'Come on, you bastard,' he said. 'There's water. You can smell it. All you have to do is work out how to get there!'
He turned to the assembled soldiers. They were staring at him with expressions of amazement, apart from those who hadn't removed their helmets and who were staring at him with expressions of metallic ferocity.
Teppic snatched a water skin from one of them, pulled out the stopper and tipped it on to the ground in front of the camel's twitching nose.
'There's a river here,' he hissed. 'You know where it is, all you've got to do is go there!'
The soldiers looked around nervously. So did several Tsorteans, who had wandered up to see what was going on.
You Bastard got to his feet, knees trembling, and started to spin around in a circle. Teppic clung on.
. . . let d equal 4, thought You Bastard desperately. Let a.d equal 90. Let not-d equal 45 . . .
'I need a stick!' shouted Teppic, as he was whirled past the sergeant. 'They never understand anything unless you hit them with a stick, it's like punctuation to a camel!'
'Is a sword any good?'
'No!'
The sergeant hesitated, and then passed Teppic his spear. He grabbed it point-end first, fought for balance, and then brought it smartly across the camel's flank, raising a cloud of dust and hair.
e going home,' he said.
They had chosen the first pyramid at random. The king peered at the cartouche on the door.
'“Blessed is Queen Far-re-ptah”,' read Dil dutifully, “Ruler of the Skies, Lord of the Djel, Master of-”
'Grandma Pooney,' said the king. 'She'll do.' He looked at their startled faces. 'That's what I used to call her when I was a little boy. I couldn't pronounce Far-re-ptah, you see. Well, go on then. Stop gawking. Break the door down.'
Gern hefted the hammer uncertainly.
'It's a pyramid, master,' he said, appealing to Dil. 'You're not supposed to open them.'
'What do you suggest, lad? We stick a tableknife in the slot and wiggle it about?' said the king.
'Do it, Gern,' said Dil. 'It will be all right.'
Gern shrugged, spat on his hands which were, in fact, quite damp enough with the sweat of terror, and swung.
'Again,' said the king.
The great slab boomed as the hammer hit it, but it was granite, and held. A few flakes of mortar floated down, and then the echoes came back, shunting back and forth along the dead avenues of the necropolis.
'Again.'
Gern's biceps moved like turtles in grease.
This time there was an answering boom, such as might be caused by a heavy lid crashing to the ground, far away.
They stood in silence, listening to a slow shuffling noise from inside the pyramid.
'Shall I hit it again, sire?' said Gern. They both waved him into silence.
The shuffling grew closer.
Then the stone moved. It stuck once or twice, but never the less it moved, slowly, pivoting on one side so that a crack of dark shadow appeared. Dil could just make out a darker shape in the blackness.
'Yes?' it said.