Thud! - A Novel Of Discworld Part 25

Vimes waited. Mr. s.h.i.+ne, who was now pulling his glove back on, appeared to have an agenda. The wisest thing was to let him talk until it all made sense.

"And do you know what happens when we become kings?" said Mr. s.h.i.+ne, now safely shrouded once more.

"Koom Valley?" Vimes suggested.

"Well done. The trolls unite, and we have the same tired old war, followed by centuries of skirmis.h.i.+ng. That is the sad, stupid history of the trolls and the dwarfs. And this time, Ankh-Morpork will be caught up in it. You know that the troll and dwarf population here has grown enormously under Vetinari."

"All right, but if you're king, can't you just make peace?"

"Just like that? It'll need much more than that." The hood of the robe shook sadly. "You really know very little about us, Mister Vimes. You see us down on the plains, shambling around, talkin' like dis. talkin' like dis. You don't know about the history chant, or the Long Dance, or stone music. You see the hunched troll dragging his club. That's what the dwarfs did for us, long ago. They turned us, in your minds, into sad, brainless monsters." You don't know about the history chant, or the Long Dance, or stone music. You see the hunched troll dragging his club. That's what the dwarfs did for us, long ago. They turned us, in your minds, into sad, brainless monsters."

"Don't look at me when you say that," said Vimes. "Detritus is one of my best officers!"

There was silence. The Mr. s.h.i.+ne said: "Shall I tell you what I think the dwarfs were looking for, Mister Vimes? Something of theirs. It is a thing that talks. And they found it, and I think what it had to say directly caused five deaths. I believe I know how to find the secret of Koom Valley. In a few weeks, everyone will be able to. But by then, I think, it will be too late. You must solve it, too, before the war sweeps up all of us."

"How do you know all this?" said Vimes.

"Because I'm magical," said the voice from the hood.

"Oh, well, if that's the way you're-" Vimes began.

"Patience, Commander," said Mr. s.h.i.+ne. "I just...simplified. Accept, instead, that I am very...smart. I have an a.n.a.lytical mind. I've studied the histories and lore of my hereditary enemy. I have friends who are dwarfs. Quite knowledgeable dwarfs. Quite...powerful dwarfs, who wish for an end to this stupid feud as much as I do. And I have a love of games and puzzles. The Codex Codex was not a terrible challenge." was not a terrible challenge."

"If it's going to help me find the murderers of those dwarfs in the mine then you should tell me what you know!"

"Why trust what I say? I am a troll, I'm partisan, I might wish to direct your thoughts down the wrong path."

"Maybe you've already!" said Vimes hotly. He knew he was making a fool of himself; it only made him angrier.

"Good, that's the spirit!" said Mr. s.h.i.+ne. "Test all that I've told you! Where would we be if Commander Vimes relied on magic, eh? No, the secret of Koom Valley must be found by observation and questioning and facts, facts, facts. Possibly I'm helping you find them a little quicker than you might otherwise do. You just have to think about what you know, Commander. And, in the meantime, shall we play a little game?"

Mr. s.h.i.+ne picked up a box by his chair and upended it over the table.

"This is Thud, Mister Vimes," he said, as little stone figures bounced over the board. "Dwarfs versus trolls. Eight trolls and thirty-two dwarfs, forever fighting their little battles on a cardboard Koom Valley." He began to place the pieces, black-gloved hands moving with un-trollish speed.

Vimes pushed back his chair. "Nice to meet you, Mr. s.h.i.+ne, but all you are giving me is riddles and-"

"Sit down down, Commander." The quite voice had a schoolteacher harmonic to it that folded Vimes's legs under him. "Good," said Mr. s.h.i.+ne. "Eight trolls, thirty-two dwarfs. Dwarfs always start. A dwarf is small and fast and can run as many squares as possible in any direction. A troll-because we're stupid and drag our clubs, as everyone knows-can only move one one square in any direction. There are other types of moving, but what do you see so far?" square in any direction. There are other types of moving, but what do you see so far?"

Vimes tried to concentrate. It was hard. This was a game, it wasn't real real. Besides, the answer was so obvious that it couldn't be the right one.

"It looks looks like the dwarfs must win every time," he ventured. like the dwarfs must win every time," he ventured.

"Ah, natural suspicion, I like like that. In fact, among the best players, the bias is slightly in favor of the trolls," said Mr. s.h.i.+ne. "This is largely because a troll can, in the right circ.u.mstances, do a that. In fact, among the best players, the bias is slightly in favor of the trolls," said Mr. s.h.i.+ne. "This is largely because a troll can, in the right circ.u.mstances, do a lot lot of damage. How are your ribs, by the way?" of damage. How are your ribs, by the way?"

"All the better for you asking," said Vimes sourly. He'd forgotten them for twenty blessed minutes; now they ached again.

"Good. I'm glad Brick has found Detritus. He has a good brain if he can be persuaded to stop frying it every half an hour. Back to our game...advantages to either side do not matter, in fact, because a complete game consists of two two battles. In one, you must play the dwarfs. In the other, you must play the trolls. As you may expect, dwarfs find it easy to play the dwarf side, which needs a strategy and mode of attack that comes easy to a dwarf. Something similar applies to the trolls. But to battles. In one, you must play the dwarfs. In the other, you must play the trolls. As you may expect, dwarfs find it easy to play the dwarf side, which needs a strategy and mode of attack that comes easy to a dwarf. Something similar applies to the trolls. But to win win, you must play both sides. You must, in fact, be able to think like your ancient enemy. A really skilled player-well, take a look, Commander. Look toward the back of the room, where my friend Phyllite is playing against Nils Mousehammer."

Vimes turned.

"What am I looking for?" he said.

"Whatever you see."

"Well, that troll over there is wearing what looks like a large dwarf helmet..."

"Yes, one of the dwarf players made it for him. And he speaks quite pa.s.sable dwarfish."

"He's drinking out of a horn, like the dwarfs do..."

"He had to have one made in metal! Troll beer would melt ordinary horn. Nils can sing quite a lot of the troll history chant. Look at Gabbro, over there. Good troll boy, but he knows all there is to know about dwarf battle bread. In fact, I believe that's a boomerang croissant on the table next to him. Purely for ceremonial purposes, of course. Commander?"

"Hmm?" said Vimes, turning his head. "What?" A slightly built dwarf at one of the tables was watching him with interest, as though he was some kind of fascinating monster.

Mr. s.h.i.+ne chuckled. "To study the enemy, you have to get under his skin. When you're under his skin, you start to see the world through his eyes. Gabbro is so good at playing from the dwarf viewpoint that his troll game is suffering, and he wants to go to Copperhead to learn from some of the dwarf thudmeisters there. I hope he does; they'll teach him how to play like a troll. None of these lads here were out getting fighting drunk last night. And thus we wear down mountains. Water dripping on a stone, dissolving and removing. Changing the shape of the world, one drop at a time. Water dripping on a stone, Commander. Water flowing underground, bubbling up in unexpected places."

"I think you're going to need a bit more of a gush," said Vimes. "I don't think a bunch of people playing games is going to break down a mountain anytime soon."

"It depends on where the drops fall," said Mr. s.h.i.+ne. "In time, they may wash away a valley, at least. You should ask yourself: why was I so keen to get into that mine?"

"Because there had been a murder!"

"And that was the only reason?" said the shrouded Mr. s.h.i.+ne.

"Of course!"

"And everyone knows what gossips dwarfs are," said Mr. s.h.i.+ne. "Well, I am sure you will do your best, Commander. I hope you find the murderer before the Dark catches up with them."

"Mr. s.h.i.+ne, some of my officers have lit candles around that d.a.m.n symbol!"

"Good thinking, I'd say."

"So you really believe that it's some kind of a threat? How come you know so much about dwarf signs, anyway?"

"I have studied them. I accept the fact of their existence. Some of your officers believe. Most dwarfs do, somewhere in their gnarly little souls. I respect that. You can take a dwarf out of the Dark, but you can't take the Dark out of a dwarf. Those symbols are very old. They have real power. Who knows what old evil lurks in the deep darkness under the mountains? There's no darkness like it."

"You can take the mickey out of a copper, too," said Vimes.

"Ah, Mister Vimes, you have had a busy day. So much happening, so little time to think. Take time to reflect on all you know, sir. I am a reflecting kind of person."

"Commander Vimes?" The voice came from Miss Pointer/Miss Pickles, halfway up the stairs. "There is a big troll asking after you."

"What a shame," said Mr. s.h.i.+ne. "That will be Sergeant Detritus. Not good news, I suspect. If I had to guess, I'd say that the trolls have sent around the taka-taka taka-taka. You must go, Mister Vimes. I'll be seeing you again."

"I don't think I'll see you," said Vimes. He stood up, and then hesitated.

"One question, right? And no funny answers, if you don't mind," he said. "Tell me why you helped Brick. Why should you care about a slushed-out gutter troll?"

"Why should you care about some dead dwarfs?" said Mr. s.h.i.+ne.

"Because someone has to!"

"Exactly! Good-bye, Mr. Vimes."

Vimes hurried up the stairs and followed Miss Pointer/Miss Pickles out into the shop. Detritus was standing among the mineral specimens, looking uncomfortable, like a man in a morgue.

"What's happening?" said Vimes.

Detritus s.h.i.+fted uneasily.

"Sorry, Mister Vimes, but I was der only one dat knew where-" he began.

"Yes, okay. Is this about the taka-taka taka-taka?"

"How did you know about dat, sir?"

"I don't. What is is the t the taka-taka?"

"It der famous war club of der trolls," said Detritus. Vimes, with the image of the peace club of the trolls downstairs still in his mind, couldn't stop himself.

"You mean you subscribe and get a different war every month?" he said. But that sort of thing was wasted on Detritus. He treated humor as some human aberration that had to be overcome by talking slowly and patiently.

"No, sir. When der taka-taka taka-taka is sent a-round the clans, it a summon-ing to war," he said. is sent a-round the clans, it a summon-ing to war," he said.

"Oh d.a.m.n. Koom Valley?"

"Yes, sir. An' I'm hearing dat der Low King and der Uberwald dwarfs is already on der way to Koom Valley, too. Der street is full of it."

"Er...bingle bingle bingle...?" said a small and very nervous voice.

Vimes pulled out the Gooseberry and stared at it. At a time like this...

"Well?" he said.

"It's twenty-nine minutes past five, Insert Name Here," said the imp nervously.

"So?"

"On foot, at this time of day, you will need to leave now to be home at six o'clock," said the imp.

"Der Patrician want to see you and dere's clackses arrivin' and everythin'," said Detritus insistently.

Vimes continued to stare at the imp, which looked embarra.s.sed.

"I'm going home," he said, and started walking. Dark clouds were rolling in overhead, heralding another summer storm.

"Dey've foun' der three dwarfs near der well, sir," said Detritus, lumbering after him. "Looks like it was other dwarfs what killed 'em, sure enough. The ol' grags have gone. Captain Carrot's put guards on every exit he can find..."

But they dig, Vimes thought. Who knows where all the tunnels go?

"...and he wants permission to break open der big iron doors in Treacle Street," Detritus went on. "Dey can get at the last dwarf dat way."

"What are the dwarfs saying about it?" said Vimes, over his shoulder. "The living ones, I mean?"

"A lot of dem saw the dead dwarfs brought up," said Detritus. "I fink most of dem would hand him der crowbar."

Let's hear it for the mob, Vimes thought. Grab it by its sentimental heart. Besides, the storm is beginning. Why worry about an extra raindrop?

"Okay," he said. "Tell him this. I know know Otto will be there with his d.a.m.n picture box, so when that door is wrenched open, it's going to be dwarfs doing it, okay? A picture full of dwarfs?" Otto will be there with his d.a.m.n picture box, so when that door is wrenched open, it's going to be dwarfs doing it, okay? A picture full of dwarfs?"

"Right, sir!"

"How is young Brick? Will he swear a statement? Does he understand understand about that?" about that?"

"I reckon he could, sir."

"In front of dwarfs?"

"He will if I ask him, sir," said Detritus. "Dat I can promise."

"Good. And get someone to put out a message on the clacks, to every city watch and village constable between here and the mountains. Tell them to look out for a party of dark dwarfs. They've got what they came for and they're doing a runner, I know it."

"You want they should try to stop 'em?" the sergeant asked.

"No! No one should try it! Say they've got weapons that shoot fire! Just let me know where they're headed!"

"I'll tell dem dat, sir."

And I'm going home, Vimes repeated to himself. Everyone wants something from Vimes, even though I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer. h.e.l.l, I'm probably a spoon. Well, I'm going to be Vimes, and Vimes reads Where's My Cow? Where's My Cow? to Young Sam at six o'clock. With the noises done right. to Young Sam at six o'clock. With the noises done right.

He went home at a brisk walk, using all the little shortcuts, his mind slos.h.i.+ng backwards and forwards like thin soup, his ribs nudging him occasionally to say yes, they were still here and twinging. He arrived at the door just as Willikins was opening it.

"I shall tell her ladys.h.i.+p you are back, sir," he called out as Vimes hurried up the stairs. "She is mucking out the dragon pens."

Young Sam was standing up in his cot, watching the door. Vimes's day went soft and pink.

The chair was littered with the favored toys of the hour-a rag ball, a little hoop, a wooly snake with one b.u.t.ton eye. Vimes pushed them onto the rug, sat down, and took off his helmet. Then he took off his damp boots. You didn't need to heat a room after Sam Vimes had taken his boots off. On the wall, the nursery clock ticked, and with every tick and tock a little sheep jumped back and forth over a fence.

Sam unfolded the rather chewed, rather soggy book.

"Where's my cow?" he announced, and Young Sam chuckled. Rain rattled on the window.

Where's my cow?Is that my cow?

...A "thing" that talks, he thought as his mouth and eyes took over the task at hand. I'm going to have to find out about that. Why'd it make dwarfs want to kill one another?

It goes baa!It is a sheep!