The Fifth Elephant

In the meantime, Vimes and Sybil sat in an anteroom on chairs too small for them, surrounded by dwarfs who weren't themselves sure if they were a prisoner escort or an honour guard. Other dwarfs were peering around the doorway; Vimes could hear the buzz of excited conversation.

They weren't wasting much time looking at him. Their gaze always fell on the Scone that he held in his lap. It was clear that most of them hadn't even seen it before.

You poor little sods, he thought. This is what you all believe in, and before the day's out you're going to be told it's just a bad fake. You'll see it's a forgery. And that about wraps it up for your little world, doesn't it? I set out to solve a crime and I'm going to end up committing a bigger one.

I'm going to be lucky to get out of here alive, aren't I?

A door was rolled open. A couple of what Vimes thought of as the heavy dwarfs stepped through and gave everyone the official, professional look which said that for your comfort and convenience we have decided not to kill you right at this very moment.

The King entered, rubbing his hands.

'Ah, your excellency,' he said, pronouncing the word as a statement of fact rather than a welcome. 'I see you have something that belongs to us.'

Dee detached himself from the crowd at the door.

'I must make a serious accusation, sire!' he said.

'Really? Bring these people into the law room. Under guard, of course.'

He swept away. Vimes looked at Sybil and shrugged. They followed the King, leaving the hubbub of the main cavern behind.

Once again Vimes was in the room with too many shelves and too few candles. The King sat down.

'Is the Scone heavy, your excellency?'

'Yes!'

'It is weighted with history, see? Put it down on the table with extreme care, please. And... Dee?'

'That... thing,' said Dee, pointing a finger, 'that thing is... a fake, a copy. A forgery! Made in Ankh-Morpork! Part of a plot which, I am sure can be proven, involves milord Vimes! It is not the Scone!'

The King lifted a candle a little closer to the Scone and gave it a critical look from several angles.

'I have seen the Scone many times before,' he said at last, 'and I would say that this appears to be the true thing and the whole of the thing.'

'Sire, I demand— that is, I advise you to demand a closer inspection, sire.'

'Really?' said the King mildly. 'Well, I am not an expert, see? But we are fortunate, are we not, that Albrecht Albrechtson is here for the coronation? All of dwarfdom knows, I think, that he is the authority on the Scone and its history. Have him summoned. I daresay he is close at hand. I should think just about everyone is on the other side of that door now.'

'Indeed, sire.' The look of triumph on Dee's face as he swept past Vimes was almost obscene.

'I think we're going to need another song to get us out of this one, dear,' murmured Vimes.

'I'm afraid I can only remember that one, Sam. The others were mainly about gold.'

Dee returned with Albrecht and a following of other senior and somewhat magisterial dwarfs.

'Ah, Albrecht,' said the King. 'Do you see this on the table? It is claimed that this is not the true thing and the whole of the thing. Your opinion is sought, please.' The King nodded at Vimes. 'My friend understands Morporkian, your excellency. He just chooses not to pollute the air by speaking it. Just his way, see?'

Albrecht glared at Vimes and then stepped up to the table.

He looked at the Scone from several angles. He moved the candles and leaned down so that he could inspect the crust closely.

He took a knife from his belt, tapped the Scone with it and listened with ferocious care to the note produced. He turned the Scone over. He sniffed at it.

He stood back, his face screwed up in a scowl, and then said, 'H gradz?'

The dwarfs muttered among themselves, and then, one by one, nodded.

To Vimes's horror, Albrecht chipped a tiny piece from the Scone and put it in his mouth.

Plaster, thought Vimes. Fresh plaster from Ankh-Morpork. And Dee will talk his way out of it.

Albrecht spat the piece out into his hand and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. While he chewed.

Then he and the King exchanged a long, thoughtful stare.

'P'akga,' said Albrecht at last, 'a p'akaga-ad...'

Behind the outbreak of murmuring Vimes heard Cheery translate: ' 'It is the thing, and the whole of—' '

'Yes, yes,' said Vimes. And he thought: by gods, we're good. Ankh-Morpork, I'm proud of you. When we make a forgery it's better than the real damn thing.

Unless... unless I've missed something...

'Thank you, gentlemen,' said the King. He waved a hand. The dwarfs filed out, reluctantly, with many backward glances at Vimes.

'Dee? Please fetch my axe from my chamber, will you?' the King said. 'Yourself, please. I don't want anyone else to handle it. Your excellency, you and your lady will remain here. Your... dwarf must leave, however. The guards are to be posted on the door. Dee?'

The Ideas Taster hadn't moved.

'Dee?'

'Wh... Yes, sire?'

'You do what I tell you!'

'Sire, this man's ancestor once killed a king!'

'I daresay the family have got it out of their system! Now do as I say!'

The dwarf hurried away, turning to stare at Vimes for a moment as he left the cave.

The King sat back. 'Sit down, your monitorship. And your lady, too.' He put one elbow on the arm of the chair and cupped his chin on his hand. 'And now, Mister Vimes, tell me the truth. Tell me everything. Tell me the truth that is more valuable than small amounts of gold.'

'I'm not sure I know it any more,' said Vimes.

'Ah. A good start,' said the King. 'Tell me what you suspect, then.'

'Sire, I'd swear that thing is as fake as a tin shilling.'

'Oh. Really?'

'The real Scone wasn't stolen, it was destroyed. I reckon it was smashed and ground up and mixed with the sand in its cave. You see, sire, if people see that something's gone, and then you turn up with something that looks like it, they'll think 'This must be it, it must be, because it isn't where we thought it was.' People are like that. Something disappears and something very much like it turns up somewhere else and they think it must somehow have got from one place to the other...' Vimes pinched his nose. 'I'm sorry, I haven't had much sleep...'

'You are doing very well for a sleepwalking man.'

'The... thief was working with the werewolves, I think. They were behind the 'Sons of Agi Hammerthief' business. They were going to blackmail you off the throne. Well, you know that. To keep Uberwald in the dark. If you didn't. step down there'd be a war, and if you did Albrecht would get the fake Scone.'

'What else do you think you know?'

'Well, the fake was made in Ankh-Morpork. We're good at making things. I think someone had the maker killed, but I can't find out more until I get back. I will find out.'

'You make things very well in your city, then, to fool Albrecht. How do you think that was done?'

'You want the truth, sire?'

'By all means.'

'Is it possible that Albrecht was involved? Find out where the money is, my old sergeant used to say.'

'Hah. Who was it said, 'Where there are policemen, you find crimes'?'

'Er, me, sir, but—'

'Let us find out. Dee should have had time to think. Ah...'