Jingo. Part 36

"Muh."

"Only...we'd better get started 'cos he said they won't be long..."

"They won't be back!" said the captain. "The water they've got won't last a day up there! They haven't got the right gear! And once they're out of sight of the sea they'll get lost!"

"Good!"

It took half an hour to get to the top of the dune. The sand had been stamped down but, even as Vimes watched, the wind caught the particles and nibbled away at the prints.

"Camel tracks," said Vimes. "Well, camels don't go all that fast. Let's-"

"I think Detritus is having real trouble, sir," said Carrot.

The troll was standing with his knuckles on the ground. The motor of his cooling helmet sounded harsh for a moment in the dry air, and then stopped as the sand got into the mechanism.

"Feelin' fick," he muttered. "My brain hurts."

"Quick, hold your shield over his head," said Vimes. "Give him some shade!"

"He's never going to make it, sir," said Carrot. "Let's send him back down to the boat."

"We need him! Quick, Cheery, fan him with your ax!"

At which point, the sand stood up and drew a hundred swords.

"Bingeley-bingeley beep!" said a cheerful if somewhat m.u.f.fled voice. "Eleven eh em, Get Haircut...er...that's right...isn't it?"

It wasn't large, but slabs of collapsing building had smashed together in such a way that they made a cistern that the rain had filled half full.

Solid Jackson slapped his son on the back.

"Fresh water! At last!" he said. "Well done, lad."

"You see, I was looking at these sort of painting things, Dad, and then-"

"Yeah, yeah, pictures of octopuses, very nice," said Jackson. "Hah! The ball is on the other foot now and no mistake! It's our our water on water on our our side of the island, and I'd just like to see them greasy b.u.g.g.e.rs claim otherwise. Let 'em keep their d.a.m.n driftwood and suck water out of fishes!" side of the island, and I'd just like to see them greasy b.u.g.g.e.rs claim otherwise. Let 'em keep their d.a.m.n driftwood and suck water out of fishes!"

"Yeah, Dad," said Les. "And we can trade them some of the water for wood and flour, right?"

His father waved a hand cautiously. "Maybe," he said. "No need to rush into that, though. We're pretty close to finding a seaweed that'll burn. I mean, what're our long-term objectives here?"

"Cooking meals and keeping warm?" said Les hopefully.

"Well, initially initially," said Jackson. "That's obvious. But you know what they say, lad. 'Give a man a fire and he's warm for a day, but set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life.' See my point?"

"I don't think that's actually what the saying is-"

"I mean, we can stop here living on water and raw fish for...well, practically forever. But that lot can't go without proper fresh water for much longer. See? So they'll have to come begging to us, right? And then we deal on our terms, eh?"

He put his arm around his son's reluctant shoulders and waved a hand at the landscape.

"I mean, I started out with nothing, son, except that old boat that your grandad left me, but-"

"-you worked and sc.r.a.ped-" said Les wearily.

"-I worked and sc.r.a.ped-"

"-and you've always kept your head above water-"

"-right, I've always kept my head above water-"

"And you've always wanted to leave me something that-Ow!"

"Stop making fun of your dad!" said Jackson. "Otherwise I'll wallop the other ear. Look, you see this land? You see it?"

"I see it, Dad."

"It's a land of opportunity land of opportunity."

"But there's no fresh water and all the ground's full of salt, Dad, and it smells bad bad!"

"That's the smell of freedom, that is."

"Smells like someone did a really big fart, Dad-Ow!"

"Sometimes the two are very similar! And it's your your future I'm thinking of, lad!" future I'm thinking of, lad!"

Les looked at the acres of decomposing seaweed in front of him.

He was learning to be a fisherman like his father before him because that's how the family had always done it and he was too good-natured to argue, although he actually wanted to be a painter like no one in the family had ever been before. He was noticing things, and they worried him even though he couldn't quite say why.

But the buildings didn't look right. Here and there were definite bits of, well, architecture, like Morporkian pillars and the remains of Klatchian arches, but they'd been added to buildings that looked as though some ham-fisted people had just piled rocks on top of one another. And then in other places the slabs had been stacked on top on top of ancient brick walls and tiled floors. He couldn't imagine who'd done the tiling, but they did like pictures of octop.u.s.s.ies. of ancient brick walls and tiled floors. He couldn't imagine who'd done the tiling, but they did like pictures of octop.u.s.s.ies.

The feeling was stealing over him that Morporkians and Klatchians arguing over who owned this piece of old sea bottom was extremely extremely pointless. pointless.

"Er...I'm thinking about my future too, Dad," he said. "I really am."

Far below Solid Jackson's feet, the Boat surfaced. Sergeant Colon reached automatically for the screws that held the lid shut.

"Don't open it, sergeant!" shouted Leonard, rising from his seat.

"The air's getting pretty lived-in, sir-"

"It's worse outside."

"Worse than in here?"

"I'm almost certain."

"But we're on the surface!"

"A surface, sergeant," said Lord Vetinari. Beside him, n.o.bby uncorked the seeing device and peered through it.

"We're in a cave?" said Colon.

"Er...sarge..." said n.o.bby.

"Capital! Well worked out," said Lord Vetinari. "Yes. A cave. You could say that."

"Er...sarge?" said n.o.bby again, nudging Colon. "This isn't a cave, sarge! It's bigger than a cave, sarge!"

"What, you mean...like a cavern?"

"Bigger!"

"Bigger'n a cavern? More like a...big cavern?" cavern?"

"Yeah, that'd be about right," said n.o.bby, taking his eye away from the device. "Have a look yourself, sarge."

Sergeant Colon peered into the tube.

Instead of the darkness he was half expecting, he saw the sea's surface, bubbling like a boiling saucepan. Green and yellow flashes of lightning danced across the water, illuminating a distant wall that seemed practically a horizon...

The tube squeaked around. If this was a cave, it was at least a couple of miles across.

"How long, do you think?" said Lord Vetinari, behind him.

"Well, the rock has a large proportion of tufa and pumice, very light, and once floated up the build-up of gas starts to escape very rapidly because of the swell," said Leonard. "I don't know...perhaps another week...and then I think it takes a very long time for a sufficient bubble to build up again..."

"What're they saying, sarge?" said n.o.bby. "This place floats floats?"

"A most unusual natural phenomenon," Leonard went on. "I'd have thought it was just a legend had I not seen it for myself..."

"Of course it's not floating," said Sergeant Colon. "Honestly, n.o.bby, how're you ever going to find out anything when you ask daft questions like that? Land's heavier than water, right? That's why you find it at the bottom of the sea."

"Yes, but he said pumice, and my gran had a pumice stone that worked a treat for getting tough skin off'f your feet in the tub and that'd float-"

"That sort of thing happens in bath tubs maybe maybe," said Colon. "Not in real life. This is just a phenomena. It's not real real. Next thing you'll be saying there's rocks up in the sky."

"Yeah, but-"

"I am a sergeant, n.o.bby."

"Yes, sarge."

"It puts me in mind," said Leonard, "of those nautical stories about giant turtles that sleep on the surface, thus causing sailors to think they are an island. Of course, you don't get giant turtles that small."

"Hey, Mr. Quirm, this is an amazing boat," said n.o.bby.

"Thank you."

"I bet you could even smash up ships with it if you wanted."

There was an embarra.s.sed silence.

"Altogether an interesting experience," said Lord Vetinari, making some notes. "And now, gentlemen-downward and onward, please..."

The watchmen drew their weapons.

"They're D'regs, sir," said Carrot. "But-this is all wrong..."

"What do you mean?"

"We're not dead yet."

They're watching us like cats watch mice, thought Vimes. We can't run away and we can't win a fight, and they want to see what we'll do next.

"What does General Tacticus have to say about this, sir?" said Carrot.

There's a hundred of them, thought Vimes. And six of us. Except that Detritus is drifting off and there's no knowing what particular commandment Visit is obeying right now and Reg's arms tend to drop off when he gets excited- "I don't know," he said. "Probably something on the lines of Don't Allow This to Happen."

"Why don't you check, sir?" said Carrot, not taking his eyes off the watching D'regs.

"What?"

"I said, why don't you check, sir?"

"Right now?"

"It might be worth a try, sir."

"That's crazy, captain."