Vimes gazed around from his place as honoured guest at the low table and said, ‘Look at them there, the world has indeed turned upside down. There will be grumbling, but what are you dwarfs without grumbling?’
Albrecht snorted and said, ‘There should have been more of a reckoning.’
‘Oh, really?’ said the Queen. ‘I don’t intend to start my new life with a bloodbath. Justice will be done. Everyone knows who the main players are, we always have done. We have names, depositions. It’s a small world for dwarfs, with nowhere else to hide, and, frankly, the work is almost completed. The deep-down grags behind this lost a lot of their best fighters attacking Iron Girder on her peregrination across the landscape.
‘What a voyage that was! And the wonderful discovery of loggy-sticks. The train is the future; bringing people closer together. Think about it. People run to see the train go past. Why? Because it’s heading to the future or coming from the past. Personally, I very much want the future and I want to see to it that dwarfs are part of that future, if it’s not too late.’
Vimes smiled and said, ‘Well, your majesty, you have the opportunity right now. I understand from young Simnel that the bridge at Wilinus will take several months to be repaired and strengthened sufficiently to be able to take the weight of a fully loaded train. That means that Iron Girder and her carriages will be stranded here until the line is rebuilt.’
He looked down the table to where Moist was in earnest conversation with Bashfullsson. ‘Mister von Lipwig will no doubt be happy to advise on the … commercial opportunities.’
Rhys smiled. ‘Ah yes, I’m familiar with Mister von Lipwig’s reputation, and have been impressed with his, ah, capabilities. However, I think it might be advisable to summon our lawyer, Mr Thunderbolt, to ensure that all is done fair and square, see.’
Vimes laughed. ‘Very wise.’
‘And no doubt there will be a need for workers to help with construction?’ enquired the Queen. ‘The young ones, in particular, who may not be so interested in staying in the mines, but nevertheless want a good solid job with plenty of metal and hammering involved? We are still dwarfs, after all.’
Afterwards the Queen walked among her quite possibly loyal subjects and it was a grand perambulation, with little outbreaks of mail skirts and elaborately coiffed beards amongst certain of the dwarfs rushing shyly over to assure her of their fealty. As Vimes said afterwards, for that day at least she had won hands down, especially since a great many of the dwarfs she was talking to were already openly declaring themselves females who had been waiting for this moment for a very long time.
The evening before they were to leave Bonk, Moist wandered down to the railhead, idly pondering recent events. Well, he thought, the world has seen the footplate of Iron Girder and the Queen has been given her crown back and according to Commander Vimes the worst of the grags are either dead or behind bars.
At the makeshift station Iron Girder was being guarded by Nobby Nobbs and Fred Colon, who were both sound asleep. Iron Girder, however, wasn’t, although the kettle was barely simmering after a long day giving rides to the locals up and down the single track.
Moist tiptoed to the empty footplate and whispered, ‘What are you, Iron Girder?’ There was a moment of silence, then a shimmer as the wisps of steam drifted up into the night air above the locomotive and a voice breathed into his brain, soft and warm and somehow damp.
‘My, oh my, Mister Lipwig, you are the smart one, just as they say. I am me. I am Iron Girder. But all it takes is for people to believe and I am no longer just an artefact put together by clever engineers. I am an idea, a something made of nothing, whose time has come to be. Some even call me “goddess”.’
Moist’s fleeting thought about traditional representations of goddesses in diaphanous nighties with maybe an urn or two was banished as the voice continued a little more sharply.
‘Am I not beautiful? And I tell you, my children will be even better! More sleek and more handsome and more powerful! Even now Mister Simnel is making my children for me. In time I will become ubiquitous, part of the landscape which is ennobled by my fleeting passage. I hear the worship every day that tells me that I am power personified and those who think to oppose me and put out my fire will find themselves thwarted, and swiftly. I, Mister Lipwig, I will rule on the up line and I will rule on the down line.’
In the twilight Moist saw a skinny figure walk up to Iron Girder. Dick Simnel shut down some hissing mechanism or other and the voice, the beautiful voice, was silenced.
‘Aye, she’s gradely all right! Come to see her for the last time before we head back to the city, have you? I can’t blame you. Everyone’s been wanting to see ’er, and I won’t lie, Mister Lipwig, it’s a wrench to leave her behind, for all she’s got good work to do ’ere. Iron Girder, she’s turned out to be a great lass. She was the power and she was ’arnessed, by gum. Oh, yes! ’arnessed by the sine and the cosine, and even the tangent had its little ’and in there somewhere! But not least she was tamed by my sliding rule.’
Dick grinned at Moist and continued. ‘People see Iron Girder and they’re gobsmacked by what can be done with mathematics! Don’t you go thinking she’ll burn you with living steam because she won’t. I’ve seen to it that she won’t. She’ll always be my favourite engine, Mister Lipwig, the queen of them all. She lives. How could anyone say she doesn’t?’
Moist looked around and saw that they were surrounded by goblins sitting quietly in a big circle like worshippers at the shrine, and once again Dick Simnel said, ‘Power, Mister Lipwig, power under control.’
Moist was seldom speechless, but this time all he could say was, ‘Good luck with that, Mister Simnel. Good luck.’
And the driver made his magic and the fire box opened and spilled dancing red shadows all around the footplate. And then came the rattle and jerk as Iron Girder took the strain and breathed steam for one more turn around the track as the goblins whooped and cackled and scrambled up her sides. And then came the first chuff and the second chuff and then the chuff bucket overflowed as Iron Girder escaped the pull of friction and gravity and flew along the rails.
Dick Simnel lit his pipe from a hot coal and said to the night, ‘Aye, gradely.’
When Drumknott entered the Oblong Office a few days later there was a familiarity to the silence, interrupted only by the scratch of a pencil as the austere figure behind the desk filled in a word on that day’s crossword. Drumknott coughed.
‘Yes?’
The face of the Patrician was forbidding. An eyebrow shifted quizzically, a characteristic known and feared by many. Drumknott smiled.
‘Many congratulations! You have that expression down to a T and the accent never faltered. And, of course, the frown! You’ve always been very good at the frown. Quite frankly, if he was standing next to you I wouldn’t know whom from which.’
Suddenly the face of the Patrician disappeared, leaving only Charlie the Clown in Lord Vetinari’s clothes, looking embarrassed.
‘It wasn’t very difficult, Mister Drumknott, with you giving me those little signs and everything.’
‘Oh no,’ said Drumknott. ‘Your performance was perfect. You’ve impersonated his lordship for two weeks and not put a foot wrong! But now to business. The sum we agreed will be deposited in your special account at the Royal Bank tomorrow.’ Drumknott smiled again and said, like a cheerful uncle, ‘How is your wife these days, Charlie?’