AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Pissed as farts,’ said Vimes. ‘But at the bottom, not bad, just susceptible to rabble rousers.’ He sighed again. ‘Maybe this time they’ll have learned. And on that day Nobby Nobbs will be a shining hero!’
And that was all it took? Moist found himself wondering. After all the adrenalin of the train journey, the ambushes, the attacks … the bridge … the sleepless nights … expecting at every turn to hear the swish of a scythe and to find that this time his luck really had run out … and then Rhys gave a fine speech and just walked in and took back the kingdom?
‘I was expecting them to put up more of a fight,’ he said. ‘You know, more of a glorious battle that would become the stuff of legends.’
‘That’s a very foolish thing to say, Mister Lipwig,’ said Vimes. There’s nothing “glorious” about times like this … People have died, not necessarily good people and not too many, but nevertheless the face you wear on a battlefield should be a solemn one until the time when things are cleaned up and the real world drips its way in.’
Moist felt the shame welling up from his boots and said, ‘Commander, I stand abashed, quite sincerely.’
And instantly Vimes’s face was eyeballing his and the commander exclaimed, ‘Really? It seems it’s not just the railway breaking new ground here!’
For once short of a ready reply, Moist turned to see what had become of Rhys and his party.
/>
Rhys Rhysson had entered the cavern at a run. He headed straight for its centre, where stood the Scone of Stone. Now he looked around and demanded, ‘Where is Ardent? I want him brought here, and as many of his followers as still remain. Though doubtless most have run: this place is full of exits.’
Bashfull Bashfullsson shouted, ‘I have the scoundrel here, sire!’
The assembly of dwarfs went into the usual seemingly endless dwarfish hubbub, followed by a deep intake of breath from all concerned when Ardent was brought forward. His expression Moist couldn’t read. But Moist, the man for atmospheres, could tell that Ardent was already somewhere beyond sanity, whilst Rhys seemed as cool and calm as ever, however fearful he might have been on the inside. And Moist would have wagered the mint that the King wasn’t actually fearful at all. There was something in his demeanour that suggested an absolute assurance that this day was his (or indeed, hers, as he finally allowed the thought to creep back into his consciousness).
Sitting on the hallowed Scone of Stone with Ardent in front of him, Rhys said, ‘You were dealt with mercifully after the Koom Valley Accord and still you thought it was right to try to take this kingdom from me. You encouraged those who tortured families to get their own way. What would people think of me if I had even a most minute inclination to treat you kindly? You are clever and many dwarfs speak highly of you, but your cleverness has been used to undermine my rule and make dwarfs appear to be vicious and stupid criminals in the eyes of all other species. What have you to say, in front of me and your kin?’
Ardent was silent.
‘Very well,’ said the King. ‘No answer. You leave me no alternative. In times gone by a dwarf king would execute someone like you as a matter of course.’
And then there was the sound of metal and the King stood up, axe in hand. At last the light of terror passed across Ardent’s face.
The King said, ‘Oh, I see. Then perhaps as I am … you know … a modernizer, as you always say with a sneer, perhaps I’ll deal with you as a modernizer should. Therefore, you will go on trial. And I shall see to it that among the jury there will be the families of those the grags tortured and those surviving guests of the wedding in Llamedos and all the others whose lives have been unnecessarily troubled by your existence in this world. They may be merciful and I will accept their verdict.’
Ardent remained silent and the King said, ‘Take him away in chains but keep him alive, if only as a reminder for me that being a King is not an easy job.’
As Ardent was led away to much applause Rhys turned to the assembled dwarfs. ‘Now I suggest someone goes and brings me my friend Albrecht Albrechtson who, to our shame, has been shackled and stuffed into a dungeon. Then perhaps the people delegated to go and let him out might hand him a flagon of brandy and, if practicable, run away. He has a piquant sense of humour.’
Rhys sat down again on the Scone of Stone and said, in tones that echoed around the cavern, ‘It is usual at this time for me to say “my fellow dwarfs” …’ There was a sucking feeling in the air as the King went on, ‘but today I’ll say “ladies and gentlemen dwarfs” … I am here not only to reclaim my Scone of Stone, which over the years has seen many important and notable buttocks sitting on it. I wonder, how many of those buttocks down the years were female?’
The sharp intake of breath by the whole gathering now seemed to draw all the air out of the place as the Low King continued.
‘Hear me out! It is well known that the gender of a dwarf is entirely their secret unless they decide otherwise. And I recall that in Ankh-Morpork, a few years ago, there was a fashion show for dwarfs only. I was there, incognito, and I recognized a few of you, quite possibly purchasing for use in the privacy of your own home? Shatta made a lot of money that day and I understand that Madame Sharn wants to open a new shop here. Here in Schmaltzberg! Does this thought frighten anybody? In these days, I think not. And all I am doing now, my friends, is to introduce to you something important: it is the truth! You know … that thing which remains when all the lies have been burned away. And now I will tell you that I have decided to no longer be your King!’
There was an extra hubbub of indrawn breaths and sotto voce speculation from the populace at large, with all eyes focused on the King. The magic was broken or possibly enhanced by the tiny sound of a match being struck by Commander Vimes. And the fat cigar glowed like a beacon. Vimes smiled and nodded at the King, and in that moment Moist realized that Vimes had probably always known, or at least since the famous adventure several years before when he was Ambassador to Rhys’s election as Low King.
There was a disturbance as the crowd parted to allow the venerable Albrecht Albrechtson to make his way to stand by the Low King, who greeted him warmly in the traditional dwarf manner of butting helmets.fn80
‘Welcome, old friend. I’m sorry that you have been … inconvenienced by my absence. Those responsible will pay for that,’ he said in a loud voice, glaring at the crowd. Then more quietly to Albrecht, Rhys said, ‘You’ve arrived at a good moment. I’m in the middle of making an announcement.’
‘So I heard,’ said Albrechtson. ‘What are you doing? You don’t have to stand down. You won.’
The Low King laughed. ‘Stand down? Oh, I don’t think so, boyo. You’ll see.’
Turning back to the crowd, Rhys took a deep breath and said, ‘This will be surprising news to many of my subjects, but I am female, just like your mothers were, and therefore am in truth your Queen!’
There it was again. The famous dwarf intake of breath. Even Albrechtson seemed startled. Moist looked at Aeron and noticed the dwarf’s mailed fist was resting, oh so lightly, on his sword. Bashfullsson was standing right behind Albrechtson, watching him closely. Next to Moist, Vimes carefully laid down his glowing cigar on a rock ledge and tensed. This could be very interesting, Moist thought.
‘And if you think your Queen is not as good a ruler as your King, do you really believe your mother was inferior to your father?’ The Queen laughed. ‘I see embarrassment among all of you. That’s good. The thing about being embarrassed is that sooner or later you aren’t, but you remember that you were.’
There was a noticeable shift in atmosphere as the Queen carried on, saying, ‘I have seen that in warm breasts there is a truth which is not to be denied, but we dwarfs seem to deny everything, building little worlds inside a big one. And one might ask what we are trying to escape from – unless it is ourselves. We are dwarfs, yes, but we could be better than our dwarf ancestors stuck in their holes.’
