Part 9 (1/2)
”What? Oh. Yes. Yes, we got 'em all right,” said Vimes.
”Well done. He put up a fight, I see.”
Vimes looked surprised. The Prince tapped his jaw thoughtfully. Vimes's hand flew up and encountered a little bit of tissue on his own chin.
”Ah...er...yes...”
”Commander Vimes always always gets his man,” said the Prince. gets his man,” said the Prince.
”Well, I wouldn't say I-”
”Vetinari's terrier, I've heard them call you,” the Prince went on. ”Always hot on the chase, they say, and he won't let go.”
Vimes stared into the calm, knowing gaze.
”I suppose, at the end of the day, we're all someone's dog,” he said, weakly.
”In fact it is fortuitous I have met you, commander.”
”It is?”
”I was just wondering about the meaning of the word shouted at me as we were on our way down here. Would you be so kind?”
”Er...if I...”
”I believe it was...let me see now...oh, yes...towelhead.”
The Prince's eyes stayed locked on Vimes's face.
Vimes was conscious of his own thoughts moving very fast, and they seemed to reach their own decision. We'll explain later, they said. You're too tired for explanations. Right now, with this man, it's oh so much better to be honest...
”It...refers to your headdress,” he said.
”Oh. Is it some kind of obscure joke?”
Of course course he knows, thought Vimes. And he knows I know... he knows, thought Vimes. And he knows I know...
”No. It's an insult,” he said eventually.
”Ah? Well, we certainly cannot be held responsible for the ramblings of idiots, commander.” The Prince flashed a smile. ”I must commend you, incidentally.”
”I'm sorry?”
”For your breadth of knowledge. I must have asked a dozen people that question this morning this morning and, do you know? Not and, do you know? Not one one of them knew what it meant. And they of them knew what it meant. And they all all seemed to have caught a cough.” seemed to have caught a cough.”
There was a diplomatic pause but, in it, someone sn.i.g.g.e.red.
Vimes let his glance drift sideways to the other man, who had not been introduced. He was shorter and skinnier than the Prince and, under his black headdress, had the most crowded face Vimes had ever seen. A network of scars surrounded a nose like an eagle's beak. There was a sort of beard and moustache, but the scars had affected the hair growth so much that they stuck out in strange bunches and at odd angles. The man looked as though he had been hit in the mouth by a hedgehog. He could have been any age. Some of the scars looked fresh.
All in all, the man had a face that any policeman would arrest on sight. There was no possible way it could be innocent of anything anything.
He caught Vimes's expression and grinned, and Vimes had never seen so much gold in one mouth. He'd never seen so much gold in one place place.
Vimes realized he was staring when he ought to have been making polite diplomatic conversation.
”So,” he said, ”are we going to have a sc.r.a.p over this Leshp business or what?”
The Prince gave a dismissive shrug.
”Pfui,” he said. ”A few square miles of uninhabited fertile ground with superb anchorage in an unsurpa.s.sed strategic position? What sort of inconsequence is that for civilized people to war over?”
Once again Vimes felt the gaze on him, reading reading him. Well, the h.e.l.l with it. He said, ”Sorry, I'm not good at this diplomacy business. Did you him. Well, the h.e.l.l with it. He said, ”Sorry, I'm not good at this diplomacy business. Did you mean mean what you just said then?” what you just said then?”
There was another sn.i.g.g.e.r. Vimes turned and looked at the leering bearded face again. And was aware of a smell, no, a stench stench of cloves. of cloves.
Good grief, he chews chews the stinking things the stinking things...
”Ah,” said the Prince, ”you haven't met 71-hour Ahmed?”
Ahmed grinned again and bowed. ”Offendi,” he said, in a voice like a gravel path.
And that seemed to be it. Not ”This is 71-hour Ahmed, Cultural Attache” or ”71-hour Ahmed, my bodyguard” or even ”71-hour Ahmed, walking strongroom and moth killer.” It was clear that the next move was up to Vimes.
”That's...er...that's an unusual name,” he said.
”Not at all,” said the Prince smoothly. ”Ahmed is a very common name in my country.”
He leaned forward again. Vimes recognized this as the prelude to a confidential aside. ”Incidentally, was that beautiful lady I saw just now your first wife?”
”Er...all my wives,” said Vimes. ”That is-”
”Could I offer you twenty camels for her?”
Vimes looked back into the dark eyes for a moment, glanced at 71-hour Ahmed's 24-carat grin, and said: ”This is another test, isn't it...?”
The Prince straightened up, looking pleased.
”Well done, Sir Samuel. You're good good at this. Do you know, Mr. Boggis of the Thieves' Guild was prepared to accept fifteen?” at this. Do you know, Mr. Boggis of the Thieves' Guild was prepared to accept fifteen?”
”For Mrs. Boggis?” Vimes waggled a hand dismissively. ”Nah...four camels, maybe four camels and a goat in a good light. And when she's had a shave.”
The milling guests turned at the sound of the Prince's explosion of laughter.
”Very good! Very good! I am afraid, commander, that some of your your fellow citizens feel that just because fellow citizens feel that just because my my people invented advanced mathematics and all-day camping we are complete barbarians who'd try to buy their wives at the drop of, shall we say, a turban. I am surprised they're giving me an honorary degree, considering how incredibly backward I am.” people invented advanced mathematics and all-day camping we are complete barbarians who'd try to buy their wives at the drop of, shall we say, a turban. I am surprised they're giving me an honorary degree, considering how incredibly backward I am.”
”Oh? What degree is that?” said Vimes. No wonder this man was a diplomat. You couldn't trust him an inch, he thought in loops, and you couldn't help liking him despite it.
The Prince pulled a letter out of his robe.