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'Yes, one of the dwarf players made it for him. And he speaks quite passable
dwarfish.'
'He's drinking out of a horn, like the dwarfs do'
'He had to have one made in metal! Troll beer would melt through ordinary horn. Nils
there 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. '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 Shine 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 any time soon.'
'It depends on where the drops fall,' said Mr Shine. 'In time they may wash away a
valley, at least. You should ask yourself why you were so keen to get into that mine.'
'Because there had been a murder!'
'And that was the only reason?' said the shrouded Mr Shine. 'Of course!'
'And everyone knows what gossips dwarfs are,' said Mr Shine. 'Well, I am sure you
will do your best, commander. I hope you find the murderer before the Dark catches
up with them.'
'Mr Shine, some of my officers have lit candles around that damn 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 exists 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 Pickles/Pointer, halfway up the
stairs. 'There is a big troll asking after you.'
'What a shame,' said Mr Shine. '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. 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 Shine.
'Because someone has to!'
'Exactly! Goodbye, Mister Vimes.'
Vimes hurried up the stairs and followed Miss Pickles/Pointer 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 shifted uneasily. 'Sorry, Mister Vimes, but I was the only one dat knew
where-' he began.
'Yes, okay. Is this about the taka-taka?'
'How did you know about that, sir?'
'I don't. What is 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 humour as some human aberration which
had to be overcome by talking slowly and patiently.
'No, sir. When der taka-taka is sent a-round the clans, it a summon-ing to war,' he
said.
'Oh damn. 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 embarrassed.
'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 der 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 Otto will be there with his damn 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 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. Hell, I'm probably a
spoon. Well, I'm going to be Vimes, and Vimes reads Where's My Cow? 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 sloshing
backwards and forwards like thin soup, his ribs nudging him occasionally to say, yes, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]