Snuff

can count, so I can sympathize.”
    Vimes looked down again at the corpse and it was suddenly urgent to try to find out what Willikins had done with the claw, complete with ring, that they had found the previous night. Awkwardly, he said to the assembled goblins, “I believe that I have found some jewelry belonging to this young lady and, of course, I shall bring it to you.”
    There was not so much as an acknowledgment from the impassive horde. Vimes considered that thought. Hordes come in killing and stealing. This lot look like a bunch of worried people. He walked over to a grizzled old goblin who might have been the one he had seen up on the surface a thousand years ago, and said, “I’d like to see more of this place, sir. I’m sorry for the death of the lady. I’ll bring the killers to justice.”
    â€œJust ice!” Once again it echoed around the cave. The old goblin stepped forward very gently and touched Vimes’s sleeve. “The dark is your friend, Mr. Po-leess-maan. I hear you, you hear me. In the dark you may go where you wish. Mr. Po-leess-maan, please do not kill us.”
    Vimes looked past the goblin to the ranks behind, most of them as skinny as rakes, and this, well, chieftain probably, who looked as though he was decomposing while standing up, didn’t want him to hurt them? He remembered the scattered flowers. The orphaned bergamot tea. The uneaten meal. They were trying to hide away from me? He nodded and said, “I do not attack anyone who isn’t attacking me, sir, and I will not start today. Can you tell me how this lady came to be…killed?”
    â€œShe was thrown into our cave last night, Mr. Po-leess-maan. She had gone out to check the rabbit snares. Thrown down like old bones, Mr. Po-leess-maan, like old bones. No blood in her. Like old bones.”
    â€œWhat was her name?”
    The old goblin looked at Vimes as if shocked, and after a moment said, “Her name was The Pleasant Contrast of the Orange and Yellow Petals in the Flower of the Gorse . Thank you, Mr. Po-leess-maan of the dark.”
    â€œI’m afraid I’m only just starting to investigate this crime,” said Vimes, feeling unusually embarrassed.
    â€œI meant, Mr. Po-leess-maan, thank you for believing that goblins have names. My name is S ound of the Rain on Hard Ground . She was my second wife.”
    Vimes stared at the rugged face that only a mother could tolerate and perhaps love, searching for any sign of anger or grief. There was just a sense of sorrow and hopeless resignation at the fact that the world was as it was and always would be and there was nothing that could be done. The goblin was a sigh on legs. In dejection he looked up at Vimes and said, “They used to send hungry dogs into the cave, Mr. Po-leess-maan. Those were good days; we ate well.”
    â€œThis is my land,” said Vimes, “and I think I can see to it that you’re not disturbed here.”
    Something like a chuckle found its way through the old goblin’s ragged beard. “We know what the law is, Mr. Po-leess-maan. The law is the land. You say “ ‘This is my land,’ but you did not make the land. You did not make your sheep, you did not make the rabbits on which we live, you did not make the cows, or the horses, but you say, ‘These things are mine.’ This cannot be a truth. I make my ax, my pots, and these are mine. What I wear is mine. Some love was mine. Now it has gone. I think you are a good man, Mr. Po-leess-maan, but we see the turning of the times. Maybe a hundred, or two hundred years ago there was in the world what people called ‘the wilderness,’ or ‘no man’s land,’ or ‘wasteland,’ and we lived in such places, we are waste people. There was the troll race, the dwarf race, the human race and I am sorry for the goblin race that we cannot run so fast.”
    Somebody pulled at Vimes’s shirt. This time it was Feeney. “You’d best be going now, sir.”
    Vimes turned. “Why?”
    â€œSorry, sir, but her ladyship did instruct you to be back for tea.”
    â€œWe’re conducting a murder investigation, chief constable! I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m sure Mr. Rain on Hard Ground here will understand. We must see for ourselves that the missing blacksmith is not here.”
    Feeney fidgeted. “I couldn’t help noticing that her Ladyship was very