There was an extra hubbub of indrawn breaths and sotto voce speculation from the populace at large, with all eyes focused on the King. The magic was broken or possibly enhanced by the tiny sound of a match being struck by Commander Vimes. And the fat cigar glowed like a beacon. Vimes smiled and nodded at the King, and in that moment Moist realized that Vimes had probably always known, or at least since the famous adventure several years before when he was Ambassador to Rhys’s election as Low King.
There was a disturbance as the crowd parted to allow the venerable Albrecht Albrechtson to make his way to stand by the Low King, who greeted him warmly in the traditional dwarf manner of butting helmets.[79]
‘Welcome, old friend. I’m sorry that you have been … inconvenienced by my absence. Those responsible will pay for that,’ he said in a loud voice, glaring at the crowd. Then more quietly to Albrecht, Rhys said, ‘You’ve arrived at a good moment. I’m in the middle of making an announcement.’
‘So I heard,’ said Albrechtson. ‘What are you doing? You don’t have to stand down. You won.’
The Low King laughed. ‘Stand down? Oh, I don’t think so, boyo. You’ll see.’
Turning back to the crowd, Rhys took a deep breath and said, ‘This will be surprising news to many of my subjects, but I am female, just like your mothers were, and therefore am in truth your Queen!’
There it was again. The famous dwarf intake of breath. Even Albrechtson seemed startled. Moist looked at Aeron and noticed the dwarf’s mailed fist was resting, oh so lightly, on his sword. Bashfullsson was standing right behind Albrechtson, watching him closely. Next to Moist, Vimes carefully laid down his glowing cigar on a rock ledge and tensed. This could be very interesting, Moist thought.
‘And if you think your Queen is not as good a ruler as your King, do you really believe your mother was inferior to your father?’ The Queen laughed. ‘I see embarrassment among all of you. That’s good. The thing about being embarrassed is that sooner or later you aren’t, but you remember that you were.’
There was a noticeable shift in atmosphere as the Queen carried on, saying, ‘I have seen that in warm breasts there is a truth which is not to be denied, but we dwarfs seem to deny everything, building little worlds inside a big one. And one might ask what we are trying to escape from — unless it is ourselves. We are dwarfs, yes, but we could be better than our dwarf ancestors stuck in their holes.’
When she had finished the Queen looked around at the assembled dwarfs and said, ‘Well? No dwarf man enough to challenge me?’
Several eyes turned to Albrechtson, who looked thoughtful but did not move. Bashfullsson relaxed his stance.
And suddenly the Queen’s finger was pointing and she said, ‘Shod Orebreaker, I always thought of you as a level-headed dwarf with your head screwed on, although possibly against the thread.’
And Moist felt the exultation of those who hadn’t been the one facing the finger and the misery of Shod Orebreaker, and he wondered: had the Low Queen’s voice changed, or had it always been like that? She hadn’t threatened, but a visible threat was in the air. She had them in her hand, and she was squeezing, and the dwarf stepped backwards as she pointed at him and she said, ‘Where are your grags now, Shod Orebreaker?’
The said Shod became a picture of panic. ‘Not my grags, my Queen!’
This was possibly because Aeron had passed the Queen a thick file. The Queen licked a finger and riffled through the pages, looked down and said, ‘Really? Then I must have been misinformed.’
She turned to the rest of the dwarfs and said, ‘I wonder if I have been misinformed about all of you?’
But the assembled company was watching the flicking pages, trying not to crane to see whether their name was on the list … It was laughable. She had them by the short and curlies, and she said, ‘Strange, isn’t it, that when the chips are down they take other chips with them. If anyone wants to test my claim then let them step forward now!’
There were murmurings, dwarfs turning round to other dwarfs and the traditional aforesaid hubbub of such occasions and then there was a hush as Albrechtson spoke.
‘My queen,’ he said, and the hubbub bubbled. It was the unexpected moment: the great defender of all that was dwarfish now having a stocktaking of his thoughts. ‘My queen, we, fortuitously, live and so we should learn. I have always considered myself knowledgeable, a true scholar of the ways of Tak, but the past days have shown me that even I have lessons to learn. In my little dungeon, I heard my ways changing and understood the meaning of humility. In fact, I am prepared to admit before you all that some of those lessons were taught me by a goblin a fraction of my age, whom I am proud to call my friend.’
Moist saw that the old dwarf was crying. Albrechtson hesitated, then shouted, ‘Tak save the Queen! And I will fight anyone who says otherwise.’ And Moist thought, Oh blast, it’s all going to start over again.
But the assembled dwarfs made no move to take Albrechtson up on his challenge. The sea of faces in the hall looked universally stunned, as if someone had announced that gold was, to be honest, not that interesting after all.
The Queen gracefully thanked Albrechtson, then pulled herself up and said, ‘I am well aware that many of you have financed the grags and their entourage and I know the names, yes, indeed I know the names of those who’d kill for a curdled thesis. In the fullness of time there will be no redemption for them. We were generous after the mess of Koom Valley and those were the stupid days, but if the grags and their friends think they can take my Scone from me they will know me for what I am. Your Queen. I believe all of you will have heard of Queen Ynci of Lancre, yes? Well, I consider her my role model, but right now I’m looking for peace for all the world and specifically for myself and my child.’
And in the thundering susurration that followed this there was one dwarf suddenly standing next to the Queen. It was Aeron, and he drew his sword, not against anyone in particular, but nevertheless very ready to defend his wife and his unborn child.
Over the uproar the Queen said, ‘And is there anyone here now who doubts that I am the Queen by right? It seems to me our ancestors thought their mothers were inferior. Well, as I say, I am soon to be a mother, so which of you gentlemen would like to try and take my Scone from me?’
Moist looked around. There were no takers. The Queen looked dangerous to touch and she didn’t even have a weapon in her hands. It had to be game, set and whole boxful of matches.
‘Very well,’ the Low Queen of the dwarfs concluded. ‘There will be a feast for all who come with goodwill and there will, of course, be much quaffing.’ She smiled and added, ‘That includes cocktails, for those who like them. Believe me, the world is upside down, as it was meant to be. Praise Tak! And praise Iron Girder and all those who built her, fed her and polished her.’
‘Ardent was on a hiding to nowhere,’ said Albrecht at the banquet later that day. ‘People broke away to avoid the inevitable. You’re right, your majesty. We forgot what it was to be true dwarfs, but then people were getting hurt! There were too many threats against decent dwarfs. The little bits of mercury flow together and in the end his support turned out to be built of sand.’
79
A part of dwarf etiquette that outsiders find near impossible to master, the traditional helmet butt is a little less vigorous than the manoeuvre known on the tougher streets of Ankh-Morpork as the ‘Shamlegger Kiss’, but it must also not be so gentle as to imply that either the giver or the receiver is a sissy.