Read Online Pyramids by Terry Pratchett - Free Book Online Page B

orders. The fact that they were not currently being issued by any king was not a problem. Dios had been high priest now for, well, more years than he cared to remember, he knew quite clearly what orders a sensible king would be giving, and he gave them.
    Anyway, the Face of the Sun was on the throne, and that was what mattered. It was a solid gold, head-enveloping mask, to be worn by the current ruler on all public occasions; its expression, to the sacrilegious, was one of good-natured constipation. For thousands of years it had symbolized kingship in Djelibeybi. It had also made it very difficult to tell kings apart.
    This was extremely symbolic as well, although no one could remember what of.
    There was a lot of that sort of thing in the Old Kingdom. The staff across his knees, for example, with its very symbolic snakes entwined symbolically around an allegorical camel prod. The people believed this gave the high priests power over the gods and the dead, but this was probably a metaphor, i.e., a lie.
    Dios shifted position.
    “Has the king been ushered to the Room of Going Forth?” he said.
    The circle of lesser high priests nodded.
    “Dil the embalmer is attending upon him at this instant, O Dios.”
    “Very well. And the builder of pyramids has been instructed?”
    Hoot Koomi, high priest of Khefin, the Two-Faced God of Gateways, stepped forward.
    “I took the liberty of attending to that myself, O Dios,” he purred.
    Dios tapped his fingers on his staff. “Yes,” he said, “I have no doubt that you did.”
    It was widely expected by the priesthood that Koomi would be the one to succeed Dios in the event of Dios ever actually dying, although hanging around waiting for Dios to die had never seemed to be a rewarding occupation. The only dissenting opinion was that of Dios himself, who, if he had any friends, would probably have confided in them certain conditions that would need to apply first, viz., blue moons, aerial pigs and he, Dios, being seen in Hell. He would probably have added that the only difference between Koomi and a sacred crocodile was the crocodile’s basic honesty of purpose.
    “Very well,” he said.
    “If I may remind your lordship?” said Koomi. The faces of the other priests went a nice safe blank as Dios glared.
    “Yes, Koomi?”
    “The prince, O Dios. Has he been summoned?”
    “No,” said Dios.
    “Then how will he know?” said Koomi.
    “He will know,” said Dios firmly.
    “How will this be?”
    “He will know . And now you are all dismissed. Go away. See to your gods!”
    They scurried out, leaving Dios alone on the steps. It had been his accustomed position for so long that he’d polished a groove in the stonework, into which he fitted exactly.
    Of course the prince would know. It was part of the neatness of things. But in the grooves of his mind, ground deep by the years of ritual and due observance, Dios detected a certain uneasiness. It was not at home in there. Uneasiness was something that happened to other people. He hadn’t got where he was today by allowing room for doubt. Yet there was a tiny thought back there, a tiny certainty , that there was going to be trouble with this new king.
    Well. The boy would soon learn. They all learned.
    He shifted position, and winced. The aches and pains were back, and he couldn’t allow that. They got in the way of his duty, and his duty was a sacred trust.
    He’d have to visit the necropolis again. Tonight.

    “He’s not himself, you can see that.”
    “Who is he, then?” said Chidder.
    They splashed unsteadily down the street, not drunkenly this time, but with the awkward gait of two people trying to do the steering for three. Teppic was walking, but not in a way that gave them any confidence that his mind was having any part of it.
    Around them doors were being thrown open, curses were being cursed, there was the sound of furniture being dragged up to first-floor rooms.
    “Must have been a hell of a storm up in the