Read Online The Carpet People by Terry Pratchett - Free Book Online

was the paying of taxes you objected to,’ said Bane, calmly.
    ‘We did not see what we would get for our money,’ said Brocando.
    ‘You would be defended,’ said Bane.
    ‘Ah . . but we’ve always been quite good at defending ourselves,’ said Brocando, in a meaningful tone of voice. ‘Against anyone .’ He smiled. ‘And then the General here was sent to suggest it to us again, with a little more force,’ he said. ‘I remember he said that he was afraid that if we did not join the Empire, there would be hardly any of us to be Counted.’
    ‘And you said there’d be hardly anyone left to do the Counting,’ said Bane.
    Snibril looked from one to the other. He realized he was holding his breath. He let it out. ‘And then what happened?’ he said.
    Bane shrugged. ‘I didn’t attack,’ he said. ‘I didn’t see why good people should die. I went back and told the Emperor that Brocando’s people would make better allies than unwilling subjects. Anyway, only a fool would attack that city.’
    ‘I always wondered what he replied,’ said Brocando.
    Bane looked down at his ragged clothes. ‘He shouted quite a lot,’ he said.
    There was a thoughtful pause.
    ‘They did attack, you know, after you . . . been recalled,’ said Brocando.
    ‘Did they win?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You see? Fools,’ said Bane.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said Brocando.
    ‘You needn’t be. It was only one of a number of disagreements I had with the Emperor,’ said Bane.
    Snibril took each of them by the shoulder. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘just because you’re sworn enemies doesn’t mean you can’t be friends, does it?’
    When they were having the evening meal Glurk said to his wife: ‘He’s very gracious. Asked all about me. I’ve met a king. He’s very important. He’s called Protocol, I think.’
    ‘Good name. Sounds royal,’ she said.
    ‘And Pismire’s a philosopher, he says.’
    ‘I never knew that. What’s a philosopher?’
    ‘Someone who thinks, he says,’ said Glurk.
    ‘Well, you think. I’ve often seen you sitting and thinking.’
    ‘I don’t always think,’ said Glurk conscientiously. ‘Sometimes I just sits.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, it’s not just thinking. You’ve got to be able to talk about it entertainingly afterwards.’

Chapter 8
    The people turned west. It was a cheerful journey to Jeopard, with Brocando riding by the leading cart. They were going somewhere that only a fool would attack.
    Many of the Munrungs were frankly in awe of the small king, but Glurk was fast becoming an uncritical royalist. Brocando sensed his respectful audience, and chatted to him in that special way royalty has for commoners, which leaves the commoner feeling really cheered up without actually remembering very much about what was said to him.
    Snibril jogged along on the other side of the cart, listening with half an ear for any signs of Fray and half to the Deftmene’s chatter. ‘And then in the north wing of the palace my ancestor, Broc, built a temple to Kone the Founder. It took the wightsseven years, carving pillars of varnish and wood and laying the great mosaic of the Carpet for Broc. We’re still paying them for it. The walls were set with jet and salt, the altar of red wood inlaid with bronze. Really that was the centre of the present palace, which was built by my great-grandfather, the Seventh Broc, who added the Wood Gate when he was made king. And I mustn’t forget the treasure rooms. I think there’s at least nine. And only the reigning king may enter. Tara the Woodcarver himself made the Crown. Seven pointy bits, with salt crystals on each one.’
    ‘We had a rug in our hut,’ said Glurk.
    And so it went on, Glurk eagerly following the Deftmene through the treasury and the armoury, the banqueting halls and the guest bedrooms, while the carts got nearer and nearer to Jeopard.
    Gradually the Carpet changed colour again, from red to deep purple and then dark blue. They camped under blue hairs, hunted the