Thud! - Terry Pratchett [115]
So that’s settled, then, thought Vimes. We—damn!
“Captain?” he said. “Send someone to find that dwarf Grag Bashfullsson, will you? Tell him Commander Vimes presents his compliments and will indeed be leaving first thing in the morning.”
“Er…right, sir. Will do,” said Carrot.
How did he know I’d be going? Vimes wondered. I suppose it was inevitable? But he could have hung us out to dry if he’d said we’ve mistreated that dwarf. And he’s one of Mr. Shine’s pupils, I’ll bet on it. Good idea to keep an eye on him, perhaps…
When did Lord Vetinari sleep? Presumably, the man must get his head down at some point, Vimes had reasoned. Everyone slept. Catnaps could get you by for a while, but sooner or later you need a solid eight hours, right?
It was almost midnight, and there was Vetinari at his desk, fresh as a daisy and chilly as morning dew.
“Are you sure about this, Vimes?”
“Carrot can look after things. They’ve quietened down, anyway. I think most of the serious troublemakers have headed for Koom Valley.”
“A good reason, one might say, for you not to go. Vimes, I have…agents for this sort of thing.”
“But you wanted me to hunt them down, sir!” Vimes protested.
“In Koom Valley? At this time? Taking a force there now could have far-reaching consequences, Vimes!”
“Good! You told me to drag them into the light! As far as they’re concerned, I am far-reaching consequences!”
“Well, certainly,” said Vetinari, after staring at Vimes for longer than was comfortable. “And when you have boldly reached so far, you will need friends. I shall make sure the Low King is at least aware of your presence.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll find out soon enough,” growled Vimes. “Oh, yes.”
“I have no doubt he will. He has his agents in our city, just as I have in his. So I will do him the courtesy of telling him formally what he will in any case know. That is called politics, Vimes. It is a thing we try to do in the government.”
“But…spies? I thought we were chums with the Low King!”
“Of course we are,” said Vetinari. “And the more we know about each other, the friendlier we shall remain. We’d hardly bother to spy on our enemies. What would be the point? Is Lady Sybil happy to let you go?”
“She’s coming with me. She insists.”
“Is that safe?”
“Is here safe?” said Vimes, shrugging. “We had dwarfs coming up through the damn floor! Don’t worry, she and Young Sam will be kept out of harm’s way. I’ll take Fred and Nobby. And I want to take Angua, Sally, Detritus, and Cheery, too. Multi-species, sir. That always helps the politics.”
“And the Summoning Dark? What about that, Vimes? Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s common talk among the dwarfs. One of the dying dwarfs put a curse on everyone who was in the mine, I’m told.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, sir,” said Vimes, resorting to the wooden expression that so often saw him through. “It’s mystic. We don’t do mystic in the Watch.”
“It’s not a joke, Vimes. It’s very old magic, I understand. So old, indeed, that most dwarfs have forgotten that it is magic. And it’s powerful. It will be tracking them.”
“I’ll just look out for a big floaty eye with a tail, then, shall I?” said Vimes. “That should make it easy.”
“Vimes, I know you must be aware that the symbol is not the thing itself,” said the Patrician.
“Yessir. I know. But magic has no place in coppering. We don’t use it to find culprits. We don’t use it to get confessions. Because you can’t trust the bloody stuff, sir. It’s got a mind of its