Cohen was familiar with city gates. He'd broken down a number in his time, by battering ram, siege gun and on one occasion with his head.
But the gates of Hunghung were pretty damn good gates. They weren't like the gates of Ankh-Morpork, which were usually wide open to attract the spending customer and whose concession to defence was the sign 'Thank You For Not Attacking Our City. Bonum Diem'. These things were big and made of metal and there was a guardhouse and a squad of unhelpful men in black armour.
'Teach?'
'Yes, Cohen?'
'Why're we doing this? I thought we were going to use the invisible duck the mice use.'
Mr Saveloy waggled a finger.
'That's for the Forbidden City itself. I hope we'll find that inside. Now, remember your lessons,' he said. 'It's important that you all learn how to behave in cities.'
'I know how to bloody well behave in cities,' said Truckle the Uncivil. 'Pillage, ravish, loot, set fire to the damn place on your way out. Just like towns only it takes longer.'
'That's all very well if you're just passing through,' said Mr Saveloy, 'but what if you want to come back next day?'
'It ain't bloody well there next day, mister.'
'Gentlemen! Bear with me. You will have to learn the ways of civilization!'
People couldn't just walk through. There was a line. And the guards gathered rather offensively around each cowering visitor to examine their papers.
And then it was Cohen's turn.
'Papers, old man?'
Cohen nodded happily, and handed the guard captain a piece of paper on which was written, in Mr Saveloy's best handwriting:
WE ARE WANDERING MADMEN WHO HAVE NO PAPERS. SORRY.
The guard's gaze lifted from the paper and met Cohen's cheerful grin.
'Indeed,' he said nastily. 'Can't you speak, grandfather?'
Cohen, still grinning, looked questioningly at Mr Saveloy. They hadn't rehearsed this part.
'Foolish dummy,' said the guard.
Mr Saveloy looked outraged.
'I thought you were supposed to show special consideration for the insane!' he said.
'You cannot be insane without papers to say you're insane,' said the guard.
'Oh, I'm fed up with this,' said Cohen. 'I said it wouldn't work if we came across a thick guard.'
'Insolent peasant!'
'I'm not as insolent as my friends here,' said Cohen.
The Horde nodded.
'That's us, flatfoot.'
'Bum to you.'
'Whut?'
'Extremely foolish soldier.'
'Whut?'
The captain was taken aback. Deeply ingrained in the Agatean psyche was the habit of obedience. But even stronger was a veneration of one's ancestors and a respect for the elderly, and the captain had never seen anyone so elderly while still vertical. They practically were ancestors. The one in the wheelchair certainly smelled like one.
'Take them to the guardhouse!' he shouted.
The Horde let themselves be manhandled, and did it quite well. Mr Saveloy had spent hours training them in this, since he knew he was dealing with men whose response to a tap on the shoulder was to turn around and hack off someone's arm.
It was crowded in the guardhouse, with the Horde and the guards and with Mad Hamish's wheelchair. One of the guards looked down at Hamish, glowering under his blanket.
'What do you have there, grandfather?'
A sword came up through the cloth and stabbed the guard in the thigh.
'Whut? Whut? Whutzeesay?'
'He said, "Aargh!", Hamish,' said Cohen, a knife appearing in his hand. With one movement his skinny arms had the captain in a lock, the knife at his throat.
'Whut?'
'He said, "Aargh!" '
'Whut? I ain't even married!'
Cohen put a little more pressure on the captain's neck.
'Now then, friend,' he said. 'You can have it the easy way, see, or the hard way. It's up to you.'
'Blood-sucking pig! You call this the easy way?'
'Well, I ain't sweatin'.'
'May you live in interesting times! I would rather die than betray my Emperor!'
'Fair enough.'
It took the captain only a fraction of a second to realize that Cohen, being a man of his word, assumed that other people were too. He might, i…
