Quezovercoatl shuffled his feet.
“Whereupon,” said the King, “they immediately engaged in a prolonged war with just about everyone else, bringing death and destruction to thousands of moderately blameless people, ekcetra, ekcetra. Now, look, this sort of thing has got to stop.”
Quezovercoatl swayed back a bit.
“It was only, you know, a hobby,” said the imp. “I thought, you know, it was the right thing, sort of thing. Death and destruction and that.”
“You did, did you?” said the King. “Thousands of more-or-less innocent people dying? Straight out of our hands,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that. Straight off to their happy hunting ground or whatever. That’s the trouble with you people. You don’t think of the Big Picture. I mean, look at the Tezumen. Gloomy, unimaginative, obsessive … by now they could have invented a whole bureaucracy and taxation system that could have turned the minds of the continent to slag. Instead of which, they’re just a bunch of second-rate axe-murderers. What a waste.”
Quezovercoatl squirmed.
The King swivelled the throne back and forth a bit.
“Now, I want you to go straight back down there and tell them you’re sorry,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“Tell them you’ve changed your mind. Tell them that what you really wanted them to do was strive day and night to improve the lot of their fellow men. It’ll be a winner.”
“What?” said Quezovercoatl, looking extremely shifty. “You want me to manifest myself?”
“They’ve seen you already, haven’t they? I saw the statue, it’s very lifelike.”
“Well, yes. I’ve appeared in dreams and that,” said the demon uncertainly.
“Right, then. Get on with it.”
Quezovercoatl was clearly unhappy about something.
“Er,” he said. “You want me to actually materialise, sort of thing? I mean, actually sort of turn up on the spot?”
“Yes!”
“Oh.”
The prisoner dusted himself down and extended a wrinkled hand to Rincewind.
“Many thanks. Ponce da Quirm,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“It’s my name.”
“Oh.”
“It’s a proud old name,” said da Quirm, searching Rincewind’s eyes for any traces of mockery.
“Fine,” said Rincewind blankly.
“We were searching for the Fountain of Youth,”{8} da Quirm went on.
Rincewind looked him up and down.
“Any luck?” he said politely.
“Not significantly, no.”
Rincewind peered back down into the pit.
“You said we,” he said. “Where’s everyone else?”
“They got religion.”
Rincewind looked up at the statue of Quezovercoatl. It took no imagination whatsoever to imagine what kind.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that we had better go.”
“Too true,” said the old man. “And quickly, too. Before the Ruler of the World turns up.”
Rincewind went cold. It starts, he thought. I knew it was all going to turn out badly, and this is where it starts. I must have an instinct for these things.
“How do you know about that?” he said.
“Oh, they’ve got this prophecy. Well, not a prophecy, really, it’s more the entire history of the world, start to finish. It’s written all over this pyramid,” said da Quirm, cheerfully. “My word, I wouldn’t like to be the Ruler when he arrives. They’ve got plans.”
Eric stood up.
“Now just you listen to me,” he said. “I’m not going to stand for this sort of thing. I’m your ruler, you know …”
Rincewind stared at the blocks nearest the statue. It had taken the Tezumen two storeys, twenty years and ten thousand tons of granite to explain what they intended to do to the Ruler of the World, but the result was, well, graphic. He would be left in no doubt that they were annoyed. He might even go so far as to deduce that they were quite vexed.
“But why do they give him all these jewels to start with?” he said, pointing.
“Well, he is the Ruler,” said da Quirm. “He’s entitled to some respect, I suppose.”
Rincewind nodded. There was a sort of justice in it. If you were a tribe who lived in a swamp in the middle of a damp forest, didn’t have any metal, had been saddled with a god like Quezovercoatl, and then found someone who said he was in charge of the whole affair, you probably would want to spend some time explaining to him how incredibly disappointed you were. The Tezumen had never seen any reason to be subtle in dealing with deities.
It was a very good likeness of Eric.
His eye followed the story on to the next wall.
This block showed a very good likeness of Rincewind. He had a parrot on his shoulder.
“Hang on,” he said. “That’s me!”
“You should see what they’re doing to you on the next block,” said the parrot smugly. “It’ll turn your wossname.”
Rincewind looked at the block. His wossname revolved.
“We’ll just leave very quietly,” he said firmly. “I mean, we won’t stop to thank them for the meal. We can always send them a letter later. You know, so’s not to be impolite.”
“Just a moment,” said da Quirm, as Rincewind dragged at his arm, “I haven’t had a chance to read all the blocks yet. I want to see how the world’s going to end—”
“How it’s going to end for everyone else I don’t know,” said Rincewind grimly, dragging him down the tunnel. “I know how it’s going to end for me.”
He stepped out into the dawn light, which was fine. Where he went wrong was stepping into a semi-circle of Tezumen. They had spears. They had exquisitely chipped obsidian spearheads, which, like their swords, were nowhere near as sophisticated as ordinary, coarse, inferior steel weapons. Was it better to know that you were going to be skewered by delicate examples of genuine ethnic origin rather than nasty forge-made items hammered out by people not in contact with the cycles of nature?
Probably not, Rincewind decided.
“I always say,” said da Quirm, “that there is a good side to everything.”
Rincewind, trussed to the next slab, turned his head with difficulty.
“Where is it at the moment, precisely?” he said.
Da Quirm squinted down across the swamps and the forest roof.
“Well. It’s a first-class view from up here, to begin with.”
“Oh, good,” said Rincewind. “You know, I never would have looked at it like that. You’re absolutely right. It’s the kind of view you’ll remember for the rest of your life, I expect. I mean, it’s not as if it will be any great feat of recollection.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic. I was only passing a remark.”
“I want my mum,” said Eric, from the middle slab.
“Chin up, lad,” said da Quirm. “At least you’re being sacrificed for something worthwhile. I just suggested they tried using the wheels upright, so they’d roll. I’m afraid they’re not very responsive to new ideas around here. Still, nil desperandum. Where there’s life there’s hope.”