Thud! (Discworld 34)

"When you say "he has seen the light" you sound as if you mean corrupted," he said.

"Something like that, yes. Different worlds, commander. Down here, it would be unwise to trust your metaphors. To see the light is to be blinded. Do you not know that in darkness the eyes open wider?"

"Take me to see these people down below," said Vimes.

"They will not listen to you. They will not even look at you. They have nothing to do with the World Above. They believe it is a kind of bad dream. I have not dared tell them about your "newspapers" printed every day and discarded like rubbish. The shock would kill them."

But dwarfs invented the printing engine, Vimes thought. Obviously they were the wrong kind of dwarf. I"ve seen Cheery throw stuff in the wastepaper bin, too. It seems like nearly all dwarfs are the wrong sort, eh?

"What exactly is your job, Mr Ardent?" said Vimes.

"I am their chief liaison with the World Above. The steward, you could say."

"I thought that was Helmclever"s job?"

"Helmclever? He orders the groceries, relays my orders, pays the miners and so on. The chores, in fact," said Ardent disdainfully. "He is a novice and his job is to do what I tell him. It is I who speak for the grags."

"You talk to bad dreams on their behalf?

"You could put it that way, I suppose. They would not let a proud word-killer become a smelter. The idea would be abominable." They glared at one another.

Once again, we end up in Koom Valley, Vimes told himself. "They won"t-"

"Permission to make a suggestion?" said Angua quietly.

Two heads turned. Two mouths said: "Well?"

"The ... smelter. The seeker of the truth. Must they be a dwarf?" "Of course!" said Ardent.

"Then what about Captain Carrot? He"s a dwarf."

"We know of him. He is an ... anomaly," said Ardent. "His claim to dwarfishness is debatable."

"But most dwarfs in the city accept that he"s a dwarf," said Angua. "And he"s a copper, too."

Ardent flopped back into his seat. "To your dwarfs here, yes, he is a dwarf. He would be unacceptable to the grags."

"There"s no dwarf law that says a dwarf can"t be more than six feet tall, sir."

"The grags are the law, woman," Ardent snapped. "They interpret laws that go back for tens of thousands of years." "Well, ours don"t," said Vimes. "But murder is murder anywhere. The news has got out. You"ve already got the dwarfs and the trolls simmering nicely, and this will bring it all right to the boil. Do you want a war?"

"With the trolls? That is-"

"No, with the city. A place inside the walls where the law doesn"t run? His lordship won"t accept that one."

"You would not dare!"

"Look into my eyes," said Vimes.

"There are far more dwarfs than there are watchmen," said Ardent, but the amused expression had fled.

"So what you are telling me is that law is just a matter of numbers?" said Vimes. "I thought you dwarfs practically worshipped the idea of law. Is numbers all it is? I"ll swear in more men, then. Trolls, too. They"re citizens, just like me. Are you sure every dwarf is on your side? I"ll raise the regiments. I"ll have to. I know how things run in Llamedos and Uberwald, but they don"t run like that here. One law, Mr Ardent. That"s what we"ve got. If I let people slam their front door on it, I might as well shut down the Watch."

Vimes walked to the doorway. "That"s my offer. Now I"m going back to the Yard-"

"Wait!"

Ardent sat staring at the desktop, drumming his fingers on it.