Guards Guards - Diet

“Diet,” said the head thief, in a hollow voice.

“Yes,” said Wonse. His voice was almost a squeak. Sweat was dripping down his face. The head assassin had once heard the word “rictus” and wondered when you should use it correctly to describe someone's expression, and now he knew. That was what Wonse's face had become; it was the ghastly rictus of someone trying not to hear the words his own mouth was saying.

“We, er, we thought,” said the head assassin, very carefully, “that the dr- the king, well, must have been arranging matters for himself, over the weeks.”

“Ah, but poor stuff, you know. Poor stuff. Stray animals and so forth,” said Wonse, staring hard at the tabletop. “Obviously, as king, such makeshifts are no longer appropriate.”

The silence grew and took on a texture. The councillors thought hard, especially about the meal they had just eaten. The arrival of a huge trifle with a lot of cream on it only served to concentrate their minds.

“Er,” said the head merchant, “how often is the king hungry?”

“All the time,” said Wonse, “but it eats once a month. It is really a ceremonial occasion.”

“Of course,” said the head merchant. “It would be.”

“And, er,” said the head assassin, “when did the king last, er, eat?”

“I'm sorry to say it hasn't eaten properly ever since it came here,” said Wonse.

“Oh.”

“You must understand,” said Wonse, fiddling desperately with his wooden cutlery, “that merely waylaying people like some common assassin-”

“Excuse me-” the head assassin began.

“Some common murderer, I mean-there is no ... satisfaction there. The whole essence of the king's feeding is that it should be, well... an act of bonding between king and subjects. It is, it is perhaps a living allegory. Reinforcing the close links between the crown and the community,” he added.

“The precise nature of the meal-” the head thief began, almost choking on the words. “Are we talking about young maidens here?”

“Sheer prejudice,” said Wonse. “The age is immaterial. Marital status is, of course, of importance. And social class. Something to do with flavour, I believe.” He leaned forward, and now his voice was pain-filled and urgent and, they felt, genuinely his own for the first time. “Please consider it!” he hissed. “After all, just one a month! In exchange for so much! The families of people of use to the king, Privy Councilors such as yourselves, would not, of course, even be considered. And when you think of all the alternatives ...”

***

Guards Guards - p257-258