Thud! - Terry Pratchett [137]
Yeah, that was it. What had really happened, eh? A few signs? Well, anything can look like you want it to, if you’re worried and confused enough, yes? A sheep can look like a cow, right? Ha!
As for the rest, well, Bashfullsson seemed a decent lad, but you didn’t have to buy into his worldview. Same with Mr. Shine. That sort of thing could spook you.
He’d been wound up about Young Sam, and when he’d seen those devil guards, of course he’d gone for them. He hadn’t been getting much sleep lately. It seemed like every hour brought some new problem. The mind played funny tricks.
Surviving the underground river? Easy. He must have kept himself afloat. There were a lot of things the body would rather do than die.
There…some logical thought, and the mystic becomes…well, straightforward. You can stop feeling like some puppet and become a man with a purpose once again.
He put down the empty mug and stood up—purposefully.
“I’m going to see how my men are,” he announced.
“I’ll come with you,” said Bashfullsson quickly.
“I think I need no assistance,” lied Vimes, as coolly as he could.
“I’m sure you do not,” said the dwarf. “But Captain Gud is a little nervous.”
“He’ll be a lot nervous if I don’t like what I see,” said Vimes.
“Yes. That’s why I’m coming with you,” said Bashfullsson.
Vimes set off across the cavern a little faster than he felt comfortable. The grag kept up by skipping at every other step.
“Don’t think you know me, Mr. Bashfullsson,” Vimes growled. “Don’t think I took pity on those bastards. Don’t think I was merciful. You just don’t kill the helpless. You just don’t.”
“The dark guards seemed to have no trouble with the prospect,” said Bashfullsson.
“Exactly!” said Vimes. “By the way, Mr. Bashfullsson, what kind of dwarf doesn’t carry an axe?”
“Well, as a grag, my first resort, of course, is to my voice,” said the grag. “The axe is nothing without the hand, and the hand is nothing without the mind. I’ve trained myself to think about axes.”
“Sounds mystical to me,” said Vimes.
“I suppose it would,” said Bashfullsson. “Ah, here we are.”
“Here” was the area that the newly arrived dwarfs had occupied. Very military, Vimes thought. A defensive square. You’re not sure who your enemies are. And neither am I.
The nearest dwarf regarded him with that slightly defiant, slightly uneasy look he’d come to recognize. Captain Gud straightened up.
Vimes looked over the dwarf’s shoulder, which was not hard to do. There were Nobby and Fred Colon, and both of the trolls, and even Cheery, all sitting in a huddle.
“Are my men under arrest, Captain?” he said.
“My orders are to detain everyone found here,” said the captain. Vimes admired the flatness of the response. It meant: I am not interested in a dialogue at this time.
“What is your authority here, Captain?” he said.
“My authority comes threefold: the Low King, mining law, and sixty armed dwarfs,” said Gud.
Bugger, thought Vimes. I forgot about mining law. This is a problem. I think I need to delegate. A good commander learns to delegate. Therefore, I will delegate this problem to Captain Gud.
“That was a good answer, Captain,” he said, “and I respect it.” In one movement, he pushed past and headed for the watchmen. He stopped dead when he heard the sound of drawn metal behind him, raised his hands, and said: “Grag Bashfullsson, will you explain matters to the captain? I have stepped into his custody, not out of it. And this is not the time or place for rash action.”
He walked on without waiting for a reply. Admittedly, banking on the fact that someone would get into trouble if they killed you would probably come under the heading of rash action, but he’d just have to live with that. Or, of course, not.
He hunkered down by Nobby and Colon.
“Sorry about this, Mister Vimes,” said Fred. “We were waiting on the path with some horses and they just turned up. We showed ’em our badges, but they just did not want to know.”
“Understood. And you, Cheery?”
“I thought it’d be best to stay together, sir,” said