Terry Pratchett - Thud

`I did not think you would come.' Helmclever's voice was barely audible. `Hamcrusher was ... I think ... I didn't ... Ardent said you wouldn't worry because the grag was such a danger. He said the grag had ordered the miners to be killed, and so now it was ended. But I thought it ... I ... it wasn't right. Things were wrong! I heard you were full of pride. I had to get you ... interested. He ... he. .

`You thought I wouldn't be? A troll is accused of murdering a dwarf, at a time like this, and I wouldn't be interested?' said Vimes.

`Ardent said that you wouldn't be because no humans were involved. He said you would not care what happens to dwarfs.'

`He ought to get out in the fresh air more!'

Helmclever's eyes and nose were running now, and dripping on the board. A storm stops the battle, Vimes thought. Then the dwarf lifted his head and wailed: `It was the club the troll Mr Shine gave me for winning five games in a row,' he wailed. `He was my friend! He said I was as good as a troll so I should have a club! I told Ardent it was a war trophy! But he took it and bashed that poor dead body!'

Water dripping on a stone, Vimes thought. And it depends on where the drops fall, right, Mr Shine? What good has it done this poor devil? He wasn't in the right job to have doubt enter his life!

`All right, Mr Helmclever, thank you for this,' he said, sitting back. `There is just one thing, though. Do you know who sent those dwarfs to my house?'

`What dwarfs?'

Vimes stared into the weeping, red-rimmed eyes. Their owner was either telling the truth or the stage had missed a major talent.

`They came to attack me and my family,' he said.

`I ... did hear Ardent talking to the captain of the guard,' Helmclever murmured. `Something about ... a warning ...,

'A warning? Do you call-' Vimes began, and stopped when he saw Bashfullsson shaking his head. Right. Right. No point in taking it out on this one. He's had all the stuffing knocked out of him in any case.

`They are very frightened now,' Helmclever said. `They don't understand the city. They don't understand why trolls are allowed here. They don't understand people who don't ... understand them. They fear you. They fear everything now.'

`Where have they gone?'

`I don't know. Ardent said they would have gone now anyway, because they've got the cube and the painting; said Helmclever. `He said the painting will show where there are more lies, and those can be destroyed. But they fear most of all the Summoning Dark, commander. They can feel it coming for them.'

`It's only a drawing,' said Vimes. `I don't believe in it.'

`I do,' said Helmclever calmly. `It is in this room. How does it come? It comes in darkness and in vengeance and in disguise.'

Vimes felt his skin twitch. Nobby looked around the grimy stone walls. Bashfullsson sat bolt upright in his chair. Even Fred Colon shifted uneasily.

This is just mystic stuff, Vimes told himself. It's not even human mystic stuff. I don't believe in it. So why does it feel a bit chilly in here?

He coughed. `Well, once it knows they've gone I expect it'll head out after them.'

`And it will come for me,' said Helmclever, in the same calm voice. He folded his hands in front of him.

`Why? You didn't kill anybody,' said Vimes.

`You don't understand! They ... they ... when they killed the miners one was not all the way dead, and, and, and we could hear him hammering on the door with his fists, and I stood in the tunnel and listened to him die and I wished him dead so that the noise would stop, but, but, but when it did it went on in my head, and I could, I could, I could have turned the wheel but I was afraid of the dark guards who have no souls and because of that the darkness will take mine...'

The little voice died away.

There was a nervous cough from Nobby.

`Well, thank you again, said Vimes. Good grief, they really messed up his head, poor little sod. And I've got nothing, he thought. I might get Ardent on a charge of falsifying evidence. I can't put Brick in the witness box because I'll simply be proving that there was a troll in the mine. All I've got is young Helmclever here, who's clearly unfit to testify.

He turned to Bashfullsson and shrugged. `I think I'd like to keep our friend here tonight, for his own good. I can't imagine there's anywhere else for him to go. The statement he made is of course covered by. .

Now his voice trailed off. He turned back in his chair to glare at the sorrowful Helmclever.

`What painting?'

`The painting of the Battle of Koom Valley by Methodia Rascal,' said the dwarf, not looking up. `It's very big. They stole it from the museum.

`What?' said Fred Colon, who was making tea in the corner. `It was them?'

`What? You know about this, Fred?' Vimes demanded.

`We - yes, Mister Vimes, we did a report-'

`Koom Valley, Koom Valley, Koom Valley!' roared Vimes, slapping his hand down on the table so hard that the candlesticks jumped into the air. `A report? What the hell good's a report? Have I got time these days to read reports? Why doesn't someone tell me these thi-'

One candle rolled on to the floor and went out. Vimes grabbed for the other as it reached the edge of the table, but it spun away from his fingers and landed wick first on the flagstones.

Darkness fell like an axe.

Helmclever groaned. It was a heartfelt, soul-creaking groan, like a death rattle from a living mouth.

`Nobby!' screamed Vimes. `Light a godsdamn match right now and that's a godsdamn order!'

There was a frantic scrabbling in the dark and then a matchhead was a sudden supernova.

`Well, bring it here, man!' he shouted to Nobby. `Get those candles lit!'

Helmclever was still staring at the table, where the ill-tempered thump had scattered the remains of the game.

Vimes glanced down at the game board as the candle flames grew.

If you were the kind to see things, you'd say that the trolls and dwarfs had fallen in a rough circle around the central rock, while a few more dwarfs had rolled away in a line. You'd say, in fact, that from above they formed the shape of a round eye. With a tail.

Helmclever gave a little sigh and slipped sideways on to the floor. Vimes stood up to help him, and then remembered just in time about politics. He forced himself to back away, hands in the air.

`Mr Bashfullsson?' he said. `I can't touch him. Please?'

The grag nodded and knelt down by the dwarf. `No pulse, no heartbeat,' he announced after a few seconds. `I'm sorry, commander.!

'Then it looks as though I'm now in your hands,' said Vimes.

`Indeed. In the hands of a dwarf,' said the grag, standing up. `Commander Vimes, I will swear that Helmclever was treated with nothing but concern and courtesy whilst I was here. And perhaps with more kindness from you than a dwarf might have a right to expect. His death is not on your hands. The Summoning Dark called him. Dwarfs will understand.'

`Well, I don't! Why'd it kill him? What did the poor bugger do?'

`I think it's more true to say that the fear of the Summoning Dark killed him,' said the grag. `He left a miner trapped, heard his cries in the dark and did nothing. To all dwarfs, that is a terrible crime.'

`As bad as wiping away a word?' said Vimes sourly. He felt more shaken up than he'd care to admit.

`Some would say it is far worse. His own guilt and fear killed Helmclever. It's as if he had his own Summoning Dark in his head,' said Bashfullsson. `In a way, perhaps, we all have, commander. Or something similar.'

`You know, your religion really messes people up, 'said Vimes.

`Not in comparison to what they do to one another,' said Bashfullsson, calmly folding the dead dwarf's hands across his chest. `And it is not a religion, commander. Tak wrote the World and the Laws, and then He left us. He does not require that we think of Him, only that we think.'