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Crackle had never had much to do with dwarfs, of course, but since the whole Koom Valley business had been sorted out, it was surely in order for her to talk to a dwarf, especially since this one was very well dressed and, well, looked human; an Ankh-Morpork dwarf
as they called them. So she smiled and said, ‘By all means do take a seat, sir. Isn’t the weather inclement for this time of year?’
The dwarf bowed, sat down and said, ‘Forgive my intrusion, but I am so happy to hear you use a word like “inclement”. The very word itself paints a picture, don’t you think? A grey one, but nevertheless … Oh, where are my manners? Please let me introduce myself: Dopey Docson at your service, madam, and may I say you speak extremely good dwarfish?’
Crackle looked around. People were still coming in out of the rain and leaving as the trains came and went. Sto Lat was, after all, a hub of the railway and almost all traffic passed through there. She had one ear cocked for the porter announcing her own train, but she managed to say, ‘Your grasp of troll is likewise also remarkable, if I may say so. May I ask where your travels have taken you?’
The dwarf smiled again and said, ‘I’m a librarian in Klatch, but I’ve recently buried my father in Copperhead.’
And Crackle stifled a laugh and said, ‘Do excuse me, I’m very sorry to hear about your father, but that’s amazing! I’m also a librarian, in the service of Diamond King of Trolls!’
‘Ah, the Diamond Library! Alas not available to us at the moment, even under the famous Accord. I’d give anything just to see it.’
And the two librarians ordered more drinks and talked about books while whistles blew and train after train left the station. Crackle told Dopey that her husband didn’t like books and considered that mumbling should be good enough for trolls like it was in the old days, and the dwarf told her about his wife who even after the Koom Valley Accord still thought of trolls as a kind of animal, and they talked and talked and talked about the meaning of words and, indeed, the love of words. And Marjorie recognized the syndrome and kept the hot coffee and sulphur flowing, with the occasional warm rock cake.
Of course, it wasn’t her business, she thought, it wasn’t up to her how other people led their lives, and she definitely didn’t eavesdrop, well, not much, but she couldn’t help hearing the dwarf say, ‘I’ve been offered a post as librarian at Brazeneck University and they’ve already told me I can bring my own assistant.’
And Marjorie was not surprised to find two empty cups and an empty table when she next looked: this sort of thing was bound to happen with the railway. It expanded horizons, inside and out, people went looking to find themselves and what they found was somebody else.
As coups went, the Schmaltzberg coup went slowly, dripping through the tunnels and mines like treacle, and just as sticky. A connoisseur of coups would recognize the form. Two would get up to impress on a third that this was what should be done because this was what everyone else was going to do, and there was no point in being on the losing side, was there? There were always the ones who had misgivings, but the pressure of the tide was strengthening. Underground Schmaltzberg was in many respects a beehive and the swarm was deciding that they needed a new Queen.
Ardent and the banished grags were, of course, at the centre of all this, and now having triumphantlyfn65 returned were settling down as if the place was theirs by right …
‘Nobody has to be hurt,’ they said, and it may have been too that people would murmur, ‘After all, it’s in his own interests,’ and there were other little giveaways such as ‘It’s time for fresh blood,’ and such things as ‘We must preserve our most hallowed ordinances,’ and if you were susceptible to atmospheres, you could see that dwarfs, perfectly sensible dwarfs, dwarfs who would consider themselves dwarfs of repute and fair dealing, were nevertheless slowly betraying allegiances they had formerly undertaken with great solemnity, because the hive was buzzing and they didn’t want to be the ones that got stung.
The watchwords were ‘restoring order’ and ‘going back to the basics of true dwarfishness’.
Nevertheless, there is always somebody who will not buzz with the swarm and in this case it was Albrecht Albrechtson, around whom there coalesced the dwarfs who were totally against the takeover and who remained loyal to Rhys Rhysson come what may. The air in the corridors thickened, and the unspoken question was who would be the first to sting?
Albrecht Albrechtson placed his hand on the Scone of Stone.
‘My fellow dwarfs, I made an oath, and so did you. And as we all learned on our mother’s knees, the Ginnungagap awaits all murderers and oath-breakers.’ His smile was a grimace. He went on. ‘Perhaps I misheard.’
‘Circumstances have changed,’ said Ardent. ‘The King is far too friendly with the trolls and the damn humans and, for goodness’ sake, he also signed the declaration that the goblins – goblins, I ask you – should be treated as well as dwarfs! I don’t know about you, but I don’t see a goblin as being my equal.’
In the ringing silence, Albrechtson almost whispered, ‘And the Koom Valley Accord? The understanding that would maintain peace in our time? We were all party to it. How easily do we break our oaths these days?’
‘I never signed,’ said Ardent.
‘No, you didn’t,’ said Albrechtson. ‘It was signed by Rhys Rhysson on behalf of all dwarfs.’
‘Not on my behalf,’ Ardent countered. ‘And I didn’t believe that little tableau of the two kings in the cavern. You know how humans are? I wouldn’t put it past someone like Vetinari to have had it placed there.’
This time the silence banged. They had all walked past that strange shining tableau in Koom Valley where the air was so chilly in the cavern and the two dead kings rode into history in a state of intentional stalemate. And perhaps some of them might have wondered what the dead kings would do if their peace were disturbed. The moment was broken by Ardent.
‘What we need is stability,’ he said. ‘No one need come to blows, nobody will be hurt. I give you my oath on that.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Albrecht. ‘Would that go the way of the oath you gave your King, you traitor?’
The clang of weaponry being deployed at speed echoed around the halls, to be followed by the resounding silence of not wanting to be the one to take the first slash. It was a stalemate, so stale as to be stinking.
‘I will not rise to idiotic taunts,’ said Ardent. ‘We must deal with the world as it is. We have to make certain that it becomes the world that we want, where the dwarfs take their rightful place at the table. Times have changed. We need someone ready to defend our interests. Everyone keeps talking about the world changing. I intend to see that it changes to the betterment of dwarfkind.’
He walked over to Albrecht and held out a hand. ‘You used to think like this, my friend. Won’t you join me?’
The multiple intake of breaths went around the cavern.
Albrecht hesitated for a moment. ‘You can stick that right up your jumper.’
