Pyramids

than being thrown to the crocodiles or having your soul taken by the Soul Eater?” said Teppic, and caught the grapnel firmly on some hidden ledge on the flat roof.
    “That’s an interesting point,” said Ptraci, winning the Teppic Award for clear thinking.
    “Worth considering, isn’t it?” Teppic tested his weight on the cord.
    “What you’re saying is, if the worst is going to happen to you anyway , you might as well not bother anymore,” said Ptraci. “If the Soul Eater is going to get you whatever you do, you might as well avoid the crocodiles, is that it?”
    “You go up first,” said Teppic, “I think someone’s coming.”
    “Who are you?”
    Teppic fished in his pouch. He’d come back to Djeli an eon ago with just the clothes he stood up in, but they were the clothes he’d stood up in throughout his exam. He balanced a Number Two throwing knife in his hand, the steel glinting in the flarelight. It was possibly the only steel in the country; it wasn’t that Djelibeybi hadn’t heard about iron, it was just that if copper was good enough for your great-great-great-great-grandfather, it was good enough for you.
    No, the guards didn’t deserve knives. They hadn’t done anything wrong.
    His hand closed over the little mesh bag of caltraps. These were a small model, a mere one inch per spike. Caltraps didn’t kill anyone, they just slowed them down a bit. One or two of them in the sole of the foot induced extreme slowness and caution in all except the terminally enthusiastic.
    He scattered a few across the mouth of the passage and ran back to the rope, hauling himself up in a few quick swings. He reached the roof just as the leading guards ran under the lintel. He waited until he heard the first curse, and then coiled up the rope and hurried after the girl.
    “They’ll catch us,” she said.
    “I don’t think so.”
    “And then the king will have us thrown to the crocodiles.”
    “Oh no, I don’t think—” Teppic paused. It was an intriguing idea.
    “He might,” he ventured. “It’s very hard to be sure about anything.”
    “So what shall we do now?”
    Teppic stared across the river, where the pyramids were ablaze. The Great Pyramid was still under construction, by flarelight; a swarm of blocks, dwarfed by distance, hovered near its tip. The amount of labor Ptaclusp was putting on the job was amazing.
    What a flare that will give, he thought. It’ll be seen all the way to Ankh.
    “Horrible things, aren’t they,” said Ptraci, behind him.
    “Do you think so?”
    “They’re creepy. The old king hated them, you know. He said they nailed the Kingdom to the past.”
    “Did he say why?”
    “No. He just hated them. He was a nice old boy. Very kind. Not like this new one.” She blew her nose and replaced her handkerchief in its scarcely adequate space in her sequined bra.
    “Er, what exactly did you have to do? As a handmaiden, I mean?” said Teppic, scanning the rooftop panorama to hide his embarrassment.
    She giggled. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
    “No. Not really.”
    “Talk to him, mainly. Or just listen. He could really talk, but he always said no one ever really listened to what he said.”
    “Yes,” said Teppic, with feeling. “And that was all, was it?”
    She stared at him, and then giggled again. “Oh, that? No, he was very kind. I wouldn’t of minded, you understand, I had all the proper training. Bit of a disappointment, really. The women of my family have served under the kings for centuries, you know.”
    “Oh yes?” he managed.
    “I don’t know whether you’ve ever seen a book, it’s called The Shuttered —”
    “— Palace ,” said Teppic automatically.
    “I thought a gentleman like you’d know about it,” said Ptraci, nudging him. “It’s a sort of textbook. Well, my great-great-grandmother posed for a lot of the pictures. Not recently,” she added, in case he hadn’t fully understood, “I mean, that would be a bit off-putting, she’s been dead for twenty-five years. When she was younger. I look u lot like her, everyone says.”
    “Urk,” agreed Teppic.
    “She was famous. She could put her feet behind her head, you know. So can I. I’ve got my Grade Three.”
    “Urk?”
    “The old king told me once that the gods gave people a sense of humor to make up for giving them sex. I think he was a bit upset at the time.”
    “Urk.” Only the whites of Teppic’s eyes were showing.
    “You don’t say much, do