'Oh, come on,' said Cohen. The men edged closer, each waiting for one of the others to make the first move.

Cohen took a few steps forward, waving his arms wearily. 'Oh, no/ he said. 'It makes me ashamed, honestly it does. This is not how you attack someone, all milling around like a lot of millers; when you attack someone the important thing to remember is the element of... surprise—'

Ten seconds later he turned to Rincewind.

'All right, Mister Wizard. You can open your eyes now.'

One guard was upside down in a tree, one was a pair of feet sticking out of a snowdrift, two were slumped against rocks, and one was... generally around the place. Here and there. Certainly hanging out.

Cohen sucked his wrist thoughtfully.

'I reckon that last one came within an inch of getting me,' he said. 'I must be getting old.'

'Why are you h—' Rincewind paused. One packet of curiosity overtook the first one. 'How old are you, exactly?'

'Is this still the Century of the Fruitbat?'

'Yes.'

'Oh, I dunno. Ninety? Could be ninety. Maybe ninety-five?' Cohen fished the keys out of the snow and ambled over to the group of men, who were cowering even more. He unlocked the first set of manacles and handed the shocked prisoner the keys.

'Bugger off, the lot of you,' he said, not unkindly. 'And don't get caught again.'

He strolled back to Rincewind.

'What brings you into this dump, then?'

'Well—'

'Interestin',' said Cohen, and that was that. 'But can't stay chatting all day, got work to do. You coming, or what?'

'What?'

'Please yourself.' Cohen tied the chain around his waist as a makeshift belt and wedged a couple of swords in it.

'Incidentally,' he said, 'what did you do with the Barking Dog?'

'What dog?'

'I expect it doesn't matter.'

Rincewind scuttled after the retreating figure, It wasn't that he felt safe when Cohen the Barbarian was around. No-one was safe when Cohen the Barbarian was around. Something seemed to have gone wrong with the ageing process there. Cohen had always been a barbarian hero because barbaric heroing was all he knew how to do. And while he got old he seemed to get harder, like oak.

But he was a known figure, and therefore comforting. He just wasn't in the right place.

'No future in it, back around the Ramtops,' said Cohen, as they trudged through the snow. 'Fences and farms, fences and farms everywhere. You kill a dragon these days, people complain. You know what? You know what happened?'

'No. What happened?'

'Man came up to me, said my teeth were offensive to trolls. What about that, eh?'

'Well, they are made of—'

'I said they never complained to me.'

'Er, did you ever give them a cha—'

'I said, I see a troll up in the mountains with a necklace o' human skulls, I say good luck to him. Silicon Anti-Defamation League, my bottom. It's the same all over. So I thought I'd try my luck the other side of the icecap.'

'Isn't it dangerous, going around the Hub?' said Rincewind.

'Used to be,' said Cohen, grinning horribly.

'Until you left, you mean?'

' 'S right. You still got that box on legs?'

'On and off. It hangs around. You know.'

Cohen chuckled.

'I'll get the bloody lid off that thing one day, mark my words. Ah. Horses.'

There were five, looking depressed in a small depression.

Rincewind looked back at the freed prisoners, who seemed to be milling around aimlessly.

'We're not taking all five horses, are we?' he said.

'Sure. We might need 'em,'

'But... one for me, one for you... What's the rest for?'

'Lunch, dinner and breakfast?'

'It's a little... unfair, isn't it? Those people look a bit bewildered.'

Cohen sneered the sneer of a man who has never been truly imprisoned even when he's been locked up.

'I freed 'em,' he said. 'First time they've ever been free. Comes as a bit of a shock, I expect. They're waiting for someone to tell 'em what to do next.'

'Er...'

'I could tell 'em to starve to death, if you like.'

'Er...'

'Oh, all right. You lot! Formee uppee right now toot sweet chop chop!'

The small crowd hurried over to Cohen and stood expectantly behind his horse.

'I tell you, I don't regret it. This is the land of opportunity,' said Cohen, urging the horse into a trot. The embarrassed free men jogged behind. 'Know what? Swords are banned. No-one except the army, the nobles and the Imperial Guard are allowed to own weapons. Couldn't believe it! Gods' own truth, though. Swords are outlawed, so only outlaws have swords. And that,' said Cohen, giving the landscape another glittering grin, 'suits me fine.'

'But... you were in chains...' Rincewind ventured.

'Glad you reminded me,' said Cohen. 'Yeah. We'll find the rest of the lads, then I'd better try and find who did it and talk to them about that.'

The tone of his voice suggested very clearly that all they were likely to say would be, 'Highly enjoyable! Your wife is a big hippo!'

'Lads?'

'No future in one-man barbarianing,' said Cohen. 'Got myself a... Well, you'll see.'

Rincewind turned to look at the trailing party, and at the snow, and at Cohen.

'Er. Do you know where Hunghung is?'

'Yeah. It's the boss city. We're on our way. Sort of. It's under siege right now.'

'Siege? You mean like... lots of armies outside, everyone inside eating rats, that sort of thing?'

'Yeah, but this is the Counterweight Continent, see, so it's a polite siege. Well, I call it a siege... The old Emperor's dying, so the big families are all waiting to move in. That's how it goes in these parts. There's five different top nobs and they're all watching one another, and no-one's going to be the first to move. You've got to think sideways to understand anything in this place.'

'Cohen?'

'Yes, lad?'

'What the hell's going on?'

Lord Hong was watching the tea ceremony. It took three hours, but you couldn't hurry a good cuppa.

He was also playing chess, against himself. It was the only way he could find an opponent of his calibre but, currently, things were stalemated because both sides were adopting a defensive strategy which was, admittedly, brilliant.

Lord Hong sometimes wished he could have an enemy as clever as himself. Or, because Lord Hong was indeed very clever, he sometimes wished for an enemy almost as clever as himself, one perhaps given to flights of strategic genius with nevertheless the occasional fatal flaw. As it was, people were so stupid. They seldom thought more than a dozen moves ahead.

Assassination was meat and drink to the Hunghung court; in fact, meat and drink were often the means. It was a game that everyone played. It was just another kind of move. It was not considered good manners to assassinate the Emperor, of course. The correct move was to put the Emperor in a position where you had control. But moves at this level were very dangerous; happy as the warlords were to squabble amongst themselves, they could be relied upon to unite against any who looked in danger of rising above the herd. And Lord Hong had risen like bread, by making everyone else believe that, while they were the obvious candidate for the Emperorship, Lord Hong would be better than any of the alternatives.

It amused him to know that they thought he was plotting for the Imperial pearl...

He glanced up from the board and caught the eye of the young woman who was busy at the tea table. She blushed and looked away.

The door slid back. One of his men entered, on his knees.

'Yes?' said Lord Hong.

'Er... O lord...'

Lord Hong sighed. People seldom began like this when the news was good.