The Fifth Elephant - Terry Pratchett [86]
There were others in the elevator as it rumbled downward. Mostly they were diplomats that Vimes didn’t recognize, but there was also, now, in a roped-off corner, a quartet of dwarf musicians playing pleasant yet slightly annoying music that ate its way into Vimes’s head as the interminable descent went on.
When the doors opened he heard Sybil gasp.
“I thought you said it was like a starry night down here, Sam!”
“Er…they’ve certainly turned the wick up…”
Candles by the thousand burned in brackets all around the walls of the huge cavern, but it was the chandeliers that caught the eye.
There were scores of them, each at least four stories high. Vimes, always ready to look for the wires behind the smoke and mirrors, made out the dwarfs working inside the gantries and the baskets of fresh candles being lowered through holes in the ceiling. If the Fifth Elephant wasn’t a myth, at least one whole toe must be being burned tonight.
“Your Grace!”
Dee was advancing through the crowds.
“Ah, Ideas-taster,” said Vimes. as the dwarf approached, “do allow me to introduce the Duchess of Ankh-Morpork…Lady Sybil.”
“Uh…er…yes…indeed…so delighted to make your acquaintance…” Dee murmured, caught off-guard by the charm offensive. “But, er…”
Sybil had picked up the code. Vimes loathed the word “duchess,” so if he was using it then he wanted her to out-dutch everyone. She enveloped Dee’s pointy head in delighted Duchessness.
“Mister Dee, Sam has told me so much about you!” she trilled. “I understand you’re quite the right-hand man—”
“—dwarf—” hissed Vimes.
“—dwarf to his majesty! Please, you must tell how you have achieved such a delightful lighting effect here!”
“Er…lots of candles…” Dee muttered, glaring at Vimes.
“I think Dee wishes to discuss some political matters with me, dear,” said Vimes smoothly, putting his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “If you’ll just take the others down, I’ll join you shortly, I’m sure.” And he knew that no power in the world was going to prevent Sybil sweeping on down to the reception. That woman could sweep. Things stayed swept after she’d gone past.
“You brought a troll, you brought a troll!” muttered Dee.
“And he’s an Ankh-Morpork citizen, remember,” said Vimes. “Covered by diplomatic immunity and a rather bad suit.”
“Even so—”
“There is no ‘even so,’” said Vimes.
“We are at war with the trolls!”
“Well, that’s what diplomacy is all about, isn’t it?” said Vimes. “A way to stop being at war? Anyway, I understand it’s been going on for five hundred years, so obviously no one is trying very hard.”
“There will be complaints at the very highest level!”
Vimes sighed. “More?” he said.
“Some are saying Ankh-Morpork is deliberately flaunting its wickedness at the king!”
“The king?” said Vimes pleasantly. “He’s not exactly king yet, is he? Not until the coronation, which involves a certain…bject…”
“Yes, but of course that is a mere formality…”
Vimes moved closer.
“But it isn’t, is it?” he said quietly. “It is the thing and the whole of the thing. Without the magic, there is no king. Just someone like you, unaccountably giving orders.”
“Someone called Vimes teaches me about royalty?” said Dee, miserably.
“And without the thing, all the bets are off,” said Vimes. “There will be a war. Explosions underground.”
There was a tinny little sound as he took out his watch and opened it.
“My word, it’s midnight,” he said.
“Follow me,” Dee muttered.
“Am I being taken to see something?” said Vimes.
“No, Your Excellency. You are being taken to see where something is not.”
“Ah. Then I want to bring Corporal Littlebottom.”
“That? Absolutely not! That would be a desecration of—”
“No, it wouldn’t,” said Vimes. “And the reason is, she won’t come with us because we’re not going, are we? You’re certainly not taking the representative of a potentially hostile power into your confidence and revealing that your house of cards is missing a card on the bottom layer, are you? Of course not. We are not having this conversation. For the next hour or so we’ll be nibbling tidbits in this