‘Ah, Mister Vimes, you have had a busy day. So much happening, so little time to think. Take time to reflect on all you know, sir. I am a reflecting kind of person.’
‘Commander Vimes?’ The voice came from Miss Pickles/Pointer, halfway up the stairs. ‘There is a big troll asking after you.’
‘What a shame,’ said Mr Shine. ‘That will be Sergeant Detritus. Not good news, I suspect. If I had to guess, I’d say that the trolls have sent around the taka-taka. You must go, Mister Vimes. I’ll be seeing you again.’
‘I don’t think I’ll see you,’ said Vimes. He stood up, and then hesitated.
‘One question, right? And no funny answers, if you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘Tell me why you helped Brick. Why should you care about a slushed-out gutter troll?’
‘Why should you care about some dead dwarfs?’ said Mr Shine.
‘Because someone has to!’
‘Exactly! Goodbye, Mister Vimes.’
Vimes hurried up the stairs and followed Miss Pickles/Pointer out into the shop. Detritus was standing among the mineral specimens, looking uncomfortable, like a man in a morgue.
‘What’s happening?’ said Vimes.
Detritus shifted uneasily. ‘Sorry, Mister Vimes, but I was the only one dat knew where—’ he began.
‘Yes, okay. Is this about the taka-taka?’
‘How did you know about that, sir?’
‘I don’t. What is the taka-taka?’
‘It der famous war club of der trolls,’ said Detritus. Vimes, with the image of the peace club of the trolls downstairs still in his mind, couldn’t stop himself.
‘You mean you subscribe and get a different war every month?’ he said. But that sort of thing was wasted on Detritus. He treated humour as some human aberration which had to be overcome by talking slowly and patiently.
‘No, sir. When der taka-taka is sent a-round the clans, it a summon-ing to war,’ he said.
‘Oh damn. Koom Valley?’
‘Yes, sir. An’ I’m hearing dat der Low King and der Uberwald dwarfs is already on der way to Koom Valley, too. Der street is full of it.’
‘Er… bingle bingle bingle…?’ said a small and very nervous voice.
Vimes pulled out the Gooseberry and stared at it. At a time like this…
‘Well?’ he said.
‘It’s twenty-nine minutes past five, Insert Name Here,’ said the imp nervously.
‘So?’
‘On foot, at this time of day, you will need to leave now to be home at six o’clock,’ said the imp.
‘Der Patrician want to see you and dere’s clackses arrivin’ and everythin’,’ said Detritus insistently.
Vimes continued to stare at the imp, which looked embarrassed.
‘I’m going home,’ he said, and started walking. Dark clouds were rolling in overhead, heralding another summer storm.
‘Dey’ve foun’ der three dwarfs near der well, sir,’ said Detritus, lumbering after him. ‘Looks like it was other dwarfs what killed ’em, sure enough. The ol’ grags have gone. Captain Carrot’s put guards on every exit he can find…’
But they dig, Vimes thought. Who knows where all the tunnels go?
‘… and he wants permission to break open der big iron doors in Treacle Street,’ Detritus went on. ‘Dey can get at the last dwarf dat way.’
‘What are the dwarfs saying about it?’ said Vimes, over his shoulder. ‘The living ones, I mean?’
‘A lot of dem saw der dead dwarfs brought up,’ said Detritus. ‘I fink most of dem would hand him der crowbar.’
Let’s hear it for the mob, Vimes thought. Grab it by its sentimental heart. Besides, the storm is beginning. Why worry about an extra raindrop?
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Tell him this. I know Otto will be there with his damn picture box, so when that door is wrenched open it’s going to be dwarfs doing it, okay? A picture full of dwarfs?’
‘Right, sir!’
‘How is young Brick? Will he swear a statement? Does he understand about that?’
‘I reckon he could, sir.’
‘In front of dwarfs?’
‘He will if I ask him, sir,’ said Detritus. ‘Dat I can promise.’
‘Good. And get someone to put out a message on the clacks, to every city watch and village constable between here and the mountains. Tell them to look out for a party of dark dwarfs. They’ve got what they came for and they’re doing a runner, I know it.’
‘You want they should try to stop ’em?’ the sergeant asked.
‘No! No one should try it! Say they’ve got weapons that shoot fire! Just let me know where they’re headed!’
‘I’ll tell dem dat, sir.’
And I’m going home, Vimes repeated to himself. Everyone wants something from Vimes, even though I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Hell, I’m probably a spoon. Well, I’m going to be Vimes, and Vimes reads Where’s My Cow? to Young Sam at six o’clock. With the noises done right.
He went home at a brisk walk, using all the little shortcuts, his mind sloshing backwards and forwards like thin soup, his ribs nudging him occasionally to say, yes, they were still there and twingeing. He arrived at the door just as Willikins was opening it.
‘I shall tell her ladyship you are back, sir,’ he called out, as Vimes hurried up the stairs. ‘She is mucking out the dragon pens.’
Young Sam was standing up in his cot, watching the door. Vimes’s day went soft and pink.
The chair was littered with the favoured toys of the hour — a rag ball, a little hoop, a woolly snake with one button eye. Vimes pushed them on to the rug, sat down and took off his helmet. Then he took off his damp boots. You didn’t need to heat a room after Sam Vimes had taken his boots off. On the wall the nursery clock ticked, and with every tick and tock a little sheep jumped back and forth over a fence.
Sam unfolded the rather chewed, rather soggy book.
‘Where’s my cow?’ he announced, and Young Sam chuckled. Rain rattled on the window.
… A ‘thing’ that talks, he thought, as his mouth and eyes took over the task in hand. I’m going to have to find out about that. Why’d it make dwarfs want to kill one another?
… Why did we go into that mine? Because we heard there’d been a murder, that’s why!
… Everyone knows that dwarfs gossip. It was stupid to tell them to keep it from us! That’s the deep-downers for you, they think they just have to say a thing and it’s true!
… water dripping on a stone…
Where did I see one of those Thud boards recently?
Oh, yes, Helmclever. He was very worried, wasn’t he?
He had a board. He said he was a keen player.
That was a dwarf under pressure if ever I saw one; he looked as if he was dying to tell me something…
That look in his eyes…
I was so angry. Don’t tell the Watch? What did they expect? You’d have thought he would have known…