Monstrous Regiment - Terry Pratchett [7]
“No children?”
“No, sir. On her death, the line is extinct.”
“And they pray to her? Like a god?”
Chinny sighed. “I did put this in my briefing notes, sir. The royal family in Borogravia have always had a quasi-religious status, you see. They’re the head of the church, and the peasants, at least, pray to them in the hope that they’ll put in a good word with Nuggan. They’re like…living saints. Celestial intermediaries. To be honest, that’s how these countries work in any case. If you want something done, you have to know the right people. And I suppose it’s easier to pray to some picture than to a god you can’t see.”
Vimes sat looking at the consul for some time. When he next spoke, he frightened the man to his boots.
“Who’d inherit?” he said.
“Sir?”
“Just following the monarchy, Mr. Chinny. If the Duchess isn’t on the throne, who should be?”
“Um, it’s incredibly complex, sir, because of the intermarriages and the various legal systems, which, for example—”
“Who’s the smart money on, Mr. Chinny?” said Vines wearily.
“Um, Prince Heinrich of Zlobenia.”
To Chinny’s astonishment, Vimes laughed.
“And he’s wondering how Auntie’s gettin’ on, I expect. I met him this morning, didn’t I? Can’t say I took to him.”
“But he is a friend of Ankh-Morpork,” said Chinny reproachfully. “That was in my report. Educated. Very interested in the clacks. Got great plans for his country. They used to be Nugganatic in Zlobenia, but he’s banned the religion and, frankly, hardly anyone objected. He wants Zlobenia to move forward. He admires Ankh-Morpork very much.”
“Yes, I know. He sounds almost as insane as Nuggan,” said Vimes. “Okay, so what we’ve probably got is an elaborate charade to keep Heinrich out. How’s this place governed?”
“There isn’t much. A bit of tax collecting, and that’s about all. We think some of the senior court officials just drift on as if the Duchess is alive. The only thing that really works is the army.”
“All right, how about coppers? Everyone needs coppers. At least they have their feet on the ground.”
“I believe informal citizens’ committees enforce Nugganatic law,” said Chinny.
“Oh, gods. Prodnoses, curtain-twitchers, and vigilantes,” said Vimes. He stood up, and peered out through the narrow window at the plain below. It was nighttime. Cooking fires in the enemy camp made demonic constellations in the darkness.
“Did they tell you why I’ve been sent here, Clarence?” he said.
“No, sir. My instructions were that you would, um, oversee things. Prince Heinrich is not very happy about it.”
“Oh, well, the interests of Ankh-Morpork are the interests of all money-lov…oops, sorry, all freedom-loving people everywhere,” said Vimes. “We can’t have a country that turns back our mail coaches and keeps cutting down the clacks towers. That’s expensive. They’re cutting the continent in half, they’re the pinch in the hourglass. I’m to bring things to a ‘satisfactory’ conclusion. And frankly, Clarence, I’m wondering if it’s even worth attacking Borogravia. It’ll be cheaper to sit here and wait for it to explode. Although I notice…where was that report…ah, yes…it will starve first.”
“Regrettably so, sir.”
Igor stood mutely in front of the recruiting table.
“Don’t often see you people these days,” said Jackrum.
“Yeah, run out of fresh brains, ’ave yer?” said the corporal nastily.
“Now then, Corporal, no call for that,” said the sergeant, leaning back in his creaking chair. “There’s plenty of lads out there walking around on legs they wouldn’t still have if there hadn’t been a friendly Igor around, eh, Igor?”
“Yeah? Well, I heard about people waking up and findin’ their friendly Igor had whipped out their brains in the middle of the night and buggered off to flog ’em,” said the corporal,