Men at Arms

by Terry Pratchett

Page 15

 

  He was aware of eyes on him. He looked across the table into the face of a man who was watching him intently and whose last contribution to the conversation had been Could you be so kind as to pass me the seasonings, captain? There was nothing remarkable about the face, except for the gaze – which was absolutely calm and mildly amused. It was Dr Cruces. Vimes had the strong impression that his thoughts were being read.

  Samuel!

  Vimes hand stopped halfway to the bottle. Willikins was standing next to her ladyship.

  Apparently theres a young man at the door asking for you, said Lady Ramkin. Corporal Carrot.

  Gosh, this is exciting! said Lord Eorle. Has he come to arrest us, do you think? Hahaha.

  Ha, said Vimes.

  Lord Eorle nudged his partner.

  I expect that somewhere a crime is being committed, he said.

  Yes, said Vimes. Quite close, I think.

  Carrot was shown in, with his helmet under his arm at a respectful angle.

  He gazed at the select company, licked his lips nervously, and saluted. Everyone was looking at him. It was hard not to notice Carrot in a room. There were bigger people than him in the city. He didnt loom. He just seemed, without trying, to distort things around him. Everything became background to Corporal Carrot.

  At ease, corporal, said Vimes. Whats up? I mean, he added quickly, knowing Carrots erratic approach to colourful language, what is the reason for you being here at this time?

  Got something to show you, sir. Uh. Sir, I think its from the Assass—

  Well just go and talk about it outside, shall we? said Vimes. Dr Cruces hadnt twitched a muscle.

  Lord Eorle sat back. Well, I must say Im impressed, he said. Id always thought you Watchmen were a pretty ineffective lot, but I see youre pursuing your duty at all times. Always on the alert for the criminal mind, eh?

  Oh, yes, said Vimes. The criminal mind. Yes.

  The cooler air of the ancestral hallway came as a blessing. He leaned against the wall and squinted at the card.

  “Gonne”?

  You know you said you saw something in the courtyard— Carrot began.

  Whats a gonne?

  Maybe something wasnt in the Assassins museum, and they put this sign on it? said Carrot. You know, like “Removed for Cleaning”? They do that in museums.

  No, I shouldnt think th—What do you know about museums, anyway?

  Oh, well, sir, said Carrot. I sometimes visit them on my day off. The one in the University, of course, and Lord Vetinari lets me look around the old Palace one, and then theres the Guild ones, they generally let me in if I ask nicely, and theres the dwarf museum off Rime Street—

  Is there? said Vimes, interested despite himself. Hed walked along Rime Street a thousand times.

  Yes, sir, just up Whirligig Alley.

  Fancy that. Whats in it?

  Many interesting examples of dwarf bread, sir.

  Vimes thought about this for a moment. Thats not important right now, he said. This isnt how you spell gone, anyway.

  Yes it is, sir, said Carrot.

  I meant, its not how gone is normally spelled.

  He flicked the card back and forth in his fingers.

  A mand have to be a fool to break into the Assassins Guild, he said.

  Yes, sir.

  The anger had burned away the fumes. Once again he felt . . . not, not the thrill, that wasnt the right word . . . the sense of something. He still wasnt sure what it was. But it was there, waiting for him—

  Samuel Vimes, whats going on?

  Lady Ramkin shut the dining-room door behind her.

  I was watching you, she said. You were being very rude, Sam.

  I was trying not to be.

  Lord Eorle is a very old friend.

  Is he?

  Well, Ive known him a long time. I cant stand the man, actually. But you were making him look foolish.

  He was making himself look foolish. I was merely helping.

  But Ive often heard you being . . . rude about dwarfs and trolls.

  Thats different. Ive got a right. That idiot wouldnt know a troll if it walked over him.

  Oh, he would know if a troll walked over him, said Carrot, helpfully. Some of them weigh as much as—

  Whats so important, anyway? said Lady Ramkin.

  Were . . . looking for whoever killed Chubby, said Vimes.

  Lady Ramkins expression changed instantly.

  Thats different, of course, she said. People like that should be publicly flogged.

  Why did I say that? thought Vimes. Maybe because its true. The . . . gonne . . . goes missing, next minute theres a little dwarf artificer thrown in the river with a nasty draught where his chest should be. Theyre linked. Now all I have to do is find the links . . .

  Carrot, can you come back with me to Hammer-hocks?

  Yes, captain. Why?

  I want to see inside that workshop. And this time Ive got a dwarf with me.

  More than that, he added, Ive got Corporal Carrot. Everyone likes Corporal Carrot.

  Vimes listened while the conversation droned on in dwarfish. Carrot seemed to be winning, but it was a near thing. The clan was giving in not because of reason, or in obedience to the law, but because . . . well . . . because it was Carrot who was asking.

  Finally, the corporal looked up. He was sitting on a dwarf stool, so his knees practically framed his head.

  You have to understand, you see, that a dwarfs workshop is very important.

  Right, said Vimes. I understand.

  And, er . . . youre a bigger.

  Sorry?

  A bigger. Bigger than a dwarf.

  Ah.

  Er. The inside of a dwarfs workshop is bike . . . well, its like the inside of his clothes, if you know what I mean. They say you can look, if Im with you. But you mustnt touch anything. Er. Theyre not very happy about this, captain.

  A dwarf who was possibly Mrs Hammerhock produced a bunch of keys.

  Ive always got on well with dwarfs, said Vimes.

  Theyre not happy, sir. Um. They dont think well do any good.

  Well do our best!

  Um. I didnt translate that properly. Um. They dont think were any good. They dont mean to be offensive, sir. They just dont think well be allowed to get anywhere, sir.

  Ow!

  Sorry about that, captain, said Carrot, who was walking like an inverted L. After you. Mind your head on the—

  Ow!

  Perhaps itd be best if you sat down and Ill look around.

  The workshop was long and, of course, low, with another small door at the far end. There was a big workbench under a skylight. On the opposite wall was a forge and a tool rack. And a hole.

  A chunk of plaster had fallen away a few feet above the ground, and cracks radiated away from the shattered brickwork underneath.

  Vimes pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadnt found time to sleep today. That was another thing. Hed have to get used to sleeping when it was dark. He couldnt remember when hed last slept at night.

  He sniffed.

  I can smell fireworks, he said.

  Could be from the forge, said Carrot. Anyway, trolls and dwarfs have been letting fireworks off all over the city.

  Vimes nodded.

  All right, he said, so what can we see?

  Someone thumped the wall pretty hard just here, said Carrot.

  Could have happened at any time, said Vimes.

  No, sir, because theres the plaster dust underneath and a dwarf always keeps his workshop clean.

  Really?

  There were various weapons, some of them half finished, on racks by the bench. Vimes picked up most of a crossbow.

  He did good work, he said. Very good at mechanisms.

  Well known for it, said Carrot, poking around aimlessly on the bench. A very delicate hand. He made musical boxes for a hobby. Could never resist a mechanical challenge. Er. W
hat are we looking for actually, sir?

  Not sure. Now this is good . . .

  It was a war axe, and so heavy that Vimes arm sagged. Intricate etched lines covered the blade. It must have represented weeks of work.

  Not your actual Saturday night special, eh?

  Oh no, said Carrot, thats a burial weapon.

  I should think it is!

  I mean, its made to be buried with a dwarf. Every dwarf is buried with a weapon. You know? To take with him to . . . wherever hes going.

  But its fine workmanship! And its got an edge like – aargh, Vimes sucked his finger, like a razor.

  Carrot looked shocked. Of course. Itd be no good him facing them with an inferior weapon.

  What them are you talking about?

  Anything bad he encounters on his journey after death, said Carrot, a shade awkwardly.

  Ah. Vimes hesitated. This was an area in which he did not feel comfortable.

  Its an ancient tradition, said Carrot.

  I thought dwarfs didnt believe in devils and demons and stuff like that.

  Thats true, but . . . were not sure if they know.

  Oh.

  Vimes laid down the axe and picked up something else from the work rack. It was a knight in armour, about nine inches high. There was a key in its back. He turned it, and then nearly dropped the thing when the figures legs started to move. He put it down, and it began to march stiffly across the floor, waving its sword.

  Moves a bit like Colon, dont it, said Vimes. Clockwork!

  Its the coming thing, said Carrot. Mr Hammerhock was good at that.

  Vimes nodded. Were looking for anything that shouldnt be here, he said. Or something that should be and isnt. Is there anything missing?

  Hard to say, sir. It isnt here.

  What?

  Anything thats missing, sir, said Carrot conscientiously.

  I mean, said Vimes, patiently, anything not here which youd expect to find.

  Well, hes got – he had - all the usual tools, sir. Nice ones, too. Shame, really.

  What is?

  Theyll be melted down, of course.

  Vimes stared at the neat racks of hammers and files.

  Why? Cant some other dwarf use them?

  What, use another dwarfs actual tools? Carrots mouth twisted in distaste, as though someone had suggested he wear Corporal Nobbs old shorts. Oh, no. thats not . . . right. I mean, theyre . . . part of him. I mean . . . someone else using them, after hes used them all these years, I mean . . . urrgh.

  Really?

  The clockwork soldier marched under the bench.

  Itd feel . . . wrong, said Carrot. Er. Yukky.

  Oh. Vimes stood up.

  Capt—

  Ow!

  —mind your head. Sorry.

  Rubbing his head with one hand, Vimes used the other to examine the hole in the plaster.

  Theres . . . something in here, he said. Pass me one of those chisels.

  There was silence.

  A chisel, please. If it makes you feel any better, we are trying to find out who killed Mr Hammerhock. All right?

  Carrot picked one up, but with considerable reluctance.

  This is Mr Hammerhocks chisel, this is, he said reproachfully.

  Corporal Carrot, will you stop being a dwarf for two seconds? Youre a guard! And give me the damn chisel! Its been a long day! Thank you!

  Vimes prised at the brickwork, and a rough disc of lead dropped into his hand.

  Slingshot? said Carrot.

  No room in here, said Vimes. Anyway, how the hell could it get this far into the wall?

  He slipped the disc into his pocket.

  That seems about it, then, he said, straightening up. Wed better – ow! – oh, fish out that clockwork soldier, will you? Better leave the place tidy.

  Carrot scrabbled in the darkness under the bench. There was a rustling noise.

  Theres a piece of paper under here, sir.