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‘How was your journey, sire? Safe and comfortable?’
The Low King hesitated for a moment. ‘It’s Euphemia, isn’t it?’ he said.
Effie was on fire. ‘Yes, your majesty, but just Effie to you.’
The King smiled again. ‘Very good, and I’m “your majesty” to you, Lady King.’
Effie looked somewhat challenged until the King of the Dwarfs held out his hand and said, ‘Actually, you can call me anything you like. I was just trying to make an old dwarf joke, just like myself right now: a fugitive trying to avoid even more dangerous fugitives and reliant on the help of others, such as your noble husband and his friends.’
Moist smiled as the noble penny dropped on Effie.
The King now looked around the other guests. He smiled at Commander Vimes and Lady Sybil and shook hands with Adora Belle who was, Moist thought proudly, a real looker when she wasn’t in her work clothes. And from what he could see, she had bought a most attractive and therefore expensive gown for the evening. It was still grey, of course, but with a kind of lustre to it that made it seem almost festive. This was grey letting its hair down. He couldn’t possibly argue about it, she earned more than he did.
The King’s eyes scouted the room and he continued, ‘And Lord Vetinari … will be joining us? And Mister Simnel, the technical genius behind your remarkable railway?’
Harry looked around, just as Lord Vetinari stepped forward from the shadows in the roomfn66 and got there first and rather more smoothly.
‘Your majesty, welcome to Ankh-Morpork. Mister Simnel is overseeing the final preparations for the locomotive that will get you back to your home and throne in time. Nothing is being left to chance, I can assure you.’
‘Ah, Lord Vetinari – I didn’t see you, forgive me,’ replied Rhys, and Moist nearly choked on his drink when he continued, ‘But I understand there’s still some track to lay and bridges that need to be completed.’ He paused. ‘Rather close to our intended destination, I believe.’
Moist felt the air chill instantly. He quickly scanned the faces of Harry and Vetinari and jumped in – after all, it was what he was there for – ‘Excuse me, your majesty, but Mister Simnel has developed a concept called loggysticks, the nature of which is enshrined in the phrase “first things first”. Of course, the trick is to know exactly what needs to be first and, right now, since you are many days away from Uberwald, the gangs still have time to complete the last few sections. You will get to Uberwald for the appointed time. I’ll stake my life on that.’
There was a silence that froze the air in the room and Moist counted down to the inevitable comment from a smiling Lord Vetinari.
‘Most gratifying, Mister Lipwig, and you have made that promise in front of all of us. Good show! And all good people here with quite excellent memories.’
After that, the first person to speak was Adora Belle, who said, ‘Oh, that’s definitely my husband, but I’m sure he’ll manage it at the last possible minute … He always does. And if he can achieve it while riding a white charger he’ll be as happy as a clam.’
The King laughed in a rather strange way and said, ‘Well, then let’s hope that he is not unduly shucked.’
‘Your majesty, Mister Lipwig always achieves his goals, I assure you,’ said Lord Vetinari, in his best oiled voice. ‘I find it amazing and, of course, annoying, but so far he has always succeeded, which is why, therefore, all of his extremities are in their rightful place.’
Everybody present laughed nervously, except Lord Vetinari, who just laughed. The King of the Dwarfs stared at Moist as if seeing him in a new light, and said, ‘Is that really true, Mister Lipwig?’
Moist forced his face to go so deadpan that it might have actually been dead. ‘Yes, your majesty, everything that ought to be attached still is, isn’t that right, Adora Belle?’
His wife didn’t say anything. She just looked the look of a wife who was putting up with her husband’s funny little ways for which he would suffer in the boudoir later.
After that, Effie beamed anxiously and said, in a voice that she considered posh people would use, ‘Shall we take our seats for dinner, your majesty, ladies and gentlemen? All the spoons are in their rightful place, I do assure you.’
Conversation around the dinner table, in deference to Effie and the flapping ears of the staff, was … nice, and mostly about the new railway and the wonders of what might be achieved with it, and indeed the interesting fact that lots of rich people were buying seaside houses in Quirm now that it was so easy to get there. And there was also another careful conversation about how good the fish and the seafood was becoming now it didn’t have to bake in the sunshine, which might have had something to do with the mountainous platter of prawns, monkey clams and unidentified tentacular things sculpted to resemble the lost citadel of Leshp, which Effie had given pride of place in the centre of the table. And this went on in various different ways until dinner was almost over and the staff had left the room, whereupon Vimes gave Rhys a quizzical look, stood up and left the room. He returned a few minutes later, nodded to the Low King and resumed his seat at the table.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, preparations for our departures are in place. As I speak, the Low King is departing by fast coach for Uberwald.’ And there was something in the way he said that that made Moist think, because the Low King, at that moment, was clearly still in the room shovelling down expensive ice cream.
Sure enough, there was the sound of a coach pulling up outside, stopping for a moment and then driving away, surrounded by well-armed bodyguards.
Back at the table the King licked his spoon in a very regal way and chuckled. ‘That should keep those scoundrels busy for a while.’ He smiled at Vimes. ‘Thank you for your help in this, commander.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ said Vimes gruffly. ‘It’s a good idea. And Harry and I have added some embellishments of our own.’
‘So who was on that coach, commander?’ Moist asked.
‘The coach?’ Vimes replied. ‘This is a very dark night and the King is cloaked and it is almost impossible to see inside, but the dark-accustomed eye might see Sergeant Cheery Littlebottom accompanied by some of my most trusted dwarf officers. Anybody interfering with the coach and its contents will find their life difficult, nay extinct.’
The King coughed before saying to Vimes, ‘I remember Sergeant Littlebottom when we met by the Scone of Stone eight years ago. Oh, yes, I remember her.’
‘She volunteered for the job, sire,’ said Vimes.
