Terry Pratchett - The Fifth Elephant

'The King wishes to see you now, your excellency,' he said.

'There's an almighty queue!'

'Nevertheless,' the dwarf gave a polite cough, 'the King wishes to see you now. All of you.'

They were led to the front of the queue. Vimes felt many eyes boring into the small of his back.

The King dismissed the previous supplicant with a regal nod as the Ankh-Morpork party was deftly inserted at the top of the line, supplanting a dwarf whose beard went down to his knees.

The King looked at them for a moment, and then the internal filing system threw up a card.

'Ah, it's yourselves, good as new,' he said. 'Now, what was it I was going to do? Oh, I remember... Lady Sybil?'

She curtsied.

'Classically, we give rings at this time,' said the King. 'Between ourselves, many dwarfs consider this a bit... well, bath salts, see. But I believe they are still welcome and so this, Lady Sybil, is, perhaps, a token of things to come.'

It was a thin silver ring. Vimes was taken aback at this parsimony, but Sybil could accept a bunch of dead rats graciously.

'Oh, how wond—'

'We normally give gold,' the King went on. 'Very popular, and of course you can sing about it. But this has... rarity value, see. It is the first silver that has been mined in Uberwald in hundreds of years.'

'I thought there was a rule that—' Vimes began.

'I ordered the mines re-opened last night,' said the King pleasantly. 'It seemed an auspicious time. We shall soon have ore for sale, your excellency, but if Lady Sybil doesn't get involved in the negotiations and bankrupt us, I for one shall be very grateful,' the King added. 'Miss Littlebottom, I see, has not graced us with a sartorial extravaganza today?'

Cheery stared.

'You're not wearing a dress,' said the King.

'No, sire.'

'Although I do note a few unobtrusive touches of mascara and lipstick.'

'Yes, sire,' squeaked Cheery, on the point of death through shock.

'There's nice. Do be sure to let me know the name of your dressmaker,' the King went on. 'I may have some custom for her in the fullness of time. I've thought long and hard—'

Vimes blinked. Cheery had gone pale. Had anyone else heard that? Had he?

Sybil nudged him in the ribs. 'Your mouth's open, Sam,' she whispered.

So he had heard it...

He heard the King's voice again. '—and a bag of gold is always acceptable.'

Cheery was still staring.

Vimes shook her gently by the shoulder.

'Th-thank you, sire.'

The King held out his hand. Vimes wobbled Cheery again. Completely hypnotized, she extended her hand. The King took it and shook it.

Shocked whispers were spreading behind Vimes. The King had shaken the hand of a self-declared female...

'And that leaves... Detritus,' said the King. 'What a dwarf should give a troll is of course a bit of a puzzle, but it occurs to me that what I should give you is what I would give a dwarf. A bag of gold, then, for whatever purpose you choose to use it, and—'

He stood up. He held out his hand.

Dwarfs and trolls were still fighting in the further regions of Uberwald, Vimes knew. Elsewhere, there was at best the sort of peace you got when both sides were busy re-arming.

The whispering stopped. Silence spread out in a widening circle, all across the floor of the cave.

Detritus blinked. Then he took the hand very carefully, trying not to crush it.

The whispering started again. And this time, Vimes knew, it'd go for miles.

It occurred to him that in two handshakes the white-bearded elderly dwarf had done more than a dozen devious plots could have achieved. By the time those ripples reached the edge of Uberwald they would be tidal waves. Thirty men and a dog would be nothing by comparison.

'Hmm?'

'I said, what can a king give a Vimes?' said the King.

'Er, nothing, I think,' said Vimes absently. Two handshakes! And very quietly, smiling, the King had turned the customs of the dwarfs upside down. And so gently, too, that they'd spend years arguing about it...

'Sam!' snapped Sybil.

'Well, then, I shall give something to your descendants,' said the King, apparently unperturbed. A long flat box was brought to him. He opened it to reveal a dwarf axe, the new metal glinting on its nest of black cloth.

'This will become, in time, the axe of someone's grandfather,' said the King. 'And no doubt over the years it will need a new handle or a new blade and over the centuries the shape will change in line with fashion, but it will always be, in every detail and respect, the axe I give you today. And because it'll change with the times it'll always be sharp. There's a grain of truth in that, see. So nice to have met you. Do enjoy your journey home, your excellency.'

The four were silent in the coach back to the embassy. Then Cheery said, 'The King said—'

'I heard,' said Vimes.

'That was as good as saying that he is a sh—'

'Things are going to change,' said Lady Sybil. 'That's what the King was saying.'

'I never shook hands wid no king before,' said Detritus. 'No dwarf, either, come to dat.'

'You shook hands with me once,' said Cheery.

'Watchmen don't count,' said Detritus firmly. 'Watchmen is watchmen .'

'I wonder if it'll change anything?' said Lady Sybil.

Vimes stared out of the window. It'd probably make people feel good, he thought. But trolls and dwarfs had been fighting for centuries. Ending that sort of thing took more than a handshake. It was just a symbol.

On the other hand... the world wasn't moved by heroes or villains or even by policemen. It might as well be moved by symbols. All he knew was that you couldn't hope to try for the big stuff, like world peace and happiness, but you might just about be able to achieve some tiny deed that'd .make the world, in a small way, a better place.

Like shooting someone.

'I forgot to say that I thought it was very kind of you, Cheery,' said Lady Sybil, 'yesterday, when you comforted Dee.'

'She would have had me killed by the werewolves,' said Vimes. He felt this was a point worth making.

'Yes, of course. But... it was kind, anyway,' said Sybil.

Cheery looked at her feet, avoiding Lady

Sybil's gaze. Then she coughed nervously and pulled a small piece of paper out of her sleeve, which she handed wordlessly to Vimes.

He unfolded it.

'She gave you these names?' he said. 'Some of these are very senior dwarfs in Ankh-Morpork...'

'Yes, sir,' said Cheery. She coughed again. 'I knew she wanted someone to talk to, and, er, I suggested a few things she might like to talk about. Sorry, Lady Sybil. It's very hard to stop being a copper.'

'I Worked that one out a long time ago,' said Sybil.

'You know,' said Vimes, to break the silence, 'if we leave at first light tomorrow, we could be through the pass before sundown.'

And it was a comfortable night, somewhere in the depths of the feather mattress. Vimes awoke a couple of times and thought he could hear voices. Then he sank back into the softness and dreamt of warm snow.

He was shaken awake by Detritus. 'It's gettin' light, sir.'

Mm.

'And dere's a Igor an' a... a young man out in der hall,' said Detritus. 'He got a big jar full of noses and a rabbit covered in ears.'

Vimes tried to get back to sleep. Then he sat bolt upright.

'What?'

'It's all covered in ears, sir.'

'You mean one of those rabbits with big floppy ears?'

'You better come and see dis rabbit,' sniffed the troll.

Vimes left Sybil wallowing in sleep, pulled on his dressing gown and pattered barefoot down to the freezing hall.

An Igor was waiting anxiously in the middle of the floor. Vimes was getting the hang of Igor-recognition, and this was a new one. He was with a much younger... er... man, probably barely out of his teens, at least in places, but already the scars and stitching indicated that relentless urge towards self-improvement that was the hallmark of a good Igor. They just never seemed to be able to get the eyes level.