Terry Pratchett - Thud

It was almost midnight, and there was Vetinari at his desk, fresh as a daisy and chilly as morning dew.

`Are you sure about this, Vimes?'

`Carrot can look after things. They've quietened down, anyway. I think most of the serious troublemakers have headed for Koom Valley.'

`A good reason, one might say, for you not to go. Vimes, I have ... agents for this sort of thing.'

`But you wanted me to hunt them down, sir!' Vimes protested. `In Koom Valley? At this time? Taking a force there now could have far-reaching consequences, Vimes!'

`Good! You told me to drag them into the light! As far as they're concerned, I am far-reaching consequences!'

`Well, certainly' said Vetinari, after staring at Vimes for longer than was comfortable. `And when you have boldly reached so far, you will need friends. I shall make sure the Low King is at least aware of your presence.'

`Don't worry, he'll find out soon enough,' growled Vimes. `Oh yes.

`I have no doubt he will. He has his agents in our city, just as I have in his. So I will do him the courtesy of telling him formally what he will in any case know. That is called politics, Vimes. It is a thing we try to do in the government.'

`But ... spies? I thought we were chums with the Low King!' `Of course we are,' said Vetinari. `And the more we know about each other, the friendlier we shall remain. We'd hardly bother to spy on our enemies. What would be the point? Is Lady Sybil happy to let you go?'

`She's coming with me. She insists:

`Is that safe?'

`Is here safe?' said Vimes, shrugging. `We had dwarfs coming up through the damn floor! Don't worry, she and Young Sam will be kept out of harm's way. I'll take Fred and Nobby. And I want to take Angua, Sally, Detritus and Cheery, too. Multi-species, sir. That always helps the politics:

`And the Summoning Dark? What about that, Vimes? Oh, don't look at me like that. It's common talk among the dwarfs. One of the dying dwarfs put a curse on everyone who was in the mine, I'm told.'

`I wouldn't know about that, sir,' said Vimes, resorting to the wooden expression that so often saw him through. `It's mystic. We don't do mystic in the Watch.'

`It's not a joke, Vimes. It's very old magic, I understand. So old, indeed, that most dwarfs have forgotten that it is magic. And it's powerful. It will be tracking them.'

`I'll just look out for a big floaty eye with a tail, then, shall I?' said Vimes. `That should make it easy.'

Vimes, I know you must be aware that the symbol is not the thing itself,' said the Patrician.

`Yessir. I know. But magic has no place in coppering. We don't use it to find culprits. We don't use it to get confessions. Because you can't trust the bloody stuff, sir. It's got a mind of its own. If there's a curse chasing these bastards, well, that's its business. But if I reach 'em first, sir, then they'll be my prisoners and it'll have to get past me.

`Vimes, Archchancellor Ridcully tells me he believes it may be a quasi-demonic entity that is untold millions of years old!'

`I've said my piece, sir,' said Vimes, staring at a point just above Lord Vetinari's head. `And it is my duty to catch up with these people. I believe they may be able to help me with my inquiries.'

`But you have no evidence, Vimes. And you are going to need very solid evidence.'

`Right. So I want to bring them back here, eyeballs on a string or not. Them and their damn guards. So's I can inquire. Someone will tell me something:

`And it'll also be to your personal satisfaction?' said Vetinari sharply.

`Is this a trick question, sir?'

`Well done, well done,' said Vetinari softly. `Lady Sybil is a remarkable woman, Vimes.'

`Yessir. She is.'

Vimes left.

After a while Vetinari's chief clerk, Drumknott, entered the room on velvet feet and placed a cup of tea in front of Vetinari. `Thank you, Drumknott. You were listening?' `Yes, sir. The commander seemed very forthright.' `They invaded his home, Drumknott.'

`Quite, sir.'

Vetinari leaned back and stared at the ceiling. `Tell me, Drumknott, are you a betting man?'

`I have been known to have the occasional little "flutter"; sir.' `Given, then, a contest between an invisible and very powerful quasi-demonic thing of pure vengeance on the one hand, and the

commander on the other, where would you wager, say... one dollar?' `I wouldn't, sir. That looks like one that would go to the judges.' `Yes,' said Vetinari, staring thoughtfully at the closed door. `Yes,

indeed.'

I don't use magic, thought Vimes, walking through the rain towards Unseen University. But, sometimes, I tell lies.

He avoided the main entrance and headed as circumspectly as possible for Wizards' Passage, where, halfway down, university access for all was available via several loose bricks. Generations of rascally drunk student wizards had used them to get back in late at night. Later on, they'd become very important and powerful wizards, with full beards and fuller stomachs, but had never lifted a finger to have the wall repaired. It was, after all, Traditional. Nor was it usually patrolled by the Lobsters,[1] who believed in Tradition even more than the wizards.

On this occasion, though, one was lurking in the shadows, and jumped when Vimes tapped him on the shoulder. `Oh, it's you, Commander Vimes, sir. It's me, sir, Wiggleigh, sir. The Archchancellor is waiting for you in the gardener's hut, sir. Follow me, sir. Mum's the word, eh, sir?'

Vimes trailed after Wiggleigh across the dark, squelchy lawns. Oddly, though, he didn't feel so tired now. Days and days of bad sleep and he felt quite fresh, in a fuzzy sort of way. It was the smell of the chase, that's what it was. He'd pay for it later.

Wiggleigh, first looking both ways with a conspiratorial air that would have attracted instant attention had anyone been watching, opened the door of the garden shed.

There was a large figure waiting inside. `Commander!' it bellowed happily. `What larks, eh? Very cloak and dagger!'

Only heavy rain could possibly muffle the voice of Archchancellor Ridcully when he was feeling cheerful.

`Could you keep it down a bit, Archchancellor?' said Vimes, shutting the door quickly.

`Sorry! I mean, sorry,' said the wizard. `Do take a seat. The

[1] The university porters, or bledlows, who doubled, with rather more enthusiasm, as its proctors. They commanded their nickname for being thick-shelled, liable to turn red when hot, and having the smallest brain for their size of any known creature.

compost sacks are quite acceptable. Well, er ... how may I help you, Sam?'

`Can we agree for now that you can't?' said Vimes.

`Intriguing. Do continue,' said Ridcully, leaning closer.

`You know I won't have magic used in the Watch,' Vimes went on. As he sat down in the semi-darkness, a coiled-up hosepipe ambushed him from above, as they do, and he had to wrestle it to the shed floor.

`I do, sir, and I respect you for it, although there are those that think you are a damn silly fool.'

'Well. .: Vimes said, trying to put `damn silly fool' behind them, `the fact is, I must get to Koom Valley very fast. Er ... very fast indeed.'

`One might say- magically fast?' said Ridcully.

`As it were,' said Vimes, fidgeting. He really hated having to do this. And what had he sat on?

`Mmm,' said Ridcully. `But without, I imagine, any significant hocus-pocus? You appear uncomfortable, sir!'

Vimes triumphantly held up a large onion. `Sorry,' he said, tossing it aside. `No, definitely no pocus. Possibly a little hocus. I just need an edge. They've got a day's start on me.'

`I see. You will be travelling alone?'

`No, there will have to be eleven of us. Two coaches.'

`My word! And disappearing in a puff of smoke to reappear elsewhere is-'