'I didn't want to upset the young lady. Couldn't help meself. Went down to a village to pick up some news, one thing led to another, next thing a load of soldiers were all over the place like cheap armour, and I can't fight that well with my arms shackled behind my back. Real nasty bugger in charge, face I won't forget in a hurry. Half a dozen of us were rounded up, made to push the Barking Dog thing all the way out here, then we were chained to that tree and someone lit the bit of string and they all legged it behind a snowdrift. Except you came along and vanished it.'
'I didn't vanish it. Not exactly, anyway.'
Cohen leaned across towards Rincewind. 'I reckon I know what it was,' he said, and sat back looking pleased with himself.
'Yes?'
'I reckon it was some kind of firework. They're very big on fireworks here.'
'You mean the sort of things where you light the blue touch paper and stick it up your nose?'
'They use 'em to drive evil spirits away. There's a lot of evil spirits, see. Because of all the slaughtering.'
'Slaughtering?'
Rincewind had always understood that the Agatean Empire was a peaceful place. It was civilized. They
It was supposed to be
'Oh, yeah. Slaughtering,' said Cohen. 'Like, supposing the population is being a bit behind with its taxes. You pick some city where people are being troublesome and kill everyone and set fire to it and pull down the walls and plough up the ashes. That way you get rid of the trouble and all the other cities are suddenly really well behaved and polite and all your back taxes turn up in a big rush, which is handy for governments, I understand. Then if they ever give trouble you just have to say "Remember Nangnang?" or whatever, and they say "Where's Nangnang?" and you say, "My point exactly." '
'Good grief! If that sort of thing was tried back home—'
'Ah, but this place has been going a long time. People think that's how a country is supposed to run. They do what they're told. The people here are treated like slaves.'
Cohen scowled. 'Now, I've got nothing against slaves, you know, as slaves. Owned a few in my time.
Rincewind thought about this. 'Whips?' he said at last.
'Yeah. Got it in one. Whips. There's something
'What?' said Rncewind, looking slightly panicky.
'You'll find out.'
Rincewind found himself looking around at the half-dozen other prisoners, who had trailed after them and were watching in awe from a distance. He'd given them a bit of leopard, which they'd looked at initially as if it was poison and then eaten as if it was food.
'They're still following us,' he said.
'Yeah, well... you did give 'em meat,' cackled Cohen, starting to roll a post-prandial cigarette. 'Shouldn't have done that. Should've let 'em have the whiskers and the claws and you'd've been
'No.'
'Pig's ear soup. Now, what's that tell you about a place, eh?'
Rincewind shrugged. 'Very provident people?'
'Some other bugger pinches the pig.'
He turned in the saddle. The group of ex-prisoners shrank back.
'Now, see here,' he said. 'I
One of the braver men spoke up. 'Yes, master.'
'I ain't your master. You're
'Where, master?'
'Anywhere! Somewhere not here!'
The men gave one another some worried looks and then the whole group, as one man, turned and trotted away along the path.
'Probably go straight back to their village,' he said, rolling his eyes. 'Worse than whips, I tell you.'
He waved a scrawny hand at the landscape as they rode on.
'Strange bloody country,' he said. 'Did you know there's a wall all round the Empire?'
'That's to keep... barbarian invaders... out...'
'Oh, yes, very defensive,' said Cohen sarcastically. 'Like, oh my goodness, there's a twenty-foot wall, dear me, I suppose we'd just better ride off back over a thousand miles of steppe and not, e.g., take a look at the ladder possibilities inherent in that pine wood over there. Nah. It's to keep the people in. And rules? They've got rules for everything. No-one even goes to the privy without a piece of paper.'
'Well, as a matter of fact I myself—'
'A piece of paper saying they can go, is what I meant. Can't leave your village without a chit. Can't get married without a chit. Can't even have a sh - Ah, we're here.'
'Yes, indeed,' said Rincewind.