Pyramids

of reja vu . *
    He met the horrified gaze of his son. Together, dreading what they might see, they turned around slowly.
    They saw themselves standing behind themselves, bickering over something IIb was swearing that he had already heard.
    He has, too, Ptaclusp realized in dread. That’s me over there. I look a lot different from the outside. And it’s me over here , too. As well. Also.
    It’s a loop. Just like in the river, a tiny whirlpool, only it’s in the flow of time. And I’ve just gone around it twice.
    The other Ptaclusp looked up at him.
    There was a long, agonizing moment of temporal strain, a noise like a mouse blowing bubblegum, and the loop broke, and the figure faded.
    “I know what’s causing it,” muttered IIb indistinctly, because of his wrist. “I know the pyramid isn’t complete, but it will be, so the effects are sort of echoing backward, dad, we ought to stop right now, it’s too big , I was wrong—”
    “Shut up. Can you work out where the nodes will form?” said Ptaclusp. “And come away over here, all the lads are staring. Pull yourself together, son.”
    IIb instinctively put his hand to his belt abacus.
    “Well, yes, probably,” he said. “It’s just a function of mass distribution and—”
    “Right,” said the builder firmly. “Start doing it. And then get all the foremen to come and see me.”
    There was a glint like mica in Ptaclusp’s eye. His jaw was squared like a block of granite. Maybe it’s the pyramid that’s got me thinking like this, he said, I’m thinking fast, I know it.
    “And get your brother up here, too,” he added.
    It is the pyramid effect. I’m remembering an idea I’m going to have.
    Best not to think too hard about that. Be practical.
    He stared around at the half-completed site. The gods knew we couldn’t do it in time, he said. Now we don’t have to. We can take as long as we like!
    “Are you all right?” said IIb. “Dad, are you all right?”
    “Was that one of your time loops?” said Ptaclusp dreamily. What an idea! No one would ever beat them on a contract ever again, they’d win bonuses for completion and it didn’t matter how long it took!
    “No! Dad, we ought—”
    “But you’re sure you can work out where these loops will occur, are you?”
    “Yes, I expect so, but—”
    “Good.” Ptaclusp was trembling with excitement. Maybe they’d have to pay the men more, but it would be worth it, and IIa would be bound to think up some sort of scheme, finance was nearly as good as magic. The lads would have to accept it. After all, they’d complained about working with free men, they’d complained about working with Howondanians, they’d complained about working with everyone except proper paid-up Guild members. So they could hardly complain about working with themselves.
    IIb stepped back, and gripped the abacus for reassurance.
    “Dad,” he said cautiously, “what are you thinking about?”
    Ptaclusp beamed at him. “ Doppelgangs ,” he said.

    Politics was more interesting. Teppic felt that here, at least, he could make a contribution.
    Djelibeybi was old. It was respected. But it was also small and in the sword-edged sense, which was what seemed to matter these days, had no power. It wasn’t always thus, as Dios told it. Once it had ruled the world by sheer force of nobility, hardly needing the standing army of twenty-five thousand men it had in those high days.
    Now it wielded a more subtle power as a narrow state between the huge and thrusting empires of Tsort and Ephebe, each one both a threat and a shield. For more than a thousand years the kings along the Djel had, with extreme diplomacy, exquisite manners and the footwork of a centipede on adrenaline, kept the peace along the whole widdershins side of the continent. Merely having existed for seven thousand years can be a formidable weapon, if you use it properly.
    “You mean we’re neutral ground?” said Teppic.
    “Tsort is a desert culture like us,” said Dios, steepling his hands. “We have helped to shape it over the years. As for Ephebe—” He sniffed. “They have some very strange beliefs.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “They believe the world is run by geometry, sire. All lines and angles and numbers. That sort of thing, sire—” Dios frowned—“can lead to some very unsound ideas.”
    “Ah,” said Teppic, resolving to learn more about unsound ideas as soon as possible. “So we’re secretly on the side of Tsort, yes?”
    “No. It