Thud! - A Novel Of Discworld Part 9

"Let me talk to your grags. I promise to rub out no words."

"No. They will not talk to you. They do not talk to humans. They are waiting below. They had word of your arrival. They are frightened. They do not trust humans."

"Why?"

"Because you are not dwarfs," said Ardent. "Because you are...a sort of bad dream."

Vimes put his hand on the dwarf's shoulder.

"Then let's go downstairs, where you can talk to them about nightmares," he said, "and you can point out which one is me."

There was a long silence until Ardent said: "Very well. This is under protest, you understand."

"I'll be happy to make a note of that," said Vimes. "Thank you for your cooperative att.i.tude," he added.

Ardent stood up and produced a ring of complex keys from his robes.

Vimes tried to keep track of the journey, but it was hard. There were twists and turns, in dim tunnels that seemed all alike. There was not a trace of water anywhere. How far did the tunnels go? How far down? How far out? Dwarfs mined through granite. They could probably stroll stroll through river mud. through river mud.

In fact, in most places, the dwarfs hadn't so much mined as cleaned house, taking away the silt, tunneling from one ancient, dripping room to another. And, somehow, the water went away.

There were things, glittering, possibly magical, half seen in dark archways as they pa.s.sed. And odd chanting. He knew dwarfish, in a the-axe-of-my-aunt-is-in-your-head kind of way, and it didn't sound like that at all. It sounded like short words rattled out at very high speed.

And with every turn he felt the anger coming back. They were being led in circles, weren't they? For no reason other than pique. Ardent forged ahead, leaving Vimes to blunder along behind and occasionally b.u.mp his head.

His temper was bubbling. This was nothing more than a b.l.o.o.d.y runaround! The dwarf didn't care about the law, about him, about the world above. They undermine our city and they don't obey our laws! There had been a d.a.m.n murder. He admits it! Why am I putting up with this...this stupid playacting!

He was pa.s.sing yet another tunnel mouth, but this one had a piece of board nailed across it. He pulled out his sword, yelled, "I wonder what's down here?," smashed the board, and set off down the tunnel with Angua following.

"Is this wise, sir?" she whispered, as they plunged along.

"No. But I've had it up to here with Mr. Ardent," Vimes growled. "I tell you, another twisty tunnel and I'll be back here with the heavy mob, politics or not."

"Calm down, sir!"

"Well, everything he says and does is an insult! It makes my blood boil!" said Vimes, striding onwards and ignoring the shouts of Ardent behind him.

"There's a door ahead, sir!"

"All right, I'm not blind! Just half-blind!" Vimes snapped.

He reached out. The big, round door had a wheel in its center, and dwarf runes chalked all over it.

"Can you read them, Sergeant?"

"Er...'Mortal Danger! Flooding! No Entry!' " said Angua. "More or less, sir. They're pressure doors. I've seen these used before, in other mines."

"Chained shut, too," said Vimes, reaching out. "Looks like solid iron-ow!"

"Sir?"

"Gashed my hand on a nail!" Vimes rammed his hand into a pocket, where, without fail, Sybil saw to it that a clean handkerchief was lodged on a daily basis.

"A nail in an iron door, sir?" said Angua, looking closely.

"A rivet, then. Can't see a thing in this gloom. Why they-"

"You must must follow me. This is a mine! There are dangers!" said Ardent, catching up with them. follow me. This is a mine! There are dangers!" said Ardent, catching up with them.

"You still get flooding?" said Vimes.

"It is to be expected! We know how to cope! Now, stay close to me!"

"I'll be more inclined to do that, sir sir, if I thought were taking a direct route!" said Vimes. "Otherwise I might look for shortcuts!"

"We are nearly there, Commander," said Ardent, walking away. "Nearly there!"

Aimless and hopeless, the troll wandered... the troll wandered...

His name was Brick, although currently he couldn't remember this. His head ached. It really ached. ached. It was der Sc.r.a.pe that did it. What did dey always say? When you sinkin' to where you was cookin' up Sc.r.a.pe, you was so low even der c.o.c.kroaches had to bend down to spit on you? It was der Sc.r.a.pe that did it. What did dey always say? When you sinkin' to where you was cookin' up Sc.r.a.pe, you was so low even der c.o.c.kroaches had to bend down to spit on you?

Last night...what had happenin'? What bits did he see, what bits did he do, what bits in der thumpin,' scaldin' cauldron of his brain were real? The bit with der giant wooly elephants, dey dey prob'ly weren't real. He was pretty sure there weren't any giant wooly elephants in dis city, 'cos if der were, he would've seen 'em before, and dere'd be big steamin' t.u.r.ds in der streets an' similar, you wouldn't miss 'em... prob'ly weren't real. He was pretty sure there weren't any giant wooly elephants in dis city, 'cos if der were, he would've seen 'em before, and dere'd be big steamin' t.u.r.ds in der streets an' similar, you wouldn't miss 'em...

He was called Brick because he had been born in the city, and trolls, being made of metamorphorical rock, ofter take on the nature of the local rocks. His hide was a dirty orange, with a network of horizontal and vertical lines; if Brick stood up close to a wall, he was quite hard to see. But most people didn't see Brick anyway. He was the kind of person whose mere existence is an insult to all decent folk, in their opinion.

Dat mine wi' dem dwarfs, was dat dat real? You go an' find a place to lie down and watch der pretty pichturs, suddenly you're in dis dwarf hole? That couldna bin real! Only...word on der street was dat some troll had got into a dwarf hole, yeah, and real? You go an' find a place to lie down and watch der pretty pichturs, suddenly you're in dis dwarf hole? That couldna bin real! Only...word on der street was dat some troll had got into a dwarf hole, yeah, and everyone everyone was lookin' for dat troll an' not to shake him by der han'...Der word said der Breccia wanted to find out was lookin' for dat troll an' not to shake him by der han'...Der word said der Breccia wanted to find out real real hard, and by der sound of it dey were not happy. Not happy that some dwarf who'd been puttin' der bad word on the clans was hard, and by der sound of it dey were not happy. Not happy that some dwarf who'd been puttin' der bad word on the clans was off'ed off'ed by a troll? Were dey mad? Actually, it didn't matter if dey was mad or not, 'cos dey had ways of asking questions dat didn't heal for months, so he better be keepin' out dere way. by a troll? Were dey mad? Actually, it didn't matter if dey was mad or not, 'cos dey had ways of asking questions dat didn't heal for months, so he better be keepin' out dere way.

On der oder hand...a dwarf wouldn't know one troll from anoder, right? And no one else had seen him. So act normal, right? He'd be fine. He'd be fine. Anyway, it couldna bin him...

It occured to Brick-yeah, dat's my name, knew it all der time-that he still had a bit of the white powder at the bottom of the bag. All he needed to do now was find a startled pigeon and some alcohol, any alcohol at all, and he be fine. Yeah. Fine. Nothin' to worry about at all...

Yeah.

When Vimes stepped out into the brilliant daylight, the first into the brilliant daylight, the first thing he did was draw a deep breath. The second thing he did was draw his sword, wincing as his sore hand protested. thing he did was draw a deep breath. The second thing he did was draw his sword, wincing as his sore hand protested.

Fresh air, that was the stuff. He'd felt quite dizzy down there, and the tiny cut on his hand itched like mad. He'd better get Igor to take a look at it. You could probably catch anything anything in the muck down there. in the muck down there.

Ah, that was better. He could feel himself cooling down. The air down there had made him feel really strange.

The crowd was a lot more like a mob now, but he saw at the second glance that it was what he thought of as a plum-cake mob. It doesn't take many people to turn a worried, anxious crowd into a mob. A shout here, a shove there, something thrown here here...and with care, every hesitant, nervous individual is being drawn into a majority that does not, in fact, exist.

Detritus was still standing like a statue, apparently oblivious to the growing din. But Ringfounder...d.a.m.n. He was arguing hotly with people at the front of the crowd. You never never argued! You never got drawn in! argued! You never got drawn in!

"Corporal Ringfounder!" he bellowed. "To me!"

The dwarf turned as a halfbrick sailed over the heads of the mob and clanged off his helmet. He went over like a tree.

Detritus moved so fast that he was halfway through the crowd before the dwarf hit the cobbles. His arm dipped into the press of bodies and hauled up a struggling figure. He spun around, thudded back through the gap that hadn't had time to close yet, and was beside Vimes before Ringfounder's helmet had stopped rolling.

"Well done, Sergeant," said Vimes out of the corner of his mouth. "Did you have a plan for the next bit?"

"I'm more der tactical kind, sir," said Detritus.

Oh, well. At time like this you didn't argue, and you didn't step back. Vimes pulled out his badge and held it up.

"This dwarf is under arrest for a.s.saulting a Watch officer!" he shouted. "Let us through, in the name of the law!"

And, to his amazement, the crowd went quiet, like a lot of children when they sense that this this time the teacher is really, really angry. Perhaps it was the words on the badge, he thought. You couldn't rub time the teacher is really, really angry. Perhaps it was the words on the badge, he thought. You couldn't rub them them out. out.

In the silence, another halfbrick dropped out of the free hand of the dwarf in Detritus's very solid custody. Years later, Vimes would shut his eyes and still be able to recall the crunch it made when it hit the ground.

Angua stood up, with the unconscious Ringfounder in her arms.

"He's concussed," she said. "And I suggest, sir, that you turn around, just for a moment?"

Vimes risked a glance. Ardent-or, at least, a leather-shrouded dwarf that could have been him-was standing in the shadows of the doorway. He had the attention of the crowd.

"We're being allowed allowed to go?" he said to Angua, nodding to the figure. to go?" he said to Angua, nodding to the figure.

"I think the going is the thing, sir, don't you?"

"You've got that right, Sergeant. Detritus, keep a grip on that little b.u.g.g.e.r. Back to the nick, all of us."

The crowd parted to let them through, with barely a murmur. The silence followed them all the way back to the Watch house...

...where Otto Chriek of the Times Times was waiting in the street, iconograph at the ready. was waiting in the street, iconograph at the ready.

"Oh no, you don't, Otto," said Vimes, as his squad approached.

"I'm standing on the public highway, Mr. Vimes," said Otto meekly. "Smile, please-"

And he took a picture of a troll officer holding a dwarf up in the air.

Oh well, said Vimes to himself, that's page one sorted out. And probably the b.l.o.o.d.y cartoon, too.

One dwarf in the cells, one in the tender, loving care of one in the tender, loving care of Igor, Vimes thought, as he trudged up the stairs to his office. And it's only going to get worse. Those dwarfs were Igor, Vimes thought, as he trudged up the stairs to his office. And it's only going to get worse. Those dwarfs were obeying obeying Ardent, weren't they? What would they have done if the dwarf had shaken his head? Ardent, weren't they? What would they have done if the dwarf had shaken his head?

He landed in his chair so hard that it rolled back a foot.

He'd met deep-down dwarfs before. They'd been weird, but he'd been able to deal with them. The Low King was a deep-downer, and Vimes had got on with him well enough, once you accepted that the fairy-tale dwarf in the Hogfather beard was an astute politician. He was a dwarf with a vision. He dealt with the world. Ha, "he'd seen the light." But those in the new mine...

He hadn't seen them, even though they were sitting in a room made brilliant with the light of hundreds of candles. That seemed odd, since the grags themselves were completely shrouded in their pointy black leather. But maybe it was some mystic ceremony, and who'd look for sense there? Maybe you got a more holy dark in the midst of light? The brighter the light the blacker the shadow?

Ardent had spoken in a language that sounded sounded like dwarfish, and out of the dark hoods had come answers and questions, all barked out in the same harsh, brief syllables. like dwarfish, and out of the dark hoods had come answers and questions, all barked out in the same harsh, brief syllables.

At one point, Vimes was asked to repeat the meat of his statement made up above, which had seemed too far away now. He'd done so, and there'd been a long-drawn-out discussion in what he'd come to think of as Deep Dwarf. And all the time he felt that eyes he could not see were watching him very hard indeed. It didn't help that his head had been aching like mad and there were shooting pains going up and down his arm.

And that was it. Had they understood him? He didn't know. Ardent had said that they agreed with considerable reluctance. Had they? He hadn't a clue, not a clue, to what had really been said. Would Carrot be given access to a crime scene that had not been interfered with in any way? Vimes grunted. Huh. What do you you think, boys and girls? think, boys and girls?

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and then stared at his right hand. Igor had gone on at length about "tiny invithible biting creatureth" and used some vicious ointment that probably killed anything of any size or visibility. It had stung like seven h.e.l.ls for five minutes, but the sting had gone and seemed to have taken the pain with it. Anyway...what mattered was that the Watch was officially on this case.

His eye was caught by the top sheet of paperwork in his in-tray.* He groaned as he picked it up. He groaned as he picked it up.

To:HisGrace S Sir Samuel V Vimes,Commander of the W WatchFrom:Mr.A.E.Pessimal,Inspector of the W Watch YourGrace: I hope you will not mind giving me as soon as possible the answers to the following questions: hope you will not mind giving me as soon as possible the answers to the following questions: 1)What is Corporal "n.o.bby" n.o.bbs for? Why do you employ a known petty thief?2)I timed two officers in Broad Way earlier, and in the s.p.a.ce of one hour they made no arrests. Why was this an economic use of their time? timed two officers in Broad Way earlier, and in the s.p.a.ce of one hour they made no arrests. Why was this an economic use of their time?3)The level of violence used by troll officers against troll prisoners appears excessive. Could you please comment upon this?

...and so on. Vimes read on with his mouth open. All right, the man wasn't a copper-definitely not-but surely he had a fully functional brain? Oh, good grief, he'd even spotted the monthly discrepancy in the petty-cash box! Would A. E. Pessimal understand if Vimes explained that n.o.bby's services over the years more than made up for the casual petty theft, which you accepted as a kind of mild nuisance?

Would that that be an economic use of be an economic use of my my time? I think not. time? I think not.

As he put the paper back in the tray, he spotted a sheet underneath, in Cheery's handwriting. He picked it up and read it.

Two dwarfs and one troll had handed in their badges this morning, citing "family reasons." d.a.m.n. That was seven officers lost this week. b.l.o.o.d.y Koom Valley, it got everywhere. Oh, it couldn't be fun, heavens knew, being a troll holding the line against a bunch of your fellow trolls and defending defending a dwarf like the late Hamcrusher. It probably wasn't any funner being a dwarf hearing that some troll street gang beat up your brother because of what that idiot had said. Some people would be asking: Whose side are you on? If you're not with us, you're against us. Huh. If you not an apple, you're a banana... a dwarf like the late Hamcrusher. It probably wasn't any funner being a dwarf hearing that some troll street gang beat up your brother because of what that idiot had said. Some people would be asking: Whose side are you on? If you're not with us, you're against us. Huh. If you not an apple, you're a banana...

Carrot came in quietly and placed a plate on the desk.

"Angua told me all about it," he said. "Well done, sir."

"What do you mean, well done?" said Vimes, looking at his healthy sandwich lunch. "I nearly started a war!"

"Ah, but they didn't know you were bluffing."

"I probably wasn't." Vimes carefully lifted the top of the bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, and smiled inwardly. Good old Cheery. She knew what a Vimes BLT was all about. It was about having to lift up quite a lot of crispy bacon before you found the miserable skulking vegetables. You might never notice them at all.

"I want you to take Angua down there with you again," he said. "And...yes, Lance Constable von Humpeding. Our little Sally. Just the job for a vampire who fortuitously has arrived in the nick of time, eh? Let's see how good she is."

"Just those two, sir?"

"Er, yes. They both have very good night vision, yes?" Vimes looked down at his sandwich, and mumbled: "We can't take any artificial light down there."

"A murder investigation in the dark dark, sir?"

"I had no choice!" said Vimes hotly. "I know a sticking point when I see one, Captain. No artificial light. Well, if they want to play silly b.u.g.g.e.rs, I'm their boy. You know about mines, and both the ladies have got night vision built in. Well, the vampire has, and Angua can practically see with her nose. So that's it. Do the best you can. The place is full of those d.a.m.n glow beetles. They should help."

"They've got vurms?" said Carrot. "Oh. Well, I know some tricks there, sir."

"Good. They say a big troll did it and ran away. Make of that what you will."