Pyramids

in the horse’s belly. When the expected flurry of spears did not materialize he ordered Autocue to let out the rope ladder, climbed down it, and looked across the chill morning desert.
    The new recruit followed him down and stood, hopping from one sandal to another, on sand that was nearly freezing now and would be frying by lunchtime.
    “There,” said the sergeant, pointing, “see the Tsortean lines, lad?”
    “Looks like a row of wooden horses to me, sergeant,” said Autocue. “The one on the end’s on rockers.”
    “That’ll be the officers. Huh. Those Tsorteans must think we’re simple.” The sergeant stamped some life into his legs, took a few breaths of fresh air, and walked back to the ladder.
    “Come on, lad,” he said.
    “Why’ve we got to go back up there?”
    The sergeant paused, his foot on a rope rung.
    “Use some common, laddie. They’re not going to come and take our horses if they see us hanging around outside, are they? Stands to reason.”
    “You sure they’re going to come, then?” said Autocue. The sergeant frowned at him.
    “Look, soldier,” he said, “anyone bloody stupid enough to think we’re going to drag a lot of horses full of soldiers back to our city is certainly daft enough to drag ours all the way back to theirs . QED.”
    “QED, sarge?”
    “It means get back up the bloody ladder, lad.”
    Autocue saluted. “Permission to be excused first, sarge?”
    “Excused what?”
    “ Excused , sarge,” said Autocue, a shade desperately. “I mean, it’s a bit cramped in the horse, sarge, if you know what I mean.”
    “You’re going to have to learn a bit of will power if you want to stay in the horse soldiers, boy. You know that?”
    “Yes, sarge,” said Autocue miserably.
    “You’ve got one minute.”
    “Thanks, sarge.”
    When the hatch closed above him Autocue sidled over to one of the horse’s massive legs and put it to a use for which it wasn’t originally intended.
    And it was while he was staring vaguely ahead, lost in that Zen-like contemplation which occurs at moments like this, that there was a faint pop in the air and an entire river valley opened up in front of him.
    It’s not the sort of thing that ought to happen to a thoughtful lad. Especially one who has to wash his own uniform.

    A breeze from the sea blew into the kingdom, hinting at, no, positively roaring suggestions of salt, shellfish and sun-soaked tidelines. A few rather puzzled seabirds wheeled over the necropolis, where the wind scurried among the fallen masonry and covered with sand the memorials to ancient kings, and the birds said more with a simple bowel movement than Ozymandias ever managed to say.
    The wind had a cool, not unpleasant edge to it. The people out repairing the damage caused by the gods felt an urge to turn their faces toward it, as fish in a pond turn toward an influx of clear, fresh water.
    No one worked in the necropolis. Most of the pyramids had blown their upper levels clean off, and stood smoking gently like recently-extinct volcanoes. Here and there slabs of black marble littered the landscape. One of them had nearly decapitated a fine statue of Hat, the Vulture-Headed God.
    The ancestors had vanished. No one was volunteering to go and look for them.
    Around midday a ship came up the Djel under full sail. It was a deceptive ship. It seemed to wallow like a fat and unprotected hippo, and it was only after watching it for some time that anyone would realize that it was also making remarkably fast progress. It dropped anchor outside the palace.
    After a while, it let down a dinghy.

    Teppic sat on the throne and watched the life of the “kingdom reassemble itself, like a smashed mirror that is put together again and reflects the same old light in new and unexpected ways.
    No one was quite sure on what basis he was on the throne, but no one else was at all keen on occupying it and it was a relief to hear instructions issued in a clear, confident voice. It is amazing what people will obey, if a clear and confident voice is used, and the kingdom was well used to a clear, confident voice.
    Besides, giving orders stopped him thinking about things. Like, for example, what would happen next. But at least the gods had gone back to not existing again, which made it a whole lot easier to believe in them, and the grass didn’t seem to be growing under his feet anymore.
    Maybe I can put the kingdom together again, he thought. But then what can I do with it? If only