Raising Steam (Discworld 40)

Moist sighed and pulled on his trousers. Nowadays he kept a pair at hand, ready for occasions such as this. He had had enough. And so, stepping into his shoes and buttoning his shirt, he more or less slid down the stairs to where the grinning guards were shouldering aside the still protesting Crossly.

He was aware of Adora Belle, at her spikiest, looking over the banister and he had one of those to hell with it moments … As the guards strode into the hallway, he walked up to them and said, ‘Where’s your warrant?’

‘What? We don’t have to have a warrant.’

‘Okay,’ said Moist. ‘Then you should seriously consider, for your own sake, apologizing to my wife for disturbing us at this time of the morning. She gets very … unhappy if her sleep is interrupted.’

At that instant Adora Belle leaned over the banister and said, ‘This is a most excellent crossbow, one of Burleigh and Stronginthearm’s finest, and I can only fire it once, gentlemen, so which intruder will I hit? Because right now intruders are what you appear to be, and rude intruders at that. After all, a simple “Do you mind coming with us, sir?” would have done the trick.

‘Moist?’ Raising the loaded crossbow, Adora Belle continued, ‘Is this the one with the dodgy hair trigger? I always get them confused.’

Moist held out his hands and said, ‘This is how it’s going to go. You may think that Vetinari will be on your side, the majesty of the Patrician and what have you. On the other hand, my wife could shoot any one of you if she wanted to and quite possibly might hit me instead. And I suspect Moist von Lipwig is more important to the Patrician than you bunch of herberts.’

‘Off you go, gentlemen,’ Adora Belle chimed in from her vantage point. ‘I’m sure my husband will attend on his lordship around breakfast time. It’s always good to do business on a full stomach.’

Moist looked at the guards and said, ‘Gentlemen, I have no intention of getting you into trouble, or indeed of allowing my wife to skewer any one or two of you. And so I think I’d like to have an early-morning stroll to the palace. If it so happens that you are walking that way at the same time, well, so be it. Although you might want to make that a brisk walk, because I fear my wife will be watching us go from the upstairs window and that is the dodgy crossbow she’s holding in her hands.’

And as he sauntered after the suddenly very sprightly guards clanging against each other in their hurry to get away, Moist was surprised to see the impeccably ironed Crossly make a fist and whisper, ‘Well done, sir! They don’t even clean their boots when they step inside.’ And the sedate little man’s face was fierce and fiery.

Within the palace, Moist found Lord Vetinari in conversation with a stone-faced Commander Vimes. The normal calm of the Oblong Office had been replaced by a low hum of determined-looking clerks arriving with messages to hand over to Drumknott.

Vetinari looked up and said, ‘Ah, Mister Lipwig. I’m so glad you could spare us a little time from your early-morning exercise routine.’

‘Your guards can’t run for toffee. You ought to do something about it, sir, and while we’re on the subject, it would be a good idea to teach them some manners.’

The Patrician lifted an eyebrow. ‘I understood it was the prodding you objected to, Mister Lipwig. Was there prodding?’

‘No, sir, but—’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ said his lordship. ‘So, if we may to business? As I suspected, the apologists for the grags and other dwarf malcontents have merely been lying low, and I believe that in the darkness scandalous undertakings are still sprouting like mushrooms. It appears that there has been a palace coup in Schmaltzberg, only the third one in the history of the dwarfs. Unfortunately, the Low King is, as they say, out of position in Quirm where he has been attending a summit with Diamond King of Trolls. Rhys Rhysson is a notable negotiator, as we all know well from the Koom Valley Accord, and he has held the fractious coalition of dwarf chief mining engineers together for many years. And he is no mean practitioner with the axe, I believe, but he needs to be back in Uberwald with his inner council if this … unfortunate turn of events is not to spread underground to other mines.

‘Having considered the options,’ continued the Patrician, ‘it would seem that the railway route to Uberwald, presently under construction, would provide the swiftest and safest and most comfortable method for transporting the Low King, his retinue and war councillors. Time is, as they say, of the essence. You, Mister Lipwig, will travel with all speed to Quirm and take charge of arrangements. Commander Vimes will provide watchmen as an escort and will join you himself as you pass back through Ankh-Morpork, with reinforcements as he sees fit. Be aware, Mister Lipwig, that this is your Koom Valley, on wheels.’

‘And when you get to Quirm,’ said Vimes, ‘be sure to look for a dwarf called Bashfull Bashfullsson. Very useful and most definitely on the Low King’s side.’

‘But the line is nowhere near finished, sir!’ Moist wailed.

‘Mister Lipwig, you know already that it is not your job to tell me what the problems are. It is your job to tell me about the solutions. Do we have an understanding? I am sure that Harry King will have a high-speed locomotive he can spare – one of his Flyers, perhaps?’

‘But, my lord, Harry might have a dozen or so locomotives to spare, but it’s the laying of the tracks, that’s the rub.’

‘Mister Lipwig, I want … No, I am ordering you to make miracles by all means necessary,’ said Vetinari. ‘Do I make my point? I am sure I could make it somewhat pointier.’

Moist saluted and with no hint of sarcasm said, ‘Exactly, sir! Action this day! Miracles are us, sir!’

And laconically Vetinari said, ‘Try to make it yesterday, Mister Lipwig.’

And that, Moist knew, was that, as far as that conversation was concerned.

Drumknott had been busy. Even as Moist was being roused from his bed by the palace guard, messengers had been sent to Harry King and to Simnel’s home. By the time Moist arrived at the compound, he found it even busier than it was in the middle of the day. There to greet him in the grey light of early dawn were Harry and Dick. They appeared to be having an argument and Simnel was looking rather unhappy.

‘But it’s the look of the thing, Dick,’ Harry was saying. ‘I mean, Iron Girder is wonderful, of course, but I’m sure the Flyers are classier and more suitable for royalty.’

‘Sorry, Harry,’ Simnel replied. ‘I think it might be risky if Iron Girder weren’t the engine.

Don’t ask me why, because I can’t explain why, even with my sliding rule, but she is what we need. And to tell thee t’truth, sir, I’ve shined her up so much, polished her, greased this, checked that, she’s fit for any king, or queen, come to that. Oh, the Flyers are good, and reet smart, too, but I’ll say it again: my Iron Girder is the best locomotive in an emergency.’

The arguments chased each other through Moist’s brain. Vetinari says this has to be top secret, and it would be Iron Girder’s first trip beyond the compound in months. Everyone is bound to notice. But we’ll be running an unscheduled train, so they’re going to notice anyway. And if it’s one of the usual Flyers all the regular passengers will want to know why they can’t get on it. And there’ll be the armed escort from the Watch, that’ll really make us stick out a mile. And after all, if you’re going to run a special train the locomotive should be special …