The Fifth Elephant

A blur went past at shoulder height. Gavin struck Wolfgang in the throat, knocking him over. They rolled across the bridge, Wolfgang changing back to wolf shape to lock jaw against jaw. They broke, circled, and went for one another again.

Dreamlike, Vimes heard a small voice say: 'He wouldn't last five minutes back home fightin' like that. The silly bugger's gonna get creamed, fightin' like that! Stuff the Marquis of flamin' Fantailler!'

Gaspode was sitting bolt upright, stubby tail vibrating.

'The daftie! This is how you win a dogfight!'

As the wolves rolled over and over, Wolfgang tearing at Gavin's belly, Gaspode arrived growling and yapping and launched himself in the general direction of the werewolf's hindquarters.

There was a yip. Gaspode's growls became somewhat muffled. Wolfgang leapt vertically. Gavin sprang. The three hit the parapet of the bridge together, knocked the crumbling stones aside, hung for a moment in a snarling ball, and then dropped down into the roaring whiteness of the river.

The whole of it, from the moment Tantony had crossed the bridge, had taken much less than a minute.

The Baroness was staring down into the gorge. Keeping his eye on her, Vimes spoke to Detritus.

'Are you sure you're werewolf-proof, sergeant?'

'Pretty much, sir. Anyway, I got the bow wound up again.'

'Go into the castle and fetch the resident Igor, then,' said Vimes calmly. 'If anyone even tries to stop you, shoot them. And shoot anyone standing near them.'

'No problem about dat, sir.'

'We're not at home to Mister Reasonable, sergeant.'

'I do not hear him knockin', sir.'

'Go to it, then. Sergeant Angua?'

She did not look up.

'Sergeant Angua!'

Now she looked up.

'How can you be so... so cool?' she snarled. 'He's hurt.'

'I know. Go and talk to those watchmen hanging around on the other end of the bridge. They look scared. I don't want any accidents. We're going to need them. Cheery, cover Carrot and the lad with something. Keep them warm.'

I wish there was something to keep me warm, he thought. The thoughts came slowly, like drips of freezing water. He felt that ice would crackle off him if he moved, that frost would sparkle in his footsteps, that his mind was full of crisp snow.

'And now, madam,' he said, turning back to the Baroness, 'you will give me the Scone of Stone.'

'He'll be back!' hissed the Baroness. 'That fall was nothing! And he'll find you.'

'For the last time... the stone of the dwarfs.

The wolves are waiting out there. The dwarfs are waiting down in the city. Give me the stone, and we all might survive. This is diplomacy. Don't let me try anything else.'

'I have only to say the word—'

Angua began to growl.

Sybil strode towards the Baroness and grabbed her. 'You never answered a single letter! All those years I wrote to you!'

The Baroness stared at her in amazement, as people so often did when struck with Sybil's sharp non sequiturs.

'If you know we've got the Scone,' she said to Vimes, 'then you know it's not the real one. And much good may it do the dwarfs!'

'Yes, you had it made in Ankh-Morpork. Made in Ankh-Morpork! They should have stamped it on the bottom. But someone killed the man who did it. That's murder. It's against the law.' Vimes nodded at the Baroness. 'It's a thing we have.'

Gaspode dragged himself out of the water and stood; shivering, on the shingle. Every single part of him felt bruised. There was a nasty ringing noise in his ears. Blood dripped down one leg.

The last few minutes had been a little hazy, but he did recall they'd involved a lot of water that had hit him like hammers.

He shook himself. His coat jangled where the water was already freezing.

Out of habit, he walked over to the nearest tree and, wincing, raised a leg.

EXCUSE ME.

A busy, reflective silence followed.

'That was not a good thing you just did,' said Gaspode.

I'M SORRY. PERHAPS THIS IS NOT THE RIGHT MOMENT.

'Not for me, no. You may have caused some physical damage here.'

IT'S HARD TO KNOW WHAT TO SAY.

'Trees don't normally talk back, is my point.' Gaspode sighed. 'So what happens now?'

I BEG YOUR PARDON?

'I'm dead, right?'

NO. NO ONE IS MORE SURPRISED THAN ME, I MAY SAY, BUT YOUR TIME DOES NOT APPEAR TO BE NOW.

Death pulled out an hourglass, held it up against the cold stars for a moment, and stalked away along the riverbank.

' 'scuse me, there's no chance of a lift, is there?' said Gaspode, struggling after him.

NONE WHATSOEVER.

'Only, being a short dog in deep snow is not good for the of wossnames, if you get my—'

Death had stopped at a little bay. An indistinct shape lay in a few inches of water.

'Oh,' said Gaspode.

Death leaned down. There was a flash of blue and then he vanished.

Gaspode shivered. He paddled into the water and nudged Gavin's sodden fur with his nose.

'Shouldn't be like this,' he whined. 'If you was a human, they'd put you in a big boat on the tide and set fire to it, an' everyone'd see. Shouldn't just be you an' me down here in the cold.'

There was something that had to be done, too. He knew it in his bones. He crawled back to the bank and pulled himself up on to the trunk of a fallen willow.

He cleared his throat. Then he howled.

It started badly, hesitantly, but it picked up and got stronger, richer... and when he paused for breath the howl went on and on, passing from throat to throat across the forest.

The sound wrapped him as he slid off the log and struggled on towards higher ground. It lifted him over the deeper snow. It wound around the trees, a plaiting of many voices becoming something with a life of its own. He remembered thinking: maybe it'll even get as far as Ankh-Morpork.

Maybe it'll get much further than that.

Vimes was impressed by the Baroness. She fought back in a corner.

'I know nothing about any deaths—'

A howl came up from the forest. How many wolves were there? You never saw them and then, when they cried out, it sounded as though there was one behind every tree. This one went on and on - it sounded like a cry thrown into a lake of air, the ripples spreading out across the mountains.

Angua threw her head back and screamed. Then, breath hissing between her teeth, she advanced on the Baroness, fingers flexing.

'Give him... the damn stone,' she hissed. 'Will any... of... you... face me? Now? Then give him the stone!'

'What theemth to be the trouble?'