The head cook said: ‘Just that? Big lumps? Why doesn’t he just eat a cow while he’s about it?’
‘You wait till you hear about this devil food called sausage,’ said the Lord Chamberlain.
‘Big lumps.’ The cook was almost in tears. ‘Where’s the skill in big lumps of meat? Not even sauce? I’d rather die than simply heat up big lumps of meat!’
‘Ah,’ said the new Lord Chamberlain, ‘I should think very carefully about that. The new Emperor, may he have a bath for ten thousand years, tends to interpret that as a request—’
The babble of voices stopped. The cause of the sudden silence was one small, sharp noise. It was a cork, popping.
Lord Hong had a Grand Vizier’s talent for apparently turning up out of nowhere. His gaze swept the kitchens. It was certainly the only housework that he had ever done.
He stepped forward. He’d taken a small black bottle from out of the sleeve of his robe.
‘Bring me the meat,’ he said. ‘The sauce will take care of itself.’
The assembled people watched with horrified interest. Poison was all part of the Hunghungese court etiquette but people generally did it while hidden from sight somewhere, out of good manners.
‘Is there anyone,’ said Lord Hong, ‘who has anything they would like to say?’
His gaze was like a scythe. As it swung around the room people wavered, and hesitated, and fell.
‘Very well,’ said Lord Hong. ‘I would rather die than see a … barbarian on the Imperial throne. Let him have his … big lumps. Bring me the meat.’
There was movement in the ground, and the sound of shouting and the thump of a stick. A peasant scuttled forward, reluctantly wheeling a huge covered dish on a trolley.
At the sight of Lord Hong he pushed the trolley aside, flung himself forward and grovelled.
‘I avert my gaze from your … an orchard in a favourable position … damn … countenance, o lord.’
Lord Hong prodded the prone figure with his foot.
‘It is good to see the arts of respect maintained,’ he observed. ‘Remove the lid.’
The man got up and, still bowing and ducking, lifted the cover.
Lord Hong upended the bottle and held it there until the last drop had hissed out. His audience was transfixed.
‘And now let it be taken to the barbarians,’ he said.
‘Certainly, your celestial … ink brush … willow frond … righteousness.’
‘Where are you from, peasant?’
‘Bes Pelargic, o lord.’
‘Ah. I thought so.’
The big bamboo doors slid back. The new Lord Chamberlain stepped in, followed by a caravan of trolleys.
‘Breakfast, o lord of a thousand years,’ he said. ‘Big lumps of pig, big lumps of goat, big lumps of ox and seven fried rice.’
One of the servants lifted the lid of a dish. ‘But take my tip and don’t go for this pork,’ he said. ‘It’s been poisoned.’
The Chamberlain spun around.
‘Insolent pig! You will die for this.’
‘It’s Rincewind, isn’t it?’ said Cohen. ‘Looks like Rincewind—’
‘Got my hat here somewhere,’ said Rincewind. ‘Had to stuff it down my trousers—’
‘Poison?’ said Cohen. ‘You sure?’
‘Well, Okay, it was a black bottle and it had a skull and crossbones on it and when he tipped it out it smoked,’ said Rincewind, as Mr Saveloy helped him up. ‘Was it anchovy essence? I don’t think so.’
‘Poison,’ said Cohen. ‘I hate poisoners. Just about the worst sort, poisoners. Creeping around, putting muck in a man’s grub …’
He glared at the Chamberlain.
‘Was it you?’ He looked at Rincewind and jerked a thumb towards the cowering Chamberlain. ‘Was it him? Because if it was he’s going to get done to him what I did to the mad Snake Priests of Start, and this time I’ll use both thumbs!’
‘No,’ said Rincewind. ‘It was someone they called Lord Hong. But they all watched him do it.’
A little scream erupted from the Lord Chamberlain. He threw himself to the floor and was about to kiss Cohen’s foot until he realized that this would have about the same effect as eating the pork.
‘Mercy, o celestial being! We are all pawns in the hands of Lord Hong!’
‘What’s so special about Lord Hong, then?’
‘He’s … a fine man!’ the Chamberlain gibbered. ‘I won’t say a word against Lord Hong! I certainly don’t believe it’s true that he has spies everywhere! Long life to Lord Hong, that’s what I say!’
He risked looking up and found the point of Cohen’s sword just in front of his eyes.
‘Yeah, but right now who’re you more frightened of? Me or this Lord Hong?’
‘Uh … Lord Hong!’
Cohen raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m impressed. Spies everywhere, eh?’
He looked around the huge room and his gaze came to rest on a very large vase. He sauntered over to it and raised the lid.
‘You Okay in there?’
‘Er … yes?’ said a voice from the depths of the vase.
‘Got everythin’ you want? Spare notebook? Potty?’
‘Er … yes?’
‘Would you like, oh, let’s say about sixty gallons of boiling water?’
‘Er … no?’
‘Would you rather die than betray Lord Hong?’
‘Er … can I have a moment to think about it, please?’
‘No problem. It takes a long time to heat the water in any case. As you were, then.’
He replaced the lid.
‘One Big Mother?’ he said.
‘That’s One Big River, Ghenghiz,’ said Mr Saveloy.
The guard rumbled into life.
‘Just you watch this vase and if it moves again you do to it what I once did to the Green Necromancer of the Night, all right?’
‘Don’t know what that was you did, lord,’ said the soldier.
Cohen told him. One Big River beamed. From inside the jar came the noise of someone trying not to be sick.
Cohen strolled back to the throne.
‘So tell me a bit more about Lord Hong, then,’ he said.
‘He’s the Grand Vizier,’ said the Chamberlain.
Cohen and Rincewind looked at one another.
‘That’s right. And everyone knows,’ said Rincewind, ‘that Grand Viziers are always—’
‘—complete and utter bastards,’ said Cohen. ‘Dunno why. Give ’em a turban with a point in the middle and their moral wossname just gets eaten away. I always kill ’em soon as I meet ’em. Saves time later on.’
‘I thought there was something fishy about him as soon as I saw him,’ said Rincewind. ‘Look, Cohen—’
‘That’s Emperor Cohen to you,’ said Truckle. ‘I’ve never trusted wizards, mister. Never trusted any man in a dress.’
‘Rincewind’s all right—’ said Cohen.
‘Thank you!’ said Rincewind.
‘—but a bloody useless wizard.’
‘I just happened to risk my neck to save you, thank you so very much,’ said Rincewind. ‘Look, some friends of mine are in the prison block. Could you … Emperor?’
‘Sort of,’ said Cohen.
‘Temp’ry,’ said Truckle.
‘Technically,’ said Mr Saveloy.
‘Does that mean you can get my friends somewhere safe? I think Lord Hong has murdered the old Emperor and wants them to take the blame. I’m just hoping he won’t believe they’ll be hiding in the cells.’
‘Why in the cells?’ said Cohen.
‘Because if I had the chance to get away from Lord Hong’s cells I would,’ said Rincewind, fervently. ‘No one in their right minds’d go back inside if they thought they had a chance to get away.’