Discworld - The Fifth Elephant Part 17

There was a certain amount of comparison of status, and a man cautiously raised his hand.

"I'm the deputy mayor, y'honor," he said.

"And what is this event?"

"We'm about to bait a wolf, y'honor."

"Really? I myself own a wolfhound of unusual strength and prowess. May I test it against the creature?"

There was more mumbling among the bystanders, the general consensus being: Why not? Anyway, there was that smile...

"Go ahead, y'honor," said the deputy mayor.

Carrot stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

The townspeople watched in astonishment as Gaspode walked out from between their legs and sat down. Then the laughter started.

It died away after a while, because the faint smile didn't.

"Is there a problem?" said Carrot.

"It'll get torn limb from limb!"

"Well? Do you care care what happens to a wolf?" what happens to a wolf?"

Laughter broke out again. The deputy mayor had a feeling he was being got at.

"It's your dog, mister," he said, shrugging.

The little dog barked.

"And to make it interesting, we'll wager a pound of steak," said Carrot.

The dog barked again.

"Two pounds of steak," Carrot corrected himself.

"Oh, I reckon it's going to be interesting enough as it is," said the deputy mayor. The smile was beginning to prey on his nerves. "All right, boys-fetch the wolf!"

The creature was dragged into the ring of hurdles, slavering and snarling.

"No, don't tie it up," said Carrot, as a man went to wrap the halter around a post.

"It'll get away if we don't."

"It won't have a chance, believe me."

They looked at the smile, dragged the muzzle from the wolf, and leapt to safety.

"Now, just in case you were havin' second thoughts about our agreement," said Gaspode to the wolf, "I suggest you look at the face of the bloke on the horse, right?"

The wolf glanced up. It saw the wolverine smile of the face of the rider.

Gaspode barked. The wolf yelped and rolled over.

The crowd waited. And then- "Is that it it?"

"Yes, that's how it normally goes," said Carrot. "It's a special bark, you see. All the blood in the victim congeals in an instant, out of sheer terror."

"It hasn't even worried the body!"

"What," said Carrot, "would be the point of that?"

He got down from the horse, pushed his way into the ring, picked up the body of the wolf and flung it across the saddle.

"It grunted! I heard it-" someone began.

"That was probably air being expressed from the corpse," said Carrot. The smile still hadn't gone, and at that point it suggested very subtly that Carrot had heard the last gasp of hundreds hundreds of corpses. of corpses.

"Yeah, that's right," said a voice in the crowd. "Everyone knows that. And now what about the steak for the brave little doggie?"

The people looked around to see who had said this. None of them looked down, because dogs can't talk.

"We can forgo the steak," said Carrot, mounting up.

"No, w-No you can't," said the voice, "A deal's a deal. Who was risking their life here, that's what I'd like to know?"

"Come, Gaspode," said Carrot.

Whining and grumbling, the little dog emerged from the crowd and trailed after the horse.

It wasn't until they were at the edge of the town square that one of the people said "Oi, what the h.e.l.l happened there?" and the spell broke. But by then both horse and dog were traveling really, really fast.

Vimes hated and despised the privileges of rank, but they had this to be said for them: At least they meant that you could hate and despise them in comfort.

Willikins would arrive at an inn an hour before Vimes's coach and, with an arrogance that Vimes would never dare employ, take over several rooms and install Vimes's own cook in the kitchen. Vimes complained about this to Inigo.

"But you see, Your Grace, you're not here as an individual but as Ankh-Morpork. When people look at you, they see see the city, mhm, mhm." the city, mhm, mhm."

"They do? Should I stop was.h.i.+ng?"

"That is very droll, sir. But you see, sir, you and the city are one. Mhm, mhm. If you are insulted, Ankh-Morpork is insulted. If you befriend, Ankh-Morpork befriends."

"Really? What happens when I go to the lavatory?"

"That's up to you, sir. Mhm, mph."

At breakfast next morning Vimes sliced the top off a boiled egg, thinking: This is Ankh-Morpork slicing the top off a boiled egg. If I cut my toast into soldiers, we're probably at war.

Constable Littlebottom entered, carefully, and saluted.

"Your message came back, sir," she said, handing him a sc.r.a.p of paper. "From Sergeant Stronginthearm. I've deciphered it for you. Er...the Scone from the museum's been found, sir."

"Well, that's the other shoe dropped," said Vimes. "I was worried there for a moment."

"Er, in fact Constable Shoe is bothered about it," said Cheery. "It's a bit hard to follow what he says, but he seems to think someone made a copy of it."

"What, a fake of a fake? What good's that?"

"I really couldn't say, sir. Your other...surmise was correct."

Vimes glanced at the paper.

"Hah. Thanks, Cheery. We'll be down shortly."

"You're humming, Sam," said Sybil, after a while. "That means that something awful is going to happen to somebody."

"Wonderful thing, technology," said Vimes, b.u.t.tering a slice of toast. "I can see it has its uses."

"And when you grin in that s.h.i.+ny sort of way it means that someone's playing silly b.u.g.g.e.rs and doesn't know you've just thrown a six."

"I don't know what you mean, dear. It's probably the country air agreeing with me."

Lady Sybil put down her teacup.

"Sam?"

"Yes, dear?"

"This is probably not the best time to mention it, but you know I told you I went to see old Mrs. Content? Well, she says-"

There was another knock at the door. Lady Sybil sighed.

This time it was Inigo who entered.

"We should be leaving, Your Grace, if you don't mind. I would like us to be at Slake by lunchtime and through the pa.s.s at Wilinus before dark, mhm, mhm."

"Do we have to rush rush so?" sighed Sybil. so?" sighed Sybil.

"The pa.s.s is...slightly dangerous," said Inigo. "Somewhat lawless. Mhm, mhm."

"Only somewhat?" said Vimes.

"I will just feel happier when it is behind us," said Inigo. "It would be a good idea if the second coach follows us closely and your men stay alert, Your Grace."

"They teach you tactics in Lord Vetinari's political office, do they, Inigo?" said Vimes.

"Just common sense, mhm, mhm, sir."

"Why don't we wait until tomorrow before attempting the pa.s.s?"

"With respect, Your Grace, I suggest not. For one thing, the weather is worsening. And I'm sure we are being watched. We must demonstrate that there is no yellow in the Ankh-Morpork flag, mhm, mhm."

"There is," said Vimes. "It's on the owl and the collars of the hippos."

"I mean," said Inigo, "that the colors of Ankh-Morpork do not run."

"Only since we got the new dyes," said Vimes. "All right, all right. I know what you mean. But, look, I'm not risking the servants if there's any danger. And there's to be no arguing, understand? They can stay here and take the mail coach tomorrow. No one attacks the mail coaches anymore."

"I suggest Lady Sybil remains here, too, sir. Mhm."

"Absolutely not not," said Sybil. "I wouldn't hear of it! If it's not too dangerous for Sam, it's not too dangerous for me."

"I wouldn't argue with her, if I were you," said Vimes to Inigo. "I really wouldn't."

The wolf was not very happy about being tethered to a tree but, as Gaspode said, never trust n.o.body.

They'd paused awhile in a wood about five miles from the town. It'd be a brief stop, Carrot had said. Some of the people in the square looked the sort who treasured their lack of a sense of humor.

After some barking and growling, Gaspode said: "You got to understand that matey here is pers'naly non gratis in local wolf society, being a bit of, ahaha, lone wolf..."

"Yes?" Carrot was taking the roast chickens out of their sack. Gaspode's eyes fixed on them.

"But he hears the howlin' at night."

"Ah...wolves communicate?"

"Basic'ly your wolf howl is just another way of p.i.s.sin' against a tree to say it's your d.a.m.n tree, but there's always bit of news, too. Something nasty's happenin' in Uberwald. He doesn't know what." Gaspode lowered his voice. "Between you and me, our friend here was well behind the door when the brains was handed out. If wolves was people, he'd be like Foul Ole Ron."

"What is his name?" said Carrot, thoughtfully.

Gaspode gave Carrot a Look. Who cared what a wolf was called?

"Wolf names is difficult," he said. "much prefer vampires. Vamtion, see? It's not like callin' yourself Mister Snuggles or Bonzo, you understand..."

"Yes, I know. So what is his his name?" name?"

"You want to know what his name is, then?"

"Yes, Gaspode."