Interesting Times

a chance to get away.”
    “Okay,” said Cohen. “Boy Willie, One Big Mother, go and round up some of your mates and bring those people here.”
    “Here?” said Rincewind. “I wanted them to be somewhere safe!”
    “Well, we’re here,” said Cohen. “We can protect ’em.”
    “Who’s going to protect you?”
    Cohen ignored this. “Lord Chamberlain,” he said, “I don’t ’spect Lord Hong’ll be around but…in the court was a guy with a nose like a badger. A fat bugger, he was, with a big pink hat. And a skinny woman with a face like a hatful of pins.”
    “That would be Lord Nine Mountains and Lady Two Streams,” said the Lord Chamberlain. “Er. You are not angry with me, o lord?”
    “Gods bless you, no,” said Cohen. “In fact, mister, I’m so impressed I’m going to give you extra responsibilities.”
    “Lord?”
    “Food taster, for a start. And now go and fetch them other two. Didn’t like the look of them at all .”
    Nine Mountains and Two Streams were ushered in a few moments later. Their merest glance from Cohen to the untouched food would have passed entirely unnoticed by those who weren’t watching for it.
    Cohen nodded cheerfully at them. “Eat it,” he said.
    “My lord! I had a large breakfast! I am entirely full!” said Nine Mountains.
    “That’s a pity,” said Cohen. “One Big Mother, before you go off just see Mr. Nine Mountains over there and make some room in him so he can have another breakfast. The same goes for the lady, too, if I don’t hear chomping in the next five seconds. A good mouthful of everything, understand? With lots of sauce.”
    One Big River drew his sword.
    The two nobles stared fixedly at the glistening mounds.
    “Looks good to me,” said Cohen conversationally. “The way you’re looking at it, anyone’d think there was something wrong with it.”
    Nine Mountains gingerly put a piece of pork into his mouth.
    “Extremely good,” he said, indistinctly.
    “Now swallow ,” said Cohen.
    The mandarin gulped.
    “Marvelous,” he said. “And now, if your excellency will excuse me, I—”
    “Don’t rush off,” said Cohen. “We don’t want you accidentally sticking your fingers down your throat or anything like that, do we?”
    Nine Mountains hiccuped.
    Then he hiccupped again.
    Smoke appeared to be rising from the bottom of his robe.
    The Horde dived for cover just as the explosion removed an area of floorboards, a circular part of the ceiling and all of Lord Nine Mountains.
    A black hat with a ruby button on it spun around on the floor for a moment.
    “That’s just like me and pickled onions,” said Vincent.
    Lady Two Streams was standing with her eyes shut.
    “Not hungry?” said Cohen.
    She nodded.
    Cohen leaned back.
    “One Big Mother?”
    “It’s ‘River,’ Cohen,” said Mr. Saveloy, as the guard lumbered forward.
    “Take her with you and put her in one of the dungeons. See that she has plenty to eat, if you know what I mean.”
    “Yes, excellency.”
    “And Mr. Chamberlain here can push off down to the kitchen again and tell the chef he’s going to share what we eat this time, and he’s gonna eat it first , all right?”
    “Yes indeed, excellency.”
    “Call this living?” Caleb burst out, as the Lord Chamberlain scuttled away. “This is being Emperor, is it? Can’t even trust the food? We’ll probably be murdered in our beds!”
    “Can’t see you being murdered in your bed,” said Truckle.
    “Yeah, ’cos you’re never in it,” said Cohen.
    He walked over to the big jar and gave it a kick.
    “You getting all this?”
    “Yessir,” said the jar.
    There was some laughter. But it had an edge of nervousness. Mr. Saveloy realized that the Horde weren’t used to this. If a true barbarian wanted to kill someone during a meal, he’d invite him in with all his henchmen, sit them down, get them drunk and sleepy and then summon his own men from hiding places to massacre them instantly in a straight-forward, no-nonsense and honorable manner. It was completely fair. The “get them drunk and butcher the lot of them” stratagem was the oldest trick in the book, or would have been if barbarians bothered with books. Anyone falling for it would be doing the world a favor by being slaughtered over the pudding. But at least you could trust the food . Barbarians didn’t poison food. You never knew when you might be short of a mouthful yourself.
    “Excuse me, your excellency,” said Six Beneficent Winds, who had