Terry Pratchett - Feet of Clay

The Patrician shuffled some papers on his desk. 'It seems to have been a very busy night last night...'

'Yes, sir.' Vimes stood to attention. All uniformed men knew in their very soul how to act in circumstances like this. You stared straight ahead, for one thing.

'It appears that I have Dragon King of Arms in the cells,' said the Patrician.

'Yes, sir.'

'I've read your report. Somewhat tenuous evidence, I feel.'

'Sir?'

'One of your witnesses isn't even alive, Vimes.'

'No, sir. Neither is the suspect, sir. Technically.'

'He is, however, an important civic figure. An authority.'

'Yes, sir.'

Lord Vetinari shuffled some of the papers on his desk. One of them was covered in sooty fingermarks. 'It also appears I have to commend you, Commander.'

'Sir?'

The Heralds at the Royal College of Arms, or at least at what remains of the Royal College of Arms, have sent me a note saying how bravely you worked last night.'

'Sir?'

'Letting all those heraldic animals out of the pens and raising the alarm and so on. A tower of strength, they've called you. I gather most of the creatures are lodging with you at the present time?'

'Yes, sir. Couldn't stand by and let them suffer, sir. We'd got some empty pens, sir, and Keith and Roderick are doing well in the lake. They've taken a liking to Sybil, sir.'

Lord Vetinari coughed. Then he stared up at the ceiling for a while. 'So you, er, assisted in the fire.'

'Yes, sir. Civic duty, sir.'

'The fire was caused by a candlestick falling over, I understand, possibly after your fight with Dragon King of Arms.'

'So I believe, sir.'

'And so, it seems, do the Heralds.'

'Anyone told Dragon King of Arms?' said Vimes innocently.

'Yes.'

'Took it well, did he?'

'He screamed a lot, Vimes. In a heart-rending fashion, I am told. And I gather he uttered a number of threats against you, for some reason.'

'I shall try to fit him into my busy schedule, sir.'

'Bingely bongely beep!!' said a small bright voice. Vimes slapped a hand against his pocket.

Lord Vetinari fell silent for a moment. His fingers drummed softly on his desk. 'Many fine old manuscripts in that place, I believe. Without price, I'm told.'

'Yes, sir. Certainly worthless, sir.'

'Is it possible you misunderstood what I just said, Commander?'

'Could be, sir.'

The provenances of many splendid old families went up in smoke, Commander. Of course, the Heralds will do what they can, and the families themselves keep records but frankly, I understand, it's all going to be patchwork and guesswork. Extremely embarrassing. Are you smiling, Commander?'

'It was probably a trick of the light, sir.'

'Commander, I always used to consider that you had a definite anti-authoritarian streak in you.'

'Sir?'

'It seems that you have managed to retain this even though you are authority.'

'Sir?'

'That's practically Zen.'

'Sir?'

'It seems I've only got to be unwell for a few days and you manage to upset everyone of any importance in this city.'

'Sir.'

'Was that a yes, sir or a no, sir , Sir Samuel?'

'It was just a sir , sir.'

Lord Vetinari glanced at a piece of paper. 'Did you really punch the president of the Assassins' Guild?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Why?'

'Didn't have a dagger, sir.'

Vetinari turned away abruptly. 'The Council of Churches, Temples, Sacred Groves and Big Ominous Rocks is demanding... well, a number of things, several of them involving wild horses. Initially, however, they want me to sack you.'

'Yes, sir?'

'In all I've had seventeen demands for your badge. Some want parts of your body attached. Why did you have to upset everybody?'

'I suppose it's a knack, sir.'

'But what could you hope to achieve?'

'Well, sir, since you ask, we found out who murdered Father Tubelcek and Mr Hopkinson and who was poisoning you, sir.' Vimes paused. 'Two out of three's not bad, sir.'

Vetinari riffled through the papers again. 'Workshop owners, assassins, priests, butchers... you seem to have infuriated most of the leading figures in the city.' He sighed. 'Really, it seems I have no choice. As of this week, I'm giving you a pay rise.'

Vimes blinked. 'Sir?'

'Nothing unseemly. Ten dollars a month. And I expect they need a new dart-board in the Watch House? They usually do, I recall.'

'It's Detritus,' said Vimes, his mind unable to think of anything other than an honest reply. 'He tends to split them.'

'Ah, yes. And talking of splits, Vimes, I wonder if your forensic genius could help me with a little conundrum we found this morning.' The Patrician stood up and headed for the stairs.

'Yes, sir? What is it?' said Vimes, following him down.

'It's in the Rats Chamber, Vimes.'

'Really, sir?'

Vetinari pushed open the double doors. ' Voila,' he said.

'That's some kind of musical instrument, isn't it, sir?'

'No, Commander, the word means What is that in the table? ,' said the Patrician sharply.

Vimes looked into the room. There was no one there. The long mahogany table was bare.

Except for the axe. It had embedded itself in the wood very deeply, almost splitting the table along its entire length. Someone had walked up to the table and brought an axe down right in the centre as hard as they could and then left it there, its handle pointing towards the ceiling.

'That's an axe,' said Vimes.

'Astonishing,' said Lord Vetinari. 'And you've barely had time to study it. Why is it there?'

'I really couldn't say, sir.'

'According to the servants, Sir Samuel, you came into the palace at six o'clock this morning...'

'Oh, yes, sir. To check that the bastard was safely in a cell, sir. And to see that everything was all right, of course.'

'You didn't come into this room?'

Vimes kept his gaze fixed somewhere on the horizon. 'Why should I have done that, sir?'

The Patrician tapped the axe handle. It vibrated with a faint thumping noise. 'I believe some of the City Council met in here this morning. Or came in here, at least. I'm told they hurried out very quickly. Looking rather disturbed, I'm told.'

'Maybe it was one of them that did it, sir.'

'That is, of course, a possibility,' said Lord Vetinari. 'I suppose you won't be able to find one of your famous Clues on the thing?'

'Shouldn't think so, sir. Not with all these fingerprints on it.'

‘It would be a terrible thing, would it not, if people thought they could take the law into their own hands...'

'Oh, no fear of that, sir. I'm holding on tightly to it.'

Lord Vetinari plunked the axe again. 'Tell me, Sir Samuel, do you know the phrase Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? ?'

It was an expression Carrot had occasionally used, but Vimes was not in the mood to admit anything. 'Can't say that I do, sir,' he said. 'Something about trifle, is it?'

'It means Who guards the guards themselves? , Sir Samuel.'

'Ah.'

'Well?'

'Sir?'

'Who watches the Watch? I wonder?'

'Oh, that's easy, sir. We watch one another.'

'Really? An intriguing point...'

Lord Vetinari walked out of the room and back into the main hall, with Vimes trailing behind. 'However,' he said, 'in order to keep the peace, the golem will have to be destroyed.'

'No, sir.'

'Allow me to repeat my instruction.'

'No, sir.'

'I'm sure I just gave you an order, Commander. I distinctly felt my lips move.'

'No, sir. He's alive, sir.'

'He's just made of clay, Vimes.'

'Aren't we all, sir? According to them pamphlets Constable Visit keeps handing out. Anyway, he thinks he's alive, and that's good enough for me.'

The Patrician waved a hand towards the stairs and his office full of paper. 'Nevertheless, Commander, I've had no less than nine missives from leading religious figures declaring that he is an abomination.'