Eric (Discworld 9)

“No it isn't,” snapped Rincewind. “That's all you know! He's probably here to be sacrificed! Isn't that right?” He looked at the prisoner for confirmation.

The face nodded. “Indeed, you are correct. Flayed alive in fact.” “There!” said Rincewind to the parrot. “See? You think you know everything! He's to be flayed alive.”

“Every inch of skin removed to the accompaniment of exquisite pain,” added the

prisoner, helpfully. Rincewind paused. He thought he knew the meaning of the word “exquisite”, and it didn't seem to belong anywhere near “pain”.

“What, every bit?” he said. “This is apparently the case.” “Gosh. What was it you did?” The prisoner sighed. “You'd never believe me...” he said.

The Demon King let the mirror darken and drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment. Then he picked up a speaking tube and blew into it. Eventually a distant voice said: “Yes, guv?” “Yes sir!” snapped the King The distant voice muttered something. “Yes, SIR?” it added.

“Do we have a Quezovercoatl working here?”

“I'll see, guv.” The voice faded, came back. “Yes, guv.”

“Is he a Duke, Earl, Count or Baron?” said the King. “No, guv.” “Well, what is he?” There was a long silence at the other end. “Well?” said the King “He's no-one much, guv” The King glared at the tube for some time. You try, he thought. You make proper plans,

you try to get organised, you try to help people, and this is what you get. “Send him to see me,” he said.

Outside, the music rose to a crescendo and stopped. The fires crackled. From the distant

jungles a thousand glowing eyes watched the proceedings. The high priest stood up and made a speech. Eric beamed like a pumpkin. A long line of Tezumen brought baskets of jewels which they scattered before him.

Then the high priest made a second speech. This one seemed to end in a question.

“Fine,” said Eric. “Jolly good. Keep it up.” He scratched his ear and ventured, “You can all have a half holiday.” The high priest repeated the question again, in a slightly impatient tone of voice. “I'm the one, yes,” said Eric, just in case they were unclear. “You've got it exactly right.” The high priest spoke again. This time there was no slightly about it.

“Let's just run through this again, shall we?” said the Demon King. He leaned back in his

throne.

“You just happened to find the Tezumen one day and decided, I think I recall your words correctly, that they were 'a bunch of Stone-Age no-hopers sitting around in a swamp being no trouble to anyone', am I right? Whereupon you entered the mind of one of their high priests - I believe at the time they worshiped a small stick - drove him insane and inspired the tribes to unite, terrorise their neighbours and bring forth upon the continent a new nation dedicated to the proposition that all men should be taken to the top of ceremonial pyramids and be chopped up with stone knives.” The King pulled his notes towards him. “Oh yes, some of them were also to be flayed alive,” he added.

Quezovercoatl shuffled his feet.

“Whereupon,” said the King, “they immediately engaged in a prolonged war with just about everyone else, bringing death and destruction to thousands of moderately blameless people, ekcetra, ekcetra. Now, look, this sort of thing has got to stop.”

Quezovercoatl swayed back a bit.

“It was only, you know, a hobby,” said the imp. “I thought, you know, it was the right thing, sort of, thing. Death and destruction and that.”

“You did, did you?” said the king. “Thousands of more-or-less innocent people dying? Straight out of our hands,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that. Straight off to their happy hunting ground or whatever. That's the trouble with you people. You don't think of the Big Picture. I mean, look at the Tezumen. Gloomy, unimaginative, obsessive... by now they could have invented a whole bureaucracy and taxation system that could have turned the minds of the continent to slag. Instead of which, they're just a bunch of second-rate axe-murderers. What a waste.”

Quezovercoatl squirmed.

The King swiveled the throne back and forth a bit.

“Now, I want you to go back down there and tell them you're sorry,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“Tell them you've changed your mind. Tell them that what you really wanted them to do was strive day and night to improve the lot of their fellow men. It'll be a winner.”

“What?” said Quezovercoatl, looking extremely shifty. “You want me to manifest myself?” “They've seen you already, haven't they? I saw the statue, it's ver lifelike.” “Well, yes. I've appeared in dreams and that,” said the demon uncertainly. “Right, then. Get on with it.”

Quezovercoatl was clearly unhappy about something. “Er,” he said. “You want me to actually materialise, sort of thing? I mean, actually sort of turn up on the spot?”

“Yes!” “Oh.”