"I thought I told every officer not on prisoner duty to get some sleep, captain," said Vimes.
"Just clearing up a few things, sir," said Carrot. "Lord Vetinari sent a message down to the Yard. He wants a report. I thought I"d better tell you, sir."
"I was just thinking, captain," said Vimes expansively. "Should we put up a little plaque? Something simple? It could say something like "Battle of Koom Valley Not Fought Here, Grune the 5th, Year of the Prawn." Could we get them to do a bloody stamp? What do you think?"
"I think you need to get some sleep yourself, commander," said Carrot. "And technically, it isn"t Koom Valley Day until Saturday."
"Of course, monuments to battles that didn"t take place might be stretching things a bit, but a stamp-"
"Lady Sybil really worries about you, sir." Carrot broadcast concern.
The fizz in Vimes"s head subsided. As if awakened by the reference to Sybil, the creditors of his body queued up to wave their overdue IOUs; feet: dead tired and in need of a bath; stomach: gurgling; ribs: on fire; back: aching; brain: drunk on its own poisons. Bath, sleep, eat ... good ideas. But still must do things ...
"How"s our Mr Pessimal?" he said.
"Igor"s fixed him up, sir. He"s a bit amazed at all the fuss. Now, I know I can"t order you to go and see his lordship-"
"No, you can"t, because I am a commander, captain," said Vimes, still fuzzily intoxicated on exhaustion.
"-but he can and he has, sir. And your coach will be waiting for you outside the palace when you come out. That"s Lady Sybil"s orders, sir," said Carrot, appealing to higher authority.
Vimes looked up at the ugly bulk of the palace. Suddenly, clean sheets seemed such a sweet idea. "Can"t face him like this," he murmured.
"I had a word with Secretary Drumknott, sir. Hot water, a razor and a big cup of coffee will be waiting in the palace."
"You thought of everything, Carrot. .."
"I hope so, sir. Now off you-"
"But I thought of something, eh?" said Vimes, swaying cheerfully. "Better dead drunk than just dead, eh?"
"It was a classic ruse, sir," said Carrot reassuringly. "One for the history books. Now, off you go, sir. I"m going to have a look for Angua. She hasn"t slept in her bed."
"But at this time of the month-"
"I know, sir. She hasn"t slept in her basket, either.
In a dank cellar that once was an attic and was now half full of mud, the vurms poured out of a small hole where wooden planks had long since rotted away.
A fist punched up. Soggy timber split and crumbled.
Angua pulled herself up into this new darkness, then reached down to help Sally, who said, "Well, here"s another fine mess.
"Let"s hope so," said Angua. "I think we need to go up at least one more level. There"s an archway here. Come on."
There had been too many dead ends, forgotten, stinking rooms and false hopes, and altogether too much slime.
After a while the smell had become almost tangible and then it managed to become just another part of the darkness. The women wandered and scrambled from one dripping, fetid room to another, testing the muddy walls for hidden doors, searching for even a pinprick of light in the ceilings hanging with interesting but horrible growths.
Now, they heard music. Five minutes" wading and slithering brought them to a blocked-in doorway, but since it had been filled using the more modern Ankh-Morpork mortar of sand, horse dung and vegetable peelings, several bricks had already fallen out. Sally removed most of the rest with one punch.
"Sorry about that," she said. "It"s a vampire thing."
The cellar behind the demolished wall had some barrels in it and
looked as if it was regularly used. There was a proper door, too.
Dull, repetitive music filtered down between the boards of the ceil