The Fifth Elephant - Terry Pratchett [78]
She gave him a slow, blank stare.
“Your pardon, Your Excellency,” she said. “Morporkian is not my first language, and I fear we may have inadvertently misled one another. I gather that you are, in real life, a pol ice man?”
“In real life, yes,” said Vimes.
“We’ve always been against a police force in Bonk,” said the baroness. “We feel it interferes with the liberties of the individual.”
“Well, I have certainly heard that argument advanced,” said Vimes. “Of course, it depends on whether the individual you are thinking of is yourself or the one climbing out of the bathroom,” he noted the grimace, “window with the family silver in a sack.”
“Happily, security has never been a problem for us,” said Serafine.
“I’m not surprised,” said Vimes. “I mean…because of all the walls and gates and things.”
“I do hope you will bring Sybil to the reception this evening. But I see that we are keeping you, and I know you must have much to do. Igor will show you out.”
“Yeth, mithtreth,” said Igor, behind Vimes.
Vimes could feel the river of fury building up behind the levees of his mind.
“I shall tell Sergeant Angua you asked after her,” he said, standing up.
“Indeed,” said Serafine.
“But right now I’m looking forward to a really relaxing bath,” said Vimes, and watched with satisfaction as both the baron and his wife flinched. “Good day to you.”
Cheery marched along beside him across the hallway.
“Don’t say a word until we’re out of here,” hissed Vimes.
“Sir?”
“Because I want to get out of here,” said Vimes.
Several of the dogs had followed him out. They weren’t growling, they hadn’t bared their teeth, but they were carrying themselves with rather more purpose than Vimes had come to associate with groin-sniffers in general.
“I’ve put the parthel in the coach, Your Exthelenthy,” said Igor, opening the coach door and knuckling his forehead.
“I’ll be sure to give it to Igor,” said Vimes.
“Oh, not to Igor, thir. Thif ith for Igor.”
“Oh, right.”
Vimes looked out of the windows as the horses trotted away. The golden-haired wolf had come to the steps and was watching him leave.
He sat back as the coach rumbled out of the castle, and closed his eyes. Cheery was wise enough to remain silent.
“No weapons on the walls, did you notice?” he said, after a while. His eyes were still shut, as if he were looking at a picture on the back of them. “Most castles like that have the things hanging all over the place.”
“Well, they are werewolves, sir.”
“Does Angua ever talk about her parents?”
“No, sir.”
“They didn’t want to talk about her, that’s certain.”
Vimes opened his eyes. “Dwarfs?” he said. “I’ve always got on with dwarfs. And werewolves…well, never had a problem with werewolves. So why is the only person who hasn’t tried to blow me out this morning the blood-sucking vampire?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Big fireplace they had.”
“Werewolves like to sleep in front of the fire at night, sir,” said Cheery.
“The baron certainly didn’t seem comfortable in a chair, I spotted that. And what was that motto carved into that great big mantelpiece? ‘Homini…’”
“‘Homo Homini Lupus,’ sir,” said Cheery. “It means ‘Every man is a wolf to another man.’”
“Hah! Why haven’t I promoted you, Cheery?”
“Because I get embarrassed about shouting at other people, sir. Sir, did you notice the strange thing about the trophies they had on the wall?”
Vimes shut his eyes again. “Stag, bears, some kind of mountain lion…What’re you asking me, Corporal?”
“And did you notice something just below them?”
“Let’s see…I think there was just space below them.”
“Yes, sir. With three hooks in it. You could just make them out.”
Vimes hesitated.
“Do you mean,” he said carefully, “three hooks that might have had trophies hanging from them until they were removed?”
“Very much that sort of hook, sir, yes. Only perhaps the heads haven’t been hung up yet?”
“Trolls’ heads?”
“Who knows, sir?”
The coach entered the town.
“Cheery, have you still got that silver chain-mail vest you used to have?”