‘Sorry we’re late, sir,’ said Vimes as they entered the Oblong Office.
‘Oh, are you late?’ said Lord Vetinari, looking up from his paperwork. ‘I really hadn’t noticed. Nothing serious, I trust.’
‘The Fools’ Guild caught fire, sir,’ said Carrot.
‘Many casualties?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Well, that is a blessing,’ said Lord Vetinari carefully. He put down his pen.
‘Now … what do we have to discuss … ?’ He pulled another document towards him and read it swiftly.
‘Ah … I see that the new traffic division is having the desired effect.’ He indicated a large pile of paper. ‘I am getting any amount of complaints from the Carters’ and Drovers’ Guild. Well done. Do pass on my thanks to Sergeant Colon and his team.’
‘I will, sir.’
‘I see in one day they clamped seventeen carts, ten horses, eighteen oxen and one duck.’
‘It was parked illegally, sir.’
‘Indeed. However, a strange pattern seems to emerge.’
‘Sir?’
‘Many of the carters say that they were not in fact parked but had merely halted while an extremely old and extremely ugly lady
crossed the road extremely slowly.’
‘That’s their story, sir.’
‘They know she was an old lady by her constant litany on the lines of “Oh deary me, my poor old feet,” and similar expressions.’
‘Certainly sounds like an old lady to me, sir,’ said Vimes, his face wooden.
‘Quite so. What is rather strange is that several of them then report seeing the old lady subsequently legging it away along an alley rather fast. I’d discount this, of course, were it not for the fact that the lady has apparently been seen crossing another street, very slowly, some distance away shortly afterwards. Something of a mystery, Vimes.’
Vimes put his hand over his eyes. ‘It’s one I intend to solve quite quickly, sir.’
The Patrician nodded and made a short note on the list in front of him.
As he went to move it aside he uncovered a much grubbier, much-folded scrap of paper. He picked up two letter knives and, using them fastidiously, unfolded the paper and inched it across the desk towards Vimes.
‘Do you know anything about this?’ he said.
Vimes read, in large, round, crayoned letters:
‘DeEr Cur, The CruELt to HOMLIss DoGs In thIs CITY Is A DIssGrays, WaT arE The WaTCH Do Ing A BouT ITZ SiNeD The LeAK AgyANsct CrUle T To DoGs.’
‘Not a thing,’ he said.
‘My clerks say that one like it is pushed under the door most nights,’ said the Patrician. ‘Apparently no one is seen.’
‘Do you want me to investigate?’ said Vimes. ‘It shouldn’t be hard to find someone in this city who dribbles when he writes and spells even worse than Carrot.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Carrot.
‘None of the guards report noticing anyone,’ said the Patrician. ‘Is there any group in AnkhMorpork particularly interested in the welfare of dogs?’
‘I doubt it, sir.’
‘Then I shall ignore it pro tem,’ said Vetinari. He let the soggy letter splash into the wastepaper basket.
‘On to more pressing matters,’ he said briskly. ‘Now, then … What do you know about Bonk?’
Vimes stared.
There was a polite cough from Carrot. ‘The river or the town, sir?’ he said.
The Patrician smiled. ‘Ah, captain, you have long ago ceased to surprise me. Yes, I was referring to the town.’
‘It’s one of the major towns in Uberwald, sir,’ said Carrot. ‘Exports: precious metals, leather, timber and of course fat from the deep fat mines at Schmaltzberg-‘
‘There’s a place called Bonk?’ said Vimes, still marvelling at the speed with which they’d got here from a damp letter about dogs.
‘Strictly speaking, sir, it’s more correctly pronounced Beyonk,’ said Carrot.
‘Even so-‘
‘And in Beyonk, sir, “Morpork” sounds exactly like their word for an item of ladies’ underwear,’ said Carrot. ‘There’s only so many
syllables in the world, when you think about it.’
‘How do you know all this stuff, Carrot?’
‘Oh, you pick it up, sir. Here and there.’
‘Really? So exactly which item of-‘
‘Something extremely important will be taking place there in a few weeks,’ said Lord Vetinari. ‘Something which, I have to add, is vital to the future prosperity of AnkhMorpork.’
‘The crowning of the Low King,’ said Carrot.
Vimes stared from him to the Patrician, and back again.
‘Is there some kind of circular that goes around which doesn’t get as far as me?’ he said.
‘The dwarf community has been talking about little else for months, sir.’
‘Really?’ said Vimes. ‘You mean the riots? Those fights every night in the dwarf bars?’
‘Captain Carrot is correct, Vimes. It will be a grand occasion, attended by representatives of many governments. And from various Uberwald principalities, of course, because the Low King only rules those areas of Uberwald that are below ground. His favour is valuable. Borogravia and Genua will be there, without a doubt, and probably even Klatch.’
‘Klatch? But they’re even further from Uberwald than we are! What are they bothering to go for?’
He paused for a moment and then added: ‘Hah. I’m being stupid. Where’s the money?’
‘I beg your pardon, commander?’
‘That’s what my old sergeant used to say when he was puzzled, sir. Find out where the money is and you’ve got it half solved.’
Vetinari stood up and walked over to the big window, with his back to them.
‘A large country, Uberwald,’ he said, apparently addressing the glass. ‘Dark. Mysterious. Ancient…’
‘Huge untapped reserves of coal and iron ore,’ said Carrot. ‘And fat, of course. The best candles, lamp oils and soap come ultimately from the Schmaltzberg deposits.’
‘Why? We’ve got our own slaughterhouse, haven’t we?’
‘AnkhMorpork uses a great many candles, sir.’
‘It certainly doesn’t use much soap,’ said Vimes.
‘There are so many uses for fats and tallows, sir. We couldn’t possibly supply ourselves.’
‘Ah,’ said Vimes.
The Patrician sighed. ‘Obviously I hope that we may strengthen our trading links with the various nations within Uberwald,’ he said. ‘The situation there is volatile in the extreme. Do you know much about Uberwald, Commander Vimes?’
Vimes, whose knowledge of geography was microscopically detailed within five miles of AnkhMorpork and merely microscopic beyond that, nodded uncertainly.
‘Only that it’s not really a country,’ said Vetinari. ‘It’s-‘
‘It’s rather more what you get before you get countries,’ said Carrot. ‘It’s mainly fortified towns and fiefdoms with no real boundaries and lots of forest in between. There’s always some sort of feud going on. There’s no law apart from
whatever the local lords enforce, and banditry of all kinds is rife.’
‘So unlike the home life of our own dear city,’ said Vimes, not quite under his breath. The Patrician gave him an impassive glance.
‘In Uberwald the dwarfs and trolls haven’t settled their old grievances,’ Carrot continued, ‘there are large areas controlled by feudal vampire or werewolf clans, and there are also tracts with much higher than normal background magic. It is a chaotic place, indeed, and you’d hardly think you were in the Century of the Fruitbat. It is to be hoped that things will improve, however, and Uberwald will, happily, be joining the community of nations.’
Vimes and Vetinari exchanged looks. Sometimes Carrot sounded like a civics essay written by a stunned choirboy.
‘Well put,’ said the Patrician at last. ‘But until that joysome day Uberwald remains a mystery inside a riddle wrapped in an enigma.’
‘Let me see if I’ve got this right,’ said Vimes. ‘Uberwald is like this big suet pudding that everyone’s suddenly noticed, and now with this coronation as an excuse we’ve all got to rush there with knife, fork and spoon to shovel as much on our plates as possible?’
‘Your grasp of political reality is masterly, Vimes. You lack only the appropriate vocabulary. AnkhMorpork must send a representative, obviously. An ambassador, as it were.’
‘You’re not suggesting I should go to this affair, are you?’ said Vimes.
‘Oh, I couldn’t send the Commander of the City Watch,’ said Lord Vetinari. ‘Most of the Uberwald countries have no concept of a modern civil peacekeeping authority.’
Vimes relaxed.
‘I’m sending the Duke of Ankh instead.’
Vimes sat bolt upright.
‘They are mostly feudal systems,’ Vetinari went on. ‘They set great store by rank-‘
‘I’m not being ordered to go to Uberwald!’
‘Ordered, your grace?’ Vetinari looked shocked and concerned. ‘Good heavens, I must have misunderstood Lady Sybil … She told me yesterday that a holiday a long way from AnkhMorpork would do you the world of good..
.’
‘You spoke to Sybil?’
‘At the reception for the new President of the Tailors’ Guild, yes. I believe you left early. You were called away. Some emergency, I understand. Lady Sybil happened to mention how you seemed to be, as she put it, constantly on the job, and one thing led to another. Oh dear, I do hope I haven’t caused some marital misunderstanding…’
‘I can’t leave the city now of all times!’ said Vimes desperately. ‘There’s so much to do!’