Terry Pratchett - The Fifth Elephant

'I vould like to think that it's going to be a blessing for the whole country.' Lady Margolotta leaned back. Her rat with the bow round its neck watched Vimes suspiciously from its pink cushion. 'Wolfgang vas a sadistic murderer, a throwback who frightened even his own family. Delphine... sorry, Angua... vill have some peace of mind. An intelligent young lady, I've alvays thought. Leaving here vas the best thing she ever did. The darkness vill be a little less frightening. The vorld will be a better place.'

'And I've handed you Uberwald?' said Vimes.

'Don't be stupid. Uberwald is huge. This is one small part of it. And now it's going to change. You have been a breath of fresh air.'

Lady Margolotta drew a long holder from her bag and inserted a black cigarette. It lit itself.

'Like you, I have found consolation in a... different vice,' she said. 'Black Scopani. They grow the tobacco in total darkness. Do try some. You could waterproof roofs with it. I believe Igor makes cigars by rolling the leaves between his thighs.' She blew out a stream of smoke. 'Or someone's thighs, anyvay. Of course, I am sorry for the Baroness. It must be so hard for a verevolf, realizing that she's raised a monster. As for the Baron, give him a bone and he's happy for hours.' Another stream of smoke. 'Do look after Angua. Happy Families is not a popular game among the undead.'

'You helped him come back! Just like you did for me!'

'Oh, he'd have come back anyvay, in time. Some time when you weren't expecting him. He'd track Angua like a wolverine. Best that things ended today.' She gave him an appraising look through the smoke. 'You're good at anger, your grace. You save it up for when you need it.'

'You couldn't have known I'd beat him. You left me in the snow. I wasn't even armed!'

'Havelock Vetinari would not have sent a fool to Uberwald.' More smoke, which writhed in the air. 'At least, not a stupid fool.'

Vimes's eyes narrowed. 'You've met him, haven't you?'

'Yes.'

'And taught him all he knows, right?'

She blew smoke down her nostrils and gave him a radiant smile.

'I'm sorry? You think I taught him? My dear sir... As for vhat I've got out of all this... vell, a little breathing space. A little influence. Politics is more interesting than blood, your grace. And much more fun. Beware the reformed vampire, sir—the craving for blood is only a craving, and with care it can be diverted along different channels. Uberwald is going to need politicians. Ah, I believe ve are here,' she added, although Vimes could.have sworn that she hadn't so much as glanced out of the window.

The door opened.

'If my Igor's still there, do tell him I vill see him Downtown. So nice to have met you. I'm sure ve shall meet again. And do please present my fondest regards to Lord Vetinari.'

The door shut behind Vimes. The coach moved off.

He swore, under his breath.

The hall of the embassy was full of Igors. Several of them touched their forelocks, or at least the line of stitch marks, when they saw him. They were carrying heavy metal containers of varying sizes, on which frost crystals were forming.

'What's this?' he said. 'Igor's funeral?' Then it sank in. 'Oh, my gods... with party loot bags? Everyone gets something to take home?'

'You could thay that, thur, you could call it that,' said an Igor. 'But we think that putting bodieth in the ground ith rather gruethome. All thothe wormth and thingth.' He tapped the tin box under his arm. 'Thith way, he'll be mothtly up and about again in no time,' he added brightly.

'Reincarnation on the instalment plan, eh?' said Vimes weakly.

'Motht amuthing, thur,' said the Igor gravely. 'But it'th amathing what people need. Heartth, liverth, handth... we keep a litht, thur, of detherving catheth. By tonight there will be thome very lucky people in thethe partly'

'And these parts in some very lucky people?'

'Well done, thur. I can thee you are a wit. And one day thome poor thoul will have a really nathty brain injury, and—' he tapped the chilly box again— 'what goeth around cometh around.'

He nodded at Cheery, and at Vimes. 'I mutht be going now, thur. Tho much to do, you know how it ith.'

'I can imagine,' said Vimes. He thought: the axe of my grandfather. You change the bits around, but there'll always be an Igor.

'They're really rather selfless people, sir,' said Cheery, when the last Igor had lurched off. 'They do a lot of good work. Er, they even took his suit and his boots because they'll be useful to someone.'

'I know, I know. But—'

'I know what you mean, sir. Everyone's in the drawing room. Lady Sybil said you'd be back. She said anyone with that look in their eye comes back.'

'We're all going to the coronation. Might as well see this through. Is that what you'll be wearing, Cheery?'

'Yes, sir.'

'But it's just... ordinary dwarf clothes. Trousers and everything.'

'Yes, sir.'

'But Sybil said you'd got a fetching little green number and a helmet with a feather in it.'

'Yes, sir.'

'You're free to wear whatever you want, you know that.'

'Yes, sir. And then I thought about Dee. And I watched the King when he was talking to you, and... well, I can wear what I like, sir. That's the point. I don't have to wear that dress and I shouldn't wear it just because other people don't want me to. Besides, it made me look like a rather stupid lettuce.'

'That's all a bit complicated for me, Cheery.'

'It's probably a dwarf thing, sir.'

Vimes pushed open the doors to the drawing room. 'It's over,' he said.

'Did you hurt anyone else?' said Sybil.

'Only Wolfgang.'

'He'll be back,' said Angua.

No.

'You killed him?'

'No. I put him down. I see you're up, captain.'

Carrot got to his feet, awkwardly, and saluted. 'Sorry I haven't been much use, sir.'

'You just chose the wrong time to fight fair. Are you well enough to come?'

'Er, Angua and I want to stay here, if it's all right with you, sir. We've got things to talk about. And, er... do.'

It was the first coronation Vimes had attended. He'd expected it to be... stranger, touched somehow by glory.

Instead it was dull, but at least it was big dull, dullness distilled and cultivated over thousands of years until it had developed an impressive shine, as even grime will if you polish it long enough. It was dull hammered into the shape and form of ceremony.

It had also been timed to test the capacity of the average bladder.

A number of dwarfs read passages from ancient scrolls. There were what sounded like excerpts from the Koboldean Saga, and Vimes wondered desperately if they were in for another opera, but they were over after a mere hour. There were more readings from different dwarfs. At one point the King, who had been standing alone in the centre of a circle of candlelight, was presented with a leather bag, a small mining axe and a ruby. Vimes didn't catch the meaning of any of this, but by the sounds it was clear that each item was of huge and satisfying significance to the thousands who were standing behind him. Thousands? No, there must be tens of thousands, he thought. The bowl of the cavern was full of tier upon tier of dwarfs. Maybe a hundred thousand...

... and he was in the front row. No one had said anything. The four of them had simply been led there and left, although the murmurings suggested that the presence of Detritus was causing considerable attention. Senior, long-bearded and richly clothed dwarfs were all around them.

Someone was being taught something. Vimes wondered who the lesson was directed at.

Finally, the Scone was brought in, small and dull and yet carried by twenty-four dwarfs on a large bier. It was laid, reverentially, on a stool.