Терри Прэтчетт - Guards! Guards! стр 5.

"I bet a king'd have something to say about land­lords," said Brother Plasterer.

"And he'd outlaw people with showy coaches," said Brother Watchtower. "Probably bought with stolen money, too, I reckon."

"I think," said the Supreme Grand Master, tweak­ing things a little, "that a wise king would only, as it were, outlaw showy coaches for the undeserving. "

There was a thoughtful pause in the conversation as the assembled Brethren mentally divided the universe into the deserving and the undeserving, and put them­selves on the appropriate side.

"It'd be only fair," said Brother Watchtower slowly. "But Brother Plasterer was right, really. I can't see a scion manifesting his destiny just because Brother Doorkeeper thinks the woman in the vegetable shop keeps giving him funny looks. No offense."

"And bloody short weight," said Brother Door­keeper. "And she"

"Yes, yes, yes," said the Supreme Grand Master. "Truly the right-thinking folk of Ankh-Morpork are beneath the heel of the oppressors. However, a king generally reveals himself in rather more dramatic cir­cumstances. Like a war, for example."

Things were going well. Surely, for all their self-centred stupidity, one of them would be bright enough to make the suggestion?

"There used to be some old prophecy or some­thing," said Brother Plasterer. "My grandad told me." His eyes glazed with the effort of dramatic re­call. " 'Yea, the king will come bringing Law and Justice, and know nothing but the Truth, and Protect and Serve the People with his Sword.' You don't all have to look at me like that, I didn't make it up."

"Oh, we all know that one. And a fat lot of good that'd be," said Brother Watchtower. "I mean, what does he do, ride in with Law and Truth and so on like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? Hallo every­one," he squeaked, "I'm the king, and that's Truth over there, watering his horse. Not very practical, is it? Nah. You can't trust old legends."

"Why not?" said Brother Dunnykin, in a peeved voice.

" 'Cos they're legendary. That's how you can tell," said Brother Watchtower.

"Sleeping princesses is a good one," said Brother Plasterer. "Only a king can wake 'em up."

"Don't be daft," said Brother Watchtower severely. "We haven't got a king, so we can't have princesses. Stands to reason."

"Of course, in the old days it was easy," said Brother Doorkeeper happily.

"Why?"

"He just had to

kill a dragon."

The Supreme Grand Master clapped his hands to­gether and offered a silent prayer to any god who hap­pened to be listening. He'd been right about these people. Sooner or later their rambling little minds took them where you wanted them to go.

"What an interesting idea," he trilled.

"Wouldn't work," said Brother Watchtower dourly. "There ain't no big dragons now."

"There could be."

The Supreme Grand Master cracked his knuckles.

"Come again?" said Brother Watchtower.

"I said there could be."

There was a nervous laugh from the depths of Brother Watchtower's cowl.

"What, the real thing? Great big scales and wings?"

"Yes."

"Breath like a blast furnace."

"Yes."

"Them big claw things on its feet?"

"Talons? Oh, yes. As many as you want."

"What do you mean, as many as I want?"

"I would hope it's self-explanatory, Brother Watch-tower. If you want dragons, you can have dragons. You can bring a dragon here. Now. Into the city."

"Me?"

"All of you. I mean us," said the Supreme Grand Master.

Brother Watchtower hesitated. "Well, I don't know if that's a very good-"

"And it would obey your every command."

That stopped them. That pulled them up. That dropped in front of their weasely little minds like a lump of meat in a dog pound.

"Can you just repeat that?" said Brother Plasterer slowly.

"You can control it. You can make it do whatever you want."

"What? A real dragon?"

The Supreme Grand Master's eyes rolled in the pri­vacy of his hood.

"Yes, a real one. Not a little pet swamp dragon. The genuine article."

"But I thought they were, you know . . . miffs."

The Supreme Grand master leaned forward.

"'They were myths and they were real," he said loudly. "Both a wave and a particle."

"You've lost me there," said Brother Plasterer.

"I will demonstrate, then. The book please, Brother Fingers. Thank you. Brethren, I must tell you that when I was undergoing my tuition by the Secret Mas­ters"

"The what, Supreme Grand Master?" said Brother Plasterer.

"Why don't you listen? You never listen. He said the Secret Masters!" said Brother Watchtower. "You know, the venerable sages what live on some mountain and secretly run everything and taught him all this lore and that, and can walk on fires and that. He told us last week. He's going to teach us, aren't you, Supreme Grand Master," he finished obsequiously.

"Oh, the Secret Masters," said Brother Plasterer. "Sorry. It's these mystic hoods. Sorry. Secret. I re­member."

But when I rule the city, the Supreme Grand Master said to himself, there is going to be none of this. I shall form a new secret society of keen-minded and intelligent men, although not too intelligent of course, not too intelligent. And we will overthrow the cold tyrant and we will usher in a new age of enlightenment and fraternity and humanism and Ankh-Morpork will become a Utopia and people like Brother Plasterer will be roasted over slow fires if I have any say in the mat­ter, which I will. And his figgin