Feet of Clay

Colon went and sat behind his desk. It was a good place to be, he'd decided. There was absolutely no chance of finding any Nature there. He'd had a rare conversation with Mrs Colon this morning and made it clear that he was no longer interested in getting close to the soil because he'd been as close to the soil as it was possible to get and the soil, it turned out, was just dirt. A good thick layer of cobblestones was, he decided, about as close as he wanted to get to Nature. Also, Nature tended to be squishy.

'I've got to go on duty,' said Nobby. 'Captain Carrot wants me to do crime prevention in Peach Pie Street.'

'How d'you do that, then?' said Colon.

'Keep away, he said.'

Ere, Nobby, woss this about you not being a lord after all?' said Colon cautiously.

'I think I got the sack,' said Nobby. 'Bit of a relief, really. That nobby grub isn't much, and the drink is frankly piss.'

'Lucky escape for you, then,' said Colon. 'I mean, you won't have to go giving your clothes away to gardeners and so on.'

'Yeah. Wish I'd never told them about the damn ring, really.'

'Would've saved you a lot of trouble, certainly,' said Colon.

Nobby spat on his badge and buffed it industriously with his sleeve. 'S a good job I never told them about the tiara, the coronet and the three gold lockets, he said to himself.

'Where Are We Going?' said Dorfl, as Vimes strolled across the Brass Bridge.

'I thought I might break you in gently with some guard duty at the palace,' said Vimes.

'Ah. This Is Where My New Friend Constable Visit Is Also On Guard,' said Dorfl.

'Splendid!'

'I Wish To Ask You A Question,' said the golem.

'Yes?'

'I Smashed The Treadmill But The Golems Repaired It. Why? And I Let The Animals Go But They Just Milled Around Stupidly. Some of Them Even Went Back To The Slaughter Pens. Why?'

'Welcome to the world, Constable Dorfl.'

'Is It Frightening To Be Free?'

'You said it.'

'You Say To People Throw Off Your Chains And They Make New Chains For Themselves?'

'Seems to be a major human activity, yes.'

Dorfl rumbled as he thought about this. 'Yes,' he said eventually. 'I Can See Why. Freedom Is Like Having The Top Of Your Head Opened Up.'

'I'll have to take your word for that, Constable.'

'And You Will Pay Me Twice As Much As Other Watchmen/ said Dorfl.

'Will I?'

'Yes. I Do Not Sleep. I Can Work Constantly. I Am A Bargain. I Do Not Need Days Off To Bury My Granny.'

How soon they learn, thought Vimes. He said: 'But you have holy days off, don't you?'

'Either All Days Are Holy Or None Are. I Have Not Decided Yet.'

'Er... what do you need money for, Dorfl?'

'I Shall Save Up And Purchase The Golem Klutz Who Labours In The Pickle Factory, And Give Him To Himself; Then Together We Will Earn And Save For The Golem Bobkes Of The Coal Merchant; The Three Of Us Will Labour And Buy The Golem Shmata Who Toils At The Seven-Dollar Tailor's In Peach Pie Street; Then The Four of Us Will—'

'Some people might decide to free their comrades by force and bloody revolution,' said Vimes. 'Not that I'm suggesting that in any way, of course.'

'No. That Would Be Theft. We Are Bought And Sold, So We Will Buy Ourselves Free. By Our Labour. No One Else To Do It For Us. We Will Do It By Ourselves.'

Vimes smiled to himself. Probably no other species in the world would demand a receipt with their freedom. Some things you just couldn't change.

'Ah,' he said. 'It seems some people want to talk to us...'

A crowd was approaching over the bridge, in a mass of grey, black and saffron robes. It was made up of priests. They looked angry. As they pushed and shoved their way through the other citizens, several haloes became interlocked.

At their head was Hughnon Ridcully, Chief Priest of Blind lo and the closest thing Ankh-Morpork had to a spokesman on religious issues. He spotted Vimes and hurried towards him, admonitory finger upraised.

'Now, see here, Vimes...' he began, and stopped. He glared at Dorfl.

'Is this if?' he said.

'If you mean the golem, this is /ii'm,' said Vimes. 'Constable Dorfl, your reverence.'

Dorfl touched his helmet respectfully. 'How May We Be Of Service?' he said.

'You've done it this time, Vimes!' said Ridcully, ignoring him. 'You've gone altogether too far by . half. You made this thing speak and it isn't even alive!' '

'We want it smashed!'

'Blasphemy!'

'People won't stand for it!'

Ridcully looked around at the other priests. 'I'm talking,' he said. He turned back to Vimes. 'This comes under the heading of gross profanity and the worship of idols—'

'I don't worship him. I'm just employing him,' said Vimes, beginning to enjoy himself. 'And he's far from idle.' He took a deep breath. 'And if it's gross profanity you're looking for—'

'Excuse Me,' said Dorfl.

'We're not listening to you! You're not even really alive!' said a priest.

Dorfl nodded. 'This Is Fundamentally True,' he said.

'See? He admits it!'