Terry Pratchett - The Dark Side of the Sun

'I expect so. How come everyone knows?'

'Well, you haven't been keeping it a secret, have you? United Spies are in on it too. Ptarmigan has to send special squads out every hour to sweep up those little robot insects they keep dropping on the palace. One got into the kitchen and opened the oven on a soufflée, and that's outside all the rules!'

'Is one of the ships Creapii?'

'I don't know.'

Tarli leaned round his young stepmother and nodded. 'My apologies, O Dom, but I have been overhearing the conversation—'

"Eavesdropping, ' said Keja sternly.

'—and as a matter of fact one of the ships is a Creapii VMFTL squareship, Chain Stars registration.'

'Chain Stars, eh? Oh, boy.' A thought struck him and his hand flew to his belt. 'Keja, was there a bottle—'

'It's safe. My maid said one of the security men told her that it contains the Water of Life. Not that I'm prying, of course.'

'Of course not. In the last few days I've nearly been killed, overdrawn at the Bank, I've breathed for an hour underwater, I've got into orbit by a very bawdy method, and I've had a swim on the surface of a star. Oh yes. And I walked out of the Maze on Minos even though my chest was smashed up. Life is one gay round. Someone ought to start writing my biography now, before it's too late!'

'Try him, then,' said Keja, indicating a diner on the far side of the table. Dom recognized the scarred man and his battered robot.

'That's Charles Sub-Lunar, isn't it? The one they call the Renaissance Man?'

Keja saw the man and the robot looking at them, and raised her glass and smiled. Under cover of this she said: 'Yes, and Joker expert. And historian. His poetry is rather good, too. Did you know he was the one who deciphered the Joker language?'

‘The poet and the mad computer,' quoted Dom.

'Yes, though he's not really mad. I don't know who the poet was. His servant is quite fascinating, too, don't you think he looks fascinating with all those scars, Dom? Dom?'

'Uh, yes,' said Dom, slowly. He twirled his wineglass thoughtfully. 'Funny, isn't it, you form an impression of people . . . I think I'd like a word with him. Excuse me.'

Dom sidled round the table, but had not been careful enough. Joan caught him lightly by the arm - lightly it looked, at least, but there was a knowledge of anatomy behind the hold.

'Good evening, grandson. You have been mixing with some very bad company, it seems. Ways is the chief torpedo of the Joker Institute.'

Dom sighed. 'All right, grandmother. I suppose you have been prying into my mind?'

'Well, you were unconscious and it naturally seemed the logical thing to do.'

'Oh, naturally.'

'Don't be peevish, this is real life. Every security man in the galaxy knows about Ways. Once he assassinated the deputy-chief of United Spies, you know. He's a robot with a killer instinct. I see you've still got that swamp crawler?'

'He's spent a little time with Ways. I think it's likely that he's been booby-trapped,' said Dom. 'I wouldn't worry too much.'

'You think you're invulnerable. Don't bank on it,' said Joan. She glared at Ig.

The Emperor rose slowly to his feet and rang a small black bell. The diners began to leave the table. Dom saw Sub-Lunar and his serving man disappear into the crowd.

'What happens now?' he asked. 'I understand everyone's waiting for me to make a move.'

'Are you going to discover Jokers World?'

Most of the diners had left. The Emperor bowed to them and left them seated. Across the room Hrsh-Hgn and Isaac chatted to Tarli.

'I think so,' said Dom. 'I'm getting the . . . the sort of outline of it already. It's not a planet. I mean, it may be a planet but... well, Widdershins is a planet, with an orbit, a hydrosphere and a magnetic field and so on, but Widdershins is also a world and a culture.'

'I see,' said Joan, 'I wonder where it could be?'

'I've got five days, less now, so that rules out most places outside the life-bubble. I think...' Dom stopped. 'You are pumping me'

'For the sake of Widdershins. I don't want you to find Jokers World and lose it to a mob. You don't care about politics. I tell you, used properly this could be the making of the Sabalos family.'

'You mean that seriously?'

'I do.' She rose. 'We'll talk about this later. Are you coming to see the Masque?'

'You must!' said Tarli, hurrying round the table. 'It's a special production. Sub-Lunar wrote it on the ship coming here. Father likes a little entertainment after dinner.'

Dom thought it was mildly entertaining. It was a skit on current Earth-Outer Worlds politics, which were always good for a laugh, written in early Greek style. All the characters wore larger-than-life masks, spangled with jewels. The chorus was robotic.

Then it nailed Dom to his seat.

The chief protagonist was a goat-legged Chairman Pan, complete with horn and.syrynx. It happened after the bit of business with the First Sirian Bank, a bloated silver globe on spindly legs.

The Bank said: 'do you think, then, that man can PREVENT HIMSELF BEING OUSTED BY ROBOTS?'

Pan capered across the stage: 'Certainly. What robot could do my job? They can only go down to Class Ones, you know.'

Chorus: 'Brekekekex, co-ax, co-axial!'

Pan: 'But list! Who is this weary traveller?'

Another actor lurched on to the stage. He was a bright, vivid green. He was staggering under the combined weight of a pair of winged sandals that left a trail of feathers, a large sword made of rubber, a giant bottle of water and, on one emerald shoulder, a taxidermist's nightmare of glass eyeballs, feathers, tufts of hair and badly-assorted claws.

Pan: 'Good grief!' What are you doing with that strange, ill-assorted creature?'

Traveller: 'It's not a strange creature, it's my pet.'

Pan: 'I was talking to your pet. What do you seek, traveller? Get on with it so we can continue with this sketch.'

The traveller peered myopically around the stage and then glared at the audience.

'I'm looking for a world of Jokers,' he muttered.

Pan said: 'Try Earth. They are quite good-humoured on Terra Novae, too. Oh, those Jokers. Be off with you! They don't exist - do they?'

'Yes and no. That is, no and yes.'

Bank: ' everyone knows they have moved to the UNIVERSE NEXT DOOR— '

Pan: '—so why not look on the dark side of the sun?'

Traveller: 'Gosh, yes! The dark side of the sun, you say? I'll go there directly.' He shuffled off.

Dom woke next morning in a bedroom almost oppressive in its wealth, washed in a gold bowl and strolled down to the dining hall. He was late for breakfast. Most of the night had been spent in a fruitless discussion with Joan. There had been a row when Ig was taken to a laboratory and probed for every conceivable weapon, to the little animal's distress. Nothing was found, but Ig, coiled across Dom's shoulders, was strangely silent today.

Sub-Lunar had left after the Masque, after taking an urgent call from Earth.

Down in the hall a floating sideboard had been laid out with large dishes under covers. Dom padded silently over the carpet, experimentally lifting lids. One covered a dish of smoked red fish, another the considerable wreckage of a boar's head. A third was just fruit. Being a Widdershine, he settled at last for the fish, and sat down at one end of the empty table. Out of interest he lifted the lid of a large tureen, and slammed it down hurriedly; the Emperor had been entertaining drosk guests.

A few minutes later a small door across the hall opened and a girl tiptoed in. She was small, and dark like Tarli. Dom g r inned. She blushed, and sidled along the sideboard with her eyes fixed on him.

She piled a small dish with little fish and sat down at the opposite side of the table. Dom stared at her. In the morning light she seemed to glow. It was uncanny. The glow followed her, so that when she moved an arm she left a faint, golden ghost in the air. An electro-physical effect, but still impressive.