Thud! - A Novel Of Discworld Part 37

"Well, if we're going to have to wait for it to catch up, n.o.bby, I'll buy a house here, shall I?" said Fred.

Nerves were frayed, brains were jogging behind...this is why I don't like magic, thought Vimes. But we're here, and it's amazing how the inn's beer helped recovery.

"We might even be able to have a quick look at Koom Valley before it gets dark," he ventured, to general groaning.

"No, Sam! Everyone needs a meal and a rest!" said Sybil. "Let's go into town like proper people, nice and slowly, and everyone will be fresh for tomorrow."

"Lady Sybil is right, Commander," said Bashfullsson. "I wouldn't advise going up to the valley at night, even at this time of the year. It's so easy to get lost."

"In a valley?" said Vimes.

"Oh yes, sir," Cheery chimed in. "You'll see why, sir. And mostly, if you get lost, you die."

On the sedate journey into town, and because it was six o'clock, Vimes read Where's My Cow? Where's My Cow? to Young Sam. In fact, it became a communal effort. Cheery obliged by handling the chicken noises, an area in which Vimes felt he was somewhat lacking, and Detritus delivered a HRUUUGH! that rattled the windows. Grag Bashfullsson, against all expectation, managed a very pa.s.sable pig. To Young Sam, watching with eyes like saucers, it was indeed the Show Of The Year. to Young Sam. In fact, it became a communal effort. Cheery obliged by handling the chicken noises, an area in which Vimes felt he was somewhat lacking, and Detritus delivered a HRUUUGH! that rattled the windows. Grag Bashfullsson, against all expectation, managed a very pa.s.sable pig. To Young Sam, watching with eyes like saucers, it was indeed the Show Of The Year.

Bunty was surprised to see them so soon, but Ladies Who to see them so soon, but Ladies Who Organize are seldom thrown by guests arriving unexpectedly early. Organize are seldom thrown by guests arriving unexpectedly early.

It turned out Bunty was Berenice Waynesbury, nee Mouse-father, which must have come as a relief, with a daughter who was married and lived just outside Quirm and a son who'd had to go to Fourecks in a hurry over a complete complete misunderstanding but was now into sheep in a big way and she hoped Sybil and of course his grace would be able to stay until Sat.u.r.day because she'd invited simply misunderstanding but was now into sheep in a big way and she hoped Sybil and of course his grace would be able to stay until Sat.u.r.day because she'd invited simply everybody everybody and wasn't Young Sam simply and wasn't Young Sam simply adorable adorable...and so on, right up to "-and we've cleaned out one of the stables for your trolls" said with a happy smile.

Before Sybil or Vimes could say a word, Detritus had removed his helmet and bowed.

"T'ank you very much, missus," he said gravely, "you know, sometimes people forget to clean dem out first. It's dem little touches dat mean a lot."

"Why, thank you," said Bunty. "How charming. I've, er, never seen a troll wearing clothing before..."

"I can take dem off if you like," said Detritus. At which point, Sybil took Bunty gently by the arm and said: "Let me introduce you to everybody else..."

Mr. Waynesbury, the magistrate, wasn't the venal pocket-liner Vimes had expected. He was thin, tall, and didn't say a great deal, and spent his time at home in a study filled with law books, pipes, and fishing tackle; he dispensed justice in the mornings, fished during the afternoon, and charitably forgave Vimes for his total lack of interest in dry flies.

The local town of Ham-on-Koom made a good living off the river. When the Koom hit the plains, it widened and slowed and was more full of fish than a tin of sardines. Marshes spread out on either side, too, with deep and hidden lakes that were the home and feeding ground of innumerable birds.

Oh...and there were the skulls, too.

"I am the coroner as well," he told Vimes as he unlocked a cupboard in his desk. "We get a few bones washed down here every spring. Mostly tourists, of course. They really will not take advice, alas. But sometimes we get things that are of more...historical interest." He put a dwarf skull on the leather desktop.

"About a hundred years old," he said. "From the last big battle, a hundred years ago. We get the occasional piece of armor, too. We put it all in the charnel house, and occasionally the dwarfs or the trolls come with a cart to sort through it and carry it away. They take it very seriously."

"Any treasure?" said Vimes.

"Hah. Not that I get told about. But I'd hear about it if there was anything big." The magistrate sighed. "Every year people come to search for it. Sometimes they are lucky."

"They find gold?"

"No, but they get back alive. The others? They wash up out of the caves, in the fullness of time." He selected a pipe from a rack on his desk and began to fill it. "I'm amazed that anyone feels it necessary to take weapons up the valley. It'll kill you on a whim. Will you take one of my lads, Commander?"

"I have my own guide," said Vimes, and then added, "But thank you."

Mr. Waynsbury puffed his pipe.

"As you wish, of course," he said. "I shall watch the river, in any case."

Angua and Sally had been put in the same bedroom. Angua had been put in the same bedroom. Angua tried to feel good about that. The woman wasn't to know. Anyway, it was nice to get between clean sheets, even if the room had a slightly musty smell. More must, less vampire, she thought; look on the bright side. tried to feel good about that. The woman wasn't to know. Anyway, it was nice to get between clean sheets, even if the room had a slightly musty smell. More must, less vampire, she thought; look on the bright side.

In the darkness, she opened one eye.

Someone had moved silently across the room. They'd made no noise but, nevertheless, their pa.s.sage had stirred the air and changed the texture of the subtle night sounds.

They were at the window now. It was bolted shut, and a faint noise was probably the bolt being slipped back.

It was easy to tell when the window itself was opened; new scents flooded in.

There was a creak that possibly only a werewolf would have heard, followed by a sudden rustling of many leathery wings. Little Little leathery wings. leathery wings.

Angua shut her eye again. The little minx! Maybe Sally just didn't care anymore? No point in trying to follow her, though. She debated the wisdom of shutting the window and bolting the door, just to see what excuses Sally came up with, but dismissed it. No good telling Mister Vimes yet, either, what could she prove? It'd all be put down to the werewolf/vampire thing...

And now Koom Valley stretched away ahead of Vimes, and he stretched away ahead of Vimes, and he could see why he hadn't made plans. You couldn't make plans for Koom Valley. It'd laugh at them. It would push them away, like it pushed away roads. could see why he hadn't made plans. You couldn't make plans for Koom Valley. It'd laugh at them. It would push them away, like it pushed away roads.

"Of course, you're seeing it at its best at this time of year," said Cheery.

"By 'best' you mean-?" Vimes prompted.

"Well, it's not actually trying to murder us, sir. And there's the birds. And when the sun's right, you get some wonderful rainbows."

There were lots lots of birds. Insects bred like mad in the wide, shallow pools and dams that littered the floor of the valley in late spring. Most of them would be dry by the late summer, but for now Koom Valley was a smorgasbord of things that went of birds. Insects bred like mad in the wide, shallow pools and dams that littered the floor of the valley in late spring. Most of them would be dry by the late summer, but for now Koom Valley was a smorgasbord of things that went bzz! bzz! And the birds had come up from the plains to feast on all of it. Vimes wasn't good at birds, but they mostly looked like swallows, millions of them. There were nests on the nearest cliff, a good half mile away, and Vimes could hear the chattering from here. And where trees and rocks had piled up in dams, saplings and green plants had sprouted. And the birds had come up from the plains to feast on all of it. Vimes wasn't good at birds, but they mostly looked like swallows, millions of them. There were nests on the nearest cliff, a good half mile away, and Vimes could hear the chattering from here. And where trees and rocks had piled up in dams, saplings and green plants had sprouted.

Below the narrow track the party had taken, water gushed from half a dozen caves and joined together for one wild waterfall into the plain.

"It's all so...so alive," said Angua. "I was expecting just barren rock."

"Dat's what it like up at der battle place," said Detritus, spray glistening on his skin. "My dad took me up dere when we were comin' to der city. He showed me dis kind o' rocky place, hit me on der head, and said, 'Remember.' "

"Remember what?" said Sally.

"He didn't say. So I just, you know, gen'rally remembered."

I didn't expect this, Vimes thought. It's so...chaotic. Oh, well, let's get clear of the cliff wall, at least. All these b.l.o.o.d.y great boulders must have got here from somewhere.

"I can smell smoke," Angua announced after a while as they made their way unsteadily across the debris-strewn track.

"Campfires from up the valley," said Cheery. "Early arrivals, I expect."

"You mean people queue up for a place in the battle?" said Vimes. "Watch this boulder, it's slippery."

"Oh, yes. The fighting doesn't start until Koom Valley Day. That's tomorrow."

"d.a.m.n, I lost track. Will it affect us down here?"

Bashfullsson coughed politely. "I don't think so, Commander. This area is too dangerous to fight in."

"Well, yes, I can see it would be terrible if anyone got hurt," said Vimes, climbing over a long heap of rotting timber. "That would spoil the day for everyone."

Historical Re-creation, he thought glumly as they picked their way across, under, over, or through the boulders and insect-buzzing heaps of splintered timber, with streamlets running everywhere. Only we do it with people dressing up and running around with blunt weapons, and people selling hot dogs, and the girls all miserable because they can only dress up as wenches, wenching being the only job available to women in the olden days.

But the dwarfs and the trolls...they fight it again, for real. Like, perhaps, if they fight it enough times, they'll get it right?

Now there was a hole in the track in front of him, half-blocked with the winter's debris, but still managing to swallow a whole streamlet. It poured, foaming, into the depths. There was a booming noise, far below. When he knelt down and touched the water, it was so cold it stung.

"Yes, watch out for sinkholes, Commander," said Bashfullsson. "This is limestone. Water wears it away quite quickly. We'll probably see some much bigger ones. Often they're hidden by rotting debris. Watch where you tread."

"Don't they get blocked up?"

"Oh, yes, sir. You've seen the size of the rocks that roll down here."

"It must be like a giant game of billiards!"

"Something like that, I expect," said Bashfullsson carefully.

After ten minutes, Vimes sat down on a log, pulled out his helmet, took out a big red handkerchief, and wiped his forehead.

"It's getting hotter," he said. "And everywhere in this b.l.o.o.d.y place looks the same-ow!"

He slapped at his wrist.

"The midges can be a bit extreme, sir," Cheery volunteered. "It's said that when they bite extra-hard, there's a storm coming."

They both looked up at the mountains. There was a yellow haze at the far end of the valley, and clouds between the peaks.

"Oh, good good," said Vimes. "Because it feels like that bite went to the bone."

"I wouldn't worry too much, Commander," said Cheery. "The big Koom Valley storm was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence."

"It certainly was a lifetime if you were caught in it," said Vimes. "This d.a.m.n place is getting to me, I don't mind admitting it."

By now, the rest of the squad had caught up. Sally and Detritus were visibly suffering from the heat. The vampire sat down in the shade of a big rock without saying anything. Brick lay down by the icy stream and stuck his head in it.

"I'm afraid I'm not much help here, sir," said Angua. "I can smell dwarf, but that's about it. There's just too much d.a.m.n water everywhere!"

"Maybe we won't need your nose," said Vimes. He unslung the tube that contained Sybil's sketch, unrolled the drawing, and pinned the ends together.

"Give me a hand with this, will you, Cheery?" he said. "Everyone else, get some rest. And don't laugh."

He lowered the circlet of mountains over his head. There was a cough from Angua, which he pretended to ignore.

"Okay," said Vimes, turning the stiff paper to get the mountains lined up just above their penciled outlines. "That's Copperhead over there, and Cori Celesti over there there...and they line up pretty well against the drawing. We're practically on top of it already!"

"Not really, Commander," said Bashfullsson behind him. "They're both almost four hundred miles away. They'd look pretty much the same from anywhere in this part of the valley. You need to look at the nearer peaks."

Vimes turned.

"Okay. What's that one that looks really steep on the left-hand side?"

"That is The King, sir," said Cheery. "He's about ten miles away."

"Really? He looks closer..."

Vimes found the mountain on the drawing. "And that small one over there?" he said. "The one with two peaks?"

"I don't know the name, sir, but I can see the one you mean."

"They're too small and too close together..." Vimes muttered.

"Then walk toward them, sir. Mind where you're putting your feet. Only tread on bare rock. Keep off piles of debris. The grag is right. It could be over an old sinkhole and you might drop right through."

"O-kay. About halfway between them is that funny-shaped little outcrop. I'll head directly for it. You You watch where I'm putting my feet, too, will you?" watch where I'm putting my feet, too, will you?"

Trying to keep the paper level, stumbling on rocks, splashing through ice rivulets, Vimes walked the lonesome valley...

"d.a.m.n and blast!"

"Sir?"

Vimes peered over the top of his ring of paper. "I've lost The King. That d.a.m.n great ridge of boulders is in the way. Hold on...I can see that mountain with the chunk taken out of it..."

It looked so simple. It would would have been simple if Koom Valley had been flat and not littered with rubbish like the ten-pin bowling alley of the G.o.ds. In some places, they had to backtrack, because a wall of tangled, stinking, gnat-infested timber blocked the way. Or the barrier was a wall of rocks the length of a street. Or a wide, mist-filled, thundering cauldron of white water that elsewhere would have a name like The Devil's Cauldron but here was nameless, because this was Koom Valley and for Koom Valley there just weren't enough devils and they didn't have enough cauldrons. have been simple if Koom Valley had been flat and not littered with rubbish like the ten-pin bowling alley of the G.o.ds. In some places, they had to backtrack, because a wall of tangled, stinking, gnat-infested timber blocked the way. Or the barrier was a wall of rocks the length of a street. Or a wide, mist-filled, thundering cauldron of white water that elsewhere would have a name like The Devil's Cauldron but here was nameless, because this was Koom Valley and for Koom Valley there just weren't enough devils and they didn't have enough cauldrons.

And the flies stung, and the sun shone, and the rotting wood and damp air and lack of wind created a sticky, swamp-like miasma that seemed to weaken the muscles.

No wonder they fought at the other end of the valley, Vimes thought. There was air and wind up there. At least you'd be comfortable.

Sometimes they'd come out into a clear stretch that looked quite like the scene that Methodia Rascal had painted, but the nearby mountains didn't quite match up, and it was off again into the maze. You had to detour, and then detour around the detour.

At last, Vimes sat down on a bleached, crumbling log and put the paper aside.

"We must've missed it," he said, panting. "Or Rascal didn't get the mountains quite right. Or maybe even a slice of mountain fell off in the last hundred years. It could have happened. We could be twenty feet away from whatever it is we're looking for and still miss it." He slapped a gnat off his wrist.

"Cheer up, sir, I think we're fairly close," said Cheery.