The Fifth Elephant d-24

by Terry Pratchett

  And if he gave in to it he'd lose. That was the beast screaming, inside, and Wolfgang was a better beast. Vimes knew he didn't have the knack, the mindless, driving nastiness; sooner or later his brain would start operating, and kill him.

  Perhaps, said his brain, you start by using me...

  'Ye-es,' he said. 'Yes, I think there is something I can do...'

  Fire and silver, thought Vimes. Well, silver's in pretty short supply in Uberwald.

  'You want I should come?' said Detritus, who could pick up signals.

  'No, I think... I think I want to make an arrest. I don't want to start a war. Anyway, you need to wait here in case he doubles back. But you could lend me your penknife.'

  Vimes found a sheet in one of the broken boxes and tore off a long strip. Then he took his crossbow from his wife.

  'You see, now he's committed a crime in Ankh-Morpork,' he said. 'That makes him mine.'

  'Sam, we're not—'

  'You know, everyone kept telling me I wasn't in Ankh-Morpork so often that I believed it. But this embassy is Ankh-Morpork and, right now,' he hefted the bow, 'I am the law.'

  'Sam?'

  'Yes, dear?'

  'I know that look. Don't hurt anyone else, will you?'

  'Don't worry, dear. I'm going to be civilized about it.'

  There was a cluster of dwarfs in the street outside, surrounding one lying on the snow in a pool of blood.

  'Which way?' said Vimes, and if they didn't understand his words they understood the question. Several of them pointed along the street.

  As he walked Vimes cradled the crossbow and lit a thin cigar.

  Now this he understood. He was never at ease with politics, where good and bad were just, apparently, two ways of looking at the same thing or, at least, were described like that by the people who were on the side Vimes thought of as 'bad'.

  It was all too complicated and, where it was complicated, it meant that someone was trying to fool you. But on the street, in hot pursuit, it was all so clear. Someone was going to be still standing at the end of the chase, and all you had to concentrate on was making sure it was you.

  On a street corner a cart had overturned and its driver was kneeling by a horse that had been ripped open.

  'Which way?'

  The man pointed.

  The new street was wider, busier, and there were a number of elegant coaches moving slowly through the crowds. Of course... the coronation.

  But that belonged to the world of the Duke of Ankh and, right now, he wasn't here. There was only Sam Vimes, who didn't much like coronations.

  There were screams up ahead, and the flow of people was suddenly against Vimes, so that he appeared to be heading up-stream, like a salmon.

  The street opened into a large square. People were running now, which suggested to Vimes that he was still moving in the right direction. It was pretty clear that you'd find Wolfgang somewhere no one else wanted to be.

  There was a flurry of movement on one side of him and a squad of the town guard trotted past. They halted. One of them walked back. It was Tantony.

  He looked Vimes up and down. 'I have you to thank for last night?' he said. There were fresh scars on his face, but they were already healing. We've got to get an Igor, Vimes reminded himself.

  'Yes,' said Vimes. 'The good bits and the bad bits.'

  'And you see what happens when you stand up to a werewolf?'

  Vimes opened his mouth to say, 'Is that a uniform you're wearing, captain, or is it fancy dress?' but stopped himself in time. 'No, it's what happens when you're fool enough to stand up to a werewolf with no back-up and no firepower,' he said. 'I'm sorry, but we all have to learn that lesson. Integrity makes very poor armour.'

  The man reddened. 'What is your business here?' he said.

  'Our hairy friend just murdered someone in the embassy, which is—'

  'Yes, yes, Ankh-Morpork territory. But this isn't! I am the watchman here!'

  'I'm in hot pursuit, Captain. Ah. I see you know the term?'

  'I... I... that doesn't apply!'

  'Really?' Vimes raised an eyebrow. 'Surely every copper knows about the rule of hot pursuit. You can chase the suspect over your legal boundary if you're in hot pursuit. Of course, there may be a bit of legal argy-bargy once he's caught, but we can save that for later.'

  'I intend to arrest him myself for crimes committed today!'

  'You're too young to die. Besides, I saw him first. Tell you what... After he's killed me you can have a go. Fair enough?' He looked Tantony in the eye. 'Now get out of the way.'

  'You know I could have you arrested.'

  'Probably, but until now I'd got you down as an intelligent man.'

  Tantony nodded, and proved Vimes right. 'All right. How may we be of assistance?'

  'By keeping out of the way. Oh, and scraping up my remains if this doesn't work.'

  Vimes felt the man's stare on the back of his neck as he set off again.

  There was a statue in the middle of the square. It was of the Fifth Elephant. Some ancient craftsman had tried to achieve in bronze and stone the moment when the allegorical animal had thundered down out of the sky and gifted the country its incredible mineral wealth. Around it were idealized and rather heavy-set figures of dwarfs and men, holding hammers and swords, and striking noble attitudes; they probably represented Truth, Industry, Justice and Mother's Home-Made Fat Pancakes for all Vimes knew, but he felt truly far from home in a country where, apparently, no one wrote graffiti on public statues.

  A man was sprawled on the cobbles, with a woman kneeling beside him. She looked tearfully at Vimes and said something in Uberwaldean. All he could do was nod.

  Wolfgang jumped down from a perch on top of the statue to Bad Sculpting and landed a few yards away, grinning.

  'Mister Civilized! You want another game?'

  'You see this badge I'm holding up?' said Vimes.

  'It's a very small one!'

  'But you see it?'

  'Yes, I see your little badge!' Wolfgang started to move sideways, arms hanging loosely by his sides.

  'And I'm armed. Did you hear me tell you I'm armed?'

  'With that silly bow?'

  'But you just heard me say I'm armed, yes?' said Vimes, loudly, turning to face the moving werewolf. He puffed on his cigar, letting a glow build up.

  'Yes! Is this what you call civilized?'

  Vimes grinned. 'Yes, this is how we do it.'

  'My way is better!'

  'And now you're under arrest,' said Vimes. 'Come along and make no fuss and we'll tie you securely and hand you over to whatever passes for justice around here. I realize this may be difficult.'

  'Hah! Your Ankh-Morpork sense of humour!'

  'Yes, any minute now I'll drop my trousers. So, you're resisting arrest?'

  'Why these stupid questions?' Now Wolfgang was almost dancing.

  'Are you resisting arrest?'

  'Yes indeed! Oh yes! Good joke!'

  'Look at me laughing.'

  Vimes tossed the crossbow aside and swung a tube out from under his cloak. It was made of cardboard and a red cone protruded from one end.

  'A stupid silly firework!' shouted Wolfgang, and charged.

  'Could be,' said Vimes.

  He didn't bother to aim. These things were never designed for accuracy or speed. He simply removed his cigar from his mouth and, as Wolfgang ran towards him, pressed it into the fuse hole.

  The mortar jerked as the charge went off and its payload came tumbling out slowly and trailing smoke in a lazy spiral. It looked like the stupidest weapon since the toffee spear.

  Wolfgang danced back and forth under it, grinning, and as it passed several feet over his head he leapt up gracefully and caught it in his mouth.

  And then it exploded.

  The flares were made to be seen twenty miles away. Even with his eyes tightly shut, Vimes saw the glare through his lids.

  When the body had stopped rolling, Vimes looked around the squar
e. People were watching from the coaches. The crowds were silent.

  There were a lot of things he could say. 'Son of a bitch!' would have been a good one. Or he could say, 'Welcome to civilization!' He could have said, 'Laugh this one off!' He might have said, 'Fetch!'

  But he didn't, because if he had said any of those things then he'd have known that what he had just done was murder.

  He turned away, tossed the empty mortar over his shoulder and muttered, 'The hell with it.'

  At times like this teetotalism bit down hard.

  Tantony was watching.

  'Don't say a word out of place,' said Vimes, without altering his stride. 'Just don't.'

  'I thought... those things shot very fast...'

  'I cut down the charge,' said Vimes, tossing Detritus's penknife in the air and catching it again. 'I didn't want to hurt anyone.'

  'I heard you warn him that you were armed. I heard him twice resist arrest. I heard everything. I heard everything you wanted me to hear.'

  'Yes.'

  'Of course, he might not have known that law.'

  'Oh, really? Well, I didn't know it was legal in these parts to chase some poor sod across the country and maul him to death and, do you know, that didn't stop anyone.' Vimes shook his head. 'And don't give me that pained look. Oh, yes... now you can say I did it wrong, you can say I ought to have handled it differently. That sort of thing is easy to say afterwards. I'll say it myself, maybe.' In the middle of every night, he added to himself, after I've woken up seeing those mad eyes. 'But you wanted him stopped as much as I did. Oh yes, you did. But you couldn't, because you didn't have the means, and I did, because I could. And you've got the luxury of judging me because you're still alive. And that's the truth of it, all wrapped up. Lucky one for you, eh?'

  The crowds parted ahead of Vimes. He could hear whispers around him.

  'On the other hand,' said Tantony, distantly, as if he hadn't heard what Vimes had just said, 'you did only fire that thing to warn him...'

  'Huh?'

  'Clearly you were not to know that he would automatically try to catch the... explosive,' said Tantony, and it seemed to Vimes that he was rehearsing the line. 'The... dog-like qualities of a werewolf would hardly have occurred to a man from the big city.'

  Vimes held his gaze for a moment, and then patted him on the shoulder. 'Hold on to that thought,' he said.

  A coach pulled to a halt beside him as he continued on his way. It slid to a stop so silently - not a jingle of harness, not a clop of horseshoe - that Vimes jumped sideways out of shock.

  The horses were black, with black plumes on their heads. The coach was a hearse, the traditional long glass windows now filled with smoked black glass. There was no driver; the reins were simply loosely knotted on a brass railing.

  A door swung open. A veiled figure leaned out. 'Your excellency? Do let me give you a lift back to the embassy. You look so tired.'

  'No, thank you,' said Vimes grimly.

  'I apologize for the emphasis on black,' said Lady Margolotta. 'It is rather expected of one on these occasions, I'm afraid—'

  Vimes swung himself up and into the carriage with furious speed.

  'You tell me,' he growled, waving a finger under her nose, 'how anyone can swim up a vertical waterfall? I was prepared to believe anything about that bastard, but even he. couldn't have managed that.'

  'Certainly that is a puzzle,' said the vampire calmly, as the driverless coach moved on. 'Superhuman strength, possibly?'

  'And now he's gone and that's one up for the vampires, eh?'

  'I vould like to think that it's going to be a blessing for the whole country.' Lady Margolotta leaned back. Her rat with the bow round its neck watched Vimes suspiciously from its pink cushion. 'Wolfgang vas a sadistic murderer, a throwback who frightened even his own family. Delphine... sorry, Angua... vill have some peace of mind. An intelligent young lady, I've alvays thought. Leaving here vas the best thing she ever did. The darkness vill be a little less frightening. The vorld will be a better place.'

  'And I've handed you Uberwald?' said Vimes.

  'Don't be stupid. Uberwald is huge. This is one small part of it. And now it's going to change. You have been a breath of fresh air.'

  Lady Margolotta drew a long holder from her bag and inserted a black cigarette. It lit itself.

  'Like you, I have found consolation in a... different vice,' she said. 'Black Scopani. They grow the tobacco in total darkness. Do try some. You could waterproof roofs with it. I believe Igor makes cigars by rolling the leaves between his thighs.' She blew out a stream of smoke. 'Or someone's thighs, anyvay. Of course, I am sorry for the Baroness. It must be so hard for a verevolf, realizing that she's raised a monster. As for the Baron, give him a bone and he's happy for hours.' Another stream of smoke. 'Do look after Angua. Happy Families is not a popular game among the undead.'

  'You helped him come back! Just like you did for me!'

  'Oh, he'd have come back anyvay, in time. Some time when you weren't expecting him. He'd track Angua like a wolverine. Best that things ended today.' She gave him an appraising look through the smoke. 'You're good at anger, your grace. You save it up for when you need it.'

  'You couldn't have known I'd beat him. You left me in the snow. I wasn't even armed!'

  'Havelock Vetinari would not have sent a fool to Uberwald.' More smoke, which writhed in the air. 'At least, not a stupid fool.'

  Vimes's eyes narrowed. 'You've met him, haven't you?'

  'Yes.'

  'And taught him all he knows, right?'

  She blew smoke down her nostrils and gave him a radiant smile.

  'I'm sorry? You think I taught him? My dear sir... As for vhat I've got out of all this... vell, a little breathing space. A little influence. Politics is more interesting than blood, your grace. And much more fun. Beware the reformed vampire, sir - the craving for blood is only a craving, and with care it can be diverted along different channels. Uberwald is going to need politicians. Ah, I believe ve are here,' she added, although Vimes could have sworn that she hadn't so much as glanced out of the window.

  The door opened.

  'If my Igor's still there, do tell him I vill see him Downtown. So nice to have met you. I'm sure ve shall meet again. And do please present my fondest regards to Lord Vetinari.'

  The door shut behind Vimes. The coach moved off.

  He swore, under his breath.

  The hall of the embassy was full of Igors. Several of them touched their forelocks, or at least the line of stitch marks, when they saw him. They were carrying heavy metal containers of varying sizes, on which frost crystals were forming.

  'What's this?' he said. 'Igor's funeral?' Then it sank in. 'Oh, my gods... with party loot bags? Everyone gets something to take home?'

  'You could thay that, thur, you could call it that,' said an Igor. 'But we think that putting bodieth in the ground ith rather gruethome. All thothe wormth and thingth.' He tapped the tin box under his arm. 'Thith way, he'll be mothtly up and about again in no time,' he added brightly.

  'Reincarnation on the instalment plan, eh?' said Vimes weakly.

  'Motht amuthing, thur,' said the Igor gravely. 'But it'th amathing what people need. Heartth, liverth, handth... we keep a litht, thur, of detherving catheth. By tonight there will be thome very lucky people in thethe partly'

  'And these parts in some very lucky people?'

  'Well done, thur. I can thee you are a wit. And one day thome poor thoul will have a really nathty brain injury, and' - he tapped the chilly box again - 'what goeth around cometh around.'

  He nodded at Cheery, and at Vimes. 'I mutht be going now, thur. Tho much to do, you know how it ith.'

  'I can imagine,' said Vimes. He thought: the axe of my grandfather. You change the bits around, but there'll always be an Igor.

  'They're really rather selfless people, sir,' said Cheery, when the last Igor had lurched off. 'They do a lot of good work. Er, they even took his suit and his boots because t
hey'll be useful to someone.'

  'I know, I know. But—'

  'I know what you mean, sir. Everyone's in the drawing room. Lady Sybil said you'd be back. She said anyone with that look in their eye comes back.'

  'We're all going to the coronation. Might as well see this through. Is that what you'll be wearing, Cheery?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'But it's just... ordinary dwarf clothes. Trousers and everything.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'But Sybil said you'd got a fetching little green number and a helmet with a feather in it.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'You're free to wear whatever you want, you know that.'

  'Yes, sir. And then I thought about Dee. And I watched the King when he was talking to you, and... well, I can wear what I like, sir. That's the point. I don't have to wear that dress and I shouldn't wear it just because other people don't want me to. Besides, it made me look like a rather stupid lettuce.'

  'That's all a bit complicated for me, Cheery.'

  'It's probably a dwarf thing, sir.'

  Vimes pushed open the doors to the drawing room. 'It's over,' he said.

  'Did you hurt anyone else?' said Sybil.

  'Only Wolfgang.'

  'He'll be back,' said Angua.

  'No.'

  'You killed him?'

  'No. I put him down. I see you're up, captain.'

  Carrot got to his feet, awkwardly, and saluted. 'Sorry I haven't been much use, sir.'

  'You just chose the wrong time to fight fair. Are you well enough to come?'

  'Er, Angua and I want to stay here, if it's all right with you, sir. We've got things to talk about. And, er... do.'

  It was the first coronation Vimes had attended. He'd expected it to be... stranger, touched somehow by glory.

  Instead it was dull, but at least it was big dull, dullness distilled and cultivated over thousands of years until it had developed an impressive shine, as even grime will if you polish it long enough. It was dull hammered into the shape and form of ceremony.

  It had also been timed to test the capacity of the average bladder.

  A number of dwarfs read passages from ancient scrolls. There were what sounded like excerpts from the Koboldean Saga, and Vimes wondered desperately if they were in for another opera, but they were over after a mere hour. There were more readings from different dwarfs. At one point the King, who had been standing alone in the centre of a circle of candlelight, was presented with a leather bag, a small mining axe and a ruby. Vimes didn't catch the meaning of any of this, but by the sounds it was clear that each item was of huge and satisfying significance to the thousands who were standing behind him. Thousands? No, there must be tens of thousands, he thought. The bowl of the cavern was full of tier upon tier of dwarfs. Maybe a hundred thousand...