The lances spat flame, long yellow tongues of it, and the black dwarfs walked slowly along behind them. Smoke, heavy and greasy, filled the air.
Angua fainted.
Darkness.
Sam Vimes struggled up the hill, tired to the bone.
It was warm, warmer than he"d expected. Sweat stung his eyes.
Water splashed under his feet and made his boots slip. And, ahead,
up the slope, a child was screaming.
He knew he was shouting. He could hear the breath wheezing in his throat, could feel his lips moving, but he couldn"t hear the words he was reciting, over and over again.
The darkness felt like cold ink. Tendrils of it dragged at his mind and his body, slowing him down, pulling him back ... And now they came at him with flames
Vimes blinked, and found himself staring at the fireplace. The flames flicked peacefully.
There was the swish of a dress as Sybil came back into the room, sat down and picked up her darning.
He watched her, dully. She was darning his socks. They had maids in this place and she darned his socks. It wasn"t as if they didn"t have so much money that he could have a new pair of socks every day. But she"d picked up the idea that it was a wifely duty, and so she did it. It was comforting, in a strange sort of way. It was only a shame that she wasn"t in fact any good at mending holes, so Sam ended up with sock heels that were a huge welt of criss-crossing wool. He wore them anyway, and never mentioned it.
"A weapon that fires flame," he said slowly.
"Yes, sir," said Carrot.
"Dwarfs have weapons that fire flame."
"The deep-downers use them to explode pockets of mine-gas,"
said Carrot. "I never expected to see them here!"
"It"s a weapon if some bastard points it at me!" said Vimes. "How
much gas did they expect to find in Ankh-Morpork?"
"Sir? Even the river catches fire in a hot summer!
"Okay, okay. I"ll grant you that," Vimes conceded, unwillingly.
"Make sure the word gets out, will you? Anyone seen above ground
with one of those things, we"ll shoot first and there will be no point in asking questions afterwards. Good grief, that"s all we need. Have you got anything more to tell me, captain?"
"Well, afterwards we did get to see Hamcrusher"s body," said Carrot. "What can I say? On his wrist was the draht that identifies him, and his skin was pale. There was a terrible wound on the back of the head. They say it"s Hamcrusher. I can"t prove it. What I can say is that he didn"t die where they said he did, or when they said he did."
"Why?" said Vimes.
"Blood, sir," said Sally. "There should have been blood everywhere. I looked at the wound. What that club hit over the head was already a corpse, and he wasn"t killed in that tunnel."
Vimes took several slow breaths. There was so much bad stuff here you needed to take it one horror at a time.
"I"m worried, captain," he said. "Do you know why? It"s because I"ve got a feeling that very soon I"m going to be asked to confirm that there"s evidence that a troll did the deed. Which, my friend, will be like announcing the outbreak of war."
"You did ask us to investigate, sir," said Carrot.
"Yes, but I didn"t expect you to come back with the wrong result! The whole thing stinks! That clay from Quarry Lane was planted, wasn"t it?"