Thud! - A Novel Of Discworld Part 34

So that's settled, then, thought Vimes. We-d.a.m.n!

"Captain?" he said. "Send someone to find that dwarf Grag Bashfullsson, will you? Tell him Commander Vimes presents his compliments and will indeed be leaving first thing in the morning."

"Er...right, sir. Will do," said Carrot.

How did he know I'd be going? Vimes wondered. I suppose it was inevitable? But he could have hung us out to dry if he'd said we've mistreated that dwarf. And he's one of Mr. Shine's pupils, I'll bet on it. Good idea to keep an eye on him, perhaps...

When did did Lord Vetinari Lord Vetinari sleep? Presumably, the man must sleep? Presumably, the man must get his head down at some point, Vimes had reasoned. Everyone slept. Catnaps could get you by for a while, but sooner or later you need a solid eight hours, right? get his head down at some point, Vimes had reasoned. Everyone slept. Catnaps could get you by for a while, but sooner or later you need a solid eight hours, right?

It was almost midnight, and there was Vetinari at his desk, fresh as a daisy and chilly as morning dew.

"Are you sure about this, Vimes?"

"Carrot can look after things. They've quietened down, anyway. I think most of the serious troublemakers have headed for Koom Valley."

"A good reason, one might say, for you not to go. Vimes, I have...agents for this sort of thing."

"But you wanted me to hunt them down, sir!" Vimes protested.

"In Koom Valley? At this time? Taking a force there now could have far-reaching consequences, Vimes!"

"Good! You told me to drag them into the light! As far as they're concerned, I I am far-reaching consequences!" am far-reaching consequences!"

"Well, certainly," said Vetinari, after staring at Vimes for longer than was comfortable. "And when you have boldly reached so far, you will need friends. I shall make sure the Low King is at least aware of your presence."

"Don't worry, he'll find out soon enough," growled Vimes. "Oh, yes."

"I have no doubt he will. He has his agents in our city, just as I have in his. So I will do him the courtesy of telling him formally what he will in any case know. That is called politics, politics, Vimes. It is a thing we try to do in the government." Vimes. It is a thing we try to do in the government."

"But...spies? I thought we were chums with the Low King!"

"Of course we are," said Vetinari. "And the more we know about each other, the friendlier we shall remain. We'd hardly bother to spy on our enemies. What would be the point? Is Lady Sybil happy to let you go?"

"She's coming with me. She insists."

"Is that safe?"

"Is here safe?" said Vimes, shrugging. "We had dwarfs coming up through the d.a.m.n floor! Don't worry, she and Young Sam will be kept out of harm's way. I'll take Fred and n.o.bby. And I want to take Angua, Sally, Detritus, and Cheery, too. Multi-species, sir. That always helps the politics."

"And the Summoning Dark? What about that that, Vimes? Oh, don't don't look at me like that. It's common talk among the dwarfs. One of the dying dwarfs put a curse on everyone who was in the mine, I'm told." look at me like that. It's common talk among the dwarfs. One of the dying dwarfs put a curse on everyone who was in the mine, I'm told."

"I wouldn't know about that, sir," said Vimes, resorting to the wooden expression that so often saw him through. "It's mystic. We don't do mystic in the Watch."

"It's not a joke, Vimes. It's very old magic, I understand. So old, indeed, that most dwarfs have forgotten that it is is magic. And it's powerful. It will be tracking them." magic. And it's powerful. It will be tracking them."

"I'll just look out for a big floaty eye with a tail, then, shall I?" said Vimes. "That should make it easy."

"Vimes, I know know you must be aware that the symbol is not the thing itself," said the Patrician. you must be aware that the symbol is not the thing itself," said the Patrician.

"Yessir. I know. But magic has no place in coppering. We don't use it to find culprits. We don't use it to get confessions. Because you can't trust the b.l.o.o.d.y stuff, sir. It's got a mind of its own. If there's a curse chasing these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, well, that's its business. But if I reach 'em first, sir sir, then they'll be my prisoners and it'll have to get past me."

"Vimes, Archchancellor Ridcully tells me he believes it may be a quasidemonic ent.i.ty that is untold millions of years old!"

"I've said my piece, sir," said Vimes, staring at a point just above Lord Vetinari's head. "And it is my duty to catch up with these people. I believe they may be able to help me with my inquiries."

"But you have no evidence, Vimes. And you are going to need very solid evidence."

"Right. So I want to bring them back here, eyeb.a.l.l.s on a string or not. Them and their d.a.m.n guards. So's I can inquire. Someone will tell me something."

"And it'll also be to your personal satisfaction?" said Vetinari sharply.

"Is this a trick question, sir?"

"Well done, well done," said Vetinari softly. "Lady Sybil is a remarkable woman, Vimes."

"Yessir. She is."

Vimes left.

After a while, Vetinari's chief clerk, Drumknott, entered the room on velvet feet and placed a cup of tea in front of Vetinari.

"Thank you, Drumknott. You were listening?"

"Yes, sir. The Commander seemed very forthright."

"They invaded his home, Drumknott."

"Quite, sir."

Vetinari leaned back, and stared at the ceiling.

"Tell me, Drumknott, are you a betting man at all?"

"I have been known to have the occasional 'little flutter,' sir."

"Given, then, a contest between an invisible and very powerful quasidemonic thing thing of pure vengeance on the one hand, and the commander on the other, where would you wager, say...one dollar?" of pure vengeance on the one hand, and the commander on the other, where would you wager, say...one dollar?"

"I wouldn't, sir. That looks like one that would go to the judges."

"Yes," said Vetinari, staring thoughtfully at the closed door. "Yes, indeed. indeed."

I don't use magic, don't use magic, thought Vimes, walking through the rain thought Vimes, walking through the rain toward Unseen University. But, sometimes, I tell lies. toward Unseen University. But, sometimes, I tell lies.

He avoided the main entrance and headed as circ.u.mspectly as possible for Wizards' Pa.s.sage, where, halfway down, university access for all was available via several loose bricks. Generations of rascally drunk student wizards had used them to get back in late at night. Later on, they'd become very important and powerful wizards, with full beards and fuller stomachs, but had never lifted a finger to have the wall repaired. It was, after all, Traditional. Nor was it usually patrolled by the Lobsters,* who believed in Tradition even more than the wizards. who believed in Tradition even more than the wizards.

On this occasion, though, one was lurking in the shadows, and jumped when Vimes tapped him on the shoulder. "Oh, it's you Commander Vimes, sir. It's me, sir, Wiggleigh, sir. The archchancellor is waiting for you in the gardener's hut, sir. Follow me, sir. Mum's the word, eh, sir?"

Vimes trailed after Wiggleigh across the dark, squelchy lawns. Oddly, though, he didn't feel so tired now. Days and days of bad sleep and he felt quite fresh, in a fuzzy sort of way. It was the smell of the chase, that's what it was. He'd pay for it later.

Wiggleigh, looking both ways with a conspiratorial air that would have attracted instant attention had anyone been watching, opened the door of the garden shed.

There was a large figure waiting inside.

"Commander!" it bellowed happily. "What larks, eh? Very Very cloak-and-dagger!" cloak-and-dagger!"

Only heavy rain could possibly m.u.f.fle the voice of Archchancellor Ridcully when he was feeling cheerful.

"Could you keep it down a bit, Archchancellor?" said Vimes, shutting the door quickly.

"Sorry! I mean, sorry," said the wizard. "Do take a seat. The compost sacks are quite acceptable. Well, er...how may I help you, Sam?"

"Can we agree for now that you can't?" said Vimes.

"Intriguing. Do continue," said Ridcully, leaning closer.

"You know I won't have magic used in the Watch," Vimes went on. As he sat down in the semidarkness, a coiled-up hosepipe ambushed him from above, as they do, and he had to wrestle it to the shed floor.

"I do, sir, and I respect you for it, although there are those that think you are a d.a.m.n silly fool."

"Well..." Vimes said, trying to put "d.a.m.n silly fool" behind him, "the fact is, I must get to Koom Valley very fast. Er...very fast indeed."

"One might say-magically fast?" said Ridcully. fast?" said Ridcully.

"As it were," said Vimes, fidgeting. He really hated having to do this. And what had had he sat on? he sat on?

"Mmm," said Ridcully. "But without, I imagine, any significant hocus-pocus? You appear uncomfortable, sir!"

Vimes triumphantly held up a large onion. "Sorry," he said, tossing it aside. "No, definitely no pocus. Possibly a little hocus. I just need an edge. They've got a day's start on me."

"I see. You will be traveling alone?"

"No, there will have to be eleven of us. Two coaches."

"My word! And disappearing in a puff of smoke to reappear elsewhere is-"

"Out of the question. I just need-"

"An edge," said the wizard. "Yes. Something magical in its cause but not in its effect. Nothing too obvious."

"And no chance of anyone being turned into a frog or anything like that," said Vimes quickly.

"Of course," said Ridcully. He clapped his hands together. "Well, Commander, I'm afraid we can't help you. Meddling in things like this is not what wizarding is all about!" He lowered his voice and went on: "We will particularly particularly not be able to help you if you have the coaches, empty, around the back in, oh, call it about an hour?" not be able to help you if you have the coaches, empty, around the back in, oh, call it about an hour?"

"Oh? Er...right," said Vimes, trying to catch up. "You're not going to make them fly or anything, are you?"

"We're not going to do anything, Commander!" said Ridcully jovially, slapping him on the back. "I thought that was agreed! And I think also that you should leave now, although, of course, you have, in fact, not been here. And neither have I. I say, this spying business is pretty clever, eh?"

When Vimes was gone, Mustrum Ridcully sat back, lit his pipe, and, as an afterthought, used the last of the match to light the candle lantern on the potting table. The gardener could get pretty acerbic if people messed about with his shed, so perhaps he ought to tidy up a bit- He stared at the floor, where a tumbled hosepipe and a fallen onion made what looked, at a casual glance, like a large eyeball with a tail.

The rain cooled Vimes down. It had cooled down the streets, Vimes down. It had cooled down the streets, too. You have to be really keen to riot in the rain. Besides, news of last night had got around. No one was too. You have to be really keen to riot in the rain. Besides, news of last night had got around. No one was sure sure, of course, and such were the effects of Fluff and Big Hammer that a large if elementary school of thought had been left uncertain about what really happened. They woke up feeling bad, right? Something Something must have happened. And tonight the rain was setting in, so maybe it was better to stay in the pub. must have happened. And tonight the rain was setting in, so maybe it was better to stay in the pub.

He walked through the wet, whispering darkness, mind ablaze.

How fast could those dwarfs travel? Some of them sounded pretty old. But they'd be tough tough and old. Even so, the roads in that direction were none too good, and a body could only stand so much shaking. and old. Even so, the roads in that direction were none too good, and a body could only stand so much shaking.

And Sybil was taking Young Sam. That was stupid, except that it...wasn't stupid, not after dwarfs had broken into your home. Home was where you had to feel safe. If you didn't feel safe, it wasn't home. Against all common sense, he agreed with Sybil. Home was where they were together. She'd already sent off an urgent clacks to some old chum of hers who lived near the valley; she seemed to think it was going to be some kind of family outing.

There was a group of dwarfs hanging around on a corner, heavily armed. Maybe the bars were all full, or maybe they needed cooling down, too. No law against hanging around, right?

Wrong, growled Vimes as he drew nearer. Come along, boys. Say something wrong. Lay hold of a weapon. Move slightly. Breathe loudly. Give me something that could be stretched to "in self-defense." It'd be my word against yours, and believe me, lads, I'm unlikely to leave you capable of saying a single d.a.m.n thing thing.

The dwarfs took one clear look at the approaching vision, haloed in torchlight and mist, and took to their heels.

Right!

The ent.i.ty known as the Summoning Dark sped through streets as the Summoning Dark sped through streets of eternal night, past misty buildings of memory that wavered at its pa.s.sage. It was getting there, it was getting there. It was having to change the habits of millennia, but it was finding ways in, even if they were no bigger than keyholes. It had never had to work this hard before, never had to move this fast. It was...exhilarating. of eternal night, past misty buildings of memory that wavered at its pa.s.sage. It was getting there, it was getting there. It was having to change the habits of millennia, but it was finding ways in, even if they were no bigger than keyholes. It had never had to work this hard before, never had to move this fast. It was...exhilarating.

But always, when it paused by some grating or unguarded chimney, it heard the pursuit. It was slow, but it never stopped following. Sooner or later, it would catch up.

Grag Bashfullsson lodged in a subdivided cellar in Cheap lodged in a subdivided cellar in Cheap Street. The rent wasn't much, but he had to admit that neither was the accommodation: he could lie on his very narrow bed and touch all four walls or, rather, three walls and a heavy curtain that separated his little s.p.a.ce from that of the family of nineteen dwarfs that occupied the rest of the cellar. But meals were included, and they respected his privacy. It was something, to have a grag as a lodger, even if this one seemed rather young and showed his face. It still impressed the neighbors. Street. The rent wasn't much, but he had to admit that neither was the accommodation: he could lie on his very narrow bed and touch all four walls or, rather, three walls and a heavy curtain that separated his little s.p.a.ce from that of the family of nineteen dwarfs that occupied the rest of the cellar. But meals were included, and they respected his privacy. It was something, to have a grag as a lodger, even if this one seemed rather young and showed his face. It still impressed the neighbors.

On the other side of the curtain, children were squabbling, a baby was crying, and there was the smell of rat-and-cabbage ca.s.serole. Someone was sharpening an axe. And someone else was snoring. For a dwarf in Ankh-Morpork, solitude was something that you had to cultivate on the inside.

Books and papers filled the s.p.a.ce that wasn't bed. Bashfullsson's desk was a board laid across his knees. He was reading a battered book, its cover cracked and moldy, and the runes pa.s.sing under his eye said: "It has no strength in this world. To fulfill any purpose, the Dark must find a champion, a living creature it can bend to its will..."

Bashfullsson sighed. He'd read the phrase a dozen times, hoping he could make it mean something other than the obvious. He copied the words into his notebook anyway. Then he put the notebook in his satchel, swung the satchel onto his back, went and paid Toin Footstamper two weeks' rent in advance, and stepped out into the rain.