterfly!' Rincewind looked down at the rabbit clutcher. 'She another daughter, Pearl?'