Teppic nodded. 'Very well.'
The next case was a dispute over the rent of a hundred square yards of riverside land. Teppic listened carefully. Good growing land was at a premium in Djeli, since the pyramids took up so much of it. It was a serious matter.
It was especially serious because the land's tenant was by all accounts hard-working and conscientious, while its actual owner was clearly rich and objectionable[19]. Unfortunately, however one chose to stack the facts, he was also in the right.
Teppic thought deeply, and then squinted at Dios. The priest nodded at him.
'It seems to me-' said Teppic, as fast as possible but not fast enough.
'Harken to the judgement of His Greatness the King Teppicymon XXVIII, Lord of the Heavens, Charioteer of the Wagon of the Sun, Steersman of the Barque of the Sun, Guardian of the Secret Knowledge, Lord of the Horizon, Keeper of the Way, the Flail of Mercy, the High-Born One, the Never-Dying King!'
'It seems to me - to us,' Teppic repeated, 'that, taking all matters in consideration beyond those of mere mortal artifice, the true and just outcome in this matter-' He paused. This, he thought, isn't how a good king speaks.
'The landlord has been weighed in the balance and found wanting,' he boomed through the mask's mouth slit. 'We find for the tenant.'
As one man the court turned to Dios, who held a whispered consultation with the other priests and then stood up.
'Hear now the interpreted word of His Greatness the King Teppicymon XXVIII, Lord of the Heavens, Charioteer of the Wagon of the Sun, Steersman of the Barque of the Sun, Guardian of the Secret Knowledge, Lord of the Horizon, Keeper of the Way, the Flail of Mercy, the High-Born One, the Never-Dying King! Ptorne the farmer will at once pay 18 toons in back rent to Prince Imtebos! Prince Imbetos will at once pay 12 toons into the temple offerings of the gods of the river! Long live the king! Bring on the next case!'
Teppic beckoned to Dios again.
'Is there any point in me being here?' he demanded in an overheated whisper.
'Please be calm, sire. If you were not here, how would the people know that justice had been done?'
'But you twist everything I say!'
'No, sire. Sire, you give the judgement of the man. I interpret the judgement of the king.'
'I see,' said Teppic grimly. 'Well, from now on-'
There was a commotion outside the hall. Clearly there was a prisoner outside who was less than confident in the king's justice, and the king didn't blame him. He wasn't at all happy about it, either.
It turned out to be a dark-haired girl, struggling in the arms of two guards and giving them the kind of blows with fist and heel that a man would blush to give. She wasn't wearing the right kind of costume for the job, either. It would be barely adequate for lying around peeling grapes in.
She saw Teppic and, to his secret delight, flashed him a glance of pure hatred. After an afternoon of being treated like a mentally-deficient statue it was a pleasure to find someone prepared to take an interest in him.
He didn't know what she had done, but judging by the thumps she was landing on the guards it was a pretty good bet that she had done it to the very limits of her ability.
Dios bent down to the level of the mask's ear holes.
'Her name is Ptraci,' he said. 'A handmaiden of your father. She has refused to take the potion.'
'What potion?' said Teppic.
'It is customary for a dead king to take servants with him into the netherworld, sire.'
Teppic nodded gloomily. It was a jealously-guarded privilege, the only way a penniless servant could ensure immortality. He remembered grandfather's funeral, and the discreet clamour of the old man's personal servants. It had made father depressed for days.
'Yes, but it's not compulsory,' he said.
'Yes, sire. It is not compulsory.'
'Father had plenty of servants.'
'I gather she was his favourite, sire.'
'What exactly has she done wrong, then?'