Thud! - Terry Pratchett [111]
“Who knows? It’s all Koom Valley. There are about two hundred and fifty square miles of the place. I imagine he just chose somewhere that looked dramatic.”
“Would you chaps like a cup of tea?” said Lady Sybil, from the door. “I felt a bit at a loose end, so I made a pot. And you should be getting your head down, Sam.”
Sam Vimes looked panicky, a figure of authority caught once again in a domestic situation.
“Oh, Lady Sybil, they took the Rascal!” said Sir Reynold. “I know it belonged to your family!”
“My grandfather said it was just a damn nuisance,” said Sybil. “He used to let me unroll it on the floor of the ballroom. I used to name all the dwarfs. We looked for the secret, because he said there was hidden treasure, and the painting showed you where it was. Of course, we never found it, but it kept me quiet on rainy afternoons.”
“Oh, it hwasn’t great art,” said Sir Reynold. “And the man hwas quite mad, of course. But somehow it spoke to people.”
“I wish it’d say something to me,” said Vimes. “You really don’t need to make tea for people, dear. One of the officers—”
“Nonsense! We must be hospitable,” said Sybil.
“Of course, people tried to copeah it,” said the curator, accepting a cup. “Oh dear, they hwere terrible! A painting fifteah feet long and ten feet deep is really quite impossible to copy hwith any kind of accuraceah—”
“Not if you lay it out on the ballroom floor and get a man to make you a pantograph,” said Sybil, pouring tea. “This teapot is really a disgrace, Sam. Worse than the urn. Doesn’t anyone ever clean it out?”
She looked up at their faces.
“Did I say something wrong?” she said.
“You made a copy of the Rascal?” said Sir Reynold.
“Oh, yes. The whole thing, on a scale of one to five,” said Sybil. “When I was fourteen. It was a school project. We were doing dwarf history, you see, and, well, since we owned that painting, it was too good to miss. You know what a pantograph is, don’t you? It’s a very simple way of making larger or smaller copies of a painting, using geometry, some wooden levers, and a sharp pencil. Actually, I did it as five panels ten feet square, that’s full-size, to make sure I got all the detail, and then I did the one-fifth scale version to display it as poor Mr. Rascal wanted it displayed. I got full marks from Miss Turpitude. She was our math teacher, you know, she wore her hair in a bun with a pair of compasses and a ruler stuck in it? She used to say that a girl who knew how to use a set square and protractor would go a long way in life.”
“What a shame you no longer have it!” said Sir Reynold.
“Why should you say that, Sir Reynold?” said Sybil. “I’m sure I’ve still got it somewhere. I had it hanging up from the ceiling of my room for some time. Let me think…did we take it with us when we moved? I’m sure—” She looked up brightly. “Ah, yes. Have you even been up to the attics here, Sam?”
“No!” said Vimes.
“Now’s the time, then.”
“I’ve never been on a girls’ night out before,” said Cheery as they walked, a little uncertainly, through the nighttime city. “Was that last bit supposed to happen?”
“What bit was that?” said Sally.
“The bit where the bar was set on fire.”
“Not usually,” said Angua.
“I’ve never seen men fight over a woman before,” Cheery went on.
“Yeah, that was something, wasn’t it?” said Sally. They’d dropped Tawneee off at her home. She’d been in quite a thoughtful frame of mind.
“And all she did was smile at a man,” said Cheery.
“Yes,” said Angua. She was trying to concentrate on walking.
“It’d be a bit of a shame for Nobby if she lets that go to her head, though,” said Cheery.
Save me from talkative druks…drinks…drunks, Angua thought. She said: “Yes, but what about Miss Pushpram? She’s thrown some quite expensive fish at Nobby over the years.”
“We’ve struck a blow for womanhood,” Sally declared loudly. “Shoes, men, coffins…never accept the first one you see.”
“Oh, shoes,” said Cheery. “I can talk about shoes. Has anyone seen the new Yan Rockhammer solid-copper slingbacks?”
“Er…we don’t go to a