The Fifth Elephant - Terry Pratchett [141]
“Sam!” snapped Sybil.
“Well, then, I shall give something to your descendants,” said the king, apparently unperturbed. A long flat box was brought to him. He opened it to reveal a dwarf ax, the new metal glinting on its nest of black cloth.
“This will become, in time, the ax of someone’s grandfather,” said the king, lifting it out. “And no doubt over the years it will need a new handle or a new blade and over the centuries the shape will change in line with fashion, but it will always be, in every detail and respect, the ax I give you today. And because it’ll change with the times, it’ll always be sharp. There’s a grain of Truth in that, see. So nice to have met you. Do enjoy your journey home, Your Excellency.”
The four were silent in the coach back to the embassy. Then Cheery said: “The king said—”
“I heard,” said Vimes.
“That was as good as saying that he is a sh—”
“Things are going to change,” said Lady Sybil. “That’s what the king was saying.”
“I never shook hands with no king before,” said Detritus. “No dwarf, either, come to that.”
“You shook hands with me once,” said Cheery.
“Watchmen don’t count,” said Detritus firmly. “Watchmen is watchmen.”
“I wonder if it’ll change anything?” said Lady Sybil.
Vimes stared out of the window. It’d probably make people feel good, he thought. But trolls and dwarfs had been fighting for centuries. Ending that sort of thing took more than a handshake. It was just a symbol.
On the other hand…the world wasn’t moved by heroes or villains or even by policemen. It might as well be moved by symbols. All he knew was that you couldn’t hope to try for the big stuff, like world peace and happiness, but you might just about be able to achieve some tiny deed that’d make the world, in a small way, a better place.
Like shooting someone.
“I forgot to say that I thought it was very kind of you, Cheery,” said Lady Sybil, “yesterday, when you comforted Dee.”
“She would have had me killed by the werewolves,” said Vimes. He felt this was a point worth making.
“Yes, of course. But…it was kind, anyway,” said Sybil.
Cheery looked at her feet, avoiding Lady Sybil’s gaze. Then she coughed nervously and pulled a small piece of paper out of her sleeve, which she handed wordlessly to Vimes.
He unfolded it, and read it. It was a list of names and addresses.
“She gave you these?” he said. “Some of these are very senior dwarfs in Ankh-Morpork…”
“Yes, sir,” said Cheery, she coughed again. “I knew she wanted someone to talk to, and…er…I suggested a few things she might like to talk about. Sorry, Lady Sybil. It’s very hard to stop being a copper.”
“I worked that one out a long time ago,” said Sybil.
“You know,” said Vimes, to break the silence, “if we leave at first light tomorrow, we could be through the pass before sundown…”
And it was a comfortable night, somewhere in the depths of the feather mattress. Vimes awoke a couple of times, and thought he could hear voices. Then he’d sink back into the softness, and dream of warm snow.
He was shaken awake by Detritus.
“It’s gettin’ light, sir.”
“Mm?”
“And dere’s a Igor an’ a…a young man out in der hall,” said Detritus. “He got a big jar full of noses and a rabbit covered in ears.”
Vimes tried to get back to sleep, Then he sat bolt upright.
“What?”
“It’s all covered in ears, sir.”
“You mean one of those rabbits with big floppy ears?”
“You better come and see dis rabbit,” sniffed the troll.
Vimes left Sybil wallowing in sleep, pulled on his dressing gown, and pattered barefoot down to the freezing hall.
An Igor was waiting anxiously in the middle of the floor. Vimes was getting the hang of Igor-recognition,* and this was a new one. He was with a much younger…er…man, probably barely out of his teens, at least in places, but already the scars and stitching indicated that relentless urge toward self-improvement that was the hallmark of a good Igor. They just never seemed to be able to get the eyes level.
“Your Exthelenthy?”
“You’re…Igor, right?”
“Amathing guethth, thir. We haven’t met before, but I