Discworld - The Fifth Elephant Part 13

"Thank you, Gaspode."

"Extremely male. Um. In a very def'nite way. Unmistakably."

"Yes, I think I understand."

"And this is just Words. In Smell, it's a lot more, well, emphatic."

"Thank you for that, Gaspode. And they're heading..."

"Still straight for the mountains, boss," said Gaspode, as kindly as he could. He wasn't certain of the details of human s.e.xual relationships, and the ones he was certain of he still couldn't quite believe, but he knew that they were a lot more complicated than those enjoyed by the doggy fraternity.

"This smell..."

"The extremely male one I was talkin' about?"

"The very one, yes," said Carrot levelly. "You could still smell it if you were on the horse, could you?"

"I could smell it with my nose in a sack of onions."

"Good. Because I think we should move a little faster now..."

"Yes, I thought you'd think that."

Constable Visit saluted when n.o.bby and Colon entered Pseudopolis Yard.

"I thought you ought to know about this right away, sir," he said, flourishing a square of paper. "I just got it off Ronald."

"Who?"

"The imp on the bridge, sir. He paints pictures of carts going too fast? No one had been feeding him," Visit added, in a mildly accusing tone.

"Oh. Someone speeding," said Colon. "So?" He looked again. "That's one of those sedan chairs the deep-down dwarfs use, isn't it? Them trolls must've been moving!"

"It was just after the Scone was stolen," said Visit. "Ronald writes the time in the corner, see? A bit odd, I thought. Like a kind of getaway vehicle, sir?"

"What'd a dwarf want to steal a worthless lump of rock for?" said Colon. "Especially them dark dwarfs. They give me the creeps in those stupid clothes they wear."

Angry silence rang like a dropped girder in a temple. There were three dwarfs in the room.

"You two! You ought to be out on patrol!" barked Sergeant Stronginthearm. "I've got business down at Chitterling Street!" got business down at Chitterling Street!"

All three dwarfs marched out, somehow contriving even to walk angrily.

"Well, what was that about?" said Fred Colon. "Bit touchy, aren't they? Mister Vimes says that sort of thing all the time and no one minds."

"Yes, but that's because he's Sam Vimes," said n.o.bby.

"Oh? And are you inferring I'm not?" said Captain Colon.

"Well...yes, Fred. You're Fred Colon," said n.o.bby patiently.

"Oh, I am am, am I?"

"Yes, Captain Colon."

"And they'd better b.l.o.o.d.y remember it!" Colon snapped. "I'm not a soft touch, me. I'm not going to take insubordination like that! I've always said Vimes was a bit too soft on those dwarfs! They gets the same pay as us and they're only half the size!"

"Yes, yes," said n.o.bby, waving his hands placatingly in a desperate attempt to calm things down, "But, Fred, trolls are twice as big big as us and they get paid the same, so it-" as us and they get paid the same, so it-"

"But they've only got a quarter of the brains, so it's just the same like I said-"

The noise they heard was long and drawn out and menacing. It was the sound of Lance-Constable Bluejohn's chair being pushed back.

The floor creaked as he shambled past Colon, removed his helmet from its peg with one enormous hand, and headed for the door.

"'M goin' on patrol," he mumbled.

"You're not on patrol for another hour," said Constable Visit.

"'M goin' now," said Bluejohn. The room was darkened for a moment as he eclipsed the doorway, and then he was gone.

"Why's everyone so tetchy all of a sudden?" said Colon. The remaining constables tried not to catch his eye.

"Did I hear someone sn.i.g.g.e.r?" he demanded.

"I didn't hear anyone sn.i.g.g.e.r, Sarge," said n.o.bby.

"Oh? Oh? You think I'm a sergeant, do you, Corporal n.o.bbs?"

"No, Fred, I-oh gawds..."

"I can see things have got pretty slack slack around here," said Captain Colon, an evil little gleam in his eye. "I bet you were all thinking, oh, it's only fat old Fred Colon, it's all going to be gravy from now on, eh?" around here," said Captain Colon, an evil little gleam in his eye. "I bet you were all thinking, oh, it's only fat old Fred Colon, it's all going to be gravy from now on, eh?"

"Oh, Fred, no one thinks you're old-oh gawds..."

"Just fat, eh?" Fred glowered around the room. Suddenly, and against all previous evidence, everyone was vitally interested in their paperwork.

"Right! Well, from now on things are going to be different different," said Captain Colon. "Oh yes. I'm up to all your little tricks-who said that?"

"Said what, Captain?" said n.o.bby, who'd also heard the little whispered "We learned 'em all from you, Sarge" but at this moment would eat live coals rather than admit it.

"Someone said something blotto voice," said Captain Colon.

"I'm sure they didn't, Captain," said n.o.bby.

"And I won't be eyeballed like that, neither!"

"No one's looking at you!" wailed n.o.bby.

"Aha, you think I don't know that one?" Colon shouted. "There's plenty of ways to eyeball someone without lookin' at 'em, Corporal. That man over there is earlobing me!"

"I think Constable Ping is just really interested in the report he's writing, Fre-Sar-Captain."

Colon's ruffled feathers settled a little. "Well...all right. And now I'm going up to my office, all right? There'll be some changes changes around here. And someone bring me a cup of tea." around here. And someone bring me a cup of tea."

They watched him go up the stairs, enter the office and slam the door.

"Well, the-" Constable Ping began, but n.o.bby, who had a lot more experience with the Colon personality, waved one hand frantically for silence while he held the other one to his ear, very theatrically.

Then they all heard the door click open again, quietly.

"A change is as good as a rest, I suppose," said Constable Ping.

"As the prophet Ossory says, better an oxen in the potters' fields of Hersheba than a sandal in the wine presses of Gash," said Constable Visit.

"Yeah, so I've heard," said n.o.bby. "Well, I'll just make him his tea. Everyone feels better after a cup of tea."

A couple of minutes later the constables heard Colon shouting, even through the door.

"What is wrong with this mug, Corporal?"

"Nothing, Sa-sir. It's yer mug. You always have your tea in it."

"Ah, but, you see, it is a sergeant's sergeant's mug, Corporal. And what is it that officers drink out of?" mug, Corporal. And what is it that officers drink out of?"

"Well, Carrot and Mister Vimes have got their own mugs-"

"No, they may choose choose to drink out of mugs, Corporal, but Watch regulations say officers have a cup and saucer. Says so right here, regulation three-oh-one, subsection C. Do you understand me?" to drink out of mugs, Corporal, but Watch regulations say officers have a cup and saucer. Says so right here, regulation three-oh-one, subsection C. Do you understand me?"

"I don't think we've got any-"

"You know where the petty cash is. Usually, you're the only person that does. You're dismissed, Corporal."

n.o.bby came down the stairs white-faced, holding the offending receptacle.

The door opened again.

"And none of you are to gob in it, neither!" shouted Colon. "I know that one! And it's to be stirred with a spoon spoon, understand? I know that that one, too." The door slammed. one, too." The door slammed.

Constable Visit took the mug from n.o.bby's shaking hand and patted him on the shoulder.

"Chalky the troll does some very good seconds, I understand-" he began.

The door opened.

"b.l.o.o.d.y china, too!"

The door slammed.

"Anyone seen seen the petty cash lately?" said Constable Ping. the petty cash lately?" said Constable Ping.

n.o.bby reached mournfully into his pocket and pulled out some dollars. He handed them to Visit.

"Better go to that posh shop in Kings Way," he said. "Get one of those cups and saucers thin enough to see through. You know, with gold around the rim." He looked around the other constables. "What're you lot doing here? You won't catch many criminals in here here!"

"Does the petty cash count, n.o.bby?" said Ping.

"Don't you n.o.bby me, Ping! You just get out there! And the rest of you!"

Days rolled by. More accurately, they rattled by. It was a comfortable coach, as coaches went, and as coaches on this road went over continual potholes, it swayed and rocked like a cradle. Initially, the motion was soothing. After a day or two, it palled. So did the scenery.

Vimes stared glumly out of the window.

There was another clacking tower on the horizon. They were putting them near the road, he recalled, even though that wasn't the direct route. Only a fool would build them across the badlands. You had to remember, sometimes, that within a few hundred miles of Ankh-Morpork there were still trolls who hadn't caught on to the fact that humans weren't digestible. Besides, most of the settlements were near the road.

The new guild must be coining money. Even from here he could see the scaffolding, as workers feverishly attached still more gantries and paddles to the main tower. The whole thing would likely be matchsticks after the next hurricane, but by then the owners would probably have earned enough to build another five. Or fifty.

It had all happened so fast. Who'd have believed it? But all the components had been there for years. Semaph.o.r.e was ancient-a century ago the Watch had used a few towers to relay messages to patrolling officers. And gargoyles had nothing to do do all day but sit and watch things, and usually were too unimaginative to make mistakes. all day but sit and watch things, and usually were too unimaginative to make mistakes.

What had had happened was that people thought differently about news now. Once upon a time they'd have used something like this to relay information about troop movements and the death of kings. True, that was something that people need to know, but they didn't need to know it every day. No, what they needed to know every day were things like happened was that people thought differently about news now. Once upon a time they'd have used something like this to relay information about troop movements and the death of kings. True, that was something that people need to know, but they didn't need to know it every day. No, what they needed to know every day were things like How much are cattle selling for in Ankh-Morpork today? How much are cattle selling for in Ankh-Morpork today? Because, if they weren't fetching much, maybe it was better to drive them to Quirm instead. People needed to know these little things. Lots and lots of little things. Little things like Because, if they weren't fetching much, maybe it was better to drive them to Quirm instead. People needed to know these little things. Lots and lots of little things. Little things like Did my ship get there safely? Did my ship get there safely? That's why the Guild was driving h.e.l.l-bent across the mountains on to Genua, four thousand miles away. It took many months for a ship to round Cape Terror. How much, exactly, would a trader pay to know, within a day, when it had arrived? And how much the cargo was worth? Has it been sold? Is there credit to my name in Ankh-Morpork? That's why the Guild was driving h.e.l.l-bent across the mountains on to Genua, four thousand miles away. It took many months for a ship to round Cape Terror. How much, exactly, would a trader pay to know, within a day, when it had arrived? And how much the cargo was worth? Has it been sold? Is there credit to my name in Ankh-Morpork?

Coining money? Oh yes!

And it had caught on as fast as every other craze did in the big city. It seemed as though everybody who could put together a pole, a couple of gargoyles and some secondhand windmill machinery was in on the business. You couldn't go out to dinner these days without seeing people nip out of the restaurant every five minutes to check that there weren't any messages for them on the nearest pole. As for those who cut out the middleman and signaled directly to their friends across a crowded room, causing mild contusions to those nearby...

Vimes shook his head. That That was messages without meaning: telepathy without brains. was messages without meaning: telepathy without brains.

But...it had had been good, hadn't it, last week? When Don't Know Jack had pinched that silver in Sto Lat and then galloped at speed to the sanctuary of the Shades in Ankh-Morpork? And Sergeant Edge of the Sto Lat Watch, who'd trained under Vimes, had put a message on the clacks that arrived on Vimes's desk more than an hour before Jack sauntered through the city gates and into the waiting embrace of Sergeant Detritus? Legally it had been a bit tricky, since the offense hadn't been committed on Ankh-Morpork soil and a semaph.o.r.e message did not, strictly speaking, come under the heading of 'hot pursuit,' but Jack had kindly solved that one by taking a wild swing at the troll, resulting in his arrest for a.s.sault on a Watch Officer and treatment for a broken wrist... been good, hadn't it, last week? When Don't Know Jack had pinched that silver in Sto Lat and then galloped at speed to the sanctuary of the Shades in Ankh-Morpork? And Sergeant Edge of the Sto Lat Watch, who'd trained under Vimes, had put a message on the clacks that arrived on Vimes's desk more than an hour before Jack sauntered through the city gates and into the waiting embrace of Sergeant Detritus? Legally it had been a bit tricky, since the offense hadn't been committed on Ankh-Morpork soil and a semaph.o.r.e message did not, strictly speaking, come under the heading of 'hot pursuit,' but Jack had kindly solved that one by taking a wild swing at the troll, resulting in his arrest for a.s.sault on a Watch Officer and treatment for a broken wrist...

There was a gentle snore from Lady Sybil. A marriage is always made up of two people who are prepared to swear that only the other other one snores. one snores.

Inigo Skimmer was hunched in a corner, reading a book. Vimes watched him for some time.

"I'm just going up top for some air," he said at last, opening the door. The clattering of the wheels filled the tiny, hot s.p.a.ce, and dust blew in.

"Your Grace-" Inigo began, standing up. Vimes, already clambering up the side of the coach, stuck his head back in.

"You're not making any friends with that att.i.tude," he said, and kicked the door shut with his foot.

Cheery and Detritus had made themselves comfortable on the roof. It was a lot less stuffy and at least there was a view, if vegetables were your idea of a panorama.