Pyramids (Discworld 7)

'We're trained for it. Your tendons are knotted up like ping-pong balls on a string,' said Ptraci.

Teppic gratefully subsided on to one of the boulders that littered the base of the cliff and let the rhythm of her fingers unwind the problems of the night.

'I don't know what to do,' he murmured. 'That feels good.'

'It's not all peeling grapes, being a handmaiden,' said Ptraci. 'The first lesson we learn is, when the master has had a long hard day it is not the best time to suggest the Congress of the Fox and the Persimmon. Who says you have to do anything?'

'I feel responsible.' Teppic shifted position like a cat.

'If you know where there is a dulcimer I could play you something soothing,' said Ptraci. 'I've got as far as “Goblins Picnic” in Book I.'

'I mean, a king shouldn't let his kingdom just vanish like that.'

'All the other girls can do chords and everything,' said Ptraci wistfully, massaging his shoulders. 'But the old king always said he'd rather hear me. He said it used to cheer him up.'

'I mean, it'll be called the Lost Kingdom,' said Teppic drowsily. 'How will I feel then, I ask you?'

'He said he liked my singing, too. Everyone else said it sounded like a flock of vultures who've just found a dead donkey.'

'I mean, king of a Lost Kingdom. It'd be dreadful. I've got to get it back.'

You Bastard slowly turned his massive head to follow the flight of an errant blowfly; deep in his brain little columns of red numbers flickered, detailing vectors and speed and elevation. The conversation of human beings seldom interested him, but it crossed his mind that the males and females always got along best when neither actually listened fully to what the other one was saying. It was much simpler with camels.

Teppic stared at the line in the rock. Geometry. That was it. 'We'll go to Ephebe,' he said. 'They know all about geometry and they have some very unsound ideas. Unsound ideas are what I could do with right now.'

'Why do you carry all these knives and things? I mean, really?'

'Hmm? Sorry?'

'All these knives. Why?'

Teppic thought about it. 'I suppose I don't feel properly dressed without them,' he said.

'Oh.'

Ptraci dutifully cast around for a new topic of conversation. Introducing Topics of Amusing Discourse was also part of a handmaiden's duties. She'd never been particularly good at it. The other girls had come up with an astonishing assortment: everything from the mating habits of crocodiles to speculation about life in the netherworld. She'd found it heavy going after talking about the weather.

'So,' she said. 'You've killed a lot of people, I expect?'

'Mm?'

'As an assassin, I mean. You get paid to kill people. Have you killed lots? Do you know you tense your back muscles a lot?'

'I don't think I ought to talk about it,' he said.

'I ought to know. If we've got to cross the desert together and everything. More than a hundred?'

'Good heavens, no.,

'Well, less than fifty?'

Teppic rolled over.

'Look, even the most famous assassins never killed more than thirty people in all their lives,' he said.

'Less than twenty, then?'

'Yes.'