Evil Harry stood frozen with terror as Cohen advanced across the snow, hand raised.
“You tipped off the gods, Harry,” said Cohen.
“We all heard yez,” said Mad Hamish.
“But it’s okay,” Cohen added. “Makes it more interestin’.” His hand came down and slapped the small man on the back.
“We thought: That Evil Harry, he may be dumber’n a thick brick, but betrayin’ us at a time like this… well, that’s what we call nerve,” said Cohen. “I’ve known a few Evil Dark Lords in my time, Harry, but I’d def’nit’ly give you three great big goblins’ heads for style. You might have never made it into the, you know, big Dark Lord league, but you’ve got… well, Harry, you’ve definitely got the Wrong Stuff.”
Evil Harry looked down and shuffled his feet, his face a battle between pride and relief.
“Good of you to say that, lads,” he mumbled. “I mean, you know, if it was up to me I wouldn’t do this to yer, but I got a reputation to–”
“I said we understand,” said Cohen. “It’s just like with us. You see a big hairy thing galloping towards you, you don’t stop to think: Is this a rare species on the point of extinction? No, you hack its head off. ‘Cos that’s heroing, am I right? An’ you see someone, you betray ‘em, quick as wink, ‘cos that’s villaining.”
There was a murmur of approval from the rest of the Horde. In a strange way, this too was part of the Code.
– on the Code | Terry Pratchett, The Last Hero