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Terry Pratchett – Feet of Clay

‘I don’t see what good this is going to do,’ said Angua. ‘As soon as they see us they can destroy any evidence. And, even if we find arsenic, so what? There’s no crime in owning arsenic, is there?’

‘Er … is there a crime in owning that? whispered Cheri.

A golem was walking slowly up the alley. It was quite unlike any other golem they had seen. The others were ancient and had repaired themselves so many times they were as shapeless as a gingerbread man, but this one looked like a human, or at least like humans wished they could look. It resembled a statue made of white clay. Around its head, part of the very design, was a crown.

‘I was right,’ murmured Carrot. ‘They did make themselves a golem. The poor devils. They thought a king would make them free.’

‘Look at its legs,’ said Angua.

As the golem walked, lines of red light appeared and disappeared all over its legs, and across its body and arms.

‘It’s cracking,’ she said.

‘I knew you couldn’t bake pottery in an old bread oven!’ said Cheri. ‘It’s not the right shapel’

The golem pushed open a door and disappeared into the factory.

‘Let’s go,’ said Carrot.

‘Commander Vimes told us to wait for him,’ said Angua.

‘Yes, but we don’t know what might be going on in there,’ said Carrot. ‘Besides, he likes us to use our initiative. We can’t just hang around now.’

He darted across the alley and opened the door.

There were crates piled inside, with a narrow passageway between them. From all around them, but slightly muffled by the crates, came the clicking and rattling of the factory. The air smelled of hot wax.

Cheri was aware of a whispered conversation going on several feet above her little round helmet.

‘I wish Mr Vimes hadn’t wanted us to bring her. Supposing something happens to her?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Well . . . you know . . . she’s a girl.’

‘So what? There’s at least three female dwarfs in the Watch already and you don’t worry about them.’

‘Oh, come on … name one.’

‘Lars Skulldrinker,for a start.’

‘No! Really?’

‘Are you calling this nose a liar?’

‘But he broke up a fight in the Miner’s Arms single-handedly last week!’

‘ Well? Why do you assume females are weaker? You wouldn’t worry about me taking on a vicious bar crowd by myself.’

‘I’d give aid where necessary.’

‘ To me or to them?’

‘That’s unfair!’

‘Is it?’

‘I wouldn’t help them unless you got really rough.’

‘Ah, so? And they say chivalry is dead . . .’

‘Anyway, Cheri is . . .a bit different. I’m sure he. . . she’s good at alchemy, but we’d better watch her back in a fight. Hold on…’

They’d stepped out into the factory.

Candles whirled overhead – hundreds of them, thousands of them – dangling by their wicks from an endless belt of complex wooden links that switch-backed its way up and down the long hall.

‘I heard about this,’ said Carrot. ‘It’s called a producing line. It’s a way of making thousands of things that are all the same. But look at the speed! I’m amazed the treadmill can—’

Angua pointed. There was a treadmill creaking around beside her, but there was nothing inside it.

‘Something’s got to be powering all this,’ said Angua.

Carrot pointed. Further up the hall the switchbacks of the line converged in a complicated knot. There was a figure somewhere in the middle, arms moving in a blur.

Just beside Carrot the line ended at a big wooden hopper. Candles cascaded into it. No one had been emptying it, and they were tumbling over the pile and rolling on to the floor.

‘Cheri,’ said Carrot. ‘Do you know how to use any kind of weapon?’

‘Er . . . no, Captain Carrot.’ ‘Right. You just wait in the alley, then. I don’t want any harm coming to you.’ She scuttled off, looking relieved. Angua sniffed the air. ‘There’s been a vampire here,’ she said.

‘I think we’d—’ Carrot began. ‘I knew you’d find out! I wish I’d never bought the damned thing! I’ve got a bow! I warn you, I’ve got a crossbow!’

They turned. ‘Ah, Mr Carry,’ said Carrot cheerfully. He produced his badge. ‘Captain Carrot, Ankh-Morpork City Watch—’

‘I know who you are! I know who you are! And what you are, too! I knew you’d come! I’ve got a bow and I’m not afraid to use it!’ The crossbow’s point moved uncertainly, proving him a liar. ‘Really?’ said Angua. ‘What we are?’ ‘I didn’t even want to get involved!’ said Carry. ‘It killed those old men, didn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Carrot.

‘Why? I didn’t tell it to!’

‘Because they helped make it, I think,’ said Carrot. ‘It knew who to blame.’

The golems sold it to me!’ said Carry. ‘I thought it’d help build up the business but the damned thing won’t stop—’

He glanced up at the line of candles whirring overhead, but jerked his head back before Angua could move.

‘Works hard, does it?’

‘Hah!’ But Carry didn’t look like a man enjoying a joke. He looked like a man in private torment. ‘I’ve laid off everyone except the girls in the packing department, and they’re on three shifts and overtime! I’ve got four men out looking for tallow, two negotiating for wicks and three trying to buy more storage space!’

‘Then get it to stop making candles,’ said Carrot.

‘It goes off into the streets when we run out of tallow! You want it walking around looking for something to do? Hey, you two stay together!’ Carry added urgently, waving the crossbow,

‘Look, all you have to do is change the words in its head,’ said Carrot.

‘It won’t let me! Don’t you think I’ve tried?’

‘It can’t not let you,’ said Carrot. ‘Golems have to let—’

‘I said it won’t let me!’

‘What about the poisoned candles?’ said Carrot.

‘That wasn’t my idea!’

‘Whose idea was it?’

Carry’s crossbow swung back and forth. He licked his lips. ‘This has all gone far too far,’ he said. ‘I’m getting out.’

‘Whose idea, Mr Carry?’

‘I’m not going to end up in some alley somewhere with as much blood as a banana!’

‘Now then, we wouldn’t do anything like that,’ said Carrot.

Mr Carry was exporting terror. Angua could smell it streaming off him. He might pull the trigger out of sheer panic.

There was another smell, too. ‘Who’s the vampire?’ she said.

For a moment she thought the man would fire the crossbow. ‘I never said anything about him!’

‘You’ve got garlic in your pocket,’ said Angua. ‘And the place reeks of vampire.’

‘He said we could get the golem to do anything,’ Carry mumbled.

‘Like making poisoned candles?’ said Carrot.

‘Yes, but he said it’d just keep Vetinari out of the way,’ said Carry. He seemed to be getting a tenuous grip on himself. ‘And he’s not dead, ‘cos I’d have heard,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t think making him ill is a crime, so you can’t—’

‘The candles killed two other people,’ said Carrot.

Carry started to panic again. ‘Who?’

‘An old lady and a baby in Cockbill Street.’

‘Were they important?’ said Carry.

Carrot nodded to himself. ‘I was almost feeling sorry for you,’ he said. ‘Right up to that point. You’re a lucky man, Mr Carry.’

‘You think so?’

‘Oh, yes. We got to you before Commander Vimes did. Now, just put down the crossbow and we can talk about—’

There was a noise. Or, rather, the sudden cessation of a noise that had been so pervasive that it had no longer been consciously heard.

The clacking line had stopped. There was a chorus of little waxy thuds as the hanging candles swung and hit one another, and then silence unrolled. The last candle dropped off the line, tumbled down the heap in the hopper, and bounced on the floor.

And in the silence, the sound of footsteps.

Carry started to back away. ‘Too late!’ he moaned.

Both Carrot and Angua saw his finger move.

Angua pushed Carrot out of the way as the claw released the string, but he had anticipated this and his hand was already flinging itself up and across. She heard the sickening, tearing noise as his palm whirled in front of her face, and his grunt as the force of the bolt spun him round.

He landed heavily on the floor, clutching his left hand. The crossbow bolt was sticking out of the palm.

Angua crouched down. ‘It doesn’t look barbed, let me pull—’

Carrot grabbed her wrist. ‘The point’s silver! Don’t touch it!’

They both looked up as a shadow crossed the light.

The king golem looked down at her.

She felt her teeth and fingernails begin to lengthen.

Then she saw the small round face of Cheri peering nervously around a pile of crates. Angua fought down her werewolf instincts, screamed ‘Stay right there!’ at the dwarf and at every swelling hair follicle, and hesitated between pursuing the fleeing Carry and dragging Carrot to safety.

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Categories: Terry Pratchett
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