Pyramids

tortoise,” he added accusingly. “We ought to try again with faster tortoises.”
    “Or slower arrows?”
    “Possibly, possibly.”
    Teppic was aware of a faint scuffling by his chin. There was a small tortoise scurrying past him. It had several ricochet marks on its shell.
    “We’ll have one last try,” said the fat man. He turned to the slaves. “You lot—go and find that tortoise.”
    The little reptile gave Teppic a look of mingled pleading and hope. He stared at it, and then lifted it up carefully and tucked it behind a rock.
    He slid back down the dune to Ptraci.
    “There’s something really weird going on over there,” he said. “They’re shooting tortoises.”
    “Why?”
    “Search me. They seem to think the tortoise ought to be able to run away.”
    “What, from an arrow?”
    “Like I said. Really weird. You stay here. I’ll whistle if it’s safe to follow me.”
    “What will you do if it isn’t safe?”
    “Scream.”
    He climbed the dune again and, after brushing as much sand as possible off his clothing, stood up and waved his cap at the little crowd. An arrow took it out of his hands.
    “Oops!” said the fat man. “Sorry!”
    He scurried across the trampled sand to where Teppic was standing and staring at his stinging fingers.
    “Just had it in my hand,” he panted. “Many apologies, didn’t realize it was loaded. Whatever will you think of me?”
    Teppic took a deep breath.
    “Xeno’s the name,” gasped the fat man, before he could speak. “Are you hurt? We did put up warning signs, I’m sure. Did you come in over the desert? You must be thirsty. Would you like a drink? Who are you? You haven’t seen a tortoise up there, have you? Damned fast things, go like greased thunderbolts, there’s no stopping the little buggers.”
    Teppic deflated again.
    “Tortoises?” he said. “Are we talking about those, you know, stones on legs?”
    “That’s right, that’s right,” said Xeno. “Take your eyes off them for a second, and vazoom! ”
    “Vazoom?” said Teppic. He knew about tortoises. There were tortoises in the Old Kingdom. They could be called a lot of things—vegetarians, patient, thoughtful, even extremely diligent and persistent sex-maniacs—but never, up until now, fast. Fast was a word particularly associated with tortoises because they were not it.
    “Are you sure?” he said.
    “Fastest animal on the face of the Disc, your common tortoise,” said Xeno, but he had the grace to look shifty. “Logically, that is,” he added. * .
    The tall man gave Teppic a nod.
    “Take no notice of him, boy,” he said. “He’s just covering himself because of the accident last week.”
    “The tortoise did beat the hare,” said Xeno sulkily.
    “The hare was dead , Xeno,” said the tall man patiently. “Because you shot it.”
    “I was aiming at the tortoise. You know, trying to combine two experiments, cut down on expensive research time, make full use of available—” Xeno gestured with the bow, which now had another arrow in it.
    “Excuse me,” said Teppic. “Could you put it down a minute? Me and my friend have come a long way and it would be nice not to be shot at again.”
    These two seem harmless, he thought, and almost believed it.
    He whistled. On cue, Ptraci came around the dune, leading You Bastard. Teppic doubted the capability of her costume to hold any pockets whatsoever, but she seemed to have been able to repair her make-up, re-kohl her eyes and put up her hair. She undulated toward the group like a snake in a skid, determined to hit the strangers with the full force of her personality. She was also holding something in her other hand.
    “She’s found the tortoise!” said Xeno. “Well done!”
    The reptile shot back into its shell. Ptraci glared. She didn’t have much in the world except herself, and didn’t like to be hailed as a mere holder of testudinoids.
    The tall man sighed. “You know, Xeno,” he said, “I can’t help thinking you’ve got the wrong end of the stick with this whole tortoise-and-arrow business.”
    The little man glared at him.
    “The trouble with you, Ibid,” he said, “is that you think you’re the biggest bloody authority on everything.”

    The Gods of the Old Kingdom were awakening.
    Belief is a force. It’s a weak force, by comparison with gravity; when it comes to moving mountains, gravity wins every time. But it still exists, and now that the Old Kingdom was enclosed upon itself, floating free