Thud

seen how dwarfs can build. We are craftsmen. Do not think that your house is about to collapse.'

`But you're not just building basements! You're mining!' said Vimes.

`In a sense. We would say we are mining for holes. Space, commander, that is what we are digging for. Yes, we are mining for holes. Although our bores have found deep treacle, you will be interested to hear-'

`You can't do this!'

`Can we not? But we are doing it, nevertheless,' said Ardent calmly.

`You are burrowing under other people's property?'

`Rabbits burrow, commander. We dig. And, yes, we are. How far

down does ownership go, after all? And how far up?'

Vimes looked at the dwarf. Calm down, he thought. You can't

deal with this. This is too big. It's something for Vetinari to decide.

Stick to what you know. Stick to what you can deal with.

`I'm investigating reports of a death,' he said.

`Yes. Grag Hamcrusher. A terrible misfortune,' said Ardent with a

calmness that was enraging.

`I've heard it was a vicious murder.

`That would be a fair description:

`You admit it?' said Vimes.

`I'll choose to assume that you mean by that: "Do I admit there has been a murder?" commander. Yes. There has. And we are dealing with it.'

`How?'

`We are discussing the appointment of a zadkrdga,' said Ardent, folding his hands. `That is "one who smelts" One who finds the pure ore of truth in the dross of confusion.'

`Discussing? Have you sealed off the scene of the crime yet?'

`The smelter may order that, commander, but we already know that the crime was committed by a troll.' Ardent's face now bore an

expression of amused contempt that Vimes longed to remove. `How do you know this? Was it witnessed?'

`Not as such. But a troll's club was found beside the body,' said

the dwarf.

`And that's all you have to go on?' Vimes stood up. `I've had

enough of this. Sergeant Angua!'

`Sir?' said Angua, beside him.

`Let's go. We're going to find the murder scene while there's still

any clues left to find!'

`You have no business in the lower areas!' snapped Ardent, standing up.

`How are you going to stop me?'

`How are you going to get past locked doors?'

`How are you going to find out who murdered Hamcrusher?' I told you, a troll club was found!'

`And that's it? "We found a club so a troll did it?" Is anyone going

to believe that? You're prepared to start a war in my city with a piece

of flim-flam like that? Because, believe me, that's what's going to

happen when this gets out. Try it and I'll arrest you!'

`And start a war in your city?' said Ardent.

Dwarf and man glared at one another, while they got their

breath. On the ceiling above them, vurms congregated, feasting on

spittle and rage.

`Why would anyone but a troll strike down the grag?' said Ardent.

`Good! You're asking questions!' Vimes leaned across the desk. `If

you really want answers, unlock those doors!'

`No! You cannot go down there, Blackboard Monitor Vimes!'

The dwarf could not have put more venom in the words `child

murderer

Vimes stared.

Blackboard monitor. Well, he had been, in that little street school

more than forty-five years ago. Mum had insisted. Gods knew where she'd sprung the penny a day it cost, although most of the time Dame Slightly had been happy to accept payment in old clothes and firewood or, preferably, gin. Numbers, letters, weights, measures; it was not what you'd call a rich curriculum. Vimes had attended for nine months or so, until the streets demanded he learn much harder and sharper lessons. But, for a while, he'd been trusted to hand out the slates and clean the blackboard. Oh, the heady, strutting power of it, when you're six years old!

`Do you deny it?' said Ardent. `You destroy written words? You admitted as much to the Low King in Uberwald.'

`It was a joke!' said Vimes.

`Oh? Then you do deny it?'

`What? No! He was impressed by my titles and I just threw that one in for. .. fun.'

`Then you deny the crime?' Ardent persisted.

`Crime? I cleaned the blackboard so that new things could be written on it! How is that a crime?'

`You did not care where those words went?' said Ardent. `Care? They were just chalk dust!'

Ardent sighed and rubbed his eyes.

`Busy night?' said Vimes.

`Commander, I understand that you were young and may not have realized what you were doing, but you must understand that to us you appear to be proud of being complicit in the most heinous of crimes: the destruction of words.'

`Sorry? Rubbing out "A is for Apple" is a capital crime?'

`One that would be unthinkable for a true dwarf,' said Ardent. `Really? But I have the trust of the Low King himself,' said Vimes. `So I understand. There are six venerable grags below us,

commander, and in their eyes the Low King and his kind have

strayed from the true seam. He is,' Ardent rattled off a sentence in

staccato dwarfish too fast for Vimes to catch it, and then translated,

`wishy-washy. Dangerously liberal. Shallow. He has seen the light.'