Terry Pratchett - Thud

`There was panic everywhere when we arrived, sire!' he protested. `People running and screaming, fires everywhere! Complete chaos, sire! All we can be sure of is that no one got out! And we searched them all, sire. We searched them all!'

Vimes shut his eyes. Memories were fading fast as common sense walled up all those things that could not have happened, but he recalled the panicking grags, hunched over something. Had there been just a twinkle of blue and green specks?

Time for a long shot ...

`Corporal Nobbs, come here!' he said. `Let him through, captain. I insist!'

Gud didn't protest. His spirit was broken. A reluctant Nobby was produced.

`Yes, Mister Vimes?' he said.

`Corporal Nobbs, did you obtain that precious thing I asked you to acquire?' said Vimes.

`Er, what would that be, sir?' said Nobby. Vimes's heart leapt. Nobby's face was an open book, albeit the kind that got banned in some countries.

`Nobby, there are times when I'll put up with you mucking about. This isn't one,' he said. `Did you find the thing I asked you to look for?'

Nobby looked into his eyes. `I ... Oh? Oh. Oh, yes, sir,' he said. `I

... yes ... we rushed in, you see, you see, you see, and people were running everywhere and there was, like, smoke. .: Nobby's face glazed and his lips moved soundlessly in an agony of creation,'... an, an' I was bravely fightin' when what did I see but a sparkly thing rollin' and bein' kicked about, an' I thought, I jus' bet that's the very same sparkly thing Mister Vimes very specific'ly told me to be lookin' out for ... an' here it is, all safe . .

He pulled a small, gently glittering cube from his pocket and held it out.

Vimes was faster than the King. His hand shot forward, closed over the cube, and was locked in a fist in the skin of a second.

`Well done, Corporal Nobbs, for obeying my orders so concisely,' he said, and stifled a grin at Nobby's impeccably dreadful salute.

`I believe that is dwarf property, Commander Vimes,' said the King calmly.

Vimes opened his hand, palm up. The cube, only a couple of inches across, gave off little blue and green glints. The metal looked like bronze that had been corroded by time into a beautiful pattern of greens, blues and browns. It was a jewel.

He's a king, thought Vimes. A king on a throne as wobbly as a rocking-horse. And he's not nice. It's not a job where the nice last long. He even got a spy into my Watch! I will not put my faith in kings. Right now, who do I trust?

Me.

One thing I do know is that no damn demon got inside my head, no matter what they say. I wouldn't buy that even if they threw in a lifetime supply of cabbage! No one gets into my head but me! But you play the hand you're dealt ...

`Take it,' he said, opening his hand. On his wrist, the Summoning Dark glowed.

`I ask you to give it to me, commander,' said Rhys.

`Take it,' Vimes repeated. And he thought: Let's see what you believe, shall we?

The King reached out, hesitated, and then slowly withdrew his

hand.

`Or, perhaps,' he said, as if the thought had just occurred to him,

`it might be best to leave it in your celebrated custody, Commander Vimes.'

`Yes. I want to hear what it has to say,' said Vimes, closing his fist

again. `I want to know what was too dangerous to know.'

`Indeed, so do I,' said the king of the dwarfs. `We will take it to a

place that can-'

`Look around you, sire!' snapped Vimes. `Dwarfs and trolls died

here! They weren't fighting, they were standing together! Look

around you, the place looks like a godsdamn game board! Was this

their testament? Then we listen to it here! In this place! At this

time!'

`And supposing what it has to say is dreadful?' said the King. `Then we listen!'

`I am the King, Vimes! You have no authority here! This is

not your city! You stand here defying me with a handful of men and

your wife and child not ten miles away-'

Rhys stopped, and the echoes bounced back from distant caves,

tumbling over themselves and dying into a silence that rang like iron. Out of the corner of his ear Vimes heard Sally say, `Oops ...' Bashfullsson hurried forward and whispered something in the

King's ear. The dwarf's expression changed as only a politician's face

can, into careful amity.

I'm not going to do a thing, Vimes told himself. I'm just going to

stand here.

`I do look forward to meeting Lady Sibyl again,' said Rhys. `And

your son, of course ...'

`Good. They're staying in a house not ten miles away,' said Vimes.

`Sergeant Littlebottom?'

`Sir?' said Cheery.

`Please take Lance-Constable Humpeding with you and go down

to the town, will you? Tell Lady Sybil I'm fine,' Vimes added, not taking his eyes off the King. `Off you go, right now.'

As they hurried away the King smiled, and looked around the cavern. He sighed. `Well, I cannot afford a row with Ankh-Morpork, not at the moment. Very well, commander. Do you know how to make it speak?'

`No. Don't you?' This is a game, right? Vimes thought. A king wouldn't take this kind of gobbyness from anyone, especially when he outnumbered them ten to one. A row? You'd just have to say we got caught in a storm in Koom Valley, which is such a treacherous place, as everyone agrees. He will be greatly missed and we will certainly hand over his body if it ever turns up ... But you're not going to try that, are you, because you need me. You know something about this cavern, yes? And whatever's going to happen, you want good of not-sharp-but-by-gods-he's-straight Sam Vimes to tell the world ...

`No two cubes are alike,' said Rhys. `It is usually a word, but it can be a breath, a sound, a temperature, a point in the world, the smell of rain. Anything. I understand that there are many cubes that have never spoken.'

`Really?' said Vimes. `But this thing damn well gabbled. And whoever sent it out of the valley wanted it to be heard, so I doubt if it only starts talking when a virgin's tear falls on it on a warm Tuesday in February. And this one started chatting very smartly to a man who didn't know a word of dwarfish, too:

`But the speaker would want dwarfs to hear it, surely!' the King protested.

`It's a two-thousand-year-old legend! Who knows who wanted what?' said Vimes. `What do you want?'

This was to Nobby, who had appeared beside him, looking with interest at the cube.

`How did tha- he get past my guards?' said the King.

`The Nobbs sidle,' said Vimes, and as a couple of embarrassed

guards dropped heavy hands on Nobby's frail shoulders he added: `No. Leave him. Come on, Nobby, you say something to make this thing start speaking.'

`Er, say something or it'll be the worse for you?' Nobby suggested.

`Not a bad try,' Vimes conceded. `A hundred years ago, sire, I doubt if anyone in Ankh-Morpork knew many words of dwarf or troll. Perhaps the message was intended for humans? There must have been a settlement down on the plain, with all those birds and fish to eat.'

`Perhaps some more human words, then, er, Nobby?' said the King.

`Okay. Open, speak, say something, talk, spill the beans, play-'

`No, no, Mister Vimes, he's doing it wrong!' Fred Colon shouted. `It was in the olden days, right? So it'd be old words, like ... er ... openeth!'

Vimes laughed as an idea struck. I wonder, he thought. It could be. This is not really about words, it's about sounds. Noises .. .

Bashfullsson was watching the attempt with a puzzled expression.

`What is the dwarf word for "open"; Mr Bashfullsson?' said Vimes.

`In the sense of "open a book"? That would be "dhwe", commander.'

'Hmm. That won't do. How about... "say"?'

`Why, that would be "aargk", or, in the peremptive form, "cork!", commander. You know, I don't think-'