When werewolf fights werewolf, there are advantages to either shape. It"s an eternal struggle to get a position where hands beat claws. And body shapes have lives of their own, a dangerous attribute if it is allowed to act unchecked. A cat"s instinct is to jump on something that moves, but this is not a correct action if what is moving has a fizzing fuse. The mind has to fight its own body for control and the other body for survival. Mix this together, and the noise suggests that there are four creatures in the whirling ball of rage. And each one of them has brought several friends. And none of them like any of the others.
A shadow made Vimes spin around. Detritus, in shining armour, was aiming the _ Piecemaker over the banister.
"Sergeant! No! You"ll hit Angua too!"
"Not a problem, sir," said Detritus, "cos it won"t kill "em, so all we have to do, see, is sort out der bits dat are Wolfgang an" belt him over der head when he gets himself back together - "
"If you fire that in here his bits will be mixed up with our bits and there won"t be big bits! Put the damn thing down!"
Wolfgang couldn"t control his shape well, Vimes saw. He couldn"t quite manage to be full wolf or full human, and Angua was making the most of that. She was ducking, weaving... biting.
But even if you put him down you couldn"t put him out.
"Mister Vimes!" Now it was Cheery, beckoning urgently from the passage that led to the kitchen. "You ought to come here right now!"
She was white-faced. Vimes nudged Detritus. "If they separate, just grab him, right? Just try to hold him still!"
Igor was lying in the kitchen surrounded by broken, glass. Wolfgang must have landed on him and taken out his perpetual anger on a soft target. The patchwork man was bleeding heavily and lay like a doll that had been flung hard against a wall. "Marthter," he groaned.
"Can you do anything for him, Cheery?"
"I wouldn"t know where to start, sir!"
"Marthter, you got to remember thith, right?" Igor groaned.
"Er, yes... what?"
"You got to get me into the ithehouthe downthtairth and let Igor know, underthtand?"
"Which Igor?" said Vimes desperately.
"Any Igor!" Igor clutched at Vimes"s sleeve. "Me heart"th had it, but me liver"th right ath ninepenthe, tell him! Nothing wrong with my brain that a good bolt of lightnin" won"t thort out. Igor can have me right hand, he"th got a cuthtomer waiting. There"th yearth of good thervithe left in my lower intethtine. Left eye not up to much, but I darethay thome poor thoul can find a uthe for it. The right knee ith nearly new. Old M"th Prodzky down the road would value my hip jointth, tell him. Got all that?"
"Yes, yes, I think so."
"Right. Remember... What goeth around, cometh around..."
Igor sank down.
"He"s gone, sir," said Cheery.
But he"ll soon be up and on someone else"s feet, Vimes thought. He didn"t say it aloud. Cheery was soft hearted. Instead he said, "Can you get him into his icehouse? By the sound of it Angua"s winning - "
He ran back into the hall. It was a wreck. As he arrived Angua managed to get a headlock on Wolfgang and ran him into a wooden pillar. He staggered, and she spun and scythed his legs from under him with a kick.
I taught her that, Vimes thought, as her brother landed heavily. Some of that dirty fighting - that"s Ankh-Morpork fighting, that is.
But Wolfgang was up again like a rubber ball and somersaulting over her head. That brought him to the front door. He smashed it open with a blow and leapt out into the street.
And... that was it. A room full of debris,
snowflakes blowing in, and Angua sobbing on the floor.
He picked her up. She was bleeding in a dozen places. That was as much of a diagnosis as Sam Vimes, not used these days to surveying naked young women at close quarters, thought he could decently attempt.
"It"s all right, he"s gone," he said, because he had to say something.
"It"s not all right! He"ll lie low for a while and then he"ll be back! I know him! It won"t matter where we go! You"ve seen him! He"ll just track us down and follow us and then he"ll kill Carrot!"
"Why?"
"Because Carrot"s mine!"
Sybil advanced down the stairs, carrying Vimes"s crossbow.
"Oh, you poor thing," she said. "Come here, let"s find something to cover you up. Sam, isn"t there something you can do?"
Vimes stared at her. Built into Sybil"s expression was the unquestioning assumption that he could do something.
An hour ago he"d been having breakfast. Ten minutes ago he"d been putting on this stupid uniform. In a real room, with his wife. And it had been a real world, with a real future. And suddenly the dark was back, spattered with red rage.
And if he gave in to it he"d lose. That was the beast screaming, inside, and Wolfgang was a better beast. Vimes knew he didn"t have the knack, the mindless, driving nastiness; sooner or later his brain would start operating, and kill him.
Perhaps, said his brain, you start by using me...
"Ye-es," he said. "Yes, I think there is something I can do..."
Fire and silver, thought Vimes. Well, silver"s in pretty short supply in Uberwald.
"You want I should come?" said Detritus, who could pick up signals.
"No, I think... I think I want to make an arrest. I don"t want to start a war. Anyway, you need to wait here in case he doubles back. But you could lend me your penknife."
Vimes found a sheet in one of the broken boxes and tore off a long strip. Then he took his crossbow from his wife.
"You see, now he"s committed a crime in Ankh-Morpork," he said. "That makes him mine."
"Sam, we"re not - "
"You know, everyone kept telling me I wasn"t in Ankh-Morpork so often that I believed it. But this embassy is Ankh-Morpork and, right now," he hefted the bow, "I am the law."
"Sam?"
"Yes, dear?"
"I know that look. Don"t hurt anyone else, will you?"
"Don"t worry, dear. I"m going to be civilized about it."
There was a cluster of dwarfs in the street outside, surrounding one lying on the snow in a pool of blood.
"Which way?" said Vimes, and if they didn"t understand his words they understood the question. Several of them pointed along the street.
As he walked Vimes cradled the crossbow and lit a thin cigar.
Now this he understood. He was never at ease with politics, where good and bad were just, apparently, two ways of looking at the same thing or, at least, were described like that by the people who were on the side Vimes thought of as "bad".
It was all too complicated and, where it was complicated, it meant that someone was trying to fool you. But on the street, in hot pursuit, it was all so clear. Someone was going to be still standing at the end of the chase, and all you had to concentrate on was making sure it was you.
On a street corner a cart had overturned and its driver was kneeling by a horse that had been ripped open.
"Which way?"
The man pointed.
The new street was wider, busier, and there were a number of elegant coaches moving slowly through the crowds. Of course... the coronation.
But that belonged to the world of the Duke of Ankh and, right now, he wasn"t here. There was only Sam Vimes, who didn"t much like coronations.
There were screams up ahead, and the flow of people was suddenly against Vimes, so that he appeared to be heading up-stream, like a salmon.
The street opened into a large square. People were running now, which suggested to Vimes
that he was still moving in the right direction. It was pretty clear that you"d find Wolfgang somewhere no one else wanted to be.
There was a flurry of movement on one side of him and a squad of the town guard trotted past. They halted. One of them walked back. It was Tantony.
He looked Vimes up and down. "I have you to thank for last night?" he said. There were fresh scars on his face, but they were already healing. We"ve got to get an Igor, Vimes reminded himself.
"Yes," said Vimes. "The good bits and the bad bits."
"And you see what happens when you stand up to a werewolf?"
Vimes opened his mouth to say, "Is that a uniform you"re wearing, captain, or is it fancy dress?" but stopped himself in time. "No, it"s what happens when you"re fool enough to stand up to a werewolf with no back-up and no firepower," he said. "I"m sorry, but we all have to learn that lesson. Integrity makes very poor armour."
The man reddened. "What is your business here?" he said.
"Our hairy friend just murdered someone in the embassy, which is - "
"Yes, yes, Ankh-Morpork territory. But this isn"t! I am the watchman here!"
"I"m in hot pursuit, Captain. Ah. I see you know the term?"
"I... I... that doesn"t apply!"
"Really?" Vimes raised an eyebrow. "Surely every copper knows about the rule of hot pursuit. You can chase the suspect over your legal boundary if you"re in hot pursuit. Of course, there may be a bit of legal argy-bargy once he"s caught, but we can save that for later."
"I intend to arrest him myself for crimes committed today!"
"You"re too young to die. Besides, I saw him first. Tell you what... After he"s killed me you can have a go. Fair enough?" He looked Tantony in the eye. "Now get out of the way."
"You know I could have you arrested."
"Probably, but until now I"d got you down as an intelligent man."
Tantony nodded, and proved Vimes right. "All right. How may we be of assistance?"
"By keeping out of the way. Oh, and scraping up my remains if this doesn"t work."
Vimes felt the man"s stare on the back of his neck as he set off again.
There was a statue in the middle of the square. It was of the Fifth Elephant. Some ancient craftsman had tried to achieve in bronze and stone the moment when the allegorical animal had thundered down out of the sky and gifted the country its incredible mineral wealth. Around it were idealized and rather heavy-set figures of dwarfs and men, holding hammers and swords, and striking noble attitudes; they probably represented Truth, Industry, Justice and Mother"s Home-Made Fat Pancakes for all Vimes knew, but he felt truly far from home in a country where, apparently, no one wrote graffiti on public statues.
A man was sprawled on the cobbles, with a woman kneeling beside him. She looked tearfully at Vimes and said something in Uberwaldean. All he could do was nod.
Wolfgang jumped down from a perch on top of the statue to Bad Sculpting and landed a few yards away, grinning.
"Mister Civilized! You want another game?"
"You see this badge I"m holding up?" said Vimes.
"It"s a very small one!"
"But you see it?"
"Yes, I see your little badge!" Wolfgang started to move sideways, arms hanging loosely by his sides.
"And I"m armed. Did you hear me tell you I"m armed?"
"With that silly bow?"
"But you just heard me say I"m armed, yes?" said Vimes, loudly, turning to face the moving werewolf. He puffed on his cigar, letting a glow build up.
"Yes! Is this what you call civilized?"
Vimes grinned. "Yes, this is how we do it."
"My way is better!"
"And now you"re under arrest," said Vimes. "Come along and make no fuss and we"ll tie you securely and hand you over to whatever passes for justice around here. I realize this may be difficult."
"Hah! Your Ankh-Morpork sense of humour!"
"Yes, any minute now I"ll drop my trousers. So, you"re resisting arrest?"
"Why these stupid questions?" Now Wolfgang was almost dancing.
"Are you resisting arrest?"
"Yes indeed! Oh yes! Good joke!"
"Look at me laughing."
Vimes tossed the crossbow aside and swung a tube out from under his cloak. It was made of cardboard and a red cone protruded from one end.
"A stupid silly firework!" shouted Wolfgang, and charged.
"Could be," said Vimes.
He didn"t bother to aim. These things were never designed for accuracy or speed. He simply removed his cigar from his mouth and, as Wolfgang ran towards him, pressed it into the fuse hole.
The mortar jerked as the charge went off and its payload came tumbling out slowly and trailing smoke in a lazy spiral. It looked like the stupidest weapon since the toffee spear.
Wolfgang danced back and forth under it, grinning, and as it passed several feet over his head he leapt up gracefully and caught it in his mouth.
And then it exploded.
The flares were made to be seen twenty miles away. Even with his eyes tightly shut, Vimes saw the glare through his lids.
When the body had stopped rolling, Vimes looked around the square. People were watching from the coaches. The crowds were silent.
There were a lot of things he could say. "Son of a bitch!" would have been a good one. Or he could say, "Welcome to civilization!" He could have said, "Laugh this one off!" He might have said, "Fetch!"
But he didn"t, because if he had said any of those things then he"d have known that what he had just done was murder.
He turned away, tossed the empty mortar over his shoulder and muttered, "The hell with it."
At times like this teetotalism bit down hard.
Tantony was watching.
"Don"t say a word out of place," said Vimes, without altering his stride. "Just don"t."
"I thought... those things shot very fast..."
"I cut down the charge," said Vimes, tossing Detritus"s penknife in the air and catching it again. "I didn"t want to hurt anyone."
"I heard you warn him that you were armed. I heard him twice resist arrest. I heard everything. I heard everything you wanted me to hear."
"Yes."
"Of course, he might not have known that law."
"Oh, really? Well, I didn"t know it was legal in these parts to chase some poor sod across the country and maul him to death and, do you know, that didn"t stop anyone." Vimes shook his head. "And don"t give me that pained look. Oh, yes... now you can say I did it wrong, you can say I ought to have handled it differently. That sort of thing is easy to say afterwards. I"ll say it myself, maybe." In the middle of every night, he added to himself, after I"ve woken up seeing those mad eyes. "But you wanted him stopped as much as I did. Oh yes, you did. But you couldn"t, because you didn"t have the means, and I did, because I could. And you"ve got the luxury of judging me because you"re still alive. And that"s the truth of it, all wrapped up. Lucky one for you, eh?"
The crowds parted ahead of Vimes. He could hear whispers around him.
"On the other hand," said Tantony, distantly, as if he hadn"t heard what Vimes had just said, "you did only fire that thing to warn him..."
"Huh?"
"Clearlyyou were not to know that he would automatically try to catch the... explosive," said Tantony, and it seemed to Vimes that he was rehearsing the line. "The... dog-like qualities of a werewolf would hardly have occurred to a man from the big city."
Vimes held his gaze for a moment, and then patted him on the shoulder. "Hold on to that thought," he said.
A coach pulled to a halt beside him as he continued on his way. It slid to a stop so silently - not a jingle of harness, not a clop of horseshoe - that Vimes jumped sideways out of shock.
The horses were black, with black plumes on their heads. The coach was a hearse, the traditional long glass windows now filled with smoked black glass. There was no driver; the reins were simply loosely knotted on a brass railing.
A door swung open. A veiled figure leaned out. "Your excellency? Do let me give you a lift back to the embassy. You look so tired."
"No, thank you," said Vimes grimly.
"I apologize for the emphasis on black," said Lady Margolotta. "It is rather expected of one on these occasions, I"m afraid - "
Vimes swung himself up and into the carriage with furious speed.
"You tell me," he growled, waving a finger under her nose, "how anyone can swim up a vertical waterfall? I was prepared to believe anything about that bastard, but even he. couldn"t have managed that."
"Certainly that is a puzzle," said the vampire calmly, as the driverless coach moved on. "Superhuman strength, possibly?"
"And now he"s gone and that"s one up for the vampires, eh?"
"I vould like to think that it"s going to be a blessing for the whole country." Lady Margolotta leaned back. Her rat with the bow round its neck watched Vimes suspiciously from its pink cushion. "Wolfgang vas a sadistic murderer, a throwback who frightened even his own family. Delphine... sorry, Angua... vill have some peace of mind. An intelligent young lady, I"ve alvays thought. Leaving here vas the best thing she ever did. The darkness vill be a little less frightening. The vorld will be a better place."
"And I"ve handed you Uberwald?" said Vimes.
"Don"t be stupid. Uberwald is huge. This is one small part of it. And now it"s going to change. You have been a breath of fresh air."
Lady Margolotta drew a long holder from her bag and inserted a black cigarette. It lit itself.
"Like you, I have found consolation in a... different vice," she said. "Black Scopani. They grow the tobacco in total darkness. Do try some. You could waterproof roofs with it. I believe Igor makes cigars by rolling the leaves between his thighs." She blew out a stream of smoke. "Or someone"s thighs, anyvay. Of course, I am sorry for the Baroness. It must be so hard for a verevolf, realizing that she"s raised a monster. As for the Baron, give him a bone and he"s happy for hours." Another stream of smoke. "Do look after Angua. Happy Families is not a popular game among the undead."
"You helped him come back! Just like you did for me!"
"Oh, he"d have come back anyvay, in time. Some time when you weren"t expecting him. He"d track Angua like a wolverine. Best that things ended today." She gave him an appraising look through the smoke. "You"re good at anger, your grace. You save it up for when you need it."
"You couldn"t have known I"d beat him. You left me in the snow. I wasn"t even armed!"
"Havelock Vetinari would not have sent a fool to Uberwald." More smoke, which writhed in the air. "At least, not a stupid fool."
Vimes"s eyes narrowed. "You"ve met him, haven"t you?"
"Yes."
"And taught him all he knows, right?"
She blew smoke down her nostrils and gave him a radiant smile.
"I"m sorry? You think I taught him? My dear sir... As for vhat I"ve got out of all this... vell, a little breathing space. A little influence. Politics is more interesting than blood, your grace. And much more fun. Beware the reformed vampire, sir - the craving for blood is only a craving, and with care it can be diverted along different channels. Uberwald is going to need politicians. Ah, I believe ve are here," she added, although Vimes could.have sworn that she hadn"t so much as glanced out of the window.
The door opened.
"If my Igor"s still there, do tell him I vill see him Downtown. So nice to have met you. I"m sure ve shall meet again. And do please present my fondest regards to Lord Vetinari."
The door shut behind Vimes. The coach moved off.
He swore, under his breath.
The hall of the embassy was full of Igors. Several of them touched their forelocks, or at least the line of stitch marks, when they saw him. They were carrying heavy metal containers of varying sizes, on which frost crystals were forming.
"What"s this?" he said. "Igor"s funeral?" Then it sank in. "Oh, my gods... with party loot bags? Everyone gets something to take home?"
"You could thay that, thur, you could call it that," said an Igor. "But we think that putting bodieth in the ground ith rather gruethome. All thothe wormth and thingth." He tapped the tin box under his arm. "Thith way, he"ll be mothtly up and about again in no time," he added brightly.
"Reincarnation on the instalment plan, eh?" said Vimes weakly.
"Motht amuthing, thur," said the Igor gravely. "But it"th amathing what people need. Heartth, liverth, handth... we keep a litht, thur, of detherving catheth. By tonight there will be thome very lucky people in thethe partly"
"And these parts in some very lucky people?"
"Well done, thur. I can thee you are a wit. And one day thome poor thoul will have a really nathty brain injury, and - " he tapped the chilly box again - "what goeth around cometh around."
He nodded at Cheery, and at Vimes. "I mutht be going now, thur. Tho much to do, you know how it ith."
"I can imagine," said Vimes. He thought: the axe of my grandfather. You change the bits around, but there"ll always be an Igor.
"They"re really rather selfless people, sir," said Cheery, when the last Igor had lurched off. "They do a lot of good work. Er, they even took his suit and his boots because they"ll be useful to someone."
"I know, I know. But - "
"I know what you mean, sir. Everyone"s in the drawing room. Lady Sybil said you"d be back. She said anyone with that look in their eye comes back."
"We"re all going to the coronation. Might as well see this through. Is that what you"ll be wearing, Cheery?"
"Yes, sir."
"But it"s just... ordinary dwarf clothes. Trousers and everything."
"Yes, sir."
"But Sybil said you"d got a fetching little green number and a helmet with a feather in it."
"Yes, sir."
"You"re free to wear whatever you want, you know that."
"Yes, sir. And then I thought about Dee. And I watched the King when he was talking to you, and... well, I can wear what I like, sir. That"s the point. I don"t have to wear that dress and I shouldn"t wear it just because other people don"t want me to. Besides, it made me look like a rather stupid lettuce."
"That"s all a bit complicated for me, Cheery."
"It"s probably a dwarf thing, sir."
Vimes pushed open the doors to the drawing room. "It"s over," he said.
"Did you hurt anyone else?" said Sybil.
"Only Wolfgang."
"He"ll be back," said Angua.
No.
"You killed him?"
"No. I put him down. I see you"re up, captain."
Carrot got to his feet, awkwardly, and saluted. "Sorry I haven"t been much use, sir."
"You just chose the wrong time to fight fair. Are you well enough to come?"
"Er, Angua and I want to stay here, if it"s all right with you, sir. We"ve got things to talk about. And, er... do."
It was the first coronation Vimes had attended. He"d expected it to be... stranger, touched somehow by glory.
Instead it was dull, but at least it was big dull, dullness distilled and cultivated over thousands of years until it had developed an impressive shine, as even grime will if you polish it long enough. It was dull hammered into the shape and form of ceremony.
It had also been timed to test the capacity of the average bladder.
A number of dwarfs read passages from ancient scrolls. There were what sounded like excerpts from the Koboldean Saga, and Vimes wondered desperately if they were in for another opera, but they were over after a mere hour. There were more readings from different dwarfs. At one point the King, who had been standing alone in the centre of a circle of candlelight, was presented with a leather bag, a small mining axe and a ruby. Vimes didn"t catch the meaning of any of this, but by the sounds it was clear that each item was of huge and satisfying significance to the thousands who were standing behind him. Thousands? No, there must be tens of thousands, he thought. The bowl of the cavern was full of tier upon tier of dwarfs. Maybe a hundred thousand...
... and he was in the front row. No one had said anything. The four of them had simply been led there and left, although the murmurings suggested that the presence of Detritus was causing considerable attention. Senior, long-bearded and richly clothed dwarfs were all around them.
Someone was being taught something. Vimes wondered who the lesson was directed at.
Finally, the Scone was brought in, small and dull and yet carried by twenty-four dwarfs on a large bier. It was laid, reverentially, on a stool.
He could sense the change in the air of the huge cavern, and once again he thought: there"s no magic, you poor devils, there"s no history. I"ll bet my wages the damn thing was moulded with rubber from a vat that had last been used in the preparation of Sonky"s Eversure Dependables, and there"s your holy relic for you...
There were more readings, much shorter this time.
Then the dwarfs who had been participating in the endless and baffling hours withdrew from the centre of the cavern, leaving the King looking as small and alone as the Scone itself.
He stared around him and, although it was surely impossible for him to have seen Vimes among the thousands in the gloom, it did seem that his gaze rested on the Ankh-Morpork party for a fraction of a second.
The King sat down.
A sigh began. It grew louder and louder, a hurricane made up of the breath of a nation. It echoed back and forth among the rocks until it drowned out all other sounds.
Vimes had half expected the Scone to explode, or crumble, or flash red-hot. Which was stupid, said a dwindling part of himself - it was a fake, a nonsense, something made in Ankh-Morpork for money, something that had already cost lives. It was not, it could not be real.
But in the roaring air he knew that it was, for all who needed to believe, and in a belief so strong that truth was not the same as fact... he knew that for now, and yesterday, and tomorrow, both the thing, and the whole of the thing.
Angua noticed that Carrot was walking better even as they reached the forest below the falls, and the shovel over his shoulder hardly burdened him at all.
There were wolf prints all over the snow.
"They won"t have stayed," she said, as they walked between the trees. "They felt things keenly when he died but... wolves look to the future. They don"t try to remember things."
"They"re lucky," said Carrot.
"They"re realistic. It"s just that the future contains the next meal and the next danger. Is your arm all right?"
"It feels as good as new."
They found the freezing mass of fur lying at the water"s edge. Carrot pulled it out of the water, scraped off the snow higher up the shingle, and started to dig.
After a while he took off his shirt. The bruises were already fading.
Angua sat and looked over the water, listening to the thud of the spade and the occasional grunt when Carrot hit a tree root. Then she heard the soft slither of something being pulled over snow, a pause, and then the sound of sand and stones being shovelled into a hole.
"Do you want to say a few words?" said Carrot.
"You heard the howl last night. That"s how wolves do it," said Angua, still looking out across the water. "There aren"t any other words."
"Perhaps just a moment"s silence, then - "
She spun round. "Carrot! Don"t you remember last night? Didn"t you wonder what I might become? Didn"t you worry about the future?"
"No."
"Why the hell not?"
"It hasn"t happened yet. Shall we get back? It"ll be dark soon."
"And tomorrow?"
"I"d like you to come back to Ankh-Morpork."
"Why? There"s nothing for me there."
Carrot patted the soil over the grave. "Is there anything left for you here?" he said. "Besides, I - "
Don"t you dare say the words, Angua thought. Not at a time like this.