The Fifth Elephant

the reins were simply loosely knotted on a brass railing.
    A door swung open. A veiled figure leaned out.
    “Your Excellency? Do let me give you a lift back to the embassy. You look so tired.”
    “No, thank you,” said Vimes grimly.
    “I apologize for the emphasis on black,” said Lady Margolotta. “It is rather expected of one on these occasions, I’m afraid—”
    Vimes swung himself up and into the carriage with furious speed.
    “You tell me ,” he growled, waving a finger under her nose, “how anyone can swim up a vertical waterfall? I was prepared to believe anything about that bastard, but even he couldn’t have managed that…”
    “Certainly that is a puzzle,” said the vampire calmly, as the driverless coach moved on. “Superhuman strength, possibly?”
    “And now he’s gone and that’s one up for the vampires, eh?”
    “I would like to think that it’s going to be a blessing for the whole country.” Lady Margolotta leaned back. Her rat with the bow around its neck watched Vimes suspiciously from its pink cushion. “Wolfgang was a sadistic murderer, a throwback who frightened even his own family. Delphine…sorry, Angua…will have some peace of mind. An intelligent young lady, I’ve always thought. Leaving here was the best thing she ever did. The darkness will be a little less frightening. The world will be a better place.”
    “And I’ve handed you Uberwald?”
    “Don’t be stupid. Uberwald is huge. This is one small part of it. And now it’s going to change. You have been a breath of fresh air.”
    Lady Margolotta drew a long holder from her bag and inserted a black cigarette. It lit itself.
    “Like you, I have found consolation in a…different vice,” she said. “Black Scopani. They grow the tobacco in total darkness. Do try some. You could waterproof roofs with it. I believe Igor makes cigars by rolling the leaves between his thighs.” She blew out a stream of smoke. “Or someone’s thighs, anyway. Of course, I am sorry for the baroness. It must be so hard for a werewolf, realizing that she’s raised a monster. As for the baron, give him a bone and he’s happy for hours.” Another stream of smoke. “Do look after Angua. Happy Families is not a popular game among the undead.”
    “You helped him come back! Just like you did for me!”
    “Oh, he’d have come back anyway, in time. Some time when you weren’t expecting him. He’d track Angua like a wolverine. Best that things ended today.” She gave him an appraising look through the smoke. “You’re good at anger, Your Grace. You save it up for when you need it.”
    “You couldn’t have known I’d beat him. You left me in the snow. I wasn’t even armed!”
    “Havelock Vetinari would not have sent a fool to Uberwald.” More smoke, which writhed in the air. “At least, not a stupid fool.”
    Vimes’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve met him, haven’t you.”
    “Yes.”
    “And taught him all he knows, right?”
    She blew smoke down her nostrils, and gave him a radiant smile.
    “I’m sorry? You think I taught him? My dear sir…As for what I’ve got out of all this…well, a little breathing space. A little influence. Politics is more interesting than blood, Your Grace. And much more fun. Beware the reformed vampire, sir—the craving for blood is only a craving, and with care it can be diverted along different channels. Ah, I believe we are here,” she added, although Vimes could have sworn that she hadn’t so much as glanced out of the window.
    The door opened.
    “If my Igor’s still there, do tell him I will see him Downtown. So nice to have met you. I’m sure we shall meet again. And do please present my fondest regards to Lord Vetinari.”
    The door shut behind Vimes. The coach moved off.
    He swore, under his breath.
    The hall was full of Igors. Several of them touched their forelocks, or at least the approximate line of stitch marks, when they saw him. All of them were carrying heavy metal containers of varying sizes, on which frost crystals were forming.
    “What’s this?” he said. “Igor’s funeral?” Then it sunk in. “Oh, my gods…with party loot bags? Everyone gets something to take home?”
    “You could say that, thir, you could put it that way,” said an Igor, as the rest filed past. “It may theem odd to you, but we think that putting bodieth in the ground ith rather gruethome. All thothe wormth and thingth.” He tapped the tin box under his arm. “Thith way, he’ll be