‘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. ‘Voilà,’ 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 custodies?’’?’
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.{94} 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.’
‘Yes, sir. I’ve given that viewpoint a lot of thought, sir, and reached the following conclusion: arseholes to the lot of ’em, sir.’
The Patrician’s hand covered his mouth for a moment. ‘Sir Samuel, you are a harsh negotiator. Surely you can give and take?’
‘Couldn’t say, sir.’ Vimes walked to the main doors and pushed them open.
‘Fog’s lifted, sir,’ he said. ‘There’s a bit of cloud but you can see all the way across the Brass Bridge—’
‘What will you use the golem for?’
‘Not use, sir. Employ. I thought he might be useful for to keep the peace, sir.’
‘A watchman?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Vimes. ‘Haven’t you heard, sir? Golems do all the mucky jobs.’
Vetinari watched him go, and sighed. ‘He does so like a dramatic exit,’ he said.
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Drumknott, who had appeared noiselessly at his shoulder.
‘Ah, Drumknott.’ The Patrician took a length of candle out of his pocket and handed it to his secretary. ‘Dispose of this somewhere safely, will you?’
‘Yes, my lord?’
‘It’s the candle from the other night.’
‘It’s not burned down, my lord? But I saw the candle end in the holder …’
‘Oh, of course I cut off enough to make a stub and let the wick burn for a moment. I couldn’t let our gallant policeman know I’d worked it out for myself, could I? Not when he was making such an effort and having so much fun being … well, being Vimes. I’m not completely heartless, you know.’
‘But, my lord, you could have sorted it out diplomatically! Instead he went around upsetting things and making a lot of people very angry and afraid—’
‘Yes. Dear me. Tsk, tsk.’
‘Ah,’ said Drumknott.
‘Quite so,’ said the Patrician.
‘Do you wish me to have the table in the Rats Chamber repaired?’
‘No, Drumknott, leave the axe where it is. It will make a good … conversation piece, I think.’
‘May I make an observation, my lord?’
‘Of course you may,’ said Vetinari, watching Vimes walk through the palace gates.
‘The thought occurs, sir, that if Commander Vimes did not exist you would have had to invent him.’{95}
‘You know, Drumknott, I rather think I did.’
‘Atheism Is Also A Religious Position,’ Dorfl rumbled.
‘No it’s not!’ said Constable Visit. ‘Atheism is a denial of a god.’
‘Therefore It Is A Religious Position,’ said Dorfl. ‘Indeed, A True Atheist Thinks Of The Gods Constantly, Albeit In Terms of Denial. Therefore, Atheism Is A Form Of Belief. If The Atheist Truly Did Not Believe, He Or She Would Not Bother To Deny.’
‘Did you read those pamphlets I gave you?’ said Visit suspiciously.
‘Yes. Many Of Them Did Not Make Sense. But I Should Like To Read Some More.’
‘Really?’ said Visit. His eyes gleamed. ‘You really want more pamphlets?’
‘Yes. There Is Much In Them That I Would Like To Discuss. If You Know Some Priests, I Would Enjoy Disputation.’
‘All right, all right,’ said Sergeant Colon. ‘So are you going to take the sodding oath or not, Dorfl?’
Dorfl held up a hand the size of a shovel. ‘I, Dorfl, Pending The Discovery Of A Deity Whose Existence Withstands Rational Debate, Swear By The Temporary Precepts of A Self-Derived Moral System—’
‘You really want more pamphlets?’ said Constable Visit.
Sergeant Colon rolled his eyes.
‘Yes,’ said Dorfl.
‘Oh, my god!’ said Constable Visit, and burst into tears. ‘No one’s ever asked for more pamphlets before!’
Colon turned when he realized Vimes was watching. ‘It’s no good, sir,’ he said. ‘I’ve been trying to swear him in for half an hour, sir, and we keep ending up arguing about oaths and things.’