'I only went 'cos you said you got a free cup of tea and a biscuit,' said Nobby sulkily. 'Anyway, the dummy ran away when it was my turn.'
'It's the same with life-saving, too,' said Carrot. 'We want people to breathe, so we try to make sure they've got some air in them...'
They all turned to look at the golem.
'But golems don't breathe,' said Colon.
'No, a golem knows only one thing that keeps you alive,' said Carrot. 'It's the words in your head.' They all turned back to look at the words.
They all turned to look at the statue that was Dorfl.
'It's gone all cold in here,' Nobby quavered. 'I def nitly felt a aura flick'rin' in the air just then! It was like someone...'
'What's going on?' said Vimes, shaking the damp off his cloak.
'... openin' the door,' said Nobby.
It was ten minutes later.
Sergeant Colon and Nobby had gone off-duty, to everyone's relief. Colon in particular had great difficulty with the idea that you went on investigating after someone had confessed. It outraged his training and experience. You got a confession and there it ended. You didn't go around disbelieving people. You disbelieved people only when they said they were innocent. Only guilty people were trustworthy. Anything else struck at the whole basis of policing.
'White clay,' said Carrot. 'It was white clay we found. And practically unbaked. Dorfl's made of dark terracotta, and rock-hard.'
The last thing the old priest saw was a golem,' said Vimes.
'Dorfl, I'm sure,' said Carrot. 'But that's not the same as saying Dorfl was the murderer. I think he turned up as the man was dying, that's all.'
'Oh? Why?'
'I'm... not sure yet. But I've seen Dorfl around. He's always seemed a very gentle person.'
'It works in a slaughterhouse!'
'Maybe that's not a bad place for a gentle person to work, sir,' said Carrot. 'Anyway, I've checked up all the records I can find and I don't think a golem has ever attacked anyone. Or committed any kind of crime.'
'Oh, come on,' said Vimes. 'Everyone knows...' He stopped as his cynical ears heard his incredulous voice. 'What, never?
'Oh, people are always saying that they know someone who had a friend whose grandfather heard of one killing someone, and that's about as real as it gets, sir. Golems aren't allowed to hurt people. It's in their words.'
They give me the willies, I know that,' said Vimes.
They give everyone the willies, sir.'
'You hear lots of stories about them doing stupid things like making a thousand teapots or digging a hole five miles deep,' said Vimes.
'Yes, but that's not exactly criminal activity, is it, sir? That's just ordinary rebellion.'
'What do you mean, rebellion ?'
'Dumbly obeying orders, sir. You know... someone shouts at it Go and make teapots , so it does. Can't be blamed for obeying orders, sir. No one told them how many. No one wants them to think, so they get their own back by not thinking.'
They rebel by working ?'
'It's just a thought, sir. It'd make more sense to a golem, I expect.'
Automatically, they turned again to look at the silent shape of the golem.
'Can it hear us?' said Vimes.