Thud! - A Novel Of Discworld Part 6

Carrot looked shocked. "Oh no, sir!"

"Good!"

"They'd just keep it secret from humans. Sorry, sir."

The important thing is not to shout at this point, Vimes told himself. Do not...what do they call it...go postal? Treat this as a learning exercise. Find out why the world is not as you thought it was. a.s.semble the facts, digest the information, consider the implications. Then Then go postal. But with precision. go postal. But with precision.

"Dwarfs have always been law-abiding citizens, Captain," he said. "They even pay their taxes. Suddenly they think it's okay not to report a possible murder?"

Carrot could see the steely glint in Vimes's eyes.

"Well, the fact is-" he began.

"Yes?"

"You see, Hamcrusher was a deep-down dwarf, sir. I mean really really deep-down. Hates coming to the surface. They say he lived at sub-sub-bas.e.m.e.nt level..." deep-down. Hates coming to the surface. They say he lived at sub-sub-bas.e.m.e.nt level..."

"I know all that. So?"

"So how far down does our jurisdiction go, sir?" said Carrot.

"What? As far down as we like!"

"Er...Does it say that anywhere, sir? Most of the dwarfs here are from Copperhead and Llamedos and Uberwald," said Carrot. "Those places have surface laws and underground laws. I know it's not the same here but...well, it's how they see the world. And, of course, Hamcrusher's dwarfs are all all deep-downers, and you know how ordinary dwarfs think about them." deep-downers, and you know how ordinary dwarfs think about them."

They come b.l.o.o.d.y close to wors.h.i.+ping them, Vimes thought, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes. It just gets worse and worse.

"All right," he said. "But this is Ankh-Morpork, and we have our own laws. There can be no harm in us just checking up on the health of Brother Hamcrusher, can there? We can knock on the door, can't we? Say we've got good reason to ask? I know it's only a rumor, but if enough people believe a rumor like that, we will not not be able to keep a lid on it." be able to keep a lid on it."

"Good idea, sir."

"Go and tell Angua I want her along. And...oh, Haddock. And Ringfounder, maybe. You come, too, of course."

"Er...not a good idea, sir. I happen to know most deep-downers are nervous about me. They believe I'm too human to be a dwarf."

"Really?"

Six feet three inches in his stockinged feet, thought Vimes. Adopted and raised by dwarfs in a little dwarf mine in the mountains. His dwarfish name is Kzad-bhat, which means Head Banger. He coughed. "Why on earth should they think that, I wonder?" he said.

"All right, I know I'm...technically human, sir, but size has traditionally never been a human, sir, but size has traditionally never been a dwarfish dwarfish definition of a dwarf. Hamcrusher's group aren't happy about me, though." definition of a dwarf. Hamcrusher's group aren't happy about me, though."

"Sorry to hear it. I'll take Cheery, then."

"Are you mad, sir? You know what they think about female dwarfs who actually admit admit it!" it!"

"All right, then, I'll take Sergeant Detritus. They'll believe in him him all right, won't they?" all right, won't they?"

"Could be said to be a bit provocative, sir-" Carrot began doubtfully. be said to be a bit provocative, sir-" Carrot began doubtfully.

"Detritus is an Ankh-Morpork copper, Captain, just like you and me," said Vimes. "I suppose I'm I'm acceptable, am I?" acceptable, am I?"

"Yes, sir, of course. I think you worry them, though."

"I do? Oh." Vimes hesitated. "Well, that's good. And Detritus is an officer of the law. We've still got some law here. And as far as I'm concerned, it goes deep. All the way down."

b.l.o.o.d.y stupid thing to say, Vimes thought five minutes Vimes thought five minutes later, as he walked through the streets at the head of the little squad. He cursed himself for saying it. later, as he walked through the streets at the head of the little squad. He cursed himself for saying it.

Coppers stayed alive by trickery. That's how it worked. worked. You had your Watch Houses with the big blue lights outside, and you made certain there were always burly watchmen visible in the big public places, and you sw.a.n.ked around like you owned the place. But you didn't own it. It was all smoke and mirrors. You magicked a little policeman into everyone's head. You relied on people giving in, knowing the rules. But in truth, a hundred well-armed people could wipe out the Watch, if they knew what they were doing. Once some madman finds out that a copper taken unawares dies just like anyone else, the spell is broken. You had your Watch Houses with the big blue lights outside, and you made certain there were always burly watchmen visible in the big public places, and you sw.a.n.ked around like you owned the place. But you didn't own it. It was all smoke and mirrors. You magicked a little policeman into everyone's head. You relied on people giving in, knowing the rules. But in truth, a hundred well-armed people could wipe out the Watch, if they knew what they were doing. Once some madman finds out that a copper taken unawares dies just like anyone else, the spell is broken.

Hamcrusher's dwarfs don't believe in the City Watch? That could turn out to be a problem. Maybe bringing a troll along was was provocative, but Detritus was a citizen, G.o.ds d.a.m.n it, just like everyone else. If you- provocative, but Detritus was a citizen, G.o.ds d.a.m.n it, just like everyone else. If you- "Duddle-dum-duddle-dum-duddle-dum!"

Ah, yes. No matter how bad things were, there was always room for them to get just that little bit worse...

Vimes pulled the smart brown box out of his pocket and flipped it open. The pointy-eared face of a small green imp stared up at him with that wistful, hopeless smile, which, in its various incarnations, he'd come to know and dread.

"Good morning, Insert Name Here! I am the Dis-Organizer Mark Five, the GooseberrytM. How may I-" it began, speaking fast in order to get as much said as possible before the inevitable interruption.

"I swear I switched you off," said Vimes.

"You threatened me with a hammer," said the imp accusingly, and rattled the tiny bars. "He threatens state-of-the-Craft technomancy with a hammer, everybody!" it shouted. "He doesn't even fill in the registration card! That's why I have to call him Insert Nam-"

"I thought you'd got rid of that thing, sir," said Angua, as Vimes snapped the lid shut. "I thought it had had an...accident."

"Hah!" said a m.u.f.fled voice from the box.

"Sybil always gets me a new one," said Vimes, making a face. "A better better one. But I one. But I know know this one was turned off." this one was turned off."

The box's lid thrust upwards.

"I wake up for alarms!" the imp shrieked. "Ten colon forty-five colon Sit for d.a.m.n Portrait!"

Vimes groaned. The portrait with Sir Joshua. He'd get into trouble for this. He'd already missed two sittings. But this dwarf thing was...important.

"I won't be able to make it," he mumbled.

"Then would you like to engage the handy-to-use BluenoseTM Integrated Messenger Service?" Integrated Messenger Service?"

"What does that do?" said Vimes, with deep suspicion. The succession of Dis-Organizers he had owned had proved quite successful at very nearly sorting out all the problems that stemmed from owning them in the first place.

"Er...basically, it means me running with a message to the nearest clacks tower really fast really fast," said the imp hopefully.

"And do you come back?" said Vimes, hope also rising.

"Absolutely!"

"Thank you, no," said Vimes.

"How about a game of Splong!TM, specially devised for the Mark Five?" pleaded the imp. "I have the bats right here. No? Perhaps you would prefer the ever-popular 'Guess My Weight in Pigs'? Or I could whistle one of your favorite tunes? My iHUMTM function enables me to remember up to one thousand five hundred of your all-time-" function enables me to remember up to one thousand five hundred of your all-time-"

"You could try learning to use it, sir," said Angua, as Vimes once again shut the lid on the protesting voice.

"Did use one," said Vimes.

"Yup. As a doorstop," rumbled Detritus, behind him.

"I'm just not at home with technomancy, all right?" said Vimes. "End of discussion. Haddock, nip along to Moon Pond Lane, will you. Present my apologies to Lady Sybil, who will be at Sir Joshua's studio there. Tell her I'm very sorry, but this has come up and it needs careful handling."

Well, it does, he thought, as they headed onwards. It probably needs more careful handling than I'm going to give it. Well, to h.e.l.l with that. It comes to something if you have to tread carefully even to find out if there's been been a murder. a murder.

Treacle Street was just the kind of area the dwarfs colonized was just the kind of area the dwarfs colonized-on the edge edge of the less pleasant parts of town, but not all the way there. You tended to notice the dwarf outposts. A patchwork of windows testified to a two-story house having been turned into a three-story house while remaining exactly the same height; there was an excess of small ponies pulling small carts; and, of course, all the really short people wearing beards and helmets was a definite clue. of the less pleasant parts of town, but not all the way there. You tended to notice the dwarf outposts. A patchwork of windows testified to a two-story house having been turned into a three-story house while remaining exactly the same height; there was an excess of small ponies pulling small carts; and, of course, all the really short people wearing beards and helmets was a definite clue.

Dwarfs dug down, too. It was a dwarf thing. Up here, far from the river, they could probably get to sub-bas.e.m.e.nt level without being up to their necks in water.

There were a lot of them out and about this morning. They weren't particularly angry, insofar as Vimes could tell when the available area of expression between eyebrows and mustache was a few square inches, but it wasn't usual to see dwarfs just standing around. They tended to be somewhere, working hard, usually for one another. No, they weren't angry, but they were were worried. You didn't need to see faces to sense that. Dwarfs as a whole weren't happy about newspapers, regarding such news as a lover of fine grapes would regard raisins. They got their news from other dwarfs, to ensure that it was new and fresh and full of personality, and no doubt it grew all kinds of extras in the telling. This crowd was waiting uncertainly for news that it was going to become a riot. worried. You didn't need to see faces to sense that. Dwarfs as a whole weren't happy about newspapers, regarding such news as a lover of fine grapes would regard raisins. They got their news from other dwarfs, to ensure that it was new and fresh and full of personality, and no doubt it grew all kinds of extras in the telling. This crowd was waiting uncertainly for news that it was going to become a riot.

For now, it parted to let them through. The presence of Detritus caused a wake of muttering, which the troll cleverly decided not to hear.

"Feel that?" said Angua, as they walked up the street. "Through your feet?"

"I don't have your senses, Sergeant," said Vimes.

"It's a constant thud, thud, underground," said Angua. "I can feel the street shaking. I think it's a pump."

"Pumping out more cellars, maybe?" said Vimes. Sounded like a big undertaking. How far down could they go? he wondered. Ankh-Morpork is mostly built on Ankh-Morpork, after all. There's been a city here since forever forever.

It wasn't just a random crowd, when you looked closely. It was also a queue, along one side of the street, moving very slowly toward a side door. They were waiting to see the grags. Please come and say the death words over my father...please advise me on the sale of my shop...please guide me in my business...I am a long way from the bones of my grandfathers, please help me stay a dwarf... Please come and say the death words over my father...please advise me on the sale of my shop...please guide me in my business...I am a long way from the bones of my grandfathers, please help me stay a dwarf...

This was not the time to be D'rkza D'rkza. Strictly speaking, most Ankh-Morpork dwarfs were D'rkza D'rkza; it meant something like "not really a dwarf." They didn't live deep underground and only come out at night, they didn't mine metal, they let their daughters show at least a few few indications of femininity, they tended to be a little slipshod when it came to some of the ceremonies. But the whiff of Koom Valley was in the air, and this was no time to be indications of femininity, they tended to be a little slipshod when it came to some of the ceremonies. But the whiff of Koom Valley was in the air, and this was no time to be mostly mostly a dwarf. So you paid attention to the grags. They kept you on the straight seam. a dwarf. So you paid attention to the grags. They kept you on the straight seam.

And, until now, that had been fine by Vimes. Up until now, though, the grags in the city has stopped short of advocating murder.

He liked liked dwarfs. They made reliable officers, and dwarfs tended to be naturally law-abiding, at least in the absence of alcohol. But they were all watching him. He could feel the pressure of their gaze. dwarfs. They made reliable officers, and dwarfs tended to be naturally law-abiding, at least in the absence of alcohol. But they were all watching him. He could feel the pressure of their gaze.

Standing around watching people was, of course, Ankh-Morpork's leading industry. The place was a net exporter of penetrating stares. But these were the wrong kind. The street felt not exactly hostile but alien. And yet it was an Ankh-Morpork street. How could he be a stranger here?

Maybe I shouldn't have brought a troll, he thought. But where does that lead? Pick your own copper from a chart?

Two dwarfs were on guard outside Hamcrusher's house; they were more heavily armed than the average dwarf, insofar as that was possible, but it was probably the black-leather sashes they wore that were doing the trick of keeping the mood subdued. These declared to all who recognized them that they were working for deep-down dwarfs and, as such, partook a little of the magic, mana, awe, or fear that they engendered in the average, backsliding dwarf.

They started to give Vimes the look of all guards everywhere, which, in summary, is this: The default position is that you're dead; only my patience stands in the way. But Vimes was ready for it. Any five h.e.l.ls you cared to name knew that he'd used it himself often enough. He countered with the aloof expression of someone who didn't notice guards.

"Commander Vimes, City Watch," he said, holding up his badge. "I need to see Grag Hamcrusher immediately."

"He's not seeing anyone," said one of the guards.

"Oh. So he is is dead, then?" said Vimes. dead, then?" said Vimes.

He felt felt the answer. He didn't even have to see Angua's little nod; the dwarfs had been dreading the question, and were sweating. the answer. He didn't even have to see Angua's little nod; the dwarfs had been dreading the question, and were sweating.

To their shock and horror, and also somewhat to his own surprise, he sat down on the steps between them and pulled a packet of cheap cigars out of his pocket.

"I won't offer one to you lads, because I know that you aren't allowed to smoke on duty," he said convivially. "I don't allow my boys to do it. The only reason I can get away with it is that there's no one to tell me off, haha." He blew a stream of blue smoke. "Now, I am, as you know, head of the City Watch. Yes?"

The two dwarfs, staring straight ahead, nodded imperceptibly.

"Good," said Vimes. "And that means you, that's both both of you, are impeding me in the execution of my duty. That gives me, oooh, a whole of you, are impeding me in the execution of my duty. That gives me, oooh, a whole range range of options. The one I'm thinking of right now is summoning Constable Dorfl. He's a golem. Nothing impedes of options. The one I'm thinking of right now is summoning Constable Dorfl. He's a golem. Nothing impedes him him in the execution of his duty, believe me. You'll be picking bits of that door off the floor for in the execution of his duty, believe me. You'll be picking bits of that door off the floor for weeks weeks. And I wouldn't stand in his way, if I was you. Oh, and it'd be lawful, which means that if anyone puts up a fight it gets really interesting. Look, I'm only telling you this because I've done my share of guarding over the years, and there are times when looking tough works and there are times-and this, I suggest, is one of them-when going and asking the people inside inside what you should do next is a very good career move." what you should do next is a very good career move."

"Can't leave our post," said one of the dwarfs.

"Don't worry about that," said Vimes, standing. "I'll stand guard for you."

"You can't do that!"

Vimes bent down to the dwarf's ear.

"I am Commander of the Watch," he hissed, no longer Mr. Friendly. He pointed at the cobblestones. " am Commander of the Watch," he hissed, no longer Mr. Friendly. He pointed at the cobblestones. "This is my street. I can stand where I like. is my street. I can stand where I like. You You are standing on are standing on my my street. It's the public highway. That means that there are about a dozen things I could arrest you for, right now. That would cause trouble, right enough, but you would be bang in the middle of it. My advice to you, one guard to another, is to hop off smartly and speak to someone highe-further up the ladder, okay?" street. It's the public highway. That means that there are about a dozen things I could arrest you for, right now. That would cause trouble, right enough, but you would be bang in the middle of it. My advice to you, one guard to another, is to hop off smartly and speak to someone highe-further up the ladder, okay?"

He saw worried eyes peering out from between the rampant eyebrows and the luxuriant mustache, spotted the tiny little tells he'd come to recognize, and added: "Off you go, ma'am."

The dwarf hammered on the door. The hatch slid back. Whispering transpired. The door opened. The dwarf hurried in. The door closed. Vimes turned, took up station beside it, and stood to attention slightly more theatrically than necessary.

There were one or two outbreaks of laughter. Dwarfs they may be, but in Ankh-Morpork people always wanted to see what would happen next.

The remaining guard hissed: "We're not allowed to smoke on duty!"

"Oops, sorry," said Vimes, and removed the cigar, tucking it behind his ear for later. This got a few more chuckles. Let 'em laugh, said Vimes to himself. At least they're not throwing things.

The sun shone down. The crowd stood still. Sergeant Angua stared at the sky, her face carefully blank. Detritus had settled into the absolute, rock-like stillness of a troll with nothing to do right now. Only Ringfounder looked uneasy. This probably was not a good time and place to be a dwarf with a badge, Vimes thought. But why? All we've been doing in the last couple of weeks is trying to stop two bunches of idiots from killing one another.

And now this. This morning was going to cost him an earful, he thought, although Sybil never shouted when she told him off. She just spoke sadly, which was a lot worse.

The b.l.o.o.d.y family portrait, that was the trouble. It seemed to involve an awful lot of sittings, but it was a tradition in Sybil's family, and that was that. It was more or less the same portrait, every generation: the happy family group against a panorama of their rolling acres. Vimes had no rolling acres, only aching feet, but as the inheritor of the Ramkin wealth, he was, he'd learned, also the owner of Crundells, a huge stately home out in the country. He'd never even seen it yet. Vimes didn't mind the countryside if it stayed put and didn't attack, but he liked pavement under his feet and didn't much care for being pictured as some kind of squire. So far, his excuses for avoiding the interminable sittings had been reasonable, but it was a close-run thing...

More time pa.s.sed. Some of the dwarfs in the crowd wandered off. Vimes didn't move, not even when he heard the hatch in the door open for a moment and then slide back. They were trying to wait him out.

"Tcha-tcha-rumptiddle-tiddle-tiddle-tiddle-tchum-chum!"

Without looking down, maintaining the stolid thousand-mile stare of a guard, Vimes pulled the Dis-Organizer out of his pocket and raised it to his lips.

"I know know you were turned off," he grunted. you were turned off," he grunted.