Pyramids

He was aware of trumpets and general excitement behind him. He ignored it. There always seemed to be a lot of fuss these days. In his experience it was always about trivial things. People just didn’t have their priorities right. He’d been waiting two months for a few ounces of gum varneti, and it didn’t seem to bother anyone. He screwed his eyeglass into a more comfortable position and slotted a minute steering oar into place.

Someone was standing next to him. Well, they could make themselves useful …

‘Could you just put your finger here,’ he said, without glancing around. ‘Just for a minute, until the glue sets.’

There seemed to be a sudden drop in temperature. He looked up into a smiling golden mask. Over its shoulder Dios’s face was shading, in Grinjer’s expert opinion, from No. 13 (Pale Flesh) to No. 37 (Sunset Purple, Gloss).

‘Oh,’ he said.

‘It’s very good,’ said Teppic. ‘What is it?’

Grinjer blinked at him. Then he blinked at the boat.

‘It’s an eighty-foot Khali-fashion river trireme with fishtail spear deck and ramming prow,’ he said automatically.

He got the impression that more was expected of him. He cast around for something suitable.

‘It’s got more than five hundred bits,’ he added. ‘Every plank on the deck is individually cut, look.’

‘Fascinating,’ said Teppic. ‘Well, I won’t hold you up. Carry on the good work.’

‘The sail really unfurls,’ said Grinjer. ‘See, if you pull this thread, the—’

The mask had moved. Dios was there instead. He gave Grinjer a short glare which indicated that more would be heard about this later on, and hurried after the king. So did the ghost of Teppicymon XXVII.

Teppic’s eyes swivelled behind the mask. There was the open doorway into the room of caskets. He could just make out the one containing Ptraci; the wedge of wood was still under the lid.

‘Our father, however, is over here. Sire,’ said Dios. He could move as silently as a ghost.

‘Oh. Yes.’ Teppic hesitated and then crossed to the big case on its trestles. He stared down at it for some time. The gilded face on the lid looked like every other mask.

‘A very good likeness, sire,’ prompted Dios.

‘Ye-ess,’ said Teppic. ‘I suppose so. He definitely looks happier. I suppose.’

‘Hallo, my boy,’ said the king. He knew that no one could hear him, but he felt happier talking to them all the same. It was better then talking to himself. He was going to have more than enough time for that.

‘I think it brings out the best in him, O commander of the heavens,’ said the head sculptor.

‘Makes me look like a constipated wax dolly.’

Teppic cocked his head on one side.

‘Yes,’ he said, uncertainly. ‘Yes. Er. Well done.’

He half-turned to look through the doorway again.

Dios nodded to the guards on either side of the passageway.

‘If you will excuse me, sire,’ he said urbanely.

‘Hmm?’

‘The guards will continue their search.’

‘Right. Oh—’

Dios bore down on Ptraci’s casket, flanked by guards. He gripped the lid, thrust it backwards, and said, ‘Behold! What do we find?’

Dil and Gern joined him. They looked inside.

‘Wood shavings,’ said Dil.

Gern sniffled. ‘They smell nice, though,’ he said.

Dios’s fingers drummed on the lid. Teppic had never seen him at a loss before. The man actually started tapping the sides of the case, apparently seeking any hidden panels.

He closed the lid carefully and looked blankly at Teppic, who for the first time was very glad that the mask didn’t reveal his expression.

‘She’s not in there,’ said the old king. ‘She got out for a call of nature when the men went to have their breakfast.’

She must have climbed out, Teppic told himself. So where is she now?

Dios scanned the room carefully and then, after swinging slowly backwards and forwards like a compass needle, his eyes fixed on the king’s mummy case. It was big. It was roomy. There was a certain inevitability about it.

He crossed the room in a couple of strides and heaved it open.

‘Don’t bother to knock,’ the king grumbled. ‘It’s not as if I’m going anywhere.’

Teppic risked a look. The mummy of the king was quite alone.

‘Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Dios?’ he said.

‘Yes, sire. We cannot be too careful, sire. Clearly they are not here, sire.’

‘You look as if you could do with a breath of fresh air,’ said Teppic, upbraiding himself for doing this but doing it, nevertheless. Dios at a loss was an awe-inspiring sight, and slightly disconcerting; it made one instinctively fear for the stability of things.

‘Yes, sire. Thank you, sire.’

‘Have a sit down and someone will bring you a glass of water. And then we will go and inspect the pyramid.’

Dios sat down.

There was a terrible little splintering noise.

‘He’s sat on the boat,’ said the king. ‘First humorous thing I’ve ever seen him do.’