Thud! by Terry Pratchett Page B

what I’m saying, Nobby, if you’d listen for five seconds together,” said Fred Colon sharply.
    “Yeah, but in the long run, what does, Sarge?”

“S ay that again, paying attention to every word, will you?” said Vimes.
    “He’s dead, sir. Hamcrusher is dead. The dwarfs are sure of it.”
    Vimes stared at his captain. Then he glanced at Sally and said: “I gave you an order, Lance Constable von Humpeding. Go and get joined up!”
    When the girl had hurried out, he said: “I hope you’re sure about it as well, Captain…”
    “It’s spreading through the dwarfs like, like—” Carrot began.
    “Alcohol?” Vimes suggested.
    “Very fast, anyway,” Carrot conceded. “Last night, they say. A troll got into his place in Treacle Street and beat him to death. I heard some of the lads talking about it.”
    “Carrot, wouldn’t we know if something like that had happened?” said Vimes, but in theater of his mind, Angua and Fred Colon uttered their cassandraic warnings again. The dwarfs knew something. The dwarfs were worried.
    “Don’t we, sir?” said Carrot. “I mean, I’ve just told you.”
    “Why aren’t his people shouting it in the streets? Political assassination and all that sort of thing? Shouldn’t they be screaming bloody murder? Who told you this?”
    “Constable Ironbender and Corporal Ringfounder, sir. They’re steady lads. Ringfounder’s up for sergeant soon. Er…there was something else, sir. I did ask them why we hadn’t heard officially, and Ironbender said…you won’t like this, sir…he said the Watch wasn’t to be told.” Carrot watched Vimes carefully. It was hard to see the change of expression on the commander’s face, but certain small muscles set firmly.
    “On whose orders?” said Vimes.
    “Someone called Ardent, apparently. He’s Hamcrusher’s…interpreter, I suppose you could say. He says it’s dwarf business.”
    “But this is Ankh-Morpork, Captain. And murder is Murder.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And we are the City Watch,” Vimes went on. “It says so on the door.”
    “Actually, it mostly says COPERS ARE BARSTUDS on the door at the moment, but I’ve got someone scrubbing it off,” said Carrot. “And I—”
    “That means if anyone gets murdered, we’re responsible,” said Vimes.
    “I know what you mean, sir,” said Carrot carefully.
    “Does Vetinari know?”
    “I can’t imagine that he doesn’t.”
    “Me neither.” Vimes thought for a moment. “What about the Times ? There’s plenty of dwarfs working there.”
    “I’d be surprised if they passed it on to humans, sir. I only got to hear about it because I’m a dwarf, and Ironbender really wants to make sergeant, and, frankly, I overheard them, but I doubt if the printing dwarfs would mention it to the editor.”
    “Are you telling me, Captain, that dwarfs in the Watch would keep a murder secret ?”
    Carrot looked shocked. “Oh no, sir!”
    “Good!”
    “They’d just keep it secret from humans. Sorry, sir.”
    The important thing is not to shout at this point, Vimes told himself. Do not…what do they call it…go postal? Treat this as a learning exercise. Find out why the world is not as you thought it was. Assemble the facts, digest the information, consider the implications. Then go postal. But with precision.
    “Dwarfs have always been law-abiding citizens, Captain,” he said. “They even pay their taxes. Suddenly they think it’s okay not to report a possible murder?”
    Carrot could see the steely glint in Vimes’s eyes.
    “Well, the fact is—” he began.
    “Yes?”
    “You see, Hamcrusher was a deep-down dwarf, sir. I mean really deep-down. Hates coming to the surface. They say he lived at sub-sub-basement level…”
    “I know all that. So?”
    “So how far down does our jurisdiction go, sir?” said Carrot.
    “What? As far down as we like!”
    “Er…Does it say that anywhere, sir? Most of the dwarfs here are from Copperhead and Llamedos and Uberwald,” said