He gritted his teeth and tried to concentrate on the security arrangements. He had put guards at various vantage points in the hall in case the Duke of Sto Helit tried any last-minute rearrangement of the royal succession, and reminded himself to keep a special eye on the duke himself, who was sitting in the front row of seats with a strange quiet smile on his face. The duke caught Cutwell's eye, and the wizard hastily looked away.
The High Priest held up his hands for silence. Cutwell sidled towards him as the old man turned towards the Hub and in a cracked voice began the invocation to the gods.
Cutwell let his eyes slip back towards the duke.
'Hear me, mm, O gods —'
Was Sto Helit looking up into the bat-haunted darkness of the rafters?
'— hear me, O Blind Io of the Hundred Eyes; hear me, O Great Offler of the Bird-Haunted Mouth: hear me, O Merciful Fate; hear me, O Cold, mm. Destiny; hear me, O Seven-handed Sek; hear me, O Hoki of the Woods; hear me, O —'
With dull horror Cutwell realized that the daft old fool, against all instruction, was going to mention the whole lot. There were more than nine hundred known gods on the Disc, and research theologians were discovering more every year. It could take hours. The congregation was already beginning to shuffle its feet.
Keli was standing in front of the altar with a look of fury on her face. Cutwell nudged the High Priest in the ribs, which had no noticeable effect, and then waggled his eyebrows ferociously at the young acolyte.
'Stop him!' he hissed. 'We haven't got time!'
The gods would be displeased —'
'Not as displeased as me, and I'm here .'
The acolyte looked at Cutwell's expression for a moment and decided that he'd better explain to the gods later. He tapped the High Priest on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear.
'— O Steikhegel, god of, mm, isolated cow byres; hear me, O — hello? What?'
Murmur, murmur.
This is, mm, very irregular. Very well, we shall go straight to the, mm, Recitation of the Lineage.'
Murmur, murmur.
The High Priest scowled at Cutwell, or at least where he believed Cutwell to be.
'Oh, all right. Mm, prepare the incense and fragrances for the Shriving of the Fourfold- Path.'
Murmur, murmur.
The High Priest's face darkened.
'I suppose, mm, a short prayer, mm, is totally out of the question?' he said acidly.
'If some people don't get a move on,' said Keli demurely, 'there is going to be trouble.'
Murmur.
'I don't know, I'm sure,' said the High Priest. 'People might as well not bother with a religious, mm, ceremony at all. Fetch the bloody elephant, then.'
The acolyte gave Cutwell a frantic look and waved at the guards. As they urged their gently-swaying charge forward with shouts and pointed sticks the young priest sidled towards Cutwell and pushed something into his hand.
He looked down. It was a waterproof hat.
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