Feet of Clay

'Sir?'

'It's been a long day for all of us. You can go off duty.'

'Yessir!' said Detritus, with considerable enthusiasm. He removed his badge and laid it down carefully. Then he started to struggle out of his armour.

'Look at it like this,' said Carrot. 'It's not that we're making life, we're simply giving life a place to live.'

Igneous finally gave up. 'Okay, okay,' he muttered. 'I doin' it. I doin' it.'

He looked at the various lumps and shards that were all that remained of Dorfl, and rubbed the lichen on his chin.

'You got most of the bits,' he said, professionalism edging resentment aside for a moment. 'I could glue him together wit' kiln cement. Dat'd do the trick if we bakes him overnight. Lessee… I reckon I got some over dere …'

Detritus blinked at his finger, which was still white with the dust, and sidled over to Carrot. 'Did I just lick dis?' he said.

'Er, yes,' said Carrot.

'T'ank goodness for dat,' said Detritus, blinking furiously, 'd hate to believe dis room was really full of giant hairy spide … weeble weeble sclup …'

He hit the floor, but happily.

'Even if I do it you can't make it come alive again,' muttered Igneous, returning to his bench. 'You won't find a priest who's goin' to write der words for in der head, not again.'

'He'll make up his own words,' said Carrot.

'And who's going to watch the oven?' said Igneous. 'It's gonna take 'til breakfast at least.'

'I wasn't planning on doing anything for the rest of tonight,' said Carrot, taking off his helmet.

Vimes awoke around four o'clock. He'd gone to sleep at his desk. He hadn't meant to, but his body had just shut down.

It wasn't the first time he'd opened bleary eyes there. But at least he wasn't lying in anything sticky.

He focused on the report he'd half-written. His notebook was beside it, page after page of laborious scrawl to remind him that he was trying to understand a complex world by means of his simple mind.

He yawned, and looked out at the shank of the night.

He didn't have any evidence. No real evidence at all. He'd had an interview with an almost incoherent Corporal Nobbs, who hadn't really seen anything. He had nothing that wouldn't burn away like the fog in the morning. All he'd got were a few suspicions and a lot of coincidences, leaning against one another like a house of cards with no card on the bottom.

He peered at his notebook.

Someone seemed to have been working hard. Oh, yes. It had been him.

The events of last night jangled in his head. Why'd he written all this stuff about a coat of arms?

Oh, yes …

Yes!

Ten minutes later he was pushing open the door of the pottery. Warmth spilled out into the clammy air.

He found Carrot and Detritus asleep on the floor on either side of the kiln. Damn. He needed someone he could trust, but he hadn't the heart to wake them. He'd pushed everyone very hard the last few days …

Something tapped on the door of the kiln.

Then the handle started to turn by itself.

The door opened as far as it could go and something half-slid and half-fell on to the floor.

Vimes still wasn't properly awake. Exhaustion and the importunate ghosts of adrenalin sizzled around the edges of his consciousness, but he saw the burning man unfold himself and stand upright.

His red-hot body gave little pings as it began to cool. Where it stood, the floor charred and smoked.

The golem raised his head and looked around.

'You!' said Vimes, pointing an unsteady finger. 'Come with me!'

'Yes,' said Dorfl.

Dragon King of Arms stepped into his library. The dirt of the small high windows and the remnants of the fog made sure there was never more than greyness here, but a hundred candles yielded their soft light. He sat down at his desk, pulled a volume towards him, and began to write.

After a while he stopped and stared ahead of him.

There was no sound but the occasional spluttering of a candle.

'Ah-ha. I can smell you, Commander Vimes,' he said. 'Did the Heralds let you in?'

'I found my own way, thank you,' said Vimes, stepping out of the shadows. The vampire sniffed again. 'You came alone?'

'Who should I have brought with me?'

'And to what do I owe the pleasure, Sir Samuel?'

'The pleasure is all mine. I'm going to arrest you,' said Vimes.

'Oh, dear. Ah-ha. For what, may I ask?'

'Can I invite you to notice the arrow in this crossbow?' said Vimes. 'No metal on the point, you'll see. It's wood all the way.'

'How very considerate. Ah-ha.' Dragon King of Arms twinkled at him. 'You still haven't told me what I'm accused of, however.'

'To start with, complicity in the murders of Mrs Flora Easy and the child William Easy.'

'I am afraid those names mean nothing to me.'

Vimes's finger twitched on the bow's trigger. 'No,' he said, breathing deeply. 'They probably don't. We are making other enquiries and there may be a number of additional matters. The fact that you were poisoning the Patrician I consider a mitigating circumstance.'

'You really intend to prefer charges?'

'I'd prefer violence,' said Vimes loudly. 'Charges is what I'm going to have to settle for.'

The vampire leaned back. 'I hear you've been working very hard, Commander,' he said. 'So I will not—'

'We've got the testimony of Mr Carry,' lied Vimes. 'The late Mr Carry.'

Dragon's expression changed by not one tiny tremor of muscle. 'I really do not know, ah-ha, what you are talking about, Sir Samuel.'

'Only someone who could fly could have got into my office.'

'I'm afraid you've lost me, sir.'

'Mr Carry was killed tonight,' Vimes went on. 'By someone who could get out of an alley guarded at both ends. And I know a vampire was in his factory.'

'I'm still gamely trying to understand you, Commander,' said Dragon King of Arms. 'I know nothing about the death of Mr Carry and in any case there are a great many vampires in the city. I'm afraid your … aversion is well known.'

'I don't like to see people treated like cattle,' said Vimes. He stared briefly at the volumes piled in the room. 'And of course that's what you've always done, isn't it? These are the stock books of Ankh-Morpork.' The crossbow swung back towards the vampire, who hadn't moved. 'Power over little people. That's what vampires want. The blood is just a way of keeping score. I wonder how much influence you've had over the years?'

'A little. You are correct there, at least.'

' 'A person of breeding',' said Vimes. 'Good grief. Well, I think people wanted Vetinari out of the way. But not dead, yet. Too many things'd happen too fast if he were dead. Is Nobby really an earl?'

'The evidence suggests so.'