Part 40 (1/2)

Ah...

It was still cold, and there was some snow on the dead needles, but the weighted branches had spread around the trunk like a tent. He pulled himself in, congratulating himself. It was windless here and, contrary to all common sense, the blanket of snow above him seemed to make it warmer. warmer. It even smelled warm...sort of...animal... It even smelled warm...sort of...animal...

Three wolves, lying lazily around the trunk of the tree, were watching him with interest.

Vimes added metaphorical freezing to the other sort. The animals didn't seem frightened.

Wolves!

And that was about it. It made as much sense to say: Snow! Or: Wind! Right now, those were more certain killers.

He heard somewhere that wolves wouldn't attack you if you faced them down.

The trouble was that he was was going to sleep soon. He could feel it creeping over him. He wasn't thinking right, and every muscle ached. going to sleep soon. He could feel it creeping over him. He wasn't thinking right, and every muscle ached.

Outside, the wind moaned. And His Grace the Duke of Ankh-Morpork fell asleep.

He awoke with a snort and, to his surprise, all his arms and legs as well. A drop of chilled water, melted from the roof just above by the heat of his body, ran down his neck. His muscles didn't hurt anymore. He couldn't feel feel most of them. most of them.

And the wolves had gone. There was trampled snow at the far end of the makes.h.i.+ft lair, and light so bright that he groaned.

It turned out to be daylight, from a bright sky bluer than any Vimes had seen, so blue that it seemed to shade into purple at the zenith. He stepped out into a sugar-frosted world, crunchy and glittering.

Wolf tracks led away between the trees. It occurred to Vimes that following them would not be a life-enhancing move; perhaps last night had been understood as time out, but today was a new day and probably the search was on for breakfast.

The sun felt warm, the air was cold, his breath hung in front of him.

There should be people around, shouldn't there? Vimes was hazy on rural issues, but weren't there supposed to be charcoal burners, woodcutters and...he tried to think...little girls taking goodies to granny? The stories Vimes had learned as a kid suggested that all forests were full of bustle, activity and the occasional scream. But this place was silent.

He set off in a direction that appeared to head downward, on general principles. Food was the important thing. He'd still got a couple of matches, and he could probably make a fire if he had to be out here another night, but it was a long time since the canapes at the reception.

This is Ankh-Morpork, trudging over and through the snow...

After half an hour he reached the bottom of a shallow valley, where a stream splashed between encroaching banks of ice. It steamed.

The water was warm to the touch.

He followed the banks for some way. They were crisscrossed with animal tracks. Here and there the water pooled in deep hollows that smelled of rotten eggs. Around them the leafless bushes were heavy with ice, where the steam had frozen.

Food could wait. Vimes stripped off his clothes and stepped into one of the deeper pools, yelping at the heat, and then lay back.

Didn't they do something like this up in Nothingfjord? He'd heard stories. They had hot steamy baths and then ran around in the snow hitting one another with birch logs, didn't they? Or something. There was nothing really daft that some foreigner wouldn't do, somewhere.

G.o.ds, it felt good good. Hot water was was civilization. Vimes could feel the stiffness in his muscles melting away in the warmth. civilization. Vimes could feel the stiffness in his muscles melting away in the warmth.

After a moment or two he splashed over to the bank and rummaged through his clothes until he found a flattened packet of cigars, containing a couple of things that, after the events of the past twenty-four hours, looked like fossilized twigs.

He had two matches.

Well, the h.e.l.l with it. Anyone could light a fire with one match.

He lay back in the water. That had been a good decision. He could feel himself coming back together again, pulled into shape by the heat within and without- ”Ah. Your Grace...”

Wolf von Uberwald was sitting on the other bank. He was stark naked. A little vapor rose off him, as if he'd just been exerting himself. Muscles gleamed as though they'd been oiled. They probably had been.

”A run in the snow is such a thing, is it not?” said Wolf pleasantly. ”You are certainly learning the ways of Uberwald, Your Grace. Lady Sybil is alive and well and free to go back to your city when the pa.s.ses are cleared. I know you would wish to hear that.”

Other figures were approaching through the trees, men and women, all of them as unselfconsciously naked as Wolf.

Vimes realized he was a dead man bathing. He could see it in Wolf's eyes.

”Nothing like a hot dip before breakfast,” he said.

”Ah, yes. We also have not, as yet, breakfasted,” said Wolf. He stood up, stretched, and cleared the pool from a standing start. Vimes's breeches were picked up and examined.

”I threw Inigo's d.a.m.n thing away,” said Vimes. ”I don't think a friend put it there.”

”It is all a great game, Your Grace,” said Wolf. ”Do not reproach yourself! The strongest survive, which is as it should be!”

”Dee planned this, did he?”

Wolf laughed. ”The dear little Dee? Oh, he had a plan. It was a good little plan, although a touch insane. Happily, it will no longer be required!”

”You want the dwarfs to go to war?”

”Strength is good good,” said Wolf, folding Vimes's clothes neatly. ”But like some other good things, it only remains good if it is not possessed by too many people.” He tossed the clothes as far as he could.

”What is is it you want me to say, Your Grace?” said Wolf. ”Something like 'you are going to die anyway so I might as well tell you,' perhaps?” it you want me to say, Your Grace?” said Wolf. ”Something like 'you are going to die anyway so I might as well tell you,' perhaps?”

”Well, it'd be a help,” said Vimes.

”You are are going to die anyway.” Wolf smiled. ”Why don't going to die anyway.” Wolf smiled. ”Why don't you you tell tell me me?”

Talking gained time. Maybe those woodcutters and charcoal burners would be along at any minute.

If they hadn't brought their axes everyone was going to be in big big trouble. trouble.

”I'm...pretty sure why the replica Scone was stolen in Ankh-Morpork,” said Vimes. ”I've just got the inkling of an idea that a copy was made of it, which was smuggled here on one of our coaches. Diplomats don't get searched.”

”Well done!”

”Shame Igor came to unload when one of your boys was there, wasn't it?”

”Oh, it's hard to hurt an Igor!”

”You don't care, do you?” said Vimes. ”A bunch of dwarfs want Albrecht on the thro-the Scone because they want to hang onto that old-time certainty, and you you just want dwarfs fighting. And old Albrecht wouldn't even get the right Scone back!” just want dwarfs fighting. And old Albrecht wouldn't even get the right Scone back!”

”Let us say that just now we find our interests converge, shall we?” said Wolf.