Thud! - Terry Pratchett [18]
“Sorry, I thought you said he thought he was the chic—” Colon began.
“hWho can fathom the thought processes of the sadleah disturbed, Sergeant,” said Sir Reynold wearily.
“Er…and does the painting talk?” said Nobby Nobbs. “Stranger things have happened, right?”
“Ahah, no,” said Sir Reynold. “At least, not in my time. Ever since that book hwas reprinted, there’s been a guard in here during visiting hours, and he says it has never uttered a hword. Certainlyeah it has always fascinated people and there have always been stories about hidden treasure there. That is hwhy the book has been republished. People love a mystereah, don’t they?”
“Not us,” said Fred Colon.
“I don’t even know what a Mister Rear is,” said Nobby, leafing through the Codex. “Here, I heard about this book. My friend Dave who runs the stamp shop says there’s this story about a dwarf, right, who turned up in this town near Koom Valley more’n two weeks after the battle, an’ he was all injured ’cos he’d been ambushed by trolls, an’ starvin,’ right, an’ no one knew much dwarfish, but it was like he wanted them to follow him, and he kept sayin’ this word over and over again, which turned out, right, to be dwarfish for ‘treasure,’ right, only when they followed him back to the valley, right, he died on the way, an’ they never found nothin,’ an’ then this artist bloke found some…thing in Koom Valley and hid the place where he’s found it in this painting, but it drove him bananas. Like it was haunted, Dave said. He said the government hushed it up.”
“Yeah, but your mate Dave says the government always hushes things up, Nobby,” said Fred.
“Well, they do.”
“Except he always gets to hear about ’em, and he never gets hushed up,” said Fred.
“I know you like to point the finger of scoff, Sarge, but there’s a lot goes on that we don’t know about.”
“Like what, exactly?” Colon retorted. “Name me one thing that’s going on that you don’t know about. There—you can’t, can you?”
Sir Reynold cleared his throat. “That is certainly one of the theories,” he said, speaking carefully, as people tended to after hearing the Colon-Nobbs Brains Trust crossing purposes. “Regrettably, Methodia Rascal’s notes support just about any theory one may prefer. The current populariteah of the painting is, I suspect, because the book does indeed revisit the old story that there’s some huge secret hidden in the painting.”
“Oh?” said Fred Colon, perking up. “What kind of secret?”
“I have no idea. The landscape hwas painted in great detail. A pointer to a secret cave, perhaps? Something about the positioning of some of the combatants? There are all kinds of theories. Rather strange people come along with tape measures and rather hworryingly intent expressions, but I don’t think they ever find anything.”
“Perhaps one of them pinched it?” Nobby suggested.
“I doubt it. They tend to be rather furtive individuals who bring sandwiches and a flask and stay here all day. The sort of people who love anagrams and secret signs and have little theories and pimples. Probably quite harmless except to one another. Besides, hwhy steal it? We like people to take an interest in it. I don’t think that kind of person hwould hwant to take it home, because it hwould be too large to fit under the bed. Did you know that Rascal hwrote that sometimes in the night he heard screams? The noise of battle, one is forced to assume. So sad.”
“Not something you’d want over the fireplace, then,” said Fred Colon.
“Precisely, Sergeant. Even if it hwere possible to have a fireplace fifty feet long.”
“Thank you, sir. One other thing, though. How many doors are there in this place?”
“Three,” said Sir Reynold promptly. “But two are always locked.”
“But if the troll—”
“—or the dwarfs,” said Nobby.
“Or, as my junior colleague points