Tales from the Guilds Ch. 11

"Of course."

"Not that I expect to lose it."

"Naturally."

"Ook-eek-ik?" The Librarian looked around as the other seven wizards stepped to their places around the octagram. They all nodded in readiness.

Power flowed up and out from eight staffs and surrounded the bowl and the doll. Eldritch light gleamed and ghastly shadows flickered on the walls as the chanting began. Sweat beaded on eight foreheads in concentration until, at last, an image appeared on the water's surface . . .

*****

"Mr. Vimes?" Sgt. Fred Colon stuck his head through the Commander's office door. "Gotta minute?"

"For you? Always, Fred. What have you found out?"

"Well, me and Nobby was out keepin' the peace along Short Street and just happened to be passin' Bagnet's doughnut place when he was takin' out a fresh batch? An' he offers us a couple, for quality control as it were? And while we controlin' his quality an' sippin' that powerful chicory coffee they make out in Genua he tol' us that the word among the local Genuese ain't good. There's a rumor that some bigwig from there wants to take over the City. They ain't sure how he expects to do it but they ain't happy. They think the Watch needs to look into it, even if is all po-liti-cal and all."

"Got a name, Fred"

"Not yet, but I tol' ol' Bagnet that there's be a reward if he came up with it."

"Good man, Fred. And that was a good move. Believe me, there will be one, even if I have to fund it myself!"

"That's what I thought, Sam. We're goin' back on patrol."

*****

"Cap'm Angua?" the massive troll touched his forehead respectfully, "M'name's Dolerite? I'm a associate of Mr. Chrysoprase? He wan' me to tell you dat he t'ink he got a line on where dat t'ing he gib Mr. Vimes come from. He wish to exten' a invitation to Mr. Vimes to meet wit him inna Pork Futures Warehouse this afternoon around free o'clock. It won' take long. He say he got a name."

Angua's ears pulled back instinctively. Even in human form some wolfen behaviors never left. "Thank-you Dolerite. I'll tell Mr. Vimes at once. I'm sure he will rearrange his schedule to meet with Mr. Chrysoprase. Does he need to come alone?"

"No, ma'am. Mr. Chrysoprase say dat Sgt. Detritus is always welcome to accomp'ny Mr. Vimes when dey meet."

At half past noon, Commander Vimes and Sgt. Detritus set off for the Pork Futures Warehouse. The massive troll carried his Piecemaker, the siege catapult he had reconfigured into a personal weapon. He also carried a bag with a heavy winter coat for the Commander. The bitter cold of the Warehouse was a fine spring day's temperature for the high-altitude bred trolls but a human could rapidly die of hypothermia without special clothing.

"You sure you wan' to do dis, sir?" Detritus asked, "Dat Chrysoprase, he bad news. How you know you can trus' what he tell you?"

"I don't know that I can," Vimes replied sourly, "but he's the one who broke this case initially and he has as big a stake in the city as anyone. What would be his motivation to not help? Besides, remember that drug ring he tipped you off on? He didn't have to do that. It was a gesture of good faith. And he was right about the deal with those rotten Deep Down dwarfs when they tried to stop the Koom Valley truce. A good troll he isn't but he knows which side his—uh—shale is silted on. I'll consider what he tells me as 'possibly reliable'."

"Dat true, sir," the sergeant answered. He remembered the raid on the Slab kitchen. It had been very satisfying to knock down the wall and surprise the drug dealers. Mr. Vimes had said, 'They never knew what hit 'em'. He were wrong. Detritus made sure dey knew it was him wot hit 'em!

When Detritus opened the doors to the Pork Futures Warehouse, clouds of vapor blew out into the streets so thickly that they made the inside invisible. Vimes pulled on his thickest winter coat and walked in to be greeted by the jovial roar of Chrysoprase.

"Mr. Vimes, so glad to see youse comin' so prompt like. If my ol' fren' Detritus will kindly be shuttin' the door I believe I has sometim' of int'rest to youse. Has a seat here on dis box. We should only be talkin' for a minute."

Vimes saw that a space had been cleared between the ghostly carcasses of pork-yet-to-be with a pair of packing crates in the middle. One sat Chrysoprase, a cigar in his paw and a sly smile on his face. The Commander sat down on the unoccupied crate.

"I hear you have a name to put on the voodoo doll."

"Dat I do. Som'times youse jus' get lucky. A couple o' my associates were makin' bidness calls on der Street of Cunnin' Artificers when dis ol' lady come out all flustered like. She tol' dem dat she were afraid dat she may hab don' som'tin bad but were afraid dat if she tol' der Watch, de word might get back to der one who pay her. Der shop she come out ob had dis sign ober der door sayin', Madame Poupée Fantaisie's Doll Shop and in der window were no end of fancy dolls. Youse know, der kin' der rich human ladies like to hab in fancy glass cab'nets all dress up in silk clothes. Young Sarcen aks if he can help her and she be sayin' dat she need to talk to me toot sweetie. He excort her do der Cavern and up to my office where she tellin' me dat she make dis super exack rep-lik-a ob der Patrician two week ago and now she bin aks to make annoder. She tink dis smell like, youse know, one of dose scaley swimmin' t'ings."

"The name, Chrysoprase! Who was it?"

"Funny dat youse should aks. It turn out dat it were Grunworth Nesheley, der feller wot we took der liddle doll from in der firs' place an' who owe us a bundle. I be t'inkin' dat if stake out der doll shop, youse could foller him to der scumbag who start all dis trouble in der firs' place. Dat name, I don' hab."

Vimes sat back in surprise, pulled his coat closer around him and stuck his hands deep into his pockets. His mind raced furiously as he watched his breath condense in the frigid air. Well, chalk another one up to plodding and dumb luck! And I know just who to put on the stakeout . . .

"How much does he owe you? Because there's a reward coming for information that good."

Chrysoprase's diamond teeth glittered in the faint light as a broad smile spread across his face.

"Dat annoder t'ing I like 'bout you, Mr. Vimes. Youse don' shally-shilly aroun' and come straight to der pointy end. He into us for 'bout fifty-two dolla. I'm hopin' dis liddle discussion be wort' at leas' dat much."

"Call it fifty even and the Watch thanks you very much. We always appreciate citizen assistance in our investigations. Good day to you."

"An' good day to youse, too, Mr. Vimes."

*****

Bastién du Bourbier couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right. Mme. Fantasie had agreed to make another doll but demanded more money. That much was alright but that tête stupide Nesheley had said she seemed nervous, that she seemed to be figuratively looking over her shoulder. Had she gone to the Watch? She didn't seem to have. Not even that fat idiot Sgt. Colon had been wandering around the street so there was no way to connect her to them. No matter. Tonight he would have the doll and eliminate Vetinari. With him out of the way it should be a simple thing to get someone more malleable in office as Patrician. Corruption and greed had been the Ankh-Morpork way for centuries and no doubt they would return just as soon as that miserable man was no longer running the place. So why did he feel so hot and anxious?

*****

Ethan von Magyrato¹, Auxiliary Lance Constable, sat silently on top of the building overlooking Madame Poupée Fantaisie's Doll Shop. The job of stakeout had been split with the Black Ribboner taking the night shift (naturally!) and Constable Wee Mad Arthur and his official raven on watch during daylight. Mme. Fantasie's order had been placed 'collect on delivery' and eventually Nasheley would come to pay for it and carry it away. And when he did, the Watch would know where he took it—and who he took it to! For the present he sat contentedly in the dark. A storm was gathering and it looked to be a big one. Ethan smiled. It was almost like the old days back in Überwald.

¹ This is the short form. Like all well-born Vampires, Ethan's full name went on for several pages.

*****

Minute by minute the scrying spell rolled back the history of the voodoo doll. The wizards contemplated each image until finally Professor Macarena shouted, "That's him, Bastién du Bourbier! He's been implicated in at least two plots against Queen Ella. How he has managed to survive, let alone get to AM is a puzzle but there is no question that if we had a voodoo practitioner in the city, he's the one."

"Indeed," Ridcully muttered, "someone, then, the Disc can well do without. But let's make sure, gentlemen, that none of the others who have touched this thing end up in the line of fire. I want no collateral damage, understood? This has to be a very precise fireball."

"Range—mark! Bearing—mark! Intensity—set to six!" Archchancellor Henry, a scarf wrapped around his head, was in full warrior mode and the wizards on either side of him shifted slightly away. Ridcully considered admonishing him about excess enthusiasm but then reconsidered. A number six fireball wasn't likely to do more than burn off the eyebrows of bystanders so long as they remained at least eight feet from the target. Let the man have his fun.

*****

"Now remember, when youse see der vampire step off der building, youse follow him, jus' be keepin' him in sight so's dat when when dis Nasheley sort delibers der doll we can surround der house and make der snatch." Sgt. Detritus, his cooling helmet set to 'high', went over the drill with his squad. Captain Carrot had been emphatic. The arrest was to be made by a multi-species team to make sure that the unity of the city was clear. Vetinari was may be a tyrant but he was the city's tyrant and the city wasn't going to put up with any outsider barging in and trying to take over.

Peeking out from doorways and alleys, the squad of Watchmen² kept their eyes on the cornice where Ethan was known to be waiting. Just as the moon rose over the horizon they saw him silently stand up and step off the edge. He dropped a couple of yards, changed into a bat, and headed down Borogravia Lane. As quietly as they could, the Watch followed.

² and Allied Species

Unbeknownst to either the Watchmen, the Vampire or their quarry, above the flittering bat three Eyes of Blind Io appeared out nothing. The Chief of the Gods was most noted for his manifestation as the Storm God. Throwing lightning bolts was his major attribute and he was triangulating on a target. Blind Io had nothing personal against voodoo. In fact, he frequently went drinking with Baron Saturday, since the god was only busy during Fat Lunchtime, and considered him a true mate. But there was no place for the blacker versions in Ankh-Morpork. Besides, Chief Priest Hughnon Ridcully had made a special request and it wouldn't do ignore the god's most important believer.

Nasheley knocked nervously on the door of Number Twelve Tenth Egg Street and when it opened a crack stuck out his open palm. A small bag of coins dropped into it and with the other he thrust the doll through the crack and turned to run. At that moment all Hells broke loose. A crowd of the Watch surrounded the house, an enormous lightning bolt struck through the thatch and clear down to the flagstone floor and at the same instant a 'Woompf!' of ignition blew the windows out of the little shop. Flames burst out through the broken panes and within a minute the heavy trump of running golems echoed from the building walls as Ankh-Morpork's fireproof First Responders rushed to put out the blaze.

"What was that?" the shade of du Bourbier said, staring down at the small, black crater where part of him had just stood moments before.

"DISPROPORTIONATE RESPONSE, I BELIEVE," Death replied, "YOU SEEM TO HAVE OFFENDED RATHER A LOT OF VERY IMPORTANT PEOPLE. IT'S NEVER A GOOD IDEA, IN MY EXPERIENCE."

*****

Lady Margolotta stood looking out the window of the Oblong Office, her arm crooked in the Patrician's. A pall of smoke rose in the night sky, lit from beneath by the flames engulfing Number Twelve.

"My goodness, Havelock, zat vas rather spectacular. Don't you think you may haf been a little overzealous? Vhile your citizens may not know it, you veren't in any danger from somezing so paltry as a voodoo doll, you know."

"True, my lady, I am not. However, as I have pointed out, the city has become a well-oiled machine and I hate to disturb its' operation—when it operates properly, of course. As you pointed out, it will be interesting to see how it develops over the coming centuries. I'm looking forward to the opportunity to watch."