The Fifth Elephant - Terry Pratchett [5]
“Strictly speaking, sir, it’s more correctly pronounced Beyonk,” said Carrot.
“Even so—”
“And in Beyonk, sir, ‘morpork’ sounds exactly like their words for an item of ladies’ underwear,” said Carrot. “There’s only so many syllables in the world, when you think about it.”
“How do you know all this stuff, Carrot?”
“Oh, you pick it up, sir. Here and there.”
“Really? So exactly which item of—”
“Something extremely important will be taking place there in a few weeks,” said Lord Vetinari. “Something which, I have to add, is vital to the future prosperity of Ankh-Morpork.”
“The crowning of the Low King,” said Carrot.
Vimes stared from Carrot to the Patrician, and back again.
“Is there some kind of circular that goes around that doesn’t get as far as me?” he said.
“The dwarf community has been talking about little else for months, sir.”
“Really?” said Vimes. “You mean the riots? Those fights every night in the dwarf bars?”
“Captain Carrot is correct, Vimes. It will be a grand occasion, attended by representatives of many governments. And from various Uberwald principalities, of course, because the Low King only rules those areas of Uberwald that are below ground. His favor is valuable. Borogravia and Genua will be there, without a doubt, and probably even Klatch.”
“Klatch? But they’re even farther from Uberwald than we are! What are they bothering to go for?”
He paused for a moment, and then added: “Hah. I’m being stupid. Where’s the money?”
“I beg your pardon, Commander?”
“That’s what my old sergeant used so say when he was puzzled, sir. Find out where the money is and you’ve got it half-solved.”
Vetinari stood up and walked over to the big window, with his back to them.
“A large country, Uberwald,” he said, apparently addressing the glass. “Dark. Mysterious. Ancient…”
“Huge untapped reserves of coal and iron ore,” said Carrot. “And fat, of course. The best candles, lamp oils and soap come ultimately from the Shmaltzberg deposits.”
“Why? We’ve got our own slaughterhouse, haven’t we?”
“Ankh-Morpork uses a great many candles, sir.”
“It certainly doesn’t use much soap,” said Vimes.
“There are so many uses for fats and tallows, sir. We couldn’t possibly supply ourselves.”
“Ah,” said Vimes.
The Patrician sighed.
“Obviously I hope that we may strengthen our trading links with the various nations within Uberwald,” he said. “The situation there is volatile in the extreme. Do you know much about Uberwald, Commander Vimes?”
Vimes, whose knowledge of geography was microscopically detailed within five miles of Ankh-Morpork and merely microscopic beyond that, nodded uncertainly.
“Only that it’s not really a country,” said Vetinari. “It’s—”
“It’s rather more what you get before you get countries,” said Carrot. “It’s mainly fortified towns and fiefdoms with no real boundaries and lots of forest in between. There’s always some sort of feud going on. There’s no law apart from whatever the local lords enforce, and banditry of all kinds is rife.”
“So unlike the home life of our own dear city,” said Vimes, not quite under his breath. The Patrician gave him an impassive glance.
“In Uberwald the dwarfs and trolls haven’t settled their old grievances, there are large areas controlled by feudal vampire or werewolf clans, and there are also tracts with much higher than normal background magic. It is a chaotic place, indeed, and you’d hardly think you were in the Century of the Fruitbat. It is to be hoped that things will improve, however, and Uberwald will, happily, be joining the community of nations.”
Vimes and Vetinari exchanged looks. Sometimes Carrot sounded like a civics essay written by a stunned choirboy.
“Well put,” said the Patrician, at last. “But until that joysome day, Uberwald remains a mystery inside a riddle wrapped in an enigma.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” said Vimes. “Uberwald is like this big suet pudding that everyone’s suddenly noticed, and now with this coronation as an excuse we’ve all got to rush there with knife, fork and