Snuff

‘Good to see you, Mister Vimes! My word, you’re looking fit! Your holiday must be doing you a lot of good. Got any bags?’ This was asked in the absolute certainty that Vimes would have no bags, but a show of willing is always worth a try.

‘Is everything all right?’ said Vimes, ignoring this.

Nobby scratched his nose and a bit fell off. Oh yes, thought Vimes, I’m back, all right!

‘Well, the usual stuff that happens is happening, but we’re on top of it. Could I draw your attention to the hill over there? They were very careful not to harm the trees, and Lady Sybil herself promised a lingering death to anyone who upset the goblins.’

Mystified, Vimes scanned the skyline and saw Hangman’s Hill. ‘Hells’ bells! It’s a clacks tower, it’s a bloody clacks tower! Sybil will go totally librarian about it!’

‘As a matter of fact, Mister Vimes, Lady Sybil was all for it by the time she’d read all of Captain Carrot’s note. He said this was no time for you to be out of touch. You know that, sir, very persuasive officer, which is how come he got the clacks company to rush up here toot sweet with a temporary tower. Worked all night, so they did, and got it lined up on the Grand Trunk sweet as a nut!’

This time Nobby picked his nose, briefly inspected the contents for interest or value, then flicked them away and went on, ‘Only one thing, sir, the Ankh-Morpork Times wants to interview you about how you are a great hero what saved someone’s wonderful fanny—’

There was a pause while they waited for Feeney to stop choking with laughter and get his breath back and then Vimes said, ‘Corporal Nobby Nobbs, this here is Chief Constable Upshot. I call him chief constable because he’s the only law in these parts, that is until now. This is his patch, and so you will respect it, okay? Who else came with you from the Smoke?’

‘Sergeant Detritus, Mister Vimes, but he’s up at the Hall, guarding her ladyship and Young Sam with delicate surreptition.’

A part of Vimes had unknowingly been holding its breath. Detritus and Willikins? Together they could face an army. He shook himself. ‘But not Fred Colon?’

‘No, Mister Vimes, as I understand it we were on our way when the second clacks came through, but I reckon that he’ll be here pretty soon.’

‘Gentlemen, I’m going home,’ said Vimes, ‘but, Mister Feeney, how soon will another boat go down to Quirm?’

Feeney beamed. ‘You’re in luck, commander. The Roberta E. Biscuit will be going tomorrow morning! Just the job for what I think you might want. Big and slow, but you won’t mind that, because there’s gambling and entertainment. Lots of tourists on it, but don’t you worry, sir, your name is big on the river already. Trust me! Say the word and the captain of the Biscuit will make certain that there’s a king-size, I mean, sorry, commander-size stateroom for you, how about that?’

Vimes opened his mouth to ask, is it expensive? And shut it again with the embarrassed realization that the Ramkin fortune could almost certainly buy every vessel on Old Treachery.

Feeney, like the good copper he was becoming, noticed that slight moment of hesitation and said, ‘Your money won’t be good on the river, commander, believe me. The saviour of the Fanny won’t have to buy his own cigars or a stateroom anywhere along Old Treachery!’

Nobby Nobbs was almost bent double with laughter and managed to choke out, ‘The Fanny!’

Vimes sighed. ‘Nobby, her name was Francesca, Fanny for short. Understand?’ It didn’t work with some people; it only just did with Vimes. ‘And, Nobby, I want you to wait here, and as soon as Fred’s coach arrives you’re in charge of getting him up to the goblin cave on the hill, okay?’

‘Yes, Mister Vimes,’ said Nobby, looking at his boots.

‘And, Nobby, if you see a goblin who stinks like a latrine and glows slightly blue, well, that’s a fellow copper and don’t you forget it.’

Sybil was halfway down the lane as Vimes quickly walked up it, and Young Sam was running ahead and cannoned into his father’s legs, throwing his arms around them as best he could.

‘Dad! I know how to milk a goat, Dad! You have to pull its tits, Dad, they’re all wiggly!’ Vimes’s expression did not change as Young Sam went on. ‘And I’m learning to make cheese! And I have some badger poo now, and some weasel poo, too!’

‘My word, you have been busy,’ said Vimes. ‘Who told you the word “tits”, lad?’

Young Sam beamed. ‘That was Willy the cowherd, Dad.’

Vimes nodded. ‘I’ll have a little talk to you about that later, Sam, but first I think I’ll have a word with Willy the cowherd.’ He lifted up Young Sam, ignoring a twinge in his back. ‘I hope that washing your hands played a part in these adventures?’

‘I take care of that,’ said Lady Sybil, catching up. ‘Honestly, Sam, I let you out of my sight for hardly any time at all and here you are a hero, again! Really! Honestly, the whole river is talking about it! Fights on a riverboat? Maritime chases? Oh dear me, I don’t know where to put my face, so if you would be so kind as to let our child down carefully I’ll press said face mightily to yours!’

When Vimes surfaced for breath he growled, ‘It is a real bloody clacks tower, isn’t it, yes? And now the Times have got hold of all this they’ll make out I’m some kind of hero, the damn fools!’

With the suction released, Lady Sybil said, ‘No, Sam – well maybe a little of that, but you would be amazed at how fast news travels along the river. Apparently you were standing on the wheelhouse roof of the Wonderful Fanny fighting with a murderer, and he shot a crossbow at you and it bounced off! I’m told there’s going to be a large artist’s impression in tomorrow’s paper! Once again, I won’t know where to put my face!’ And then Sybil couldn’t contain herself any more and burst out laughing. ‘Frankly, Sam, you may have anything you want for dinner tonight.’

Vimes leaned over and whispered, causing his wife to slap his hand and say, ‘Later, perhaps!’