Vimes tried to ignore it, but found this hard. ‘Was that all you wanted to see me for?’ he said, trying to stop his imagination playing its home-made horrors across his inner eyeballs.
‘Smokin’, Mister Vimes?’ Chrysoprase said, flipping open the case. ‘Der ones on der left is okay for humans. Finest kind.’
‘I’ve got my own,’ said Vimes, pulling out a battered packet. ‘What is this about? I’m a busy man.’
Chrysoprase lit a silvery troll cigar and took a long pull. There was a smell like burning tin.
‘Yeah, busy because dat ol’ dwarf dies,’ he said, not looking at Vimes.
‘Well?’
‘It was no troll done it,’ said Chrysoprase.
‘How do you know?’
Now the troll looked directly at Vimes. ‘If it was, I would have foun’ out by now. I bin askin’ questions.’
‘So are we.’
‘I bin askin’ questions more louder,’ said the troll. ‘I get lotsa answers. Sometimes I am gettin’ answers to questions I ain’t even asked yet.’
I bet you are, Vimes thought. I have to obey rules. ‘Why should you care who kills a dwarf?’ he said.
‘Mister Vimes! I am a honest citizen! It my public duty to care!’ Chrysoprase watched Vimes’s face to see how this was playing, and grinned. ‘All this stoopid Koom Valley t’ing is bad for business. People are gettin’ edgy, pokin’ around, askin’ questions. I am sittin’ dere gettin’ nervous. An’ den I hear my ol’ friend Mister Vimes is on der case and I am thinkin’, that Mister Vimes, he may be very insensitive to the nu-unces of troll culture some times, but der man is straight as a arrow and dere are on him no flies. He will see where dis so-called troll left his club behind an’ he is laughin’ his head off, it is so see-through like glass! Some dwarf did it an’ want to make der trolls look bad, Kew Eee Dee.’ He sat back.
‘What club?’ said Vimes quietly.
‘What’s dat?’
‘I haven’t mentioned a club. There was nothing in the paper about a troll club.’
‘Dear Mister Vimes, dat’s what der lawn ornaments is sayin’,’ said Chrysoprase.
‘And dwarfs talk to you, do they?’ said Vimes.
The troll looked thoughtfully at the roof, and blew out more smoke. ‘Eventually,’ he said. ‘But dat’s jus’ detail. Jus’ between you an’ me, here an’ now. We unnerstan’ dese t’ings. It is clear as anyt’ing dat der crazy dwarfs had a fight, or der ol’ dwarf died o’ bein’ alive too long, or—’
‘—or you asked him a few questions?’
‘No callin’ for dat, Mister Vimes. Dat club is nothin’ but a red dried swimmin’ t’ing. Der dwarfs put it dere.’
‘Or a troll did the murder, dropped his club and ran,’ said Vimes. ‘Or he was clever, and thought: no one would believe a troll would be so stupid as to leave his club so if I do leave it, the dwarfs will get the blame.’
‘Hey, good job it so cold in here or I wouldn’t be followin’ you!’ laughed Chrysoprase. ‘But den I ask, a troll gets into a nest o’ dem lousy deep-downers and lays out jus’ one? No way, José, eh? He’d whack as many of ’em as he could, thud, thud!’
He looked at Vimes’s puzzlement and sighed.
‘See, any troll gettin’ in dere, he’d be a mad troll to start with. You know how der kids are all wound up? People bin feeding dem that honour an’ glory an’ destiny stuff, that coprolite rots your brain faster’n Slab, faster even than Slide. From what I am hearin’, the dwarf got knocked off for-rensic, all slick an’ quiet. We don’t do dat, Mister Vimes. You played der game, you know it. Get a troll in der middle o’ a load of dwarfs, he is like a fox in der… dem fings wi’ wings, layin’ dem egg fings…’
‘Fox in a henhouse?’
‘Dat’s der— You know, fur, big ears—’
‘Bunny?’
‘Right! Bash one dwarf an’ sneak out? No troll’d stop at one, Mister Vimes. It’s like you people an’ peanuts. Der game got dat right.’
‘What’s this game?’
‘You never played Thud?’ Chrysoprase looked surprised.
‘Oh, that. I don’t play games,’ said Vimes. ‘And on the subject of Slab, you do run the biggest pipeline. Just between you and me, here and now.’
‘Nah, I’m out o’ dat whole t’ing,’ said Chrysoprase, waving his cigar dismissively. ‘You could say I am seein’ der error o’ my ways. From now on it’s clean livin’ straight down der middle. Property an’ financial services, dat is der way forward.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘Besides, der kids are movin’ in,’ Chrysoprase went on. ‘Sediment’ry trash. And dey cuts Slab wi’ bad sulphides an’ cooks it up wi’ ferric chloride an’ crap like dat. You thought Slab was bad? You wait till you see Slide. Slab makes a troll go an’ sit down to watch all der pretty colours, be no trouble to no one, nice and quiet. But Slide make him feel like him der biggest, strongest troll in der worl’, don’t need sleep, don’t need food. After a few weeks, don’t need life. Dat ain’t for me.’
‘Yes, why kill your customers?’ said Vimes.
‘Low blow, Mister Vimes, low blow. Nah, der new kids, half der time dey on Slide theyselves. Too much fightin’, too much of no respec’.’ He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. ‘I know names an’ places.’
‘It’s your duty as a good citizen to tell me, then,’ said Vimes. Ye gods, what does he think I am? But I want those names. Slide sounds nasty. Right now we need battle-crazy trolls like we need a hole in the head, which we’ll probably end up getting.
‘Can’t tell you. Dat der problem,’ said Chrysoprase. ‘This ain’t der time. You know what’s happenin’ out dere. If der stupid dwarfs want to fight we’ll need every troll. Dat’s what I sayin’. I tellin’ my people, give Vimes a chance. Be good citizens, not rockin’ around der boat. People still listenin’ to me an’ my… associates. But not for much longer. I hope you on der case, Mister Vimes?’
‘Captain Carrot is investigating right now,’ said Vimes.
Chrysoprase’s eyes narrowed again. ‘Carrot Ironfoundersson?’ he said. ‘Der big dwarf? He a lovely boy, bright as a button, but to trolls dat won’t look so good, I tell you flat.’
‘It doesn’t look that good to dwarfs, if it comes to that,’ said Vimes. ‘But it’s my Watch. I’ll not be told who I put on what case.’
‘You trust him?’ said Chrysoprase.
‘Yes!’
‘Okay, he a finker, he shiny. But… Ironfoundersson? Dwarf name. Dat a problem right dere. But der name Vimes… Dat name means a lot. Can’t be bribed, he once arrested the Patrician, not der sharpest knife in the drawer but honest like anyt’ing and he don’t stop diggin’.’ Chrysoprase caught Vimes’s expression. ‘Dat’s what dey say. I wishin’ Vimes was on dis case, ’cos him like me, bare-knuckle boy, he get at der truth soon enough. And to him I say: no troll did dat t’ing, not like dat.’
Forget that he’s talking street troll, Vimes told himself. That’s just to seem like a good ol’ troll. This is Chrysoprase. He beat out most of the old-style mobsters, who were pretty sharp players themselves, and he holds off the Thieves’ Guild with one hand. And that’s without sitting in a pile of snow. You know he’s right. But… not the sharpest knife in the drawer? Thank you so very much!
But Captain Carrot was shiny, was he? Vimes’s mind always looked for connections, and came up with: ‘Who is Mr Shine?’
Chrysoprase was absolutely still, the only motion the greenish smoke spiralling up from the cigar. Then, when he spoke, his air was uncharacteristically jovial.