But now individual sounds were getting through. Raised voices, screams and the clatter of weaponry, punctuated with the occasional yell and dwarfish curses, which are known to have a life all of their very own. Further down, they came across Aeron, who was waiting with blood dripping from his sword. He noticed Moist’s look and shrugged.
‘There was a grag. He fought hard but would not submit, preferring death to ignominy … and so I accommodated him.’ That last phrase contained more emphasis than Moist had heard for a very long time. Aeron turned to Rhys and reported.
‘There have been certain clashes of opinion, your majesty,’ he said, pointing to several dwarfs being treated in what would have been an impromptu field hospital had it been in a field.
Swords, hammers and axes were being deployed below as the King carried on marching, until they came to what must be the great hall, the largest cavern of them all.
As they passed through the portal, Moist came to a halt, trying to get a grip on this subterranean landscape, lit by the enormous chandeliers of dribbling candles along with cressets and great vats of squirming vurms[78] writhing in the corners; so there was light, he thought, but a strange light that was somehow negotiating with the eyes. You could see but what you saw was the darkness.
‘Well, it’s not a war any more,’ said Vimes, suddenly there beside him. ‘And not too many serious outcomes, except for the grags. That’s dwarf-on-dwarf war: a hell of a lot of shouting and accusing and spitting, a lot like cats really, but that’s dwarfs for you. They’re not that stupid. Bags of bravado and sabre-rattling, but no one really wants to get hurt. You fight hoping for a small wound that looks good afterwards. Something to show the grandchildren, but really, when it comes to it, dwarf against dwarf, it generally settles down.’
Vimes puffed his cigar and continued, ‘Mind you, if it were dwarf against troll this place would be running with blood. On the whole, it’s like the taverns in Ankh-Morpork on a Saturday night. Everyone is full of gumption and pissy bravery and beer. Much too much beer. And then afterwards it’s just a lot of groaning until they see the light.’
In fact, what Moist could see near by was dwarfs in small groups, some of them bandaged, in positions which suggested that war as such, if not over, had been set aside for a breather and maybe a decent quaff. And younger dwarfs were going between the hurt and wounded with flagons. And one by one the dwarfs got up, shook hands with the nearest dwarf and walked haphazardly to the next group, where perhaps they would sit and chat and make up stories of near misses and clever parries and similar boozy boastings. Little by little, dwarf normality was flowing through Schmaltzberg once again.
‘Pissed as farts,’ said Vimes. ‘But at the bottom, not bad, just susceptible to rabble rousers.’ He sighed again. ‘Maybe this time they’ll have learned. And on that day Nobby Nobbs will be a shining hero!’
And that was all it took? Moist found himself wondering. After all the adrenalin of the train journey, the ambushes, the attacks … the bridge … the sleepless nights … expecting at every turn to hear the swish of a scythe and to find that this time his luck really had run out … and then Rhys gave a fine speech and just walked in and took back the kingdom?
‘I was expecting them to put up more of a fight,’ he said. ‘You know, more of a glorious battle that would become the stuff of legends.’
‘That’s a very foolish thing to say, Mister Lipwig,’ said Vimes. There’s nothing “glorious” about times like this … People have died, not necessarily good people and not too many, but nevertheless the face you wear on a battlefield should be a solemn one until the time when things are cleaned up and the real world drips its way in.’
Moist felt the shame welling up from his boots and said, ‘Commander, I stand abashed, quite sincerely.’
And instantly Vimes’s face was eyeballing his and the commander exclaimed, ‘Really? It seems it’s not just the railway breaking new ground here!’
For once short of a ready reply, Moist turned to see what had become of Rhys and his party.
Rhys Rhysson had entered the cavern at a run. He headed straight for its centre, where stood the Scone of Stone. Now he looked around and demanded, ‘Where is Ardent? I want him brought here, and as many of his followers as still remain. Though doubtless most have run: this place is full of exits.’
Bashfull Bashfullsson shouted, ‘I have the scoundrel here, sire!’
The assembly of dwarfs went into the usual seemingly endless dwarfish hubbub, followed by a deep intake of breath from all concerned when Ardent was brought forward. His expression Moist couldn’t read. But Moist, the man for atmospheres, could tell that Ardent was already somewhere beyond sanity, whilst Rhys seemed as cool and calm as ever, however fearful he might have been on the inside. And Moist would have wagered the mint that the King wasn’t actually fearful at all. There was something in his demeanour that suggested an absolute assurance that this day was his (or indeed, hers, as he finally allowed the thought to creep back into his consciousness).
Sitting on the hallowed Scone of Stone with Ardent in front of him, Rhys said, ‘You were dealt with mercifully after the Koom Valley Accord and still you thought it was right to try to take this kingdom from me. You encouraged those who tortured families to get their own way. What would people think of me if I had even a most minute inclination to treat you kindly? You are clever and many dwarfs speak highly of you, but your cleverness has been used to undermine my rule and make dwarfs appear to be vicious and stupid criminals in the eyes of all other species. What have you to say, in front of me and your kin?’
Ardent was silent.
‘Very well,’ said the King. ‘No answer. You leave me no alternative. In times gone by a dwarf king would execute someone like you as a matter of course.’
And then there was the sound of metal and the King stood up, axe in hand. At last the light of terror passed across Ardent’s face.
The King said, ‘Oh, I see. Then perhaps as I am … you know … a modernizer, as you always say with a sneer, perhaps I’ll deal with you as a modernizer should. Therefore, you will go on trial. And I shall see to it that among the jury there will be the families of those the grags tortured and those surviving guests of the wedding in Llamedos and all the others whose lives have been unnecessarily troubled by your existence in this world. They may be merciful and I will accept their verdict.’
Ardent remained silent and the King said, ‘Take him away in chains but keep him alive, if only as a reminder for me that being a King is not an easy job.’
As Ardent was led away to much applause Rhys turned to the assembled dwarfs. ‘Now I suggest someone goes and brings me my friend Albrecht Albrechtson who, to our shame, has been shackled and stuffed into a dungeon. Then perhaps the people delegated to go and let him out might hand him a flagon of brandy and, if practicable, run away. He has a piquant sense of humour.’
Rhys sat down again on the Scone of Stone and said, in tones that echoed around the cavern, ‘It is usual at this time for me to say “my fellow dwarfs” …’ There was a sucking feeling in the air as the King went on, ‘but today I’ll say “ladies and gentlemen dwarfs” … I am here not only to reclaim my Scone of Stone, which over the years has seen many important and notable buttocks sitting on it. I wonder, how many of those buttocks down the years were female?’
The sharp intake of breath by the whole gathering now seemed to draw all the air out of the place as the Low King continued.
‘Hear me out! It is well known that the gender of a dwarf is entirely their secret unless they decide otherwise. And I recall that in Ankh-Morpork, a few years ago, there was a fashion show for dwarfs only. I was there, incognito, and I recognized a few of you, quite possibly purchasing for use in the privacy of your own home? Shatta made a lot of money that day and I understand that Madame Sharn wants to open a new shop here. Here in Schmaltzberg! Does this thought frighten anybody? In these days, I think not. And all I am doing now, my friends, is to introduce to you something important: it is the truth! You know … that thing which remains when all the lies have been burned away. And now I will tell you that I have decided to no longer be your King!’
78
Vurms are somewhat like glow worms, but with a stink that illumines. They can be found in deep dark places, where they subsist on the effluvia of any creatures that may arrive there. They are very useful to tomb raiders and others of that kidney — who in turn are often very useful to the vurms, especially their kidneys.