The Fifth Elephant

Vimes took a deep breath. His voice, when it emerged, was flat calm. 'I wasn't going to waste any of my own. And he had just tried to kill me. Think of it as an investment, for the good of his health. Of course, if in due course he cares to come and see me, I shall make sure he gets what's coming to him.'

'I'm... astounded, your grace. Mhm, mhm. Bassingly-Gore was an extremely competent swordsman.'

'Really? I generally never wait to find out about that sort of thing.'

Inigo smiled his thin little smile. 'And two months ago Sir Richard Liddleley was found tied to a fountain in Sator Square, painted pink and with a flag stuck—'

'I was feeling generous,' said Vimes. 'I'm sorry, I don't play your games.'

'Assassination is not a game, your grace.'

'It is the way you people play it.'

'There have to be rules. Otherwise there would just be anarchy. Mhm, mhm. You have your code and we have ours.'

'And you've been sent here to protect me?'

'I have other skills, but... yes.'

'What makes you think I'll need you?'

'Well, your grace, here they don't have rules. Mhm, mhm.'

'I've spent most of my life dealing with people who don't have rules!'

'Yes, of course. But when you kill them, they

don't get up again.'

'I've never killed anyone!' said Vimes.

'You shot that bandit in the throat.'

'I was aiming for the shoulder.'

'Yes, the thing does pull to the left,' said Inigo. 'You mean that you have never tried to kill anyone. I have, on the other hand. And here hesitation may not be an option. Mmph.'

'I didn't hesitate!'

Inigo sighed. 'In the Guild, your grace, we don't... grandstand.'

'Grandstand?'

'That business with the cigar...'

'You mean, when I shut my eyes and they had to look at a flame in the darkness?'

'Ah...' Inigo hesitated. 'But they might have shot you there and then.'

'No. I wasn't a threat. And you heard his voice. I hear that sort of voice a lot. He's not going to shoot people too soon and spoil the fun. I can assume that you have not got a contract on me?'

'That is correct.'

'And you'd still swear to that?'

'On my honour as an assassin.'

'Yes,' said Vimes. 'That's where I hit a difficulty, of course. And, I don't know how to put this, Inigo, but you don't act like a typical assassin. Lord this, Sir that... The Guild is the school for gentlemen but you—and gods know I don't mean any offence here—are not exactly—'

Inigo touched his forelock. 'Scholarship boy, sir,' he said.

My gods yes, thought Vimes. You can find your average, amateur killers on every street. They're mostly deranged or drunk or some poor woman who's had a hard day and the husband has raised his hand once too often and suddenly twenty years of frustration takes over. Killing a stranger without malice or satisfaction, other than the craftsman's pride in a job well done, is such a rare talent that armies spend months trying to instil it into their young soldiers. Most people will shy away from killing people they haven't been introduced to.

The Guild had to have one or two people like Inigo. Didn't some philosophical bastard once say that a government needed butchers as well as shepherds? He indicated the little crossbow. 'All right, take it,' he said. 'But you can put the word about that if I ever, ever see one on the street the owner will find it put where the sun does not shine.'

'Ah,' said Inigo, 'that's the amusingly named place in Lancre, isn't it? It's only about fifty miles from here, I believe. Mhm, mhm.'

'Rest assured that I can find a short-cut.'

Gaspode tried blowing in Carrot's ear again.

'Time to wake up,' he growled.

Carrot opened his eyes, blinked the snow out of them, and then tried to move.

'You just lie still, right?' said Gaspode. 'If it helps, try thinking of them as a very heavy eiderdown.'

Carrot struggled feebly. The wolves piled on top of him shifted position.

'Warming you up a treat,' said Gaspode, grinning nervously. 'A wolf blanket, see? O'course, you're going to be a bit whiffy for a while, but better to be itchy than dead, eh?' He scratched an ear industriously with a hind leg. One of the wolves growled at him. 'Sorry. Grub'll be up in a moment.'

'Food?' muttered Carrot.

Angua appeared in Carrot's vision, dressed in a leather shirt and leggings. She stood looking down at him, hands on her hips. To Gaspode's amazement, Carrot actually managed to push himself up on his elbows, dislodging several wolves.

'You were tracking us?' he said.

'No, they were,' said Angua. 'They thought you were a bloody fool. I heard it on the howl. And they were right! You haven't eaten anything for three days! And up here winter doesn't drop a few hints over a month or so. It turns up in one night! Why were you so stupid?'

Gaspode looked around the clearing. Angua had rekindled the fire. Gaspode wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it, but actual wolves had dragged in actual fallen wood for her. And then another had turned up with a small deer, still fat after the autumn. He dribbled at the smell of it roasting.