“Everyone says so,” said Brutha. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“What sort of place is Ankh?”
“A city of a million souls,” said the voice of Om,
“many of them occupying bodies. And a thousand religions. There's even a temple to the small gods! Sounds like a place where people don't have trouble believing things. Not a bad place for a fresh start, I think. With my brains and your . . . with my brains, we should soon be in business again.”
“You don't want to go back to Omnia?”
“No point,” said the voice of Om. “It's always possible to overthrow an established god. People get fed up, they want a change. But you can't overthrow yourself, can you?”
“Who're you talking to, priest?” said Simony.
“I . . . er . . . was praying.”
“Hah! To Om? You might as well pray to that tortoise.”
“Yes.”
“I am ashamed for Omnia,” said Simony. “Look at us. Stuck in the past. Held back by repressive monotheism. Shunned by our neighbors. What good has our God been to us? Gods? Hah!”
“Steady on, steady on,” said Didactylos. “We're on seawater and that's highly conductive armor you're wearing.”
“Oh, I say nothing about other gods,” said Simony quickly. “I have not the right. But Om? A bogeyman for the Quisition! If he exists, let him strike me down here and now!”
Simony drew his sword and held it up at arm's length.
Om sat peacefully on Brutha's lap. “I like this boy,” he said. “He's almost as good as a believer. It's like love and hate, know what I mean?”
Simony sheathed his sword again.
“Thus I refute Om,” he said.
“Yes, but what's the alternative?”
“Philosophy! Practical philosophy! Like Urn's engine there. It could drag Omnia kicking and screaming into the Century of the Fruitbat!”
“Kicking and screaming,” said Brutha.
“By any means necessary,” said Simony.
He beamed at them.
“Don't worry about him,” said Om. “We'll be far away. Just as well, too. I don't think Omnia's going to be a popular country when news of last night's work gets about.”
“But it was Vorbis's fault!” said Brutha out loud. “He started the whole thing! He sent poor Brother Murduck, and then he had him killed so he could blame it on the Ephebians! He never intended any peace treaty! He just wanted to get into the palace!”
“Beats me how he managed that, too,” said Urn. “No one ever got through the labyrinth without a guide. How did he do it?”
Didactylos's blind eyes sought out Brutha.
“Can't imagine,” he said. Brutha hung his head.
“He really did all that?” said Simony.
“Yes.”
“You idiot! You total sandhead!” screamed Om.
“And you'd tell this to other people?” said Simony, insistently.
“I suppose so.”
“You'd speak out against the Quisition?”
Brutha stared miserably into the night. Behind them, the flames of Ephebe had merged into one orange spark.
“All I can say is what I remember,” he said.
“We're dead,” said Om. “Throw me over the side, why don't you? This bonehead will want to take us back to Omnia!”
Simony rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Vorbis has many enemies,” he said, “in certain circumstances. Better he should be killed, but some would call that murder. Or even martyrdom. But a trial . . . if there was evidence . . . if they even thought there could be evidence . . ”
“I can see his mind working!” Om screamed. “We'd all be safe if you'd shut up!”
“Vorbis on trial,” Simony mused.
Brutha blanched at the thought. It was the kind of thought that was almost impossible to hold in the mind. It was the kind of thought that made no sense. Vorbis on trial? Trials were things that happened to other people.
He remembered Brother Murduck. And the soldiers who had been lost in the desert. And all the things that had been done to people, even to Brutha.
“Tell him you can't remember!” Om yelled. “Tell him you can't recall!”
“And if he was on trial,” said Simony, “he'd be found guilty. No one would dare do anything else.”
Thoughts always moved slowly through Brutha's mind, like icebergs. They arrived slowly and left slowly and when they were there they occupied a lot of space, much of it below the surface.
He thought: the worst thing about Vorbis isn't that he's evil, but that he makes good people do evil. He turns people into things like himself. You can't help it. You catch it off him.
There was no sound but the slosh of water against the Unnamed Boat's hull and the spinning of the philosophical engine.
“We'd be caught if we returned to Omnia,” said Brutha slowly.
“We can land away from the ports,” said Simony eagerly.
“Ankh-Morpork!” shouted Om.
“First we should take Mr. Didactylos to Ankh-Morpork,” said Brutha. “Then-I'll come back to Omnia.”
“You can damn well leave me there too!” said Om.
“I'll soon find some believers in Ankh-Morpork, don't you worry, they believe anything there!”
“Never seen Ankh-Morpork,” said Didactylos. “Still, we live and learn. That's what I always say.” He turned to face the soldier. “Kicking and screaming.”
“There's some exiles in Ankh,” said Simony. “Don't worry. You'll be safe there.”