Pyramids

tried politely not to be hurt at the boy’s reaction.
    “My father’s in commerce,” said Chidder, as they passed through the archway.
    “That’s fascinating,” said Teppic dutifully. He felt quite broken by all these new experiences, and added, “I’ve never been to Commerce, but I understand they’re very fine people.”
    Over the next hour or two Chidder, who ambled gently through life as though he’d already worked it all out, introduced Teppic to the various mysteries of the dormitories, the classrooms and the plumbing. He left the plumbing until last, for all sorts of reasons.
    “Not any ?” he said.
    “There’s buckets and things,” said Teppic vaguely, “and lots of servants.”
    “Bit old fashioned, this kingdom of yours?”
    Teppic nodded. “It’s the pyramids,” he said. “They take all the money.”
    “Expensive things, I should imagine.”
    “Not particularly. They’re just made of stone.” Teppic sighed. “We’ve got lots of stone,” he said, “and sand. Stone and sand. We’re really big on them. If you ever need any stone and sand, we’re the people for you. It’s fitting out the insides that is really expensive. We’re still avoiding paying for grandfather’s, and that wasn’t very big. Just three chambers.”
    Teppic turned and looked out of the window; they were back in the dormitory at this point.
    “The whole kingdom’s in debt,” he said, quietly. “I mean even our debts are in debt. That’s why I’m here, really. Someone in our house needs to earn some money. A royal prince can’t hang around looking ornamental anymore. He’s got to get out and do something useful in the community.”
    Chidder leaned on the window sill.
    “Couldn’t you take some of the stuff out of the pyramids, then?” he said.
    “Don’t be silly.”
    “Sorry.”
    Teppic gloomily watched the figures below.
    “There’s a lot of people here,” he said, to change the subject. “I didn’t realize it would be so big.” He shivered. “Or so cold,” he added.
    “People drop out all the time,” said Chidder. “Can’t stand the course. The important thing is to know what’s what and who’s who. See that fellow over there?”
    Teppic followed his pointing finger to a group of older students, who were lounging against the pillars by the entrance.
    “The big one? Face like the end of your boot?”
    “That’s Fliemoe. Watch out for him. If he invites you for toast in his study, don’t go .”
    “And who’s the little kid with the curls?” said Teppic. He pointed to a small lad receiving the attentions of a washed-out looking lady. She was licking her handkerchief and dabbing apparent smudges off his face. When she stopped that, she straightened his tie.
    Chidder craned to see. “Oh, just some new kid,” he said. “Arthur someone. Still hanging onto his mummy, I see. He won’t last long.”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” said Teppic. “We do, too, and we’ve lasted for thousands of years.”

    A disc of glass dropped into the silent building and tinkled on the floor. There was no other sound for several minutes. Then there was the faint clonk-clonk of an oil can. A shadow that had been lying naturally on the window sill, a morgue for blue-bottles, turned out to be an arm which was moving with vegetable slowness toward the window’s catch.
    There was a scrape of metal, and then the whole window swung out in tribological silence.
    Teppic dropped over the sill and vanished into the shadow below it.
    For a minute or two the dusty space was filled with the intense absence of noise caused by someone moving with extreme care. Once again there was the squirting of oil, and then a metallic whisper as the bolt of a trapdoor leading onto the roof moved gently aside.
    Teppic waited for his breath to catch up with him, and in that moment heard the sound. It was down among the white noise at the edge of hearing, but there was no doubt about it. Someone was waiting just above the trapdoor, and they’d just put their hand on a piece of paper to stop it rattling in the breeze.
    His own hand dropped from the bolt. He eased his way with exquisite care back across the greasy floor and felt his way along a rough wooden wall until he came to the door. This time he took no chances, but uncorked his oil can and let a silent drop fall onto the hinges.
    A moment later he was through. A rat, idly patrolling the drafty passage beyond, had to stop itself from swallowing its own tongue as he