Something like this only happened once in a business career.
“Can do you a very nice black marble facing on the outside,” he said, without looking up. “We may have just enough in the quarry. O king of the celestial orbs,” he added hurriedly.
“Very good,” said Teppic.
Ptaclusp picked up a fresh tablet. “Shall we say the capstone picked out in electrum? It’s cheaper to have built in right from the start, you don’t want to use just silver and then say later, I wish I’d had a—”
“Electrum, yes.”
“And the usual offices?”
“What?”
“The burial chamber, that is, and the outer chamber. I’d recommend the Memphis, very select, that comes with a matching extra large treasure room, so handy for all those little things one cannot bear to leave behind.” Ptaclusp turned the tablet over and started on the other side. “And of course a similar suite for the Queen, I take it? O King who shall live forever.”
“Eh? Oh, yes. Yes. I suppose so,” said Teppic, glancing at Dios. “Everything. You know.”
“Then there’s mazes,” said Ptaclusp, trying to keep his voice steady. “Very popular this era. Very important, your maze, it’s no good deciding you ought to have put a maze in after the robbers have been. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I’d go for the Labrys every time. Like we say, they may get in all right, but they’ll never get out. It costs that little bit extra, but what’s money at a time like this? O master of the waters.”
Something we don’t have, said a warning voice in the back of Teppic’s head. He ignored it. He was in the grip of destiny.
“Yes,” he said, straightening up. “The Labrys. Two of them.”
Ptaclusp’s stylus went through his tablet.
“His ‘n’ hers, O stone of stones,” he croaked. “Very handy, very convenient. With selection of traps from stock? We can offer deadfalls, pitfalls, sliders, rolling balls, dropping spears, arrows—”
“Yes, yes,” said Teppic. “We’ll have them. We’ll have them all. All of them.”
The architect took a deep breath.
“And of course you’ll require all the usual steles, avenues, ceremonial sphinxes—” he began.
“Lots,” said Teppic. “We leave it entirely up to you.”
Ptaclusp mopped his brow.
“Fine,” he said. “Marvellous.” He blew his nose. “Your father, if I may make so bold, O sower of the seed, is extremely fortunate in having such a dutiful son. I may add—”
“You may go, ” said Dios. “And we will expect work to start imminently.”
“Without delay, I assure you,” said Ptaclusp. “Er.”
He seemed to be wrestling with some huge philosophical problem.
“Yes?” said Dios coldly.
“It’s uh. There’s the matter of uh. Which is not to say uh. Of course, oldest client, valued customer, but the fact is that uh. Absolutely no doubt about credit worthiness uh. Would not wish to suggest in any way whatsoever that uh.”
Dios gave him a stare that would have caused a sphinx to blink and look away.
“You wish to say something?” he said. “His majesty’s time is extremely limited.”
Ptaclusp worked his jaw silently, but the result was a foregone conclusion. Even gods had been reduced to sheepish mumbling in the face of Dios’s face. And the carved snakes on his staff seemed to be watching him too.
“Uh. No, no. Sorry. I was just, uh, thinking aloud. I’ll depart, then, shall I? Such a lot of work to be done. Uh.” He bowed low.
He was halfway to the archway before Dios added: “Completion in three months. In time for Inundation.” *
“ What? ”
“You are talking to the 1,398th monarch,” said Dios icily.
Ptaclusp swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I mean, what? , O great king. I mean, block haulage alone will take. Uh.” The architect’s lips trembled as he tried out various comments and, in his imagination, ran them full tilt into Dios’s stare. “Tsort wasn’t built in a day,” he mumbled.
“We do not believe we
“Can do you a very nice black marble facing on the outside,” he said, without looking up. “We may have just enough in the quarry. O king of the celestial orbs,” he added hurriedly.
“Very good,” said Teppic.
Ptaclusp picked up a fresh tablet. “Shall we say the capstone picked out in electrum? It’s cheaper to have built in right from the start, you don’t want to use just silver and then say later, I wish I’d had a—”
“Electrum, yes.”
“And the usual offices?”
“What?”
“The burial chamber, that is, and the outer chamber. I’d recommend the Memphis, very select, that comes with a matching extra large treasure room, so handy for all those little things one cannot bear to leave behind.” Ptaclusp turned the tablet over and started on the other side. “And of course a similar suite for the Queen, I take it? O King who shall live forever.”
“Eh? Oh, yes. Yes. I suppose so,” said Teppic, glancing at Dios. “Everything. You know.”
“Then there’s mazes,” said Ptaclusp, trying to keep his voice steady. “Very popular this era. Very important, your maze, it’s no good deciding you ought to have put a maze in after the robbers have been. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I’d go for the Labrys every time. Like we say, they may get in all right, but they’ll never get out. It costs that little bit extra, but what’s money at a time like this? O master of the waters.”
Something we don’t have, said a warning voice in the back of Teppic’s head. He ignored it. He was in the grip of destiny.
“Yes,” he said, straightening up. “The Labrys. Two of them.”
Ptaclusp’s stylus went through his tablet.
“His ‘n’ hers, O stone of stones,” he croaked. “Very handy, very convenient. With selection of traps from stock? We can offer deadfalls, pitfalls, sliders, rolling balls, dropping spears, arrows—”
“Yes, yes,” said Teppic. “We’ll have them. We’ll have them all. All of them.”
The architect took a deep breath.
“And of course you’ll require all the usual steles, avenues, ceremonial sphinxes—” he began.
“Lots,” said Teppic. “We leave it entirely up to you.”
Ptaclusp mopped his brow.
“Fine,” he said. “Marvellous.” He blew his nose. “Your father, if I may make so bold, O sower of the seed, is extremely fortunate in having such a dutiful son. I may add—”
“You may go, ” said Dios. “And we will expect work to start imminently.”
“Without delay, I assure you,” said Ptaclusp. “Er.”
He seemed to be wrestling with some huge philosophical problem.
“Yes?” said Dios coldly.
“It’s uh. There’s the matter of uh. Which is not to say uh. Of course, oldest client, valued customer, but the fact is that uh. Absolutely no doubt about credit worthiness uh. Would not wish to suggest in any way whatsoever that uh.”
Dios gave him a stare that would have caused a sphinx to blink and look away.
“You wish to say something?” he said. “His majesty’s time is extremely limited.”
Ptaclusp worked his jaw silently, but the result was a foregone conclusion. Even gods had been reduced to sheepish mumbling in the face of Dios’s face. And the carved snakes on his staff seemed to be watching him too.
“Uh. No, no. Sorry. I was just, uh, thinking aloud. I’ll depart, then, shall I? Such a lot of work to be done. Uh.” He bowed low.
He was halfway to the archway before Dios added: “Completion in three months. In time for Inundation.” *
“ What? ”
“You are talking to the 1,398th monarch,” said Dios icily.
Ptaclusp swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I mean, what? , O great king. I mean, block haulage alone will take. Uh.” The architect’s lips trembled as he tried out various comments and, in his imagination, ran them full tilt into Dios’s stare. “Tsort wasn’t built in a day,” he mumbled.
“We do not believe we
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