Eric

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 on 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 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 that time they worshipped 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 swivelled the throne back and forth a bit.

“Now, I want you to go straight 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 very 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.”

The prisoner dusted himself down and extended a wrinkled hand to Rincewind.

“Many thanks. Ponce da Quirm,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“It’s my name.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a proud old name,” said da Quirm, searching Rincewind’s eyes for any traces of mockery.

“Fine,” said Rincewind blankly.

“We were searching for the Fountain of Youth,”^{8} da Quirm went on.

Rincewind looked him up and down.

“Any luck?” he said politely.

“Not significantly, no.”

Rincewind peered back down into the pit.

“You said we,” he said. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They got religion.”

Rincewind looked up at the statue of Quezovercoatl. It took no imagination whatsoever to imagine what kind.

“I think,” he said carefully, “that we had better go.”

“Too true,” said the old man. “And quickly, too. Before the Ruler of the World turns up.”

Rincewind went cold. It starts, he thought. I knew it was all going to turn out badly, and this is where it starts. I must have an instinct for these things.

“How do you know about that?” he said.

“Oh, they’ve got this prophecy. Well, not a prophecy, really, it’s more the entire history of the world, start to finish. It’s written all over this pyramid,” said da Quirm, cheerfully. “My word, I wouldn’t like to be the Ruler when he arrives. They’ve got plans.”

Eric stood up.

“Now just you listen to me,” he said. “I’m not going to stand for this sort of thing. I’m your ruler, you know …”