Ardent remained silent and the King said, ‘Take him away in chains but keep him alive, if only as a reminder for me that being a King is not an easy job.’
As Ardent was led away to much applause Rhys turned to the assembled dwarfs. ‘Now I suggest someone goes and brings me my friend Albrecht Albrechtson who, to our shame, has been shackled and stuffed into a dungeon. Then perhaps the people delegated to go and let him out might hand him a flagon of brandy and, if practicable, run away. He has a piquant sense of humour.’
Rhys sat down again on the Scone of Stone and said, in tones that echoed around the cavern, ‘It is usual at this time for me to say “my fellow dwarfs” …’ There was a sucking feeling in the air as the King went on, ‘but today I’ll say “ladies and gentlemen dwarfs” … I am here not only to reclaim my Scone of Stone, which over the years has seen many important and notable buttocks sitting on it. I wonder, how many of those buttocks down the years were female?’
The sharp intake of breath by the whole gathering now seemed to draw all the air out of the place as the Low King continued.
‘Hear me out! It is well known that the gender of a dwarf is entirely their secret unless they decide otherwise. And I recall that in Ankh-Morpork, a few years ago, there was a fashion show for dwarfs only. I was there, incognito, and I recognized a few of you, quite possibly purchasing for use in the privacy of your own home? Shatta made a lot of money that day and I understand that Madame Sharn wants to open a new shop here. Here in Schmaltzberg! Does this thought frighten anybody? In these days, I think not. And all I am doing now, my friends, is to introduce to you something important: it is the truth! You know … that thing which remains when all the lies have been burned away. And now I will tell you that I have decided to no longer be your King!’
There was an extra hubbub of indrawn breaths and sotto voce speculation from the populace at large, with all eyes focused on the King. The magic was broken or possibly enhanced by the tiny sound of a match being struck by Commander Vimes. And the fat cigar glowed like a beacon. Vimes smiled and nodded at the King, and in that moment Moist realized that Vimes had probably always known, or at least since the famous adventure several years before when he was Ambassador to Rhys’s election as Low King.
There was a disturbance as the crowd parted to allow the venerable Albrecht Albrechtson to make his way to stand by the Low King, who greeted him warmly in the traditional dwarf manner of butting helmets.fn80
‘Welcome, old friend. I’m sorry that you have been … inconvenienced by my absence. Those responsible will pay for that,’ he said in a loud voice, glaring at the crowd. Then more quietly to Albrecht, Rhys said, ‘You’ve arrived at a good moment. I’m in the middle of making an announcement.’
‘So I heard,’ said Albrechtson. ‘What are you doing? You don’t have to stand down. You won.’
The Low King laughed. ‘Stand down? Oh, I don’t think so, boyo. You’ll see.’
Turning back to the crowd, Rhys took a deep breath and said, ‘This will be surprising news to many of my subjects, but I am female, just like your mothers were, and therefore am in truth your Queen!’
There it was again. The famous dwarf intake of breath. Even Albrechtson seemed startled. Moist looked at Aeron and noticed the dwarf’s mailed fist was resting, oh so lightly, on his sword. Bashfullsson was standing right behind Albrechtson, watching him closely. Next to Moist, Vimes carefully laid down his glowing cigar on a rock ledge and tensed. This could be very interesting, Moist thought.
‘And if you think your Queen is not as good a ruler as your King, do you really believe your mother was inferior to your father?’ The Queen laughed. ‘I see embarrassment among all of you. That’s good. The thing about being embarrassed is that sooner or later you aren’t, but you remember that you were.’
There was a noticeable shift in atmosphere as the Queen carried on, saying, ‘I have seen that in warm breasts there is a truth which is not to be denied, but we dwarfs seem to deny everything, building little worlds inside a big one. And one might ask what we are trying to escape from – unless it is ourselves. We are dwarfs, yes, but we could be better than our dwarf ancestors stuck in their holes.’
When she had finished the Queen looked around at the assembled dwarfs and said, ‘Well? No dwarf man enough to challenge me?’
Several eyes turned to Albrechtson, who looked thoughtful but did not move. Bashfullsson relaxed his stance.
And suddenly the Queen’s finger was pointing and she said, ‘Shod Orebreaker, I always thought of you as a level-headed dwarf with your head screwed on, although possibly against the thread.’
And Moist felt the exultation of those who hadn’t been the one facing the finger and the misery of Shod Orebreaker, and he wondered: had the Low Queen’s voice changed, or had it always been like that? She hadn’t threatened, but a visible threat was in the air. She had them in her hand, and she was squeezing, and the dwarf stepped backwards as she pointed at him and she said, ‘Where are your grags now, Shod Orebreaker?’
The said Shod became a picture of panic. ‘Not my grags, my Queen!’
This was possibly because Aeron had passed the Queen a thick file. The Queen licked a finger and riffled through the pages, looked down and said, ‘Really? Then I must have been misinformed.’
She turned to the rest of the dwarfs and said, ‘I wonder if I have been misinformed about all of you?’
But the assembled company was watching the flicking pages, trying not to crane to see whether their name was on the list … It was laughable. She had them by the short and curlies, and she said, ‘Strange, isn’t it, that when the chips are down they take other chips with them. If anyone wants to test my claim then let them step forward now!’
There were murmurings, dwarfs turning round to other dwarfs and the traditional aforesaid hubbub of such occasions and then there was a hush as Albrechtson spoke.
‘My queen,’ he said, and the hubbub bubbled. It was the unexpected moment: the great defender of all that was dwarfish now having a stocktaking of his thoughts. ‘My queen, we, fortuitously, live and so we should learn. I have always considered myself knowledgeable, a true scholar of the ways of Tak, but the past days have shown me that even I have lessons to learn. In my little dungeon, I heard my ways changing and understood the meaning of humility. In fact, I am prepared to admit before you all that some of those lessons were taught me by a goblin a fraction of my age, whom I am proud to call my friend.’
Moist saw that the old dwarf was crying. Albrechtson hesitated, then shouted, ‘Tak save the Queen! And I will fight anyone who says otherwise.’ And Moist thought, Oh blast, it’s all going to start over again.
But the assembled dwarfs made no move to take Albrechtson up on his challenge. The sea of faces in the hall looked universally stunned, as if someone had announced that gold was, to be honest, not that interesting after all.
The Queen gracefully thanked Albrechtson, then pulled herself up and said, ‘I am well aware that many of you have financed the grags and their entourage and I know the names, yes, indeed I know the names of those who’d kill for a curdled thesis. In the fullness of time there will be no redemption for them. We were generous after the mess of Koom Valley and those were the stupid days, but if the grags and their friends think they can take my Scone from me they will know me for what I am. Your Queen. I believe all of you will have heard of Queen Ynci of Lancre, yes? Well, I consider her my role model, but right now I’m looking for peace for all the world and specifically for myself and my child.’
And in the thundering susurration that followed this there was one dwarf suddenly standing next to the Queen. It was Aeron, and he drew his sword, not against anyone in particular, but nevertheless very ready to defend his wife and his unborn child.
Over the uproar the Queen said, ‘And is there anyone here now who doubts that I am the Queen by right? It seems to me our ancestors thought their mothers were inferior. Well, as I say, I am soon to be a mother, so which o
f you gentlemen would like to try and take my Scone from me?’
Moist looked around. There were no takers. The Queen looked dangerous to touch and she didn’t even have a weapon in her hands. It had to be game, set and whole boxful of matches.
‘Very well,’ the Low Queen of the dwarfs concluded. ‘There will be a feast for all who come with goodwill and there will, of course, be much quaffing.’ She smiled and added, ‘That includes cocktails, for those who like them. Believe me, the world is upside down, as it was meant to be. Praise Tak! And praise Iron Girder and all those who built her, fed her and polished her.’
‘Ardent was on a hiding to nowhere,’ said Albrecht at the banquet later that day. ‘People broke away to avoid the inevitable. You’re right, your majesty. We forgot what it was to be true dwarfs, but then people were getting hurt! There were too many threats against decent dwarfs. The little bits of mercury flow together and in the end his support turned out to be built of sand.’
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 dif
ficult, 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?’
‘Oh, Henrietta’s fine, Mister Drumknott, thank you for asking.’
‘And your little boy – Rupert? He must be out of school now, yes?’
Charlie laughed uncertainly and said, ‘Not so little, sir, he’s growing up like a weed and wants to be an engine driver.’
And Drumknott said, ‘Well now, Charlie, you already have enough money to put him through a trade anywhere in the city and give your daughter a dowry fit for a queen. And, of course, you’re still in the same house? Excellent!’
‘Oh, yessir, and thanks to you we’ve got much better bedrooms for the kids now and are saving up for a granny flat for when we can afford a granny. And Henrietta is overjoyed at the amount of money I’m bringing in these days and can even afford to get her hair cut at Mister Fornacite’s, just like the posh ladies do. She’s over the moon about it.’ He grunted and said, ‘I don’t earn that much from the puppet shows and clowning business.’
And now Drumknott beamed once again and said, ‘I’m sure his lordship will be glad to hear that your family is so happy and … alive. Long may it continue. I’ll be recommending to him that you could be promoted, as it were, to higher things. And now, since his lordship is expected back within the hour, if you don’t mind I’ll take you out through the back door. We really don’t want to see two Vetinaris in one place, do we?’
Raising Steam Page 36
