Pyramids

hissed.
    “Certainly, sire. It would not do to sully the office with mere matters of leaden state, sire. Tomorrow, sire, you will be holding supreme court. A very fit office for a monarch, sire.”
    “Ah. Yes.”

    It was quite complicated. Teppic listened carefully to the case, which was alleged cattle theft compounded by Djeli’s onion-layered land laws. This is what it should be all about, he thought. No one else can work out who owns the bloody ox, this is the sort of thing kings have to do. Now, let’s see, five years ago, he sold the ox to him , but as it turned out—
    He looked from the face of one worried farmer to the other. They were both clutching their ragged straw hats close to their chests, and both of them wore the paralyzed wooden expressions of simple men who, in pursuit of their parochial disagreement, now found themselves on a marble floor in a great room with their god enthroned before their very eyes. Teppic didn’t doubt that either one would cheerfully give up all rights to the wretched creature in exchange for being ten miles away.
    It’s a fairly mature ox, he thought, time it was slaughtered, even if it’s his it’s been fattening on his neighbor’s land all these years, half each would be about right, they’re really going to remember this judgment…
    He raised the Sickle of Justice.
    “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, will give judgment! Cower to the justice of His Greatness the King Tep—”
    Teppic cut Dios off in mid-intone.
    “Having listened to both sides of the case,” he said firmly, the mask giving it a slight boom, “and, being impressed by the argument and counterargument, it seems to us only just that the beast in question should be slaughtered without delay and shared with all fairness between both plaintiff and defendant.”
    He sat back. They’ll call me Teppic the Wise, he thought. The common people go for this sort of thing.
    The farmers gave him a long blank stare. Then, as if they were both mounted on turntables, they turned and looked to where Dios was sitting in his place on the steps in a group of lesser priests.
    Dios stood up, smoothed his plain robe, and extended the staff.
    “Harken to the interpreted 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 Flail of Mercy, the High-Born One, the Never-Dying King,” he said. “It is our divine judgment that the beast in dispute is the property of Rhumusphut. It is our divine judgment that the beast be sacrificed upon the altar of the Concourse of Gods in thanks for the attention of Our Divine Self. It is our further judgment that both Rhumusphut and Ktoffle work a further three days in the fields of the King in payment for this judgment.”
    Dios raised his head until he was looking along his fearsome nose right into Teppic’s mask. He raised both hands.
    “Mighty is 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 Flail of Mercy, the High-Born One, the Never-Dying King!”
    The farmers bobbed in terrified gratitude and backed out of the presence, framed between the guards.
    “Dios,” said Teppic, levelly.
    “Sire?”
    “Just attend upon me a moment, please?” “Sire?” repeated Dios, materializing by the throne.
    “I could not help noticing, Dios, excuse me if I am wrong, a certain flourish in the translation there.”
    The priest looked surprised.
    “Indeed no, sire. I was most precise in relaying your decision, saving only to refine the detail in accordance with precedent and tradition.”
    “How was that? The damn creature really belonged to both of them!”
    “But Rhumusphut is known to be punctilious in his devotions, sire, seeking every opportunity to laud and magnify the gods, whereas Ktoffle has been known to harbor foolish thoughts.”
    “What’s that got to do with justice?”
    “Everything, sire,” said Dios smoothly.
    “But now neither of them has the ox!”
    “Quite so, sire. But Ktoffle does