‘I will?’ Teppic was fascinated. He wondered how this could be achieved. Discipline had not hitherto been a major feature in his life. Most of his tutors had been sufficiently unnerved by the sight of the king occasionally perched on top of a door that they raced through such lessons as they had and then locked themselves in their rooms.
‘I will sir,’ said the teacher. He consulted the list in his hand.
‘What is your name, boy?’ he continued.
‘Prince Pteppic of the Old Kingdom, the Kingdom of the Sun,’ said Teppic easily. ‘I appreciate you are ignorant of the etiquette, but you should not call me sir, and you should touch the ground with your forehead when you address me.’
‘Pateppic, is it?’ said the master.
‘No. Pteppic.’
‘Ah. Teppic,’ said the master, and ticked off a name on his lists. He gave Teppic a generous smile.
‘Well, now, your majesty,’ he said, ‘I am Grunworth Nivor, your housemaster. You are in Viper House. To my certain knowledge there are at least eleven Kingdoms of the Sun on the Disc and, before the end of the week, you will present me with a short essay detailing their geographical location, political complexion, capital city or principal seat of government, and a suggested route into the bedchamber of the head of state of your choice. However, in all the world there is only one Viper House. Good morning to you, boy.’
He turned away and homed in on another cowering pupil.
‘He’s not a bad sort,’ said a voice behind Teppic. ‘Anyway, all the stuff’s in the library. I’ll show you if you like. I’m Chidder.’
Teppic turned. He was being addressed by a boy of about his own age and height, whose black suit — plain black, for First Years — looked as though it had been nailed on to him in bits. The youth was holding out a hand. Teppic gave it a polite glance.
‘Yes?’ he said.
‘What’s your name, kiddo?’
Teppic drew himself up. He was getting fed up with this treatment. ‘Kiddo? I’ll have you know the blood of pharaohs runs in my veins!’
The other boy looked at him unabashed, with his head on one side and a faint smile on his face.
‘Would you like it to stay there?’ he said.
The baker was just along the alley, and a handful of the staff had stepped out into the comparative cool of the pre-dawn air for a quick smoke and a break from the desert heat of the ovens. Their chattering spiralled up to Teppic, high in the shadows, gripping a fortuitous window sill while his feet scrabbled for a purchase among the bricks.
It’s not that bad, he told himself. You’ve tackled worse. The hubward face of the Patrician’s palace last winter, for example, when all the gutters had overflowed and the walls were solid ice. This isn’t much more than a 3, maybe a 3.2. You and old Chiddy used to go up walls like this rather than stroll down the street, it’s just a matter of perspective.
Perspective. He glanced down, at seventy feet of infinity. Splat City, man, get a grip on yourself. On the wall. His right foot found a worn section of mortar, into which his toes planted with barely a conscious instruction from a brain now feeling too fragile to take more than a distant interest in the proceedings.
He took a breath, tensed, and then dropped one hand to his belt, seized a dagger, and thrust it between the bricks beside him before gravity worked out what was happening. He paused, panting, waiting for gravity to lose interest in him again, and then swung his body sideways and tried the same thing a second time.
Down below one of the bakers told a suggestive joke, and brushed a speck of mortar from his ear. As his colleagues laughed Teppic stood up in the moonlight, balancing on two slivers of Klatchian steel, and gently walked his palms up the wall to the window whose sill had been his brief salvation.
It was wedged shut. A good blow would surely open it, but only at about the same moment as it sent him reeling back into empty air. Teppic sighed and, moving with the delicacy of a watchmaker, drew his diamond compasses from their pouch and dragged a slow, gentle circle on the dusty glass …
‘You carry it yourself,’ said Chidder. ‘That’s the rule around here.’
Teppic looked at the trunk. It was an intriguing notion.
‘At home we’ve people who do that,’ he said. ‘Eunuchs and so on.’
‘You should of brought one with you.’
‘They don’t travel well,’ said Teppic. In fact he’d adamantly refused all suggestions that a small retinue should accompany him, and Dios had sulked for days. That was not how a member of the royal blood should go forth into the world, he said. Teppic had remained firm. He was pretty certain that assassins weren’t expected to go about their business accompanied by handmaidens and buglers. Now, however, the idea seemed to have some merit. He gave the trunk an experimental heave, and managed to get it across his shoulders.
‘Your people are pretty rich, then?’ said Chidder, ambling along beside him.
Teppic thought about this. ‘No, not really,’ he said. ‘They mainly grow melons and garlic and that kind of thing. And stand in the streets and shout “hurrah”.’
‘This is your parents you’re talking about?’ said Chidder, puzzled.
‘Oh, them? No, my father’s a pharaoh. My mother was a concubine, I think.’
‘I thought that was some sort of vegetable.’
‘I don’t think so. We’ve never really discussed it. Anyway, she died when I was young.’
‘How dreadful,’ said Chidder cheerfully.
‘She went for a moonlight swim in what turned out to be a crocodile.’ Teppic tried politely not to be hurt by 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 any more. 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.