The Fifth Elephant - Terry Pratchett [140]
A dwarf caught up with Vimes and tugged his cloak respectfully.
“The king wishes to see you now, Your Excellency,” he said.
“There’s an almighty queue!”
“Nevertheless,” the dwarf gave a polite cough, “the king wishes to see you now. All of you.”
They were led to the front of the queue. Vimes felt many eyes boring into the small of his back.
The king dismissed the previous supplicant with a regal nod as the Ankh-Morpork party was deftly inserted at the top of the line, supplanting a dwarf whose beard went down to his knees.
He looked at them for a moment, and then the internal filing system threw up a card.
“Ah, it’s yourselves, good as new,” he said. “Now, what was it I was going to do? Oh, I remember…Lady Sybil?”
She curtsied.
“Classically, we give rings at this time,” said the king. “Between ourselves, many dwarfs consider this a bit…well, bath salts, see. But I believe they are still welcome and so this, Lady Sybil, is, perhaps, a token of things to come.”
It was a thin silver ring. Vimes was taken aback at this parsimony, but Sybil could graciously accept a bunch of rats.
“Oh, how wond—”
“We normally give gold,” the king went on. “Very popular, and of course you can sing about it. But this has…rarity value, see. It is the first silver that had been mined in Uberwald in hundreds of years.”
“I thought there was a rule that—” Vimes began.
“I ordered the mines reopened last night,” said the king, pleasantly. “It seemed…an auspicious time. We shall soon have silver for sale, Your Excellency, but if Lady Sybil doesn’t get involved in the negotiations and bankrupt us, I for one shall be very grateful,” the king added. “Miss Littlebottom, I see, has not graced us with a sartorial extravaganza today?”
Cheery stared.
“You’re not wearing a dress,” prompted the king.
“No, sire.”
“Although I do notice a few unobtrusive touches of mascara and lipstick.”
“Yes, sire,” squeaked Cheery, on the point of death through shock.
“There’s nice. Do be sure to let me know the name of your dressmaker,” the king went on pleasantly. “I may have some custom for her in the fullness of time. I’ve thought long and hard—”
Vimes blinked. Cheery had gone pale. Had anyone else heard that? Had he?
Sybil nudged him in the ribs.
“Your mouth’s open, Sam,” she whispered.
So he had heard it…
He heard the king’s voice again.
“—and a bag of gold is always acceptable.”
Cheery was still staring.
Vimes shook her gently by the shoulder.
“Th—thank you, sire.”
The king held out his hand. Vimes wobbled Cheery again. Completely hypnotized, she extended her hand. The king took it and shook it.
Shocked whispers were spreading, behind Vimes. The king had shaken the hand of a self-declared female…
“And that leaves…Detritus,” said the king. “What a dwarf should give a troll is of course a bit of a puzzle, but it occurs to me that what I should give you is what I would give a dwarf. A bag of gold, then, for whatever purpose you choose to put it, and—”
He stood up. He held out his hand.
Dwarfs and trolls were still fighting in the farther regions of Uberwald, Vimes knew. Elsewhere, there was at best the sort of peace you got when both sides were busy rearming.
The whispering stopped. Silence spread out in a widening circle, all across the floor of the cave.
Detritus blinked. Then he took the hand very carefully, trying not to crush it.
The whispering started again. And this time, Vimes knew, it’d go for miles.
It occurred to him that in two handshakes the white-bearded, elderly dwarf had done more than a dozen devious plots could have achieved. By the time those ripples reached the edge of Uberwald, they would be tidal waves. Thirty men and a dog would be nothing by comparison.
“Hmm?”
“I said, what can a king give a Vimes?” said the king.
“Er…nothing, I think,” said Vimes absently. Two handshakes! And very quietly, smiling, the king had turned the customs of the dwarfs upside down. And so gently, too, that