Snuff

Vimes had to put the megaphone back to his mouth because the mention of ‘bar’ and ‘free’ in one breath has an invigorating effect on people. ‘Right now, ladies and gentlemen, the goblins on Hangman’s Hill, and indeed all other goblins in this area, are under my protection and the protection of the law. They are also subject to it, and I’ll see to it that they have their own police force. It appears that they make natural clacks operators, so if they wish they can derive a revenue from so doing. I’m paying to have that clacks tower made permanent. You will benefit from it and so will they! They won’t need to steal your chickens because they’ll buy them from you, and if they do pinch them, then that’s a crime and will be treated as such. One law, ladies and gentlemen … One size fits all!’

There was a cheer at this, as loud as any cheer in the vicinity of the prospect of a free bar can be. Of course, some of it might have been cheer at the fact that there was now some justice in the world, but on the whole it was quite likely that the bar won the day. You didn’t have to be a cynic, you just had to understand people.

Vimes walked slowly towards the brightly lit pub, although the chances of getting inside were small. On the other hand, the chances of being given a hug by Miss Felicity Beedle were exactly one hundred per cent, because that was what she was doing, while being watched sheepishly by the blacksmith.

He let go of her hand as she said, ‘You are a great man, commander, and I hope they put up a statue to you!’

‘Oh dear, I hope not! You only get a statue when you’re dead!’

She laughed, but Vimes said, ‘Listen, Miss Beedle, right now I don’t know if I’m facing a statue or the sack. Some of the ways I’ve acted have been quite lawful, and others have been somewhat … debatable. I have an officer who can do with numbers what Sergeant Detritus can do with a hammer and he’s going through the records of the son of one of the most influential people in Ankh-Morpork. And at the same time experienced police officers have visited the home of every member on the list of local magistrates. They are presenting them with a document, under my seal, informing them that they are no longer members of the self-elected board of magistrates of the Shires and reiterating that there may be formal charges to be made. My justification for this ought to work, but now? It’s probably going to be a case of who has the best lawyers.

‘The future, Miss Beedle, is somewhat uncertain, but I have to tell you that Young Sam, thanks to you, is probably going to be the world expert on poo. I must tell you that his mother and I are very pleased and only hope he aspires to higher things.’

There was already the rattle of wagons and coaches in the distance; the sound of pigeons coming home to roost. ‘I think I’ll soon have people to talk to, Miss Beedle, although I suspect that they’d rather not talk to me.’

‘Of course, commander. Can I say that the goblins seem very attached to your Corporal Nobbs? They treat him as one of their own, in fact, and he seems to be very fond of Shine of the Rainbow, as she is of him. You may be interested to know that the goblin name for him is Breaking Wind?’

She did not appear to smile and Vimes said, ‘Yes, very apt. I’ve always thought of Nobby as a draught-extruder. In fact, at my wife’s express suggestion I have breveted him to the rank of sergeant for his stay here, and I hope that he’ll assist the goblins to understand the benefits of the law – although, of course, the fusion might simply mean that people’s chickens will be more expertly stolen from now on.’

‘Oh, you are a joker, commander!’

Vimes’s expression had not changed and did not change now. ‘Yes, aren’t I?’

He turned to Jefferson. ‘You know, things would have been a lot easier if you’d trusted me at the start.’

The blacksmith shrugged. ‘Why should I have trusted you? You’re a nob.’

‘Do you trust me now?’

The blacksmith’s gaze remained steady for longer than Vimes could be happy with, but at last the man smiled and said, ‘Yeah, for now.’

There was only one reply that Vimes could conceivably deliver. He smiled back and said, ‘A policeman’s answer if ever I heard one.’

As the couple strolled away there was a polite cough behind Vimes. He turned round and recognized the worried face of the colonel. ‘Do you have a minute, commander?’

Oh dear, thought Vimes.

‘May I first say, commander, that I firmly agree with what you are doing and heavens know it needed doing.’ The colonel coughed again and said, ‘You will not have any disagreement with me on that point.’ Vimes waited and he continued, ‘My wife is a rather foolish woman who does appear to worship things like titles and, if I may say so, gives herself airs. Her father was a fisherman, an extremely good one, but do you know what? I think she would rather die than have anyone know.’