Pyramids

is important that Ephebe remains strong.”
    “But we’ve more in common with Tsort?”
    “So we allow them to believe, sire.”
    “But they are a desert culture?”
    Dios smiled. “I am afraid they don’t take pyramids seriously, sire.”
    Teppic considered all this.
    “So whose side are we really on?”
    “Our own, sire. There is always a way. Always remember, sire, that your family was on its third dynasty before our neighbors had worked out, sire, how babies are made.”
    The Tsort delegation did indeed appear to have studied Djeli culture assiduously, almost frantically. It was also clear that they hadn’t begun to understand it; they’d merely borrowed as many bits as seemed useful and then put them together in subtly wrong ways. For example, to a man they employed the Three-Turning-Walk, as portrayed on friezes, and only used by the Djeli court on certain occasions. Occasional grimaces crossed their faces as their vertebrae protested.
    They were also wearing the Khruspids of Morning and the bangles of Going Forth, as well as the kilt of Yet with, and no wonder even the maidens on fan duty were hiding their smiles, matching greaves! *
    Even Teppic had to cough hurriedly. But then, he thought, they don’t know any better. They’re like children.
    And this thought was followed by another one which added, These children could wipe us off the map in one hour.
    Hot on the synapses of the other two came a third thought, which said: It’s only clothes, for goodness sake, you’re beginning to take it all seriously.
    The group from Ephebe were more sensibly dressed in white togas. They had a certain sameness about them, as if somewhere in the country there was a little press that stamped out small bald men with curly white beards.
    The two parties halted before the throne, and bowed.
    “Hallo,” said Teppic.
    “His Greatness the King Teppicymon XXVIII, Lord of the Heavens, Charioteer of the Wagon of the Sun, Steersman of the Barque of the Sun, Guardian of the Secret Knowledge, Lord of the Horizon, Keeper of the Way, the Flail of Mercy, the High-Born One, the Never-Dying King, bids you welcome and commands you to take wine with him,” said Dios, clapping his hands for a butler.
    “Oh yes,” said Teppic. “Do sit down, won’t you?”
    “His Greatness the King Teppicymon XXVIII, Lord of the Heavens, Charioteer of the Wagon of the Sun, Steersman of the Barque of the Sun, Guardian of the Secret Knowledge, Lord of the Horizon, Keeper of the Way, the Flail of Mercy, the High-Born One, the Never-Dying King, commands you to be seated,” said Dios.
    Teppic racked his brains for a suitable speech. He’d heard plenty in Ankh-Morpork. They were probably the same the whole world over.
    “I’m sure we shall get on—”
    “His Greatness the King Teppicymon XXVIII, Lord of the Heavens, Charioteer of the Wagon of the Sun, Steersman of the Barque of the Sun, Guardian of the Secret Knowledge, Lord of the Horizon, Keeper of the Way, the Hail of Mercy, the High-Born One, the Never-Dying King, bids you harken!” Dios boomed.
    “—long history of friendship—”
    “Harken to the wisdom of His Greatness the King Teppicymon XXVIII, Lord of the Heavens, Charioteer of the Wagon of the Sun, Steersman of the Barque of the Sun, Guardian of the Secret Knowledge, Lord of the Horizon, Keeper of the Way, the Hail of Mercy, the High-Born One, the Never-Dying King!”
    The echoes died away.
    “Could I have a word with you a moment, Dios?”
    The high priest leaned down.
    “Is all this necessary?” hissed Teppic.
    Dios’s aquiline features took on the wooden expression of one who is wrestling with an unfamiliar concept.
    “Of course, sire. It is traditional,” he said, at last.
    “I thought I was supposed to talk to these people. You know, about boundaries and trade and so on. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it and I’ve got several ideas. I mean, it’s going to be a little difficult if you’re going to keep shouting.”
    Dios gave him a polite smile.
    “Oh no, sire. That has all been sorted out, sire. I met with them this morning.”
    “What am I supposed to do, then?”
    Dios made a slight circling motion with one hand.
    “Just as you wish, sire. It is normal to smile a little, and put them at their ease.”
    “Is that all ?”
    “Sire could ask them whether they enjoy being diplomats, sire,” said Dios. He met Teppic’s glare with eyes as expressionless as mirrors.
    “I am the king ,” Teppic