Thud! - Terry Pratchett [116]
“Vimes, Archchancellor Ridcully tells me he believes it may be a quasidemonic entity that is untold millions of years old!”
“I’ve said my piece, sir,” said Vimes, staring at a point just above Lord Vetinari’s head. “And it is my duty to catch up with these people. I believe they may be able to help me with my inquiries.”
“But you have no evidence, Vimes. And you are going to need very solid evidence.”
“Right. So I want to bring them back here, eyeballs on a string or not. Them and their damn guards. So’s I can inquire. Someone will tell me something.”
“And it’ll also be to your personal satisfaction?” said Vetinari sharply.
“Is this a trick question, sir?”
“Well done, well done,” said Vetinari softly. “Lady Sybil is a remarkable woman, Vimes.”
“Yessir. She is.”
Vimes left.
After a while, Vetinari’s chief clerk, Drumknott, entered the room on velvet feet and placed a cup of tea in front of Vetinari.
“Thank you, Drumknott. You were listening?”
“Yes, sir. The Commander seemed very forthright.”
“They invaded his home, Drumknott.”
“Quite, sir.”
Vetinari leaned back, and stared at the ceiling.
“Tell me, Drumknott, are you a betting man at all?”
“I have been known to have the occasional ‘little flutter,’ sir.”
“Given, then, a contest between an invisible and very powerful quasidemonic thing of pure vengeance on the one hand, and the commander on the other, where would you wager, say…one dollar?”
“I wouldn’t, sir. That looks like one that would go to the judges.”
“Yes,” said Vetinari, staring thoughtfully at the closed door. “Yes, indeed.”
I don’t use magic, thought Vimes, walking through the rain toward Unseen University. But, sometimes, I tell lies.
He avoided the main entrance and headed as circumspectly as possible for Wizards’ Passage, where, halfway down, university access for all was available via several loose bricks. Generations of rascally drunk student wizards had used them to get back in late at night. Later on, they’d become very important and powerful wizards, with full beards and fuller stomachs, but had never lifted a finger to have the wall repaired. It was, after all, Traditional. Nor was it usually patrolled by the Lobsters,* who believed in Tradition even more than the wizards.
On this occasion, though, one was lurking in the shadows, and jumped when Vimes tapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, it’s you Commander Vimes, sir. It’s me, sir, Wiggleigh, sir. The archchancellor is waiting for you in the gardener’s hut, sir. Follow me, sir. Mum’s the word, eh, sir?”
Vimes trailed after Wiggleigh across the dark, squelchy lawns. Oddly, though, he didn’t feel so tired now. Days and days of bad sleep and he felt quite fresh, in a fuzzy sort of way. It was the smell of the chase, that’s what it was. He’d pay for it later.
Wiggleigh, looking both ways with a conspiratorial air that would have attracted instant attention had anyone been watching, opened the door of the garden shed.
There was a large figure waiting inside.
“Commander!” it bellowed happily. “What larks, eh? Very cloak-and-dagger!”
Only heavy rain could possibly muffle the voice of Archchancellor Ridcully when he was feeling cheerful.
“Could you keep it down a bit, Archchancellor?” said Vimes, shutting the door quickly.
“Sorry! I mean, sorry,” said the wizard. “Do take a seat. The compost sacks are quite acceptable. Well, er…how may I help you, Sam?”
“Can we agree for now that you can’t?” said Vimes.
“Intriguing. Do continue,” said Ridcully, leaning closer.
“You know I won’t have magic used in the Watch,” Vimes went on. As he sat down in the semidarkness, a coiled-up hosepipe ambushed him from above, as they do, and he had to wrestle it to the shed floor.
“I do, sir, and I respect you for it, although there are those that think you are a damn silly fool.”
“Well…” Vimes said, trying to put “damn silly fool” behind him, “the fact is, I must get to Koom Valley very