Feet of Clay

‘They make nearly half a million candles every twenty-four hours,’ said Carrot. ‘I heard they’ve got very advanced machinery. It sounds very interesting. I’d love to see it.’

At the rear of the premises light blazed out into the fog. Crates of candles were being manhandled on to a succession of carts.

‘Looks normal enough,’ said Carrot, as they eased themselves into a conveniently shadowy doorway. ‘Busy, though.’

‘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 shape!’

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 switchbacked 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.