Discworld 30 - Monstrous Regiment (38 page)

 
 
  
‘I should run away again, if I was you,’ said Polly. She turned on her heel, feeling the heat
of his impotent fury.
As she was about to rejoin Jade and Maladict, someone touched her arm. She spun round.
‘What? Oh . . . sorry, Major Clogston,’ she said. She felt she wouldn’t be able to deal with
Strappi again, not without committing murder. That would probably get her into trouble, even
now.
‘I should like to thank you for a most enjoyable day,’ said the major. ‘I did my best, but I
think we were all . . . outclassed.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Polly.
‘This was a pleasure, Corporal Perks,’ said Clogston. ‘I shall watch your future career with
interest and envy. Congratulations. And since in here protocol seems to be flapping loose, I
will shake you by the hand.’
They shook. ‘And now, we have duties,’ said Major Clogston, as Jade arrived with a white
sheet on a pole. ‘Oh, and by the way . . . my name is Christine. And, you know, I really don’t
think I could get used to wearing a dress again . . .’
Maladict and Jade were chosen to see Polly through the castle, a troll because a troll
commands respect and a vampire because a vampire demands it. There were groans and
cheers as they elbowed their way along the passages, because news had already got around.
That was another reason for taking Jade. Trolls could push.
‘Okay,’ said Jackrum, bringing up the rear. ‘At the bottom of these steps there’s a door,
and beyond that door is enemy territory. Put the white flag out first. Important safety tip.’
‘Can’t you come with us, sarge?’
‘Hah, me? I dare say there’s a few people out there who’d take a pot shot at me white flag
or no. Don’t you worry. The word’s gone out.’
‘What word’s that, sarge?’
Jackrum leaned closer. ‘They ain’t gonna shoot a girl, Perks!’
‘You told them?’
‘Let’s just say that news gets around fast,’ said Jackrum. ‘Grab the advantage. And I’ll find
your brother while you’re gone, upon my oath. Oh, one other thing . . . look at me, Perks.’
Polly turned, in the crowded, jostling corridor. Jackrum’s eyes twinkled. ‘I know I can trust
you, Perks. I’d trust you like I’d trust myself. Best of luck. And make the most of it, lad.
Kissin’ don’t last!’
Well, that couldn’t be plainer, Polly thought, as the armed men by the door beckoned them
forward.
‘Stick to the walls, okay, ladies? And be quick with that rag!’
The heavy door swung open. Half a dozen arrows bounced and pinwheeled along the
corridor. Another one tore through the flag. Polly waved it desperately. She heard distant
shouting, and then cheers.
‘Okay, go!’ said a guard, pushing her forward.

 
 
  
She stepped out into the sudden daylight and, to make sure, waved the flag overhead a few
more times. There were men in the courtyard and lining the battlements around it. There were
bodies, too.
A captain, with blood soaking through his jacket, stepped across the fallen and held out his
hand. ‘You may give that to me, soldier,’ he said.
‘No, sir. I must deliver it to your commander, and wait for his reply, sir.’
‘Then you give it to me, soldier, and I will bring you back the reply. You have surrendered,
after all.’
‘No. This is a truce. That’s not the same thing. I have to hand this over personally and you
aren’t big enough.’ A thought hit her. ‘I demand to take this to Commander Vimes!’
The captain stared at her, and then looked closer. ‘Aren’t you one of those—’
‘Yes,’ said Polly.
‘And you locked them in chains and threw the key away?’
‘Yes,’ said Polly, seeing her life start to flash past her eyes.
‘And they had to hop miles with shackles on and no clothes?’
‘Yes!’
‘And you’re just . . . women?’
‘Yes!’ said Polly, letting the ‘just’ go for now.
The captain leaned closer and spoke while trying not to move his lips. ‘Dan gug show. Ell
done. Agout time soes arragunk arsetards ere aken own a eg!’ He leaned back. ‘Commander
Vimes it is, then. Follow me, miss.’
Polly felt hundreds of eyes on her as the squad was let into the inner keep. There were one
or two wolf whistles, because there were more soldiers in there, including quite a few trolls.
Jade bent down, snatched up a rock and hurled it at one of them, hitting him between the
eyes.
‘No one move!’ shouted Maladict, waving his hands urgently as a hundred men raised their
weapons. ‘That was the troll version of blowing a kiss!’
And, indeed, the troll who had been hit was waving at Jade, a little unsteadily.
‘Can we knock it off with the lovey-dovey, please?’ said Polly to Jade. ‘The soft people are
likely to get the wrong idea.’
‘It’s stopped the whistling, though,’ Maladict observed.
More people watched them as they climbed flight after flight of stone steps. No one could
take this place, Polly could see that. Every flight was seen by another one higher up, every
visitor would be sighted on before she’d even glimpsed a face.
A figure stepped out of the shadows as they reached the next floor. It was a young woman,
in old-fashioned leather and mail armour, with a breastplate. She had long, very fair hair; for
the first time in weeks, Polly felt a twinge of envy.
‘Thank you, captain, I’ll take over from here,’ she said, and nodded to Polly. ‘Good
evening, Corporal Perks . . . if you would follow me, please?’
‘She’s a woman! And a sergeant!’ Maladict whispered.

 
 
  
‘Yes, I know,’ said Polly.
‘But she gave an order to that captain!’
‘Maybe she’s a political . . .’
‘And she’s obviously female!’
‘I’m not blind, Mal,’ said Polly.
‘I’m not deaf, either,’ said the woman, turning and smiling. ‘My name is Angua. If you
will wait here, I’ll have some coffee sent in. There’s a bit of an argument going on in there at
the moment.’
They were in a sort of anteroom, not much more than a widened area of corridor with a
few benches. There were big double doors at the far end, behind which voices were being
raised. Angua left.
‘Just like that?’ said Maladict. ‘What’s to stop us taking over the place?’
‘All those men with crossbows we passed on the way up?’ said Polly. Why us? she
thought, looking blankly at the wall.
‘Oh, yes. Those. Yes. Er . . . Poll?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m actually Maladicta.’ She sat back. ‘There! I’ve told someone!’
‘Dat’s nice,’ said Jade.
‘Oh, good,’ said Polly. I’d be going out to give the latrines their afternoon swill about
now, she thought. This has got to be better than that, right?
‘I thought I did pretty well,’ Maladicta went on. ‘Now, I know what you’re thinking.
You’re thinking: vampires have a pretty good time of it whatever sex they are, right? But it’s
the same everywhere. Velvet dresses, underwired nightgowns, acting crazy all the time, and
don’t let’s even go near the whole “bathing in virgin’s blood” thing. You get taken a lot more
seriously if they think you’re male.’
‘Right,’ said Polly. All in all, it’s been a long day. A bath would be nice.
‘I thought I did pretty well right up until the whole coffee thing. A necklace of the roast
beans, that’d be the thing. I’ll be better prepared another time.’
‘Yeah,’ said Polly. ‘Good idea. With real soap.’
‘Soap? How would soap work?’
‘What? Oh . . . sorry,’ said Polly.
‘Did you hear anything I said?’
‘Oh, that. Yes. Thank you for telling me.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Yes,’ said Polly. ‘You’re you. That’s good. I’m me, whoever I am. Tonker’s Tonker. It’s
all just . . . people. Look, a week ago the high spot of my day was reading the new graffiti in
the men’s latrines. I think you’d agree that a lot has happened since then. I don’t think I’m
going to be surprised at anything any more. The coffee-bean necklace sounds good, by the
way.’ She drummed her feet on the floor impatiently. ‘Right now, I just wish they’d hurry up
in there.’

 
 
  
They sat and listened, and then Polly became aware of a little column of smoke coming
from behind a bench on the other side of the space. She walked over and peered over the
back. A man was lying there, head on one arm, smoking a cigar. He nodded when he saw
Polly’s face.
‘They’re going to be ages yet,’ he said.
‘Aren’t you that sergeant I saw in the old kitchen? Making faces behind Lord Rust from
Ankh-Morpork?’
‘I was not making faces, miss. That’s how I always look when Lord Rust is talking. And I
was a sergeant once, it’s true, but, look, no stripes.’
‘Make der faces once too often?’ said Jade.
The man laughed. He hadn’t shaved today, by the look of it. ‘Something like that, yes.
Come along to my office, it’s warmer. I only came out here because people complain about
the smoke. Don’t worry about that lot in there, they can wait. I’m only down the passage.’
They followed him. The door was, indeed, only a few steps away. The man pushed it open,
walked across the little room beyond, and sat down in a chair. The table in front of it
overflowed with papers.
‘I think we can get enough food up here to see you through the winter,’ he said, picking up
a sheet of paper apparently at random. ‘Grain’s a bit short but we’ve got a handy surplus of
white drumhead cabbage, keeps wonderfully, full of vitamins and minerals . . . but you might
want to keep your windows open, if you follow me. Don’t stare. I know the country’s a
month away from starvation.’
‘But I haven’t even shown this letter to anyone!’ Polly protested. ‘You don’t know what
we—’
‘I don’t have to,’ said the man. ‘This is about food and mouths. Good grief, we don’t have
to fight you. Your country is going to fall over anyway. Your fields are overgrown, most of
your farmers are old men, the bulk of the grub goes to the army. And armies don’t do much
for agriculture except marginally raise the fertility of the battlefield. The honour, the pride,
the glory . . . none of that matters. This war stops, or Borogravia dies. Do you understand?’
Polly remembered the gale-swept fields, the old people salvaging what they could . . .
‘We’re just messengers,’ she said. ‘I can’t negotiate—’
‘You know your god’s dead?’ said the man. ‘Nothing left but a voice, according to some of
our priests. The last three Abominations were against rocks, ears and accordion players.
Okay, I might be with him on the last one, but . . . rocks? Hah! We can advise you if you’re
going to look for a new one, by the way. Om’s very popular at the moment. Very few
abominations, no special clothing, and hymns you can sing in the bath. You won’t get Offler
the Crocodile God up here with your winters, and the Unorthodox Potato Church is probably
a bit too uncomplicated for—’
Polly started to laugh. ‘Look, sir, I’m just a . . . what is your name, please?’
‘Sam Vimes. Special envoy, which is kind of like an ambassador but without the little gold
chocolates.’
‘Vimes the Butcher?’ said Maladicta.
‘Oh, yes. I’ve heard that one,’ said Vimes, grinning. ‘Your people haven’t really mastered
the fine art of propaganda. And I’m telling you because— well, have you heard of Om?’

 
 
  
They shook their heads.
‘No? Well, in the Old Book of Om there’s a story about some city full of wickedness, and
Om decided to destroy it with holy fire, this being back in the old smiting days before he’d
got religion. But Bishop Horn protested about this plan, and Om said he’d spare the city if the
bishop could find one good man. Well, the bishop knocked on every door, and turned up
empty-handed. It turned out, after the place had been reduced to a glass plain, that there were
probably plenty of good people there and, being good, they weren’t the sort to admit it. Death
by modesty, a terrible thing. And you, ladies, are the only Borogravians I know much about,
apart from the military who, frankly, aren’t chatty. You don’t appear to be as insane as your
country’s foreign policy. You’re the one piece of international goodwill it has. A bunch of
young boys outwitting crack cavalrymen? Kicking the Prince in the fork? People at home
liked that. And now it turns out that you’re girls? They’ll love that. Mr de Worde is going to
have fun with that when he finds out.’
‘But we don’t have any power! We can’t negotiate a—’
‘What does Borogravia want? Not the country. I mean the people.’
Polly opened her mouth to reply, and then shut it again and thought about the answer. ‘To
be left alone,’ she said. ‘By everybody. For a while, anyway. We can change things.’
‘You’ll accept the food?’
‘We are a proud country.’
‘What are you proud of?’
It came swiftly, like a blow, and Polly realized how wars happened. You took that shock
that had run through her, and let it boil.
. . . it may be corrupt, benighted and stupid, but it’s ours . . .
Vimes was watching her face. ‘From this desk here,’ he said, ‘the only thing your country
has to be proud of right now is you women.’
Polly stayed silent. She was still trying to cope with the anger. It made it worse to know
that he was right. We have our pride. And that’s what we’re proud of. We’re proud of being
proud . . .
‘Very well, then, will you buy some food?’ said Vimes, watching her carefully. ‘On credit?
I suppose you still have someone in your country who knows about the kind of international
affairs that don’t involve edged weapons?’
‘People would accept that, yes,’ said Polly hoarsely.
‘Good. I’ll send a clacks back tonight.’
‘And why would you be so generous, Mr Ankh-Morpork?’
‘Because I’m from a wonderfully warm-hearted city, corporal . . . hah, no, I can’t say that
and keep a straight face,’ said Vimes. ‘Do you want to know the truth? Most people in Ankh-
Morpork hadn’t even heard of your country until the clacks went down. There’s dozens of
little countries round here selling one another hand-painted clogs or beer made from turnips.
Then they knew you as the bloody mad idiots who fight everyone. Now they know you as . . .
well, people who do just what they’d do. And tomorrow they’ll laugh. And there’re other
people, people who sit and think about the future every day, who believe it’s worth a little to
be friends with a country like that.’
‘Why?’ said Maladicta suspiciously.

 
 
  
‘Because Ankh-Morpork is a friend to all freedom-loving people everywhere!’ said Vimes.
‘Gods, it must be the way I tell ‘em. Ze chzy Brogocia proztfik!’ He saw their blank
expressions. ‘Sorry, I’ve been away from home too long. And frankly, I’d rather be back
there.’
‘But why did you say you were a cherry pancake?’ said Polly.
‘Didn’t I say I am a citizen of Borogravia?’
‘No. Brogocia is the cherry pancake, Borogvia is the country.’
‘Well, I made the effort, at least. Look, we’d rather Prince Heinrich wasn’t ruler of two
countries. That’d make one quite big country, much bigger than the other ones round here. So
it’d probably get bigger still. He wants to be like Ankh-Morpork, you see. But what he means
is he wants power, and influence. He doesn’t want to earn them, he doesn’t want to grow into
them or learn the hard way how to use them. He just wants them.’
‘That’s playing politics!’ said Maladicta.
‘No. It’s just telling the truth. Make peace with him, by all means. Just leave the road and
the towers alone. You’ll get the food anyway, at whatever price. Mr de Worde’s article will
see to that.’
‘You sent the coffee,’ said Polly.
‘Oh, yes. That was Corporal Buggy Swires, my eye in the sky. He’s a gnome.’
‘And you set a werewolf on us?’
‘Well, set is a bit strong. Angua followed you, just to be on the safe side. She’s a werewolf,
yes.’
‘The girl we met? She didn’t look like one!’
‘Well, they don’t, usually,’ said Vimes. ‘Right up until the moment when they do, if you
see what I mean. And she was following you because I was looking for anything that’d stop
thousands of people dying. And that’s not politics either,’ said Vimes. He stood up. ‘And
now, ladies, I have to go and present your document to the alliance leaders.’
‘You came out for a smoke at the right time, didn’t you?’ said Polly, slowly and carefully.
‘You knew we were on our way, and you made sure you’d get to us first.’
‘Of course. Can’t leave this to a bunch of . . . oh, yes . . . ruperts.’
‘Where is my brother, Mister Vimes?’ said Polly stiffly.
‘You seem very sure I know . . .’ said Vimes, not looking her in the face.
‘I’m certain you do,’ said Polly.
‘Why?’
‘Because no one else does!’
Vimes stubbed out his cigar. ‘Angua was right about you,’ he said. ‘Yes, I, er, arranged for
him to be put in what I like to call “protective custody”. He’s fine. Angua will take you to
him now, if you like. Your brother, possibility of revenge, blackmail, who knows what . . . I
thought he might be safer if I knew exactly who held the keys.’
The end of the journey, Polly thought. But it wasn’t, not any more. She got the distinct
impression that the man opposite was reading her thoughts.
‘That’s what all this was about, isn’t it?’ he said.