'That's different, of course,' she said. 'People like that should be publicly flogged.'
Why did I say that? thought Vimes. Maybe because it's true. The . . . gonne . . . goes missing, next minute there's a little dwarf artificer thrown in the river with a nasty draught where his chest should be. They're linked. Now all I have to do is find the links . . .
'Carrot, can you come back with me to Hammer-hock's?'
'Yes, captain. Why?'
'I want to see inside that workshop. And this time I've got a dwarf with me.'
More than that, he added, I've got Corporal Carrot. Everyone likes Corporal Carrot.
Vimes listened while the conversation droned on in dwarfish. Carrot seemed to be winning, but it was a near thing. The clan was giving in not because of reason, or in obedience to the law, but because . . . well . . . because it was Carrot who was asking.
Finally, the corporal looked up. He was sitting on a dwarf stool, so his knees practically framed his head.
'You have to understand, you see, that a dwarf's workshop is very important.'
'Right,' said Vimes. 'I understand.'
'And, er . . . you're a bigger.'
'Sorry?'
'A bigger. Bigger than a dwarf.'
'Ah.'
'Er. The inside of a dwarf's workshop is bike . . . well, it's like the inside of his clothes, if you know what I mean. They say you can look, if I'm with you. But you mustn't touch anything. Er. They're not very happy about this, captain.'
A dwarf who was possibly Mrs Hammerhock produced a bunch of keys.
'I've always got on well with dwarfs,' said Vimes.
'They're not happy, sir. Um. They don't think we'll do any good.'
'We'll do our best!'
'Um. I didn't translate that properly. Um. They don't think we're any good. They don't mean to be offensive, sir. They just don't think we'll be allowed to get anywhere, sir.'
'Ow!'
'Sorry about that, captain,' said Carrot, who was walking like an inverted L. 'After you. Mind your head on the—'
'Ow!'
'Perhaps it'd be best if you sat down and I'll look around.'
The workshop was long and, of course, low, with another small door at the far end. There was a big workbench under a skylight. On the opposite wall was a forge and a tool rack. And a hole.
A chunk of plaster had fallen away a few feet above the ground, and cracks radiated away from the shattered brickwork underneath.
Vimes pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't found time to sleep today. That was another thing. He'd have to get used to sleeping when it was dark. He couldn't remember when he'd last slept at night.
He sniffed.
'I can smell fireworks,' he said.
'Could be from the forge,' said Carrot. 'Anyway, trolls and dwarfs have been letting fireworks off all over the city.'