Interesting Times

been hovering, “I think Lord Truckle is right. Er. I know a little history. The correct method of succession is to wade to the throne through seas of blood. That is what Lord Hong is planning to do.”
    “You say? Seas of blood, right?”
    “Or over a mountain of skulls. That’s an option, too.”
    “But…but…I thought the Imperial crown was handed down from father to son,” said Mr. Saveloy.
    “Well, yes,” said Six Beneficent Winds. “I suppose that could happen in theory.”
    “You said once we were at the top of the pyramid everyone’d do what we said,” said Cohen to Mr. Saveloy.
    Truckle looked from one to the other. “You two planned this?” he said accusingly. “This is what it’s all been about, isn’t it? All that learnin’ to be civilized? And right at the start you just said it was going to be a really big theft! Eh? I thought we were just going to nick a load of stuff and push off! Loot and pillage, that’s the way—”
    “Oh, loot and pillage, loot and pillage, I’ve had it up to here with loot and pillage!” said Mr. Saveloy. “Is that all you can think of, looting and pillaging?”
    “Well, there used to be ravishing, too,” said Vincent wistfully.
    “I hate to tell you, but they’ve got a point, Teach,” said Cohen. “Fightin’ and lootin’…that’s what we do. I ain’t happy with all this bowing and scraping business. I ain’t sure if I was cut out for civilization.”
    Mr. Saveloy rolled his eyes. “Even you, Cohen? You’re all so… dim-witted! ” he snapped. “I don’t know why I bother! I mean, look at you! You know what you are? You’re legends!”
    The Horde stepped back. No one had ever seen Teach lose his temper before.
    “From legendum , which means ‘something written down’,” said Mr. Saveloy. “Books, you know. Reading and writing. Which incidentally is as alien to you as the Lost City of Ee—”
    Truckle’s hand went up, a little nervously.
    “Actually, I once discovered the Lost City of—”
    “Shut up! I’m saying…What was I saying?…yes…you don’t read, do you? You never learned to read? Then you’ve wasted half your life. You could have been accumulating pearls of wisdom instead of rather shoddy gems. It’s just as well people read about you and don’t meet you face to face because, gentlemen, you are a big disappointment!”
    Rincewind watched, fascinated, waiting for Mr. Saveloy to have his head cut off. But this didn’t seem about to happen. He was possibly too angry to be beheaded.
    “What have you actually done , gentlemen? And don’t tell me about stolen jewels and demon lords. What have you done that’s real? ”
    Truckle raised a hand again.
    “Well, I once killed all four of the—”
    “Yes, yes, yes,” said Mr. Saveloy. “You killed this and you stole that and you defeated the giant man-eating avocados of somewhere else, but…it’s all… stuff . It’s just wallpaper, gentlemen! It never changes anything! No one cares! Back in Ankh-Morpork I’ve taught boys who think you are myths. That’s what you’ve achieved. They don’t believe you ever really existed. They think someone made you up. You’re stories , gentlemen. When you die no one will know, because they think you’re already dead.”
    He paused for breath, and then continued more slowly. “But here…here you could be real. You could stop playing at your lives. You could take this ancient and somewhat rotten Empire back into the world. At least…” he trailed off. “That’s what I’d hoped. I really thought that, perhaps, we might actually achieve something…”
    He sat down.
    The Horde stood staring at its various feet or wheels.
    “Um. Can I say something? The warlords will all be against you,” said Six Beneficent Winds. “They’re out there now, with their armies. Normally they’d fight amongst themselves, but they’ll all fight you.”
    “They’d rather have some poisoner like this Hong instead of me?” said Cohen. “But he’s a bastard!”
    “Yes, but…he’s their bastard, you see.”
    “We could hold out here. This place has got thick walls,” said Vincent. “The ones not made of paper, that is.”
    “Don’t think about that,” said Truckle. “Not a siege. Sieges are messy. I hate eating boots and rats.”
    “Whut?”
    “He said WE DON’T WANT A SIEGE WHERE WE HAVE TO EAT BOOTS AND RATS, Hamish.”
    “Run outa legs, have we?”
    “How many soldiers have they got?” said Cohen.
    “I