"No, sir. Just how I think. There"s dwarf bars all over Ankh-Morpork, and they"ve got mining tools wired to the wall, and there"s dwarfs in "em every night quaffing beer and singing sad songs about how they wish they were back in the mountains digging for gold. But if you said to them, fine, the gate"s open, off you go and send us a postcard, they"d say, "Oh, well, yeah I"d love to, but we"ve just got the new workshop finished... Maybe next year we"ll go to Uberwald." "
"They come back to the mountains to die," said the King.
"They live in Ankh-Morpork."
"Why is this, do you think?"
"I couldn"t say. Because no one tells them how to, I suppose."
"And now you want our gold and iron," said the King. "Is there nothing we can keep?"
"Don"t know about that either, sir. I wasn"t trained for this job."
The King muttered something under his breath. Then, much louder, he said, "I can offer you no favours, your excellency. These are difficult times, see."
"But my real job is finding things out," said Vimes, "If there is anything that I could do to - "
The King thrust the papers at Vimes. "Your letters of accreditation, your excellency. Their contents have been noted!"
And that shuts me up, Vimes thought.
"I would ask you one thing, though," the King went on.
"Yes, sir?"
"Really thirty men and a dog?"
"No. There were only seven men. I killed one of them because I had to."
"How did the others die?"
"Er, victims of circumstance, sir."
"Well, then... your secret is safe with me. Good morning, Miss Littlebottom."
Cheery looked stunned.
The King gave her a brief smile. "Ah, the rights of the individual, a famous Ankh-Morpork invention, or so they say. Thank you, Dee, his excellency was just leaving. You may send in the Copperhead delegation."
As Vimes was ushered out he saw another party of dwarfs assembled in the anteroom. One or two of them nodded at him as they were herded in.
Dee turned back to Vimes. "I hope you didn"t tire his majesty."
"Someone else has already been doing that, by the look of it."
"These are sleepless times," said the Ideas Taster.
"Scone turned up yet?" said Vimes innocently.
"Your excellency, if you persist in this attitude a complaint will go to your Lord Vetinari!"
"He does so look forward to them. Was it this way out?"
It was the last word said until Vimes and his guards were back in the coach and the doors to daylight were opening ahead of them.
Out of the corner of his eye Vimes saw that Cheery was shaking.
"Certainly hits you, doesn"t it, the cold air after the warmth underground..." he ventured.
Cheery grinned in relief. "Yes, it does," she said.
"Seemed quite a decent sort," said Vimes. "What was that he muttered when I said I hadn"t been trained?"
"He said, "Who has?", sir."
"It sounded like it. All that arguing... it"s not a case of sitting on the throne and saying, "Do this, do that," then."
"Dwarfs are very argumentative, sir. Of course, many wouldn"t agree. But none of the big dwarf clans are happy about this. You know how it is the Copperheads didn"t want Albrecht, and the Schmaltzbergers wouldn"t support anyone called Glodson, the Ankh-Morpork dwarfs were split both ways, and Rhys comes from a little coalmining clan near Llamedos that isn"t important enough to be on anyone"s side..."
"You mean he didn"t get to be king because
everyone liked him but because no one disliked him enough?"
"That"s right, sir."
Vimes glanced at the crumpled letters that the King had thrust into his hand. By daylight he could see the faint scribble on one corner. There were just two words.
MIDNIGHT, SEE?
Humming to himself, he tore the piece of paper off and rolled it into a ball.
"And now for the damn vampire," he said.
"Don"t worry, sir," said Cheery. "What"s the worst she can do? Bite your head off?"
"Thank you for that, corporal. Tell me... those robes some of the dwarfs were wearing. I know they wear them on the surface so they"re not polluted by the nasty sunlight, but why wear . them down there?"
"It"s traditional, sir. Er, they were worn by the... well, it"s what you"d call the knockermen, sir."
"What did they do?"
"Well, you know about firedamp? It"s a gas you get in mines sometimes. It explodes."
Vimes saw the images in his mind as Cheery explained...
The miners would clear the area, if they were lucky. And the knockerman would go in wearing layer after layer of chain-mail and leather, carrying his sack of wicker globes stuffed with rags and oil. And his long pole. And his slingshot.
Down in the mines, all alone, he"d hear the knockers. Agi Hammerthief and all the other things that made noises, deep under the earth.
There could be no light, because light would mean sudden, roaring death. The knockerman would feel his way through the utter dark, far below the surface.
There was a type of cricket that lived in the mines. It chirruped loudly in the presence of firedamp. The knockerman would have one in a box, tied to his hat.
When it sang, a knockerman who was either very confident or extremely suicidal would step back, light the torch on the end of his pole and thrust it ahead of him. The more careful knockerman would step back rather more, and slingshot a ball of burning rags into the unseen death. Either way, he"d trust in his thick leather clothes to protect him from the worst of the blast.
Initially the dangerous trade did not run in families, because who"d marry a knockerman? They were dead dwarfs walking. But sometimes a young dwarf would ask to become one; his family would be proud, wave him goodbye, and then speak of him as if he was dead, because that made it easier.
Sometimes, though, knockermen came back. And the ones that survived went on to survive again, because surviving is a matter of practice. And sometimes they would talk a little of what they heard, all alone in the deep mines... the tap-tapping of dead dwarfs trying to get back into the world, the distant laughter of Agi Hammerthief, the heartbeat of the turtle that carried the world.
Knockermen became kings.
Vimes, listening with his mouth open,
wondered why the hell it was that dwarfs believed that they had no religion and no priests. Being a dwarf was a religion. People went into the dark for the good of the clan, and heard things, and were changed, and came back to tell...
And then, fifty years ago, a dwarf tinkering in Ankh-Morpork had found that if you put a simple fine mesh over your lantern flame it"d burn blue in the presence of the gas but wouldn"t explode. It was a discovery of immense value to the good of dwarfkind and, as so often happens with such discoveries, almost immediately led to a war.
"And afterwards there were two kinds of dwarf," said Cheery sadly. "There"s the Copperheads, who all use the lamp and the patent gas exploder, and the Schmaltzbergers, who stick to the old ways. Of course we"re all dwarfs," she said, "but relations are rather... strained."
"I bet they are."
"Oh, no, all dwarfs recognize the need for the Low King, it"s just that..."
"...hey don"t quite see why knockermen are still so powerful?"
"It"s all very sad," said Cheery. "Did I tell you my brother Snorey went off to be a knockerman?"
"I don"t think so."
"He died in an explosion somewhere under Borogravia. But he was doing what he wanted to do." After a moment she added, conscientiously, "Well, up to the moment when the blast hit him. After that, I don"t think so."
Now the coach was rumbling up the mountain on one side of the town. Vimes looked down at the little round helmet beside him. Funny how you think you know about people, he thought.
The wheels clattered over the wood of a drawbridge.
As castles went, this one looked as though it could be taken by a small squad of not very efficient soldiers. Its builder had not been thinking about fortifications. He"d been influenced by fairytales and possibly by some of the more ornamental sorts of cake. It was a castle for looking at. For defence, putting a blanket over your head might be marginally safer.
The coach stopped in the courtyard. To Vimes"s amazement, a familiar figure in a shabby black coat came shuffling up to open the door.
"Igor?"
"Yeth, marthter?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Er, I"m opening thith here door, marthter," said Igor.
"But why aren"t you - ?"
Then it stole over Vimes that Igor was different. This Igor had both eyes the same colour, and some of his scars were in different places.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I thought you were Igor."
"Oh, you mean my couthin Igor," said Igor. "He workth down at the embathy. How"th he getting on?"
"Er, he"s looking... well," said Vimes. "Pretty... well. Yes."
"Did he mention how Igor"th getting on, thur?" said Igor, shambling away so fast that Vimes had
to run to keep up. "Only none of uth have heard from him, not even Igor, who"th alwayth been very clothe."
"I"m sorry? Is your whole family called Igor?"
"Oh, yeth, thur. It avoidth confuthion."
"It does?"
"Yeth, thur. Anyone who ith anyone in Uberwald wouldn"t dream of employing any other thervant but an Igor. Ah, here we are, thur. The mithtreth ith exthpecting you."
They"d walked under an arch and Igor was opening a door with far more studs in it than was respectable. This led to a hallway.
"Are you sure you want to come?" said Vimes to Cheery. "She is a vampire."
"Vampires don"t worry me, sir."
"Lucky for you," said Vimes. He glanced at the silent Tantony. The man was looking strained.
"Tell our friend here he won"t be needed and he"s to wait for us in the coach, the lucky devil," he said. "But don"t translate that last bit."
Igor opened an inner door as Tantony almost ran out of the hall. "Hith grathe hith exthellenthy - "
"Ah, Sir Samuel," said Lady Margolotta. "Do come in. I know you don"t like being your grace. Isn"t this tiresome? But it has to be done, doesn"t it?"
It wasn"t what he"d expected. Vampires weren"t supposed to wear pearls, or jumpers in pink. In Vimes"s world they didn"t wear sensible flat shoes, either. Or have a sitting room in which every conceivable piece of furniture was upholstered in chintz.
Lady Margolotta looked like someone"s mother, although possibly someone who"d had an expensive education and a pony called Fidget. She moved like someone who had grown used to her body and, in general, looked like what Vimes had heard described as "a woman of a certain age". He"d never been quite certain what age that was.
But... things weren"t quite right. There were bats embroidered on the pink jumper, and the pattern on the furniture had a sort of... bat look. The little dog with a bow round its neck, lying curled on a cushion, looked more like a rat than a dog. Vimes was less certain about that one, though; dogs of that nature tended to look a bit rat-like in any case. The effect was as if someone had read the music but had never heard it played.
He realized she was politely waiting for him and bowed, stiffly.
"Oh, don"t bother with that, please," said Lady Margolotta. "Do take a seat." She walked over to a cabinet and opened it. "Do you fancy a Bull"s Blood?"
"Is that the drink with the vodka? Because - "
"No," said Lady Margolotta quietly. "This, I am afraid, is the other kind. Still, ve have that in common, don"t ve? Neither of us drinks... alcohol. I believe you ver an alcoholic, Sir Samuel."
"No," said Vimes, completely taken aback. "I was a drunk. You have to be richer than I was to be an alcoholic."
"Ah, vell said. I have lemonade, if you vish.
And Miss Littlebottom? Ve don"t have beer, you"ll be pleased to hear."
Cheery looked at Vimes in amazement. "Er, perhaps a sherry?" she said.
"Certainly. You may leave us, Igor. Isn"t he a treasure?" she added as Igor retired.
"He certainly looks as though he"s just been dug up," said Vimes. This was not going according to his mental script.
"Oh, all Igors look like that. He"s been in the family for almost two hundred years. Most of him, anyway."
"Really?"
"Extremely popular vith the young ladies, for some reason. All Igors are. I"ve found it best not to speculate vhy." Lady Margolotta gave Vimes a bright smile. "yell, here"s to your stay, Sir Samuel."
"You - know a lot about me," said Vimes weakly.
"Most of it good, I assure you," she said. "Although you"re inclined. to forget your papervork, you get exasperated easily, you are far too sentimental, you regret your own lack of education and distrust erudition in others, you are immensely proud of your city and you vonder if you may be a class traitor. My... friends in Ankh-Morpork were unable to find out anything very bad and, believe me, they are pretty good at that sort of thing. And you loathe vampires."
"I - "
"Quite understandable. Ve"re dreadful people, by and large."
"But you - "
"I try to look on the bright side," said Lady Margolotta. "But, anyvay - how did you like the King?"
"He"s very... quiet," said Vimes the diplomat.
"Try cunning. He vill have found out a lot more about you than you did about him, I"m sure. Vould you like a biscuit? I don"t eat them myself, of course, but there"s a little man down in the town who does vonderful chocolate. Igor?"
"Yeth, mithtreth," said Igor. Vimes nearly sprayed his lemonade across the room.
"He was out of the room!" he said. "I saw him go! I heard the door shut!"
"Igor has strange vays. Do give Sir Samuel a napkin, Igor."
"You said the King was cunning," said Vimes, mopping lemonade off his breeches.
Igor put down a plate of biscuits and shuffled out of the room.
"Did I? No, I don"t think I could possibly have said that. It"s not the diplomatic thing to say," said Lady Margolotta smoothly. "I"m sure ve all support the new Low King, the choice of dvarfdom in general, even if they thought they ver getting a traditionalist and got an unknown quantity."
"Did you just say that last bit?" said Vimes, awash on a sea of diplomacy and damp trousers.
"Absolutely not. You know their Scone of Stone has been stolen?"
"They say it hasn"t," said Vimes.
"Do you believe them?"
No.
"The coronation cannot go ahead vithout it, did you know that?"
"We"ll have to wait until they bake another one?" said Vimes.
"No. There vill be no more Low Kings," said Lady Margolotta. "Legitimacy, you see. The Scone represents continuity all the vay to B"hrian Bloodaxe. They say he sat on it while it is still soft and left his impression, as it were."
"You mean kingship has passed from bubackside to backside?"
"Humans believe in crowns, don"t they?"
"Yes, but at least they"re at the other end!"
"Thrones, then." Lady Margolotta sighed. "People set such store by strange things. Crowns. Relics. Garlic. Anyway, there vill be a civil var over the leadership which Albrecht will surely vin, and he"ll cease all trading with Ankh-Morpork. Did you know that? He thinks the place is evil."
"I know it is," said Vimes. "And I live there."
"I"ve heard that he plans to declare all dwarfs there d"hrarak," the vampire went on. Vimes heard Cheery gasp. "It means "not dwarfs"."
"That"s very big of him," said Vimes. "I shouldn"t think our lads"ll worry about that."
"Um," said Cheery.
"Quite so. The young lady looks vorried, and you"d do vell to listen to her, Sir Samuel."
"Excuse me," said Vimes, "but what is all this to you?"
"You really don"t drink at all, Sir Samuel?"
No.
"Not even vun?"
"No," said Vimes, more sharply. "You"d know that if you knew anything about - "
"Yet you keep half a bottle in your bottom drawer as a sort of permanent test," said Lady Margolotta. "Now that, Sir Samuel, suggests a man who vears his hair shirts on the inside."
"I want to know who"s been saying all this!"
Lady Margolotta sighed. Vimes got the impression that he"d failed another test. "I am rich, Sir Samuel. Vampires tend to be. Didn"t you know? Lord Vetinari, I know, believes that information is currency. But everyvun knows that currency has alvays been information. Money doesn"t need to talk, it merely has to listen."
She stopped and sat watching Vimes, as if she"d suddenly decided to listen. Vimes moved uncomfortably under the steady gaze.
"How is Havelock Vetinari?" she said.
"The Patrician? Oh... fine."
"He must be quite old now."
"I"ve never really been certain how old he is," said Vimes. "About my age, I suppose."
Then she stood up suddenly. "This has been an interesting meeting, Sir Samuel. I trust Lady Sybil is vell?"
"Er, yes."
"Good. I am so glad. Ve vill meet again, I am sure. Igor vill see you out. My regards to the Baron, vhen you see him. Pat him on the head for me:"
"What the hell was that all about, Cheery?" said Vimes, as the coach set off down the hill again.
"Which bit, sir?"
"Practically all of it, really. Why should Ankh-Morpork dwarfs object if someone says they"re not dwarfs? They know they"re dwarfs."
"They won"t be subject to dwarf law, sir."
"I didn"t know they were."
"I mean, it"s like... how you live your life, sir. Marriages, burials, that sort of thing. Marriages won"t be legal. Old dwarfs won"t be allowed to be buried back home. And that"d be terrible. Every dwarf dreams of going back home when he"s old and starting up a little mine."
"Every dwarf? Even the ones who were born in Ankh-Morpork?"
"Home can mean all sorts of things, sir," said Cheery. "There"s other things, too. Contracts won"t be valid. Dwarfs like good solid rules, sir."
"We"ve got laws in Ankh-Morpork, too. More or less."
"Between themselves dwarfs prefer to use their own, sir."
"I bet the Copperhead dwarfs won"t like it if that happens."
"Yes, sir. There"ll be a split. And another war." She sighed.
"But why was she going on about drink?"
"I don"t know, sir."
"I don"t like "em. Never have done, never will."
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see that rat?"
"Yes, sir."
"I think she was laughing at me."
The coach rolled through the streets of Bonk once more.
"How big a war?"
"A worse one than the one fifty years ago, I expect," said Cheery.
"I don"t recall people talking about that one," said Vimes.
"Most humans didn"t know about it," said Cheery. "It mostly took place underground. Undermining passages and digging invasion tunnels and so on. Perhaps a few houses fell into mysterious holes and people didn"t get their coal, but that was about it."
"You mean dwarfs just try to collapse mines on other dwarfs?"
"Oh, yes."
"I thought you were all law-abiding?"
"Oh, yes, sir. Very law-abiding. Just not very merciful."
Ye gods, thought Vimes, as the coach rolled over the bridge in the centre of the town, I haven"t been sent to a coronation. I"ve been sent to a war that hasn"t started yet.
He glanced up. Tantony was watching him intently, but looked away quickly.
Lady Margolotta watched the coach until it reached the gates of the town. She stood back a little from the window. There was a slight overcast, but habits of preservation died hard.
"Vhat a very angry man, Igor."
"Yeth, mithtreth."
"You can see it piling up behind his patience. I vonder how far he can be pushed?"
"I"ve brought the hearthe around, mithtreth."
"Oh, is it that late? We"d better be going, then. Everyvun feels despondent if I miss a meeting, you know."
The castle on the other side of the valley was much more rugged than Lady Margolotta"s confectionery item. Even so, the gates were wide open and didn"t look as though they were often closed.
The main door was tall and heavy-looking. The only thing that suggested it hadn"t been ordered from the standard castle catalogue was the smaller, narrow door, a few feet high, set into it.
"What"s that for?" said Vimes. "Even a dwarf would bump their head."
"I suppose it depends on what shape you are when you go in," said Cheery darkly.
The main door opened as soon as Vimes had laid his hand on the wolf"s-head knocker. But he was ready this time. .
"Good morning, Igor," he said.
"Good day, your exthellenthy," said Igor, bowing.
"Igor and Igor send their regards, Igor."
"Thank you, your exthellenthy. Thinthe you mention it, could I put a parthel on your coach for Igor?"
"You mean the Igor at the embassy?"
"That"th who I thaid, thur," said Igor patiently. "He athked me if I could lend him a hand."
"Yes, no problem there."
"Good. It"th well wrapped up and the ithe will keep it nithe and freth. Would you thtep thith way? The marthter ith changing at the moment."
Igor shambled into a wide hall, one side of which was mostly fireplace, and bowed out.
"Did he say what I thought he said?" said Vimes. "About the hand and ice?"
"It"s not what it sounds like, sir," said Cheery.
"I hope so. My gods, look at that damned thing!"
A huge red flag hung from the rafters. In the middle of it was a black wolf"s head, its mouth full of stylized flashes of lightning.
"Their new flag, I think," said Cheery.
"I thought it was just a crest with the doubledheaded bat?"
"Perhaps they thought it was time for a change, sir - "
"Ah, your excellency! Isn"t Sybil with you?"
The woman who had entered was Angua, but padded somewhat with years. She was wearing a long, loose green gown, very old fashioned by Ankh-Morpork standards, although there are some styles that never go out of date on the right figure. She was brushing her hair as she walked across the floor.
"Er, she"s staying at the embassy today. We had rather a difficult journey. You would be the Baroness Serafine von Uberwald?"
"And you"re Sam Vimes. Sybil"s letters are all about you. The Baron won"t be long. We were out hunting and lost track of time."
"I expect it"s a lot of work, seeing to the horses," said Vimes politely.
Serafine"s smile went strange for a moment. "Hah. Yes," she said. "Can I get Igor to fetch you a drink?"
"No, thank you."
She sat down on one of the overstuffed chairs and beamed at him. "You"ve met the new king, your excellency?"
"This morning."
"I believe he"s having trouble."
"What makes you think that?" said Vimes.
Serafine looked startled. "I thought everyone knew?"
