"I don"t know. Ardent said they would have gone now anyway, because they"ve got the cube and the painting; said Helmclever. "He said the painting will show where there are more lies, and those can be destroyed. But they fear most of all the Summoning Dark, commander. They can feel it coming for them."
"It"s only a drawing," said Vimes. "I don"t believe in it."
"I do," said Helmclever calmly. "It is in this room. How does it come? It comes in darkness and in vengeance and in disguise."
Vimes felt his skin twitch. Nobby looked around the grimy stone walls. Bashfullsson sat bolt upright in his chair. Even Fred Colon shifted uneasily.
This is just mystic stuff, Vimes told himself. It"s not even human mystic stuff. I don"t believe in it. So why does it feel a bit chilly in here?
He coughed. "Well, once it knows they"ve gone I expect it"ll head out after them."
"And it will come for me," said Helmclever, in the same calm voice. He folded his hands in front of him.
"Why? You didn"t kill anybody," said Vimes.
"You don"t understand! They ... they ... when they killed the miners one was not all the way dead, and, and, and we could hear him hammering on the door with his fists, and I stood in the tunnel and listened to him die and I wished him dead so that the noise would stop, but, but, but when it did it went on in my head, and I could, I could, I could have turned the wheel but I was afraid of the dark guards who have no souls and because of that the darkness will take mine..."
The little voice died away.
There was a nervous cough from Nobby.
"Well, thank you again, said Vimes. Good grief, they really messed up his head, poor little sod. And I"ve got nothing, he thought. I might get Ardent on a charge of falsifying evidence. I can"t put Brick in the witness box because I"ll simply be proving that there was a troll in the mine. All I"ve got is young Helmclever here, who"s clearly unfit to testify.
He turned to Bashfullsson and shrugged. "I think I"d like to keep our friend here tonight, for his own good. I can"t imagine there"s anywhere else for him to go. The statement he made is of course covered by. .
Now his voice trailed off. He turned back in his chair to glare at the sorrowful Helmclever.
"What painting?"
"The painting of the Battle of Koom Valley by Methodia Rascal," said the dwarf, not looking up. "It"s very big. They stole it from the museum.
"What?" said Fred Colon, who was making tea in the corner. "It was them?"
"What? You know about this, Fred?" Vimes demanded.
"We - yes, Mister Vimes, we did a report-"
"Koom Valley, Koom Valley, Koom Valley!" roared Vimes, slapping his hand down on the table so hard that the candlesticks jumped into the air. "A report? What the hell good"s a report? Have I got time these days to read reports? Why doesn"t someone tell me these thi-"
One candle rolled on to the floor and went out. Vimes grabbed for the other as it reached the edge of the table, but it spun away from his fingers and landed wick first on the flagstones.
Darkness fell like an axe.
Helmclever groaned. It was a heartfelt, soul-creaking groan, like a death rattle from a living mouth.
"Nobby!" screamed Vimes. "Light a godsdamn match right now and that"s a godsdamn order!"
There was a frantic scrabbling in the dark and then a matchhead was a sudden supernova.
"Well, bring it here, man!" he shouted to Nobby. "Get those candles lit!"
Helmclever was still staring at the table, where the ill-tempered thump had scattered the remains of the game.
Vimes glanced down at the game board as the candle flames grew.
If you were the kind to see things, you"d say that the trolls and dwarfs had fallen in a rough circle around the central rock, while a few more dwarfs had rolled away in a line. You"d say, in fact, that from above they formed the shape of a round eye. With a tail.
Helmclever gave a little sigh and slipped sideways on to the floor. Vimes stood up to help him, and then remembered just in time about politics. He forced himself to back away, hands in the air.