'Where are you from, peasant?'

'Bes Pelargic, o lord.'

'Ah. I thought so.' The big bamboo doors slid back. The new Lord Chamberlain stepped in, followed by a caravan of trolleys. 'Breakfast, o lord of a thousand years,' he said. 'Big lumps of pig, big lumps of goat, big lumps of ox and seven fried rice.' One of the servants lifted the lid of a dish. 'But take my tip and don't go for this pork,' he said. 'It's been poisoned.' The Chamberlain spun around. 'Insolent pig! You will die for this.'

'It's Rincewind, isn't it?' said Cohen. 'Looks like Rincewind—'

'Got my hat here somewhere,' said Rincewind. 'Had to stuff it down my trousers—'

'Poison?' said Cohen. 'You sure?'

'Well, OK, it was a black bottle and it had a skull and crossbones on it and when he tipped it out it smoked,' said Rincewind, as Mr Saveloy helped him up. 'Was it anchovy essence? I don't think so.'

'Poison,' said Cohen. 'I hate poisoners. Just about the worst sort, poisoners. Creeping around, putting muck in a man's grub . . .' He glared at the Chamberlain. 'Was it you?' He looked at Rincewind and jerked a thumb towards the cowering Chamberlain. 'Was it him? Because if it was he's going to get done to him what I did to the mad Snake Priests of Start, and this time I'll use both thumbs!'

'No,' said Rincewind. 'It was someone they called Lord Hong. But they all watched him do it.' A little scream erupted from the Lord Chamberlain. He threw himself to the floor and was about to kiss Cohen's foot until he realized that this would have about the same effect as eating the pork. 'Mercy, o celestial being! We are all pawns in the hands of Lord Hong!'

'What's so special about Lord Hong, then?'

'He's . . . a fine man!' the Chamberlain gibbered. 'I won't say a word against Lord Hong! I certainly don't believe it's true that he has spies everywhere! Long life to Lord Hong, that's what I say!' He risked looking up and found the point of Cohen's sword just in front of his eyes. 'Yeah, but right now who're you more frightened of? Me or this Lord Hong?'

'Uh . . . Lord Hong!' Cohen raised an eyebrow. 'I'm impressed. Spies everywhere, eh?' He looked around the huge room and his gaze came to rest on a very large vase. He sauntered over to it and raised the lid. 'You OK in there?'

'Er . . . yes?' said a voice from the depths of the vase. 'Got everythin' you want? Spare notebook? Potty?'

'Er . . . yes?'

'Would you like, oh, let's say about sixty gallons of boiling water?'

'Er . . . no?'

'Would you rather die than betray Lord Hong?'

'Er . . . can I have a moment to think about it, please?'

'No problem. It takes a long time to heat the water in any case. As you were, then.' He replaced the lid. 'One Big Mother?' he said. 'That's One Big River, Ghenghiz,' said Mr Saveloy. The guard rumbled into life. 'Just you watch this vase and if it moves again you do to it what I once did to the Green Necromancer of the Night, all right?'

'Don't know what that was you did, lord,' said the soldier. Cohen told him. One Big River beamed. From inside the jar came the noise of someone trying not to be sick. Cohen strolled back to the throne. 'So tell me a bit more about Lord Hong, then,' he said. 'He's the Grand Vizier,' said the Chamberlain. Cohen and Rincewind looked at one another. 'That's right. And everyone knows,' said Rincewind, 'that Grand Viziers are always—'

'—complete and utter bastards,' said Cohen. 'Dunno why. Give 'em a turban with a point in the middle and their moral wossname just gets eaten away. I always kill 'em soon as I meet 'em. Saves time later on.'

'I thought there was something fishy about him as soon as I saw him,' said Rincewind. 'Look, Cohen—'

'That's Emperor Cohen to you,' said Truckle. 'I've never trusted wizards, mister. Never trusted any man in a dress.'

'Rincewind's all right—' said Cohen. 'Thank you!' said Rincewind. '—but a bloody useless wizard.'

'I just happened to risk my neck to save you, thank you so very much,' said Rincewind. 'Look, some friends of mine are in the prison block. Could you . . . Emperor?'

'Sort of,' said Cohen. 'Temp'ry,' said Truckle.

'Technically,' said Mr Saveloy. 'Does that mean you can get my friends somewhere safe? I think Lord Hong has murdered the old Emperor and wants them to take the blame. I'm rust hoping he won't believe they'll be hiding in the cells.'

'Why in the cells?' said Cohen. 'Because if I had the chance to get away from Lord Hong's cells I would,' said Rincewind, fervently. 'No-one in their right minds'd go back inside if they thought they had a chance to get away.'

'OK,' said Cohen. 'Boy Willie, One Big Mother, go and round up some of your mates and bring those people here.'

'Here?' said Rincewind. 'I wanted them to be somewhere safe!'

'Well, we're here,' said Cohen. 'We can protect 'em.'

'Who's going to protect you?' Cohen ignored this. 'Lord Chamberlain,' he said, 'I don't 'spect Lord Hong'll be around but . . . in the court was a guy with a nose like a badger. A fat bugger, he was, with a big pink hat. And a skinny woman with a face like a hatful of pins.'

'That would be Lord Nine Mountains and Lady Two Streams,' said the Lord Chamberlain. 'Er. You are not angry with me, o lord?'

'Gods bless you, no,' said Cohen. 'In fact, mister, I'm so impressed I'm going to give you extra responsibilities.'

'Lord?'

'Food taster, for a start. And now go and fetch them other two. Didn't like the look of them at all.' Nine Mountains and Two Streams were ushered in a few moments later. Their merest glance from Cohen to the untouched food would have passed entirely unnoticed by those who weren't watching for it. Cohen nodded cheerfully at them. 'Eat it,' he said. 'My lord! I had a large breakfast! I am entirely full!' said Nine Mountains. 'That's a pity,' said Cohen. 'One Big Mother, before you go off just see Mr Nine Mountains over there and make some room in him so he can have another breakfast. The same goes for the lady, too, if I don't hear chomping in the next five seconds, A good mouthful of everything, understand? With lots of sauce.' One Big River drew his sword.

The two nobles stared fixedly at the glistening mounds. 'Looks good to me,' said Cohen conversationally. 'The way you're looking at it, any one'd think there was something wrong with it.' Nine Mountains gingerly put a piece of pork into his mouth. 'Extremely good,' he said, indistinctly. 'Now swallow,' said Cohen. The mandarin gulped. 'Marvellous,' he said. 'And nnw, if your excellency will excuse me, I—'

'Don't rush off,' said Cohen. 'We don't want you accidentally sticking your fingers down your throat or anything like that, do we?' Nine Mountains hiccuped. Then he hiccuped again. Smoke appeared to be rising from the bottom of his robe. The Horde dived for cover just as the explosion removed an area of floorboards, a circular part of the ceiling and all of Lord Nine Mountains. A black hat with a ruby button on it spun around on the floor for a moment. 'That's just like me and pickled onions,' said Vincent. Lady Two Streams was standing with her eyes shut. 'Not hungry?' said Cohen. She nodded. Cohen leaned back. 'One Big Mother?'

'It's “River”, Cohen,' said Mr Saveloy, as the guard lumbered forward. 'Take her with you and put her in one of the dungeons. See that she has plenty to eat, if you know what I mean.'

'Yes, excellency.'

'And Mr Chamberlain here can push off down to the kitchen again and tell the chef he's going to share what we eat this time, and he's gonna eat it first, all right?'

'Yes indeed, excellency.'

'Call this living?' Caleb burst out, as the Lord Chamberlain scuttled away. 'This is being Emperor, is it? Can't even trust the food? We'll probably be murdered in our beds!'

'Can't see you being murdered in your bed,' said Truckle. 'Yeah, 'cos you're never in it,' said Cohen. He walked over to the big jar and gave it a kick. 'You getting all this?'

'Yessir,' said the jar. There was some laughter. But it had an edge of nervousness. Mr Saveloy realized that the Horde weren't used to this. If a true barbarian wanted to kill someone during a meal, he'd invite him in with all his henchmen, sit them down, get them drunk and sleepy and then summon his own men from hiding places to massacre them instantly in a straight-forward, no-nonsense and honourable manner. It was completely fair. The 'get them drunk and butcher the lot of them' stratagem was the oldest trick in the book, or would have been if barbarians bothered with books. Anyone falling for it would be doing the world a favour by being slaughtered over the pudding. But at least you could trust the food. Barbarians didn't poison food. You never knew when you might be short of a mouthful yourself. 'Excuse me, your excellency,' said Six Beneficent Winds, who had been hovering, 'I think Lord Truckle is right. Er. I know a little history. The correct method of succession is to wade to the throne through seas of blood. That is what Lord Hong is planning to do.'

'You say? Seas of blood, right?'

'Or over a mountain of skulls. That's an option, too.'

'But . . . but . . . I thought the Imperial crown was handed down from father to son,' said Mr Saveloy. 'Well, yes,' said Six Beneficent Winds. 'I suppose that could happen in theory.'

'You said once we were at the top of the pyramid every one'd do what we said,' said Cohen to Mr Saveloy. Truckle looked from one to the other. 'You two planned this?' he said accusingly. 'This is what it's all been about, isn't it? All that learnin' to be civilized? And right at the start you just said it was going to be a really big theft! Eh? I thought we were just going to nick a load of stuff and push off! Loot and pillage, that's the way—'

'Oh, loot and pillage, loot and pillage, I've had it up to here with loot and pillage!' said Mr Saveloy. 'Is that all you can think of, looting and pillaging?'

'Well, there used to be ravishing, too,' said Vincent wistfully.

'I hate to tell you, but they've got a point, Teach,' said Cohen. 'Fightin' and lootin' . . . that's what we do. I ain't happy with all this bowing and scraping business. I ain't sure if I was cut out for civilization.' Mr Saveloy rolled his eyes. 'Even you, Cohen? You're all so . . . dim-witted!' he snapped. 'I don't know why I bother! I mean, look at you! You know what you are? You're legends!' The Horde stepped back. No-one had ever seen Teach lose his temper before. 'From legendum, which means “something written down”,' said Mr Saveloy. 'Books, you know. Reading and writing. Which incidentally is as alien to you as the Lost City of Ee—' Truckle's hand went up, a little nervously. 'Actually, I once discovered the Lost City of—'

'Shut up! I'm saying . . . What was I saying? . . . yes . . . you don't read, do you? You never learned to read? Then you've wasted half your life. You could have been accumulating pearls of wisdom instead of rather shoddy gems. It's just as well people read about you and don't meet you face to face because, gentlemen, you are a big disappointment!' Rincewind watched, fascinated, waiting for Mr Saveloy to have his head cut off. But this didn't seem about to happen. He was possibly too angry to be beheaded. 'What have you actually done, gentlemen? And don't tell me about stolen jewels and demon lords. What have you done that's real?' Truckle raised a hand again. 'Well, I once killed all four of the—'

'Yes, yes, yes,' said Mr Saveloy. 'You killed this and you stole that and you defeated the giant man-eating avocados of somewhere else, but . . . it's all . . . stuff. It's just wallpaper, gentlemen! It never changes anything! No-one cares! Back in Ankh-Morpork I've taught boys who think you are myths. That's what you've achieved. They don't believe you ever really existed. They think someone made you up. You're stories, gentlemen. When you die no-one will know, because they think you're already dead.' He paused for breath, and then continued more slowly. 'But here . . . here you could be real. You could stop playing at your lives. You could take this ancient and somewhat rotten Empire back into the world. At least. . .' he trailed off. 'That's what I'd hoped. I really thought that, perhaps, we might actually achieve something . . .' He sat down. The Horde stood staring at its various feet or wheels. 'Um. Can I say something? The warlords will all be against you,' said Six Beneficent Winds. 'They're out there now, with their armies. Normally they'd fight amongst themselves, but they'll all fight you.'