That bloody valley again, with added weirdness this time. Actually, Sybil had bought a copy, along with most of the reading population of the city, and had dragged him along to look at that poor man’s wretched picture in the Royal Art Museum. A painting with secrets? Oh yes? And how come some mad young human artist a hundred years ago knew the secret of a battle fought thousands of years before? Sybil said that the book claimed he’d found something on the battlefield but it was haunted and voices drove him to believe he was a chicken. Or something.
When the mugs were brought in, with just a little spilled on Helmclever’s desk because his hand was shaking, Vimes said: ‘I must see Grag Hamcrusher, sir.’
‘I’m sorry, that is not possible.’
The answer came out flat and level, as if the dwarf had been practising. But there was a flicker in his eyes, and Vimes glanced up at a very large grille in the wall.
At this point, Angua gave a little cough. Okay, thought Vimes, someone’s listening.
‘Mr Helm… clever,’ he said, ‘I have reason to suppose that a serious crime has been committed on Ankh-Morpork soil’. He added: ‘That is to say, under it. But Ankh-Morpork’s, anyway.’
Once again, Helmclever’s strange calm gave him away. There was a hunted look in his eyes. ‘I am sorry to hear it. How may I assist you to solve it?’
Oh well, thought Vimes, I did say I don’t play games.
‘By showing me the dead body you have downstairs,’ he said.
He was obscenely pleased at the way Helmclever deflated. Time to press home… He took out his badge.
‘My authority, Mr Helmclever. I will search this place. I would prefer to do so with your permission.’
The dwarf was trembling, with fear or anxiety or, probably, both. ‘You will invade our premises? You cannot! Dwarf law—’
‘This is Ankh-Morpork,’ said Vimes. ‘All the way to the top, all the way to the bottom. Invasion is not the issue. Are you really telling me I cannot search a basement? Now take me to Grag Hamcrusher or whoever is in charge! Now!’
‘I–I refuse your request!’
‘It wasn’t a request!’
And now we reach our own little Koom Valley, Vimes thought, as he stared into Helmclever’s eyes. No backing down. We both think we’re right. But he’s wrong!
A movement made him glance down. Helmclever’s trembling finger had teased out the spilled coffee into a circle. As Vimes stared, the dwarf’s fingers drew two lines across the circle. He looked back up into eyes bulging with anger, fear… and just a hint of something else…
‘Ah. Commander Vimes, is it?’ said a figure in the doorway.
It might have been Lord Vetinari speaking. It was that same level tone, indicating that he had noticed you and you were, in some small way, a necessary chore. But it was coming from another dwarf, presumably, although he wore a rigid, pointed black hood which brought him up to the height of the average human.
Elsewhere he was completely shrouded, and that was the well-chosen word, in overlapping black leather scales, with just a narrow slit for the eyes. Were it not for the quiet authority of the voice, the figure in front of Vimes could be mistaken for a very sombre Hogswatch decoration.
‘And you are—?’ said Vimes.
‘My name is Ardent, commander. Helmclever, go about your chores!’
As the ‘daylight face’ scuttled off at speed, Vimes turned in his seat and allowed his hand to brush across the sticky symbol, wiping it out. ‘And do you want to be helpful too?’ he said.
‘If I can be,’ said the dwarf. ‘Please follow me. It would be preferable if the sergeant did not accompany you.’
‘Why?’
‘The obvious reason,’ said Ardent. ‘She is openly female.’
‘What? So? Sergeant Angua is very definitely not a dwarf,’ said Vimes. ‘You can’t expect everyone to conform to your rules!’
‘Why not?’ said the dwarf. ‘You do. But could we just, together, for a moment, proceed to my office and discuss matters?’
‘I’ll be fine, sir,’ said Angua. ‘It’s probably the best way.’
Vimes tried to relax. He knew he was letting himself get steamed up. Those silent watchers in the street had got through to him, and the look he’d got from Helmclever needed some thinking about. But—
‘No,’ he said.
‘You will not make that small concession?’ said Ardent.
‘I am already making several big ones, believe me,’ said Vimes.
The hidden eyes under the pointy cowl stared at him for a few seconds.
‘Very well,’ said Ardent. ‘Please follow me.’
The dwarf turned and opened a door behind him, stepping into a small square room. He beckoned them to follow and, when they were inside, pulled a lever.
The room shook gently, and the walls began to rise.
‘This is—’ Ardent began.
‘—an elevator,’ said Vimes. ‘Yes, I know. I saw them when I met the Low King in Uberwald.’
The dropping of the name did not work.
‘The Low King is not… respected here,’ said Ardent.
‘I thought he was the ruler of all dwarfs?’ said Vimes.
‘A common misconception. Ah, we have arrived.’
The elevator stopped with barely a jerk.
Vimes stared.
Ankh-Morpork was built on Ankh-Morpork. Everyone knew that. They had been building with stone here ten thousand years ago. As the annual flooding of the Ankh brought more silt, so the city had risen on its walls until attics had become cellars. Even at basement level today, it was always said, a man with a pickaxe and a good sense of direction could cross the city by knocking his way through underground walls, provided he could also breathe mud.
What had this place been? A palace? The temple of a god who’d subsequently slipped everyone’s memory? It was a big space, dark as soot, but there was a glow that managed to show up beautiful vaulting in the roof above. A strange glow.
‘Vurms,’ said Ardent. ‘From the deep caves in the mountains around Llamedos. We brought them with us and they breed very fast here. They find your silt quite nourishing. I’m sure they shine more, too.’
The glow moved. It did not illuminate much, but it showed up the shape of things, and it was heading towards the elevator, flowing over the wonderful ceiling.
‘They head for heat and movement, even now,’ said the hooded dwarf.
‘Er… why?’
Ardent gave a little laugh. ‘In case you die, commander. They think you are some rat or small deer that has tumbled into their cave. Nourishment is rare in the Deeps. Every breath you exhale is food. And when eventually you expire, they will… descend. They are very patient. They will leave nothing but bones.’
‘I was not intending to expire here,’ said Vimes.
‘Of course not. Follow me please,’ said Ardent, leading them past a big round door. There were more on the other side of the room, and several gaping tunnel mouths.
‘How far down are we?’
‘Not far. About forty feet. We are good at digging.’
‘In this city?’ said Vimes. ‘Why aren’t we trying to breathe under water? And calling it water is giving it the best of it.’
‘We are very good at keeping water out, too. Alas, it appears we are less good at keeping out Samuel Vimes.’ The dwarf stepped into a smaller room, its ceiling thick with brilliant vurms, and motioned to a couple of dwarf-sized chairs. ‘Do sit down. Can I offer you refreshment?’
‘No, thank you,’ said Vimes. He sat down gingerly on a chair that brought his knees up almost to his chin. Ardent sat down behind a small desk made of stone slabs and, to Vimes’s amazement, took off his headgear. He looked quite young, with a beard that was actually trimmed.