“I shouldn't wander about too much,” said the owner. “They say a civilian let the Ephebians in - not that I've got anything against the Ephebians, a fine body of men,” he added hurriedly, as a knot of soldiery jogged past. “A stranger, they say. That's cheating, using civilians. There's people out looking for him so's they can explain.” He made a chopping motion with his hand.
Rincewind stared at the hand as though hypnotised.
Eric opened his mouth. Eric screeched and clutched at his shins.
“Have they got a description?” Rincewind said.
“Don't think so.”
“Well best of luck to them,” said Rincewind, rather more cheerfully.
“What's up with the lad?”
“Cramp.”
When the man had gone back behind his counter Eric hissed, “You didn't have to kick me!”
“You're quite right. It was an entirely voluntary act on my part.”
A heavy hand dropped on to Rincewind`s shoulder. He looked around and up into the face of an Ephebian centurion. A soldier beside him said: “That's the one, sarge. I'd bet a year's salt.”
“Who'd of thought it?” said the sergeant. He gave Rincewind an evil grin. “Up we come, chummy. The chief would like a word with you.”
Some talk of Alexander and some of Hercules, of Hector and Lysander and such great names as these. In fact, throughout the history of the multiverse people have said nice things about every cauliflower-eared sword-swinger, at least in their vicinity, on the basis that it was a lot safer that way. It's funny how the people have always respected the kind of commander who comes up with strategies like “I want fifty thousand of you chappies to rush at the enemy”, whereas the more thoughtful commanders who say things like “Why don't we build a damn great wooden horse and then nip in at the back date while they're all round the thing waiting for us to come out” are considered only one step above common oiks and not the kind of person you'd lend money to.
This is because most of the first type of commanders are brave men, whereas cowards make far better strategists.
Rincewind was dragged before the Ephebian leaders, who had set up a command post in the city's main square so that they could oversee the storming of the central citadel, which loomed over the city on its vertiginous hill. They were not too close, however, because the defenders were dropping rocks.
They were discussing strategy when Rincewind arrived. The consensus seemed to be
that if really large numbers of men were sent to storm the mountain, then enough might survive the rocks to take the citadel. This is essentially the basis of all military thinking.
Several of the more impressively dressed chieftains glanced up when Rincewind and Eric approached, gave them a look which suggested that maggots were more interesting, and turned away again. The only person who seemed to be pleased to see them
-didn't look like a soldier at all. He had the armour, which was tarnished, and he had the helmet, which looked as though its plume had been used as a paintbrush, but he was skinny and had all the military bearing of a weasel. There was something vaguely familiar about his face, though. Rincewind thought it looked quite handsome.
“Pleased to see them” was only a comparative description. He was the only one who acknowledged their existence.
He was lounging in a chair and feeding the Luggage with sandwiches.
“Oh, hallo,” he said gloomily. “It's you.”
It was amazing how much information can be crammed in to a couple of words. To achieve the same effect the man could have said: It's been a long night, I'm having to organise everything from wooden horse building to the laundry rota, these idiots are about as much help as a rubber hammer, I never wanted to be here anyway and, on top of all this there's you. Hallo, you.
He indicated the Luggage, which opened its lid expectantly.
“This yours?” he said.
“Sort of,” said Rincewind guardedly. “I can't afford to pay for anything it's done, mind you.”
“Funny little thing, isn't it?” said the soldier. “We found it herding fifty Tsorteans into a corner. Why was it doing that, do you think?”
Rincewind thought quickly. “It has this amazing ability to know when people are thinking about harming me,” he said. He glared at the Luggage as one might glare at a sly, evil-tempered and generally reprehensible family pet who, after years of biting visitors, has rolled over on its scabby back and played as Lovable Puppy to impress the bailiffs.
“Yes?” said the man, without much surprise. “Magic, is it?”
“Yes.” “Something in the wood, is it?” “Yes.” “Good job we didn't build the sodding horse out of it, then.” “Yes.” “Got into it by magic, did you?” “Yes.” “Thought so.” He threw another sandwich at the Luggage. “Where you from?” Rincewind decided to come clean. “The future,” he said. This didn't have the expected
effect. The man just nodded. “Oh,” he said, and then he said, “Did we win?” “Yes.” “Oh. I suppose you can't remember the results of any horse races?” said the man, without
much hope. “No.” “I thought you probably wouldn't. why did you open the gate for us?” It occurred to Rincewind that saying it was because he had always been a firm admirer
of the Ephebian political position would not, strangely enough, be the right thing to do. He decided to try the truth again. It was a novel approach and worth experimenting with. “I was looking for a way out,” he said.
“To run away.”
“Yes.”
“Good man. Only sensible thing, in the circumstances.” He noticed Eric, who was
staring at the other captains clustered around their table and deep in argument.
“You, lad,” he said. “Want to be a soldier when you grow up?”
“No, sir.”
The man brightened a bit.
“That's the stuff,” he said.
“I want to be a eunuch, sir,” Eric added.
Rincewind's head turned as though it was being dragged. “Why?” he said, and then came up with the obvious answer at the same as Eric: “Because you get to work in the harem all day long,” they chorused slowly.
The captain coughed.
“You're not this boy's teacher, are you?” he said.
“No.”
“Do you think anyone has explained to him - ?”
“No.”
"Perhaps it would be a good idea if I got one of the centurions to have a word? You'd be
amazed at the grasp of language those chaps have got.“ ”Do him the power of good, I expect," said Rincewind. The soldier picked up his helmet, sighed, nodded at the sergeant and smoothed out the
creases in his cloak. It was a grubby cloak.
“I think I'm expected to tell you off, or something,” he said.
“What for?”
“Spoiling the war, apparently.” “Spoiling the war?” The soldier sighed. "Come on. Let's go for a stroll. Sergeant - you and a couple of lads,
please.“ A stone whistled down from the fort high above them, and shattered. ”They can hold out for bloody weeks, up there." Said the soldier gloomily, as they
walked away with the Luggage padding patiently behind them. “I'm Lavaeolus. Who're you?” “He's my demon,” said Eric. Lavaeolus raised an eyebrow, the closest he ever came to expressing surprise at anything. “Is he? I suppose it takes all sorts. Any good at getting into places, is he?”
“He's more the getting-out kind,” said Eric. “Right,” said Lavaeolus. He stopped beside a building and walked up and down a bit with his hands in his pockets, tapping on the flagstones with the toe of his sandal.
“Just here, I think, sergeant,” he said after a while. “Right you are, sir.” “Look at that lot, will you?” said Lavaeolus, while the sergeant and his men started to
lever up the stones. “That bunch around the table. Brave lads, I'll grant you, but look at them. Too busy posing for triumphant statues and making sure the historians spell their names right. Bloody years we've been laying siege to this place. More military, they said. You know, they actually enjoy it? I mean, when all's said and done, who cares? Let's just get it over with and go home, that's what I say.”
“Found it, sir,” said the sergeant.
“Right.” Lavaeolus didn't look round. “O-kay.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let's sort this out, and then we can get an early night. Would you care to accompany me? Your pet might be useful.”
“What are we going to do?” said Rincewind suspiciously. “We're just going to meet some people.” “Is it dangerous?” A stone smashed through the roof of a building nearby. “No, not really,” said Lavaeolus. "Compared to staying here, I mean. And if the rest to
them try to storm the place, you know, in a proper military way - " The hole led into a tunnel. The tunnel, after winding a bit, led to stairs. Lavaeolus
mooched along it, occasionally kicking bits of fallen masonry as if he had a personal grudge against them. “Er,” said Rincewind, “where does this lead?” “Oh, it's just a secret passageway into the centre of this citadel.” “You know, I thought it would be something like that,” said Rincewind. "I've got an
instinct for it, you know. And I expect all the really top Tsorteans will be up there, will they?“ ”I hope so,“ said Lavaeolus, trudging up the steps. ”With lots of guards?“ ”Dozens, I imagine.“ ”Highly trained, too?"
Lavaeolus nodded. “The best.” “And this is where we're going,” said Rincewind, determined to explore the full horror of the plan as one probes the site of a rotting tooth.
“That's right.” “All six of us.” “And your box, of course.” “Oh, yes,” said Rincewind, making a face in the darkness. The sergeant tapped him gently on the shoulder and leaned forward. “Don't you worry about the captain, sir” he said. "He's got the finest military brain on the
continent.“ ”How do you know? Has anyone ever seen it?“ said Rincewind. ”You see, sir, what it is, he likes to get it over with without anyone getting hurt, sir,
especially him. That's why he dreams up things like the horse, sir. And bribing people and that. We got into civvies last night and come in and got drunk in a pub with one of the palace cleaners, see, and found out about this tunnel."
“Yes, but secret passages!” said Rincewind. “There'll be guards and everything at the other end!” “No, sir. They use it to store the cleaning things, sir.” There was a clang in the darkness ahead of them. Lavaeolus had tripped over a mop. “Sergeant?” “Sir?” “Just open the door, will you?” Eric was tugging at Rincewind's robe. “What?” said Rincewind testily. “You know who Lavaeolus is, don't you?” whispered Eric.
“Well -”
“He's Lavaeolus!”
“Get away?” “Don't you know the Classics?” “That isn't one of these horse race we're supposed to remember, is it?” Eric rolled his eyes. "Lavaeolus was responsible for the fall of Tsort, on account of being