Pyramids (Discworld 7)

She stared at him, and then giggled again. 'Oh, that? No, he was very kind. I wouldn't of minded, you understand, I had all the proper training. Bit of a disappointment, really. The women of my family have served under the kings for centuries, you know.'

'Oh yes?' he managed.

'I don't know whether you've ever seen a book, it's called The Shuttered-'

'-Palace,' said Teppic automatically.

'I thought a gentleman like you'd know about it,' said Ptraci, nudging him. 'It's a sort of textbook. Well, my great-great-grandmother posed for a lot of the pictures. Not recently,' she added, in case he hadn't fully understood, 'I mean, that would be a bit off-putting, she's been dead for twenty-five years. When she was younger. I look a lot like her, everyone says.'

'Urk,' agreed Teppic.

'She was famous. She could put her feet behind her head, you know. So can I. I've got my Grade Three.'

'Urk?'

'The old king told me once that the gods gave people a sense of humour to make up for giving them sex. I think he was a bit upset at the time.'

'Urk.' Only the whites of Teppic's eyes were showing.

'You don't say much, do you?'

The breeze of the night was blowing her perfume towards him. Ptraci used scent like a battering ram.

'We've got to find somewhere to hide you,' he said, concentrating on each word. 'Haven't you got any parents or anything?' He tried to ignore the fact that in the shadowless flarelight she appeared to glow, and didn't have much success.

'Well, my mother still works in the palace somewhere,' said Ptraci. 'But I don't think she'd be very sympathetic.'

'We've got to get you away from here,' said Teppic fervently. 'If you can hide somewhere today, I can steal some horses or a boat or something. Then you could go to Tsort or Ephebe or somewhere.'

'Foreign, you mean? I don't think I'd like that,' said Ptraci.

'Compared to the netherworld?'

'Well. Put like that, of course . . .' She took his arm. 'Why did you rescue me?'

'Er? Because being alive is better than being dead, I think.'

'I've read up to number 46, Congress of the Five Auspicious Ants,' said Ptraci. 'If you've got some yoghurt, we could-'

'No! I mean, no. Not here. Not now. There must be people looking for us, it's nearly dawn.'

'There's no need to yelp like that! I was just trying to be kind.'

'Yes. Good. Thank you.' Teppic broke away and peered desperately over a parapet into one of the palace's numerous light wells.

'This leads to the embalmers' workshops,' he said. 'There must be plenty of places to hide down here.' He unwound the cord again.

Various rooms led off the well. Teppic found one lined with benches and floored with wood shavings; a doorway led through to another room stacked with mummy cases, each one surmounted by the same golden dolly face he'd come to know and loathe. He tapped on a few, and raised the lid of the nearest.

'No-one at home,' he said. 'You can have a nice rest in here. I can leave the lid open a bit so you can get some air.'

'You can't think I'd risk that? Supposing you didn't come back!'

'I'll be back tonight,' said Teppic. 'And - and I'll see if I can drop some food and water in some time today. She stood on tiptoe, her ankle bangles jingling all the way down Teppic's libido. He glanced down involuntarily and saw that every toenail was painted. He remembered Cheesewright telling them behind the stables one lunch-hour that girls who painted their toenails were . . . well, he couldn't quite remember now, but it had seemed pretty unbelievable at the time.

'It looks very hard,' she said.

'What?'