More Tales From the Guilds

Far from Ankh-Morpork, in the depths of Loko in far Überwald, a patrol of Orcs proceeded quietly in 'hostile country' formation. They had no particular reason for believing that the area they were crossing was, in fact, hostile country but in a place so strange and so full of a very,

very

strong magical field caution was ever the watchword. None of them carried weapons for the very good reason that Orcs

are

weapons, built in bad old days of the Evil Emperor by Igors of the time. It has been theorized that they were constructed and bred up from goblins but, as Lord Vetinari pointed out, that was unlikely. The Orcs, he opined, had to have been bred from men as only humans are capable of the kind of viciousness that the Evil Emperor required. Even then they had to be driven into battle with magical whips as their normal nature is calm, intelligent, cooperative and at times even poetic. In Loko today, though, they are mostly watchful.

One led in the point position ahead of the main body with flankers at the sides and a rear guard bringing up the tail. They moved in silence, like wolves on the hunt, observing and noting anything and everything even more unusual for so unusual a place.

Suddenly Private Malcolm, the point, raised his hand and stopped the entire patrol. He turned to face Sergeant Hornbeam, smiled and raised one finger. Then he walked forward another fifty yards and raised both hands to show that he carried no weapons.

"Hello," he called out to a family of fauns, "we are just passing through. Are you all well?"

Signaling his mate and children to stay back, the male stepped forward, his hands also clearly empty.

"Hello, Orcs," he answered, " we haven't seen your folk here for a while. Are you returning permanently?"

"Oh, no. We are just keeping an eye on the place for Lady Margolotta. Since we are the only ones of Überwald who can come here and survive, it's our job to make sure no rogue wizards try to use the magic here to try and become Sourcerors, again. One Evil Emperor was too many and the Lady wants no possibility of another arising. How are things here in the forest?"

The faun looked furtively to both sides and motioned his family to come closer before leading them up to the patrol.

Private Malcolm, sensing that something was amiss motioned his superior to come up.

"This is Sergeant Hornbeam and I am Private Malcolm."

The faun nodded in greeting. "I am called Piper and this is my lady Fleet and our children Nectar and Honeydew. Things in the forest are--not normal."

Sergeant Hornbeam stiffened and turned to his patrol. "Defensive perimeter!"

At once the patrol surrounded them at a distance, faced outwards, then sank into the grass and behind trees and brush.

"Faun Piper," he began, "is your tale a long one? If so we will start a fire and make tea or perhaps start a meal?"

Fleet brightened. "Tea would be good for my husband's report will take a while."

Piper nodded. "Yes, unfortunately it will and the tidings are worrisome."

A couple of the Orcs came in from the perimeter, lay down their packs and drew out matches, kindling, cups, a pot and a package of tea. One took the pot over to a creek and filled it. Soon the grass was scraped down to non-flammable dirt, a ring of rocks built and a merry, smokeless fire began to bring the water to a boil. Then the troopers returned to their posts.

The fauns all sat down and infant Honeydew began to fuss so Fleet pulled her to a breast to nurse while little Nectar walked wide-eyed up to Sergeant Hornbeam and poked at his cuirass. The Sergeant smiled benignly and patted the child's head.

"Hello, Nectar. How are you?"

"Tea?"

"Yes, we are making tea. Do you like tea?"

Nectar grinned broadly. "Tea!"

Once the tea was brewed and distributed both to the group around the fire and the perimeter guard Piper began his story.

"You Orcs remember that a year or so ago a wizard set up in a cave not far from here and began to terrorize all of us who live in Loko. He even killed and ate a couple of our friends the centaurs before a patrol of your fellows happened upon him. He made the mistake of welcoming them as his new slaves so they, quite appropriately, drove their claws through his skull and tore out his throat before burning the remains. We Forest Folk were greatly relieved and are most grateful to you.

A few months later a fool from the Counterweight Continent, disregarding the diseases here that afflict humans and their related species, set up a weaving factory around the very same cave. They were making flying carpets woven with Octiron thread, here, in Loko of all places. The leader took the first carpet for his own and when he tried to take off, a swarm of Things from the Dungeon Dimensions burst out of the cave. Fortunately, a squad of golems from Ankh-Morpork were waiting in ambush and used a flame throwing machine to destroy them all. They also burned all the looms as well as the store of Octiron thread.

All the weavers fled in panic into the forest. Of course, none of them survived. We still occasionally find their remains or such as the scavengers have left. We thought that that was the end of it but in the last few months, there has been an odd feeling around the cave and strange footprints lead out of it. The tracks show an unaccountable number of feet."

Sergeant Hornbeam looked sharply at Private Malcolm. Malcolm's eyes narrowed and he raised a hand.

"Things!" he exclaimed and long claws shot out of his fingertips.

The Sergeant nodded gravely. "I fear as much. Faun Piper, these are ill tidings. We must bring them at once to Squire Nutt and thence to Lady Margolotta. Exactly what aid they can provide I am not in a position to say, but be assured that she will be as concerned as I am. Help of some kind will come. In the meantime, spread the word through the Forest Folk to find and track the Things that have thus far emerged. If they are using this cave as an entry into the Disc it must be stopped.

Thank-you so much for bringing this to our attention. We will depart now for Orcshire. You will hear more shortly."

"Tea?" Nectar held up his cup for a refill.

Malcolm refilled the cup and patted the toddler on the head.

"Yes, little Nectar. And here is more tea for your mother to brew and you may keep the pot. Be watchful and if you see anything strange and scary, tell Daddy at once. We are counting on you."

Wide-eyed and grinning the small faun nodded enthusiastically.

"Good tea. And good watch!"

Sergeant Hornbeam rose to his feet.

"Columns!" he commanded and when the patrol lined up swiftly, "Double time! Forward!"

At a relentless lope, the patrol set off through the forest of Loko towards Orcshire and home.

*****

Of the Shutters the Clatter, the goblin on duty at the Grand Trunk Semaphore Tower happily copied down the incoming message. It was addressed to the Patrician with a return address in Bonk, Überwald and consisted of blocks of five letters that appeared random. The goblin knew better. This was obviously encoded and since it was addressed to the Ruler of the City, equally obviously--important.

"Glow of the Sunset!" he called to an apprentice clacksgoblin, "This message to the Palace take now. Important it is so fast go!"

The adolescent goblin took the paper and scampered down the tower and across the city to the Patrician's Palace where he waved at a guard and then dashed into the building and up to the Outer Oblong Office where he handed it to Rufus Drumknott, the Patrician's Senior Clerk.

Drumknott scanned the message, took out a code book and translated it--with growing alarm. Spinning on his heel, he ghosted into Vetinari's office and handed the message to the Patrician.

"This appears urgent, Lord."

Vetinari raised an enquiring eyebrow and read the contents. As he did, his brows knit in concern and his jaw tightened. It was, Drumknott thought, an almost unheard-of expression of emotion.

The Patrician put the paper down, tapped his finger on his desk for a moment and the said, "Drumknott, tell the Commander, the Archchancellor, the High Priest of Blind Io and the Dezka-K'nik that they have an appointment with me at two this afternoon. Lady Margolotta calls for aid--and Ankh-Morpork will answer!"

*****

Five important and powerful men sat around the conference table in the Oblong Office sipping coffee. All had read the message from Bonk and all were equally worried.

" ' thought we were done with such nonsense," Archchancellor Ridcully growled.

"So did I," Commander Vimes agreed, "but I guess we aren't. Another mission to Loko seems needed. So what are our options?"

Skallesplitter Väljmanson, Dezka k'nik of the Undertaking and therefore the most important dwarf in Ankh-Morpork emptied his cup and poured himself another. "As I see it, the problem is two-fold. First, the cave must be sealed. If it were not for those nasty magical diseases the place is rife with, half a dozen stone masons could do that in a couple of days. But even with it sealed, we are still faced with the problem of Things roaming loose in Loko, feeding off the magical field and growing stronger by the day. I suppose we could dispatch the golem constables once more to hunt for them but until the cave is closed up that merely treats the symptom without curing the infestation."

Hughnon Ridcully, Chief Priest of Blind Io, king of the gods, cocked his head to one side. "Dezka k'nik, could y' p'rhaps teach element'ry stone cuttin' to some golems? Since they work 'round the clock they could build a wall, say three to six feet thick 'cross the mouth of the cave. 't wouldn't be fine, dwarf-laid work but 't would block out all light and warmth which are what lure Things int' our world. Then the only remainin' issue would be to hunt down the ones already here."

Väljmanson leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. "And golems are immensely strong. With the right tools they could cut blocks from farther along the face of the mountain, dry-lay them in the mouth of the cave a fathom or so thick and nothing would ever come out again. Yes, we can do that. It might even be good for business. If the golems did the rough cutting for us it would save the dwarf stone masters for the finish fitting and decorative carving. Greater production and greater profit that way. Yes, I'll send a message to Ms. Von Lipwig-Dearheart at the Golem Trust with an offer of training and eventual employment. But what do we do with the loose Things?"

Commander Vimes took out an imported Klatchian cigar from an inner pocket and contemplated it thoughtfully. "

We

may not have to do anything, ourselves. If Lady Margolotta is willing, we can equip some members of the Forest Folk into units and let them hunt Things down themselves. I imagine a detachment with centaurs pulling ordnance, fauns as bowmen and sprites flying ahead as scouts. Call it the Lokotian Forest Free Militia--purely defensive, of course."

"Of course," responded Vetinari dryly, "but since they are far more likely to stay in their forest in Loko, I don't suppose they actually would pose any threat, anyway. Besides, Loko is in far Überwald, a long way away and the Lady Margolotta and the Low Queen are both allies. Very well, then, Dezka k'nik will explore training golems and the Commander will look into equipping the Forest Folk for self-defense. Do not let me detain you, gentlemen."

*****

A restrained bell rang genteelly as the door opened to Burleigh & Stronginthearm, crossbow makers to the nobility, admitting His Grace, Sir Samuel Vimes Commander of the City Watch and his deputy, Senior Sergeant Detritus. The Igorina behind the desk smiled brightly in welcome.

"Ah, Commander Vimes. You're right on time. I'll let Mr. Burleigh know." She lifted a speaking tube. "Mr. Burleigh? The Commander is here to see you now."

Within seconds an extremely prominent dwarf bustled out into the lobby. "Commander Vimes, so good to see you again, sir. Do come into my office. You said something about quite a large order of custom armaments? In that case I have invited my partner Pors Stronginthearm to join us. If any sort of custom arrangements are needed he's your dwarf. And Igorina, do fetch the extra-large chair for the sergeant. We rarely have trolls as clientele, Commander, but the occasion does arise so we had a chair made specially for their use."

Vimes wondered who among the trolls might be customers of Burleigh & Stronginthearm. Did Chrysoprase have his spiked clubs made-to-order?

Everyone settled down around a conference table and Detritus laid his 'Piecemaker' crossbow in the center. Next to it he put down an example of the arrow bundle he'd cobbled together in place of the two fathom long, drawbridge breaking giant bolt that originally came with the 2,000 lb. pull siege crossbow.

"I'm here at the behest of Lady Margolotta of Bonk, Mr. Burleigh," Vimes began, "It seems there has been an outbreak of Things in Loko. We've located the source and are already preparing to seal it up. Unfortunately some individual monsters have already infiltrated the Forest, terrorizing the Folk who live there. They can be hunted down but since they can live sorely off the magical field of the place, killing them poses a challenge. We can't sent wizards there with fireballs because every human who has ever gone there has eventually died of 'planets' or some other horrible magical malady, so what we need is something the Forest Folk, the fauns, sprites and centaurs, can use instead. What I have in mind is something like your 'Great Leveler Cart-Mounted Ten-Bank 500-lb. Crossbow' modified to shoot Senior Sergeant Detritus' Piecemaker canister bolts. I don't know if at a 'mere' 500 lb. draw, the bolts will catch fire, which is what I really want, or whether they would just totally perforate the Thing. Either way, we want them

gone

!"

Both dwarfs knit their brows in concern. "Things from the Dungeon Dimensions? In Loko? Running around loose?"

Burleigh was obviously

not

amused. He handed the Piecemaker cluster to Pors Stronginthearm, who turned it this way and that, in close examination.

"

You

put this together, Sergeant?" he asked, "I'm rather impressed. I don't believe I have ever seen so clever a piece of engineering coming from a troll before. And you say these spontaneously combust when you shoot them?"

"Dat dey do, sir," Detritus replied, "It were not my or-ridge-on-el in-tent. I were jus' lookin' for a weapon dat would be more useful on der street instead of be-seej-in' a city. But wit' me old mate, Cuddy's, t'inkin' helmet what he made for me, I were able to make it work. An' it work bery well, if I say so meself. If'n I shoot it at a lock door, der door not only open but is disappear an' so do der wall in der back ob der house!"

Stronginthearm nodded in appreciation. "I should imagine it must. But how strong is the pull on your 'sidearm' Sergeant?"

Detritus looked at Commander Vimes is mild confusion. He would need a colder day to answer a technical question like that.

"According to the inventory at the City Armoury," Vimes answered, "it was listed as 2,000 lbs. The power is impressive."

"Yes, yes it would be. Well, Commander, I suspect that a 2,000 lb. pull would be required to make this kind of projectile self-combust into an incendiary device. Our 500 lb. draw model would, however send such a shower of bolts that the Thing would be unlikely to survive perforation. Naturally, we could build models of each..."

Vimes thought about that. Two detachments of three 500 lb. bows, labeled 'light' and one of three 2,000 lb. (heavy) bows would make three batteries totaling nine Thing destroying units. Call them detachments 1, 2 and 3 of Battery A, Lokotian Forest Free Militia. Two centaurs could pull each cart-mounted bow and a third a caisson of ammunition. Put two fauns on each bow as gunners with a third as commander and add ten sprites per detachment to fly ahead as scouts and hunting down the Things could move up to a positively industrial level. It all sounded very good. He would have to send an enquiry to Bonk to find out the number of available 'soldiers' but if they had the 'manpower' for three Batteries the Forest Free Militia could field an entire Artillery Regiment. Combine that with an assault force of ax-swinging dwarfs, what would effectively be a cavalry unit of werewolves and detachments of Special Operations Orcs and the combined arms forces of the Low Queen and Lady Margolotta would be formidable allies in the unlikely event that Ankh-Morpork found itself at war. Not that that would happen. Lord Vetinari had convinced the elite of his city that life with him as Patrician was far better than life without him. Other countries had come to the same conclusion.

"That probably is what she will want. If you would begin development of a pair of prototypes, I will clacks Bonk and see how many she feels in necessary. Once I know that, I'll come back with the final order. Given the tone of the last clacks she sent Vetinari, I suspect that you will be busy for a bit."

*****

A row of flat cars sat on a siding waiting for the engine to pull them to Bonk. Strapped firmly to them were a large number of what might be carts but which were sufficiently shrouded to prevent exact identification. Half a dozen golems climbed up between the unidentifiable cargo carrying large bags of tools..

"We Have No Reason To Ride In The Passenger Coaches," one explained, "Since We Are Waterproof And Immune To Cold. Besides, It Will Save The Trust Money That Can Be Better Spent Buying And Freeing Other Golems."

Engine #4 of the Bonk and Schmaltzberg Express backed up to the lead car and fastened on. Smoke billowed and pistons chuffed as the train began its nonstop route to Überwald. The cargo was required. The cargo would be delivered. Amateurs may prattle about strategy and tactics but professionals know that Logistics wins wars.

*****

Young Samuel Vimes-Ramkin, Marquise of Quire and first year student at Unseen University (Bio-Mancy and Hedge Wizardry) was home for the weekend. After an hour of joyous play with his Kh'olli dog, Rolf, and his dragon, Twyla, he sat down to dinner with his parents.

"The new gymnasium is quite the place," he began.

"We saw," answered his mother archly, "and a very social place, too."

Sammy blushed. The

Times

'fashion article' about the latest thing is swimming outfits had taken the city by storm and displayed Sammy and his friends Wolfe, Connie and his 'betrothed' Lethality across the front page for a couple of days running. Even though all had been wearing masks, as had their guests from Black Widow House of the Assassins' Guild, it had been somewhat embarrassing.

"That isn't what I meant." he continued, "Though the pool is a great new feature, what I was talking about is the shooting range. Wolfe is a dead shot with a pistol crossbow and the Archchancellor has been coaching us with hunting crossbows on the running boar range. The man is a remarkable shot. I doubt that there are any better. Why, he claims he even can take a flying pheasant out of the air with a crossbow. I have a hard time believing that."

"Believe it," Commander Vimes stated firmly, "The Archchancellor is well known to be loud, boisterous, opinionated and stubborn but I have yet to see him fail to deliver on anything he said he either could or would do. Remember he attained Seventh Level Mage at the tender age of twenty-seven and then spent forty years as a countryman on his family estates near Lancre. If he says he can shoot flying, the smart money is on the Archchancellor. So he has been teaching you?"

"He has. I'm getting pretty good. Are there any wild boar at Crundell's? Potting one and bringing it back for cook to roast would be brilliant!"