Interesting Times

'He is dead, Cohen. Really, really dead. Alive people have more body.'

'But you're all alive?' said Twoflower. 'I saw it bark straight at you!'

'We got out of the way,' said Boy Willie. 'We're good at getting out of the way.'

'Poor ole Teach didn't have our experience of not dyin',' said Caleb.

Cohen stood up.

'Where's Hong?' he said grimly. 'I'm going to—'

'He's dead too, Mr Cohen,' said Twoflower.

Cohen nodded, as if this was all perfectly normal.

'We owe it to ole Teach,' he said.

'He was a good sort,' Truckle conceded. 'Funny ideas about swearing, mind you.'

'He had brains. He cared about stuff! And he might not have lived like a barbarian, but he's bloody well going to be buried like one, all right?'

'In a longship, set on fire,' suggested Boy Willie.

'My word,' said Mr Saveloy.

'In a big pit, on top of the bodies of his enemies,' suggested Caleb.

'Good heavens, all of 4B?' said Mr Saveloy.

'In a burial mound,' suggested Vincent.

'Really, I wouldn't put you to the trouble,' said Mr Saveloy.

'In a longship set on fire, on top of a heap of the bodies of his enemies, under a burial mound,' said Cohen flatly. 'Nothing's too good for ole Teach.'

'But I assure you, I feel fine,' said Mr Saveloy. 'Really, I — er… Oh…'

RONALD SAVELOY?

Mr Saveloy turned.

'Ah,' he said. 'Yes. I see.'

IF YOU WOULD CARE TO STEP THIS WAY?

The palace and the Horde froze and faded gently, like a dream.

'It's funny,' said Mr Saveloy, as he followed Death. 'I didn't expect it to be this way.'

FEW PEOPLE EVER EXPECT IT TO BE ANY WAY.

Gritty black sand crunched under what Mr Saveloy supposed he should still call his feet.

'Where is this?'

THE DESERT.

It was brilliantly lit, and yet the sky was midnight-black. He stared at the horizon.

'How big is it?'

FOR SOME, VERY BIG. FOR LORD HONG, FOR INSTANCE, IT CONTAINS A LOT OF IMPATIENT GHOSTS.

'I thought Lord Hong didn't believe in ghosts.'

HE MAY DO SO NOW. A LOT OF GHOSTS BELIEVE IN LORD HONG.

'Oh. Er. What happens now?'

'Come on, come on, haven't got all day! Step lively, man!'

Mr Saveloy turned around and looked up at the woman on the horse. It was a big horse but, then, it was a big woman. She had plaits, a hat with horns on it, and a breastplate that must have been a week's work for an experienced panelbeater. She gave him a look that was not unkind but had impatience in every line.

'I'm sorry?' he said.

'Says here Ronald Saveloy,' she said. 'The what?'

'The what?'

'Everyone I pick up,' said the woman, leaning down, 'is called 'Someone the Something'. What the are you?'

'I'm sorry, I—'

'I'll put you down as Ronald the Apologetic, then. Come on, hop up, there's a war on, got to be going.'

'Where to?'

'Says here quaffing, carousing, throwing axes at young women's hair?'

'Ah, er, I think perhaps there's been a bit of a—'

'Look, old chap, are you coming or what?'

Mr Saveloy looked around at the black desert. He was totally alone. Death had gone about his essential business.

He let her pull him up behind her.

'Have they got a library, perhaps?' he asked hopefully, as the horse rose into the dark sky.

'Don't know. No-one's ever asked.'

'Evening classes, perhaps. I could start evening classes?'

'What in?'

'Um. Anything, really. Table manners, perhaps. Is that allowed?'

'I suppose so. I don't think anyone's ever asked that, either.' The Valkyrie turned in the saddle.

'You sure you're coming to the right afterlife?'

Mr Saveloy considered the possibilities.

'On the whole,' he said, 'I think it's worth a try.'

The crowd in the square were getting to their feet.

They looked at all that remained of Lord Hong, and at the Horde.

Butterfly and Lotus Blossom joined their father. Butterfly ran her hand over the cannon, looking for the trick.

'You see,' said Twoflower, a little indistinctly because he couldn't quite hear the sound of his own voice yet, 'I told you he was the Great Wizard.'

Butterfly tapped him on the shoulder.

'What about those?' she said.

A small procession was picking its way through the square. In front, Twoflower recognized, was something he'd once owned.

'It was a very cheap one,' he said, to no-one in particular. 'I always thought there was something a little warped about it, to tell you the truth.'

It was followed by a slightly larger Luggage. And then, in descending order of size, four little chests, the smallest being about the size of a lady's handbag. As it passed a prone Hunghungese who'd been too stunned to flee, it paused to kick him in the ear before hurrying after the others.

Twoflower looked at his daughters.

'Can they do that?' he said. 'Make new ones? I thought it needed carpenters.'

'I suppose it learned many things in Ankh-More-Pork,' said Butterfly.

The Luggages clustered together in front of the steps. Then the Luggage turned around and, after one or two sad backward glances, or what might have been glances if it had eyes, cantered away. By the time it reached the far side of the square it was a blur.

'Hey, you! Four-eyes!'

Twoflower turned, Cohen was advancing down the steps.

'I remember you,' he said. 'D'you know anything about Grand Viziering?'

'Not a thing, Mr Emperor Cohen.'

'Good. The job's yours. Get cracking. First thing, I want a cup of tea. Thick enough to float a horseshoe. Three sugars. In five minutes. Right?'

'A cup of tea in five minutes?' said Twoflower. 'But that's not long enough for even a short ceremony!'

Cohen put a companionable arm around the little man's shoulders.

'There's a new ceremony,' he said. 'It goes: 'Tea up, luv. Milk? Sugar? Doughnut?