'So much quicker than all that heaving stuff around, I expect,' said Teppic.
'It had a certain glory, sire,' said Dios. 'Now, if I may suggest . . .
'Oh. Yes. Press on, by all means.'
Ptaclusp wiped his forehead, and ran to the edge of the quarry.
He waved a cloth.
All things are defined by names. Change the name, and you change the thing. Of course there is a lot more to it than that, but paracosmically that is what it boils down to.
Ptaclusp IIb tapped the stone lightly with his staff. The air above it wavered in the heat and then, shedding a little dust, the block rose gently until it bobbed a few feet off the ground, held in check by mooring ropes.
That was all there was to it. Teppic had expected some thunder, or at least a gout of flame. But already the workers were clustering around another block, and a couple of men were towing the first block down towards the site.
'Very impressive,' he said sadly.
'Indeed, sire,' said Dios. 'And now, we must go back to the palace. It will soon be time for the Ceremony of the Third Hour.
'Yes, yes, all right,' snapped Teppic. 'Very well done, Ptaclusp. Keep up the good work.'
Ptaclusp bowed like a seesaw in flustered excitement and confusion.
'Very good, your sire,' he said, and decided to go for the big one. 'May I show your sire the latest plans?'
'The king has approved the plans already,' said Dios. 'And, excuse me if I am mistaken, but it seems that the pyramid is well under construction.'
'Yes, yes, but,' said Ptaclusp, 'it occurred to us, this avenue here, you see, overlooking the entrance, what a place, we thought, for a statue of for instance Hat the Vulture-Headed God of Unexpected Guests at practically cost-'
Dios glanced at the sketches.
'Are those supposed to be wings?' he said.
'Not even cost, not even cost, tell you what I'll do-' said Ptaclusp desperately.
'Is that a nose?' said Dios.
'More a beak, more a beak,' said Ptaclusp. 'Look, O priest, how about-'
'I think not,' said Dios. 'No. I really think not.' He scanned the quarry for Teppic, groaned, thrust the sketches into the builder's hands and started to run.
Teppic had strolled down the path to the waiting chariots, looking wistfully at the bustle around him, and paused to watch a group of workers who were dressing a corner piece. They froze when they felt his gaze on them, and stood sheepishly watching him.
'Well well,' said Teppic, inspecting the stone, although all he knew about stonemasonry could have been chiselled on a sand grain. 'What a splendid piece of rock.'
He turned to the nearest man, whose mouth fell open.
'You're a stonemason, are you?' he said. 'That must be a very interesting job.'
The man's eyes bulged. He dropped his chisel. 'Erk,' he said.
A hundred yards away Dios's robes flapped around his legs as he pounded down the path. He grasped the hem and galloped along, sandals flapping.
'What's your name?' said Teppic. 'Aaaargle,' said the man, terrified.
'Well, jolly good,' said Teppic, and took his unresisting hand and shook it.
'Sire!' Dios bellowed. 'No!'