The Fifth Elephant

stick to the old ways. Of course we’re all dwarfs ,” she said, “but relations are rather…restrained.”
    “I bet they are.”
    “Oh, no, all dwarfs recognize the need for the Low King, it’s just that…”
    “…they don’t quite see why knockermen are still so powerful?”
    “It’s all very sad,” said Cheery. “Did I tell you my brother Snorey went off to be a knockerman?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “He died in an explosion somewhere under Borogravia. But he was doing what he wanted to do.” After a moment she added, conscientiously, “Well, up to the moment when the blast hit him. After that, I don’t think so.”
    Now the coach was rumbling up the mountain on one side of the town. Vimes looked down at the little round helmet beside him. Funny how you think you know about people, he thought.
    The wheels clattered over the wood of a drawbridge.
    As castles went, this one looked as though it could be taken by a small squad of not very efficient soldiers. Its builder had not been thinking about fortifications. He’d been influenced by fairy tales and possibly by some of the more ornamental sorts of cake. It was a castle for looking at. For defense, putting a blanket over your head might be marginally safer.
    The coach stopped in the courtyard. To Vimes’s amazement, a familiar figure in a shabby black coat came shuffling up to open the door.
    “Igor?”
    “Yeth, marthter?”
    “What the hell are you doing here?”
    “Er…I’m opening thif here door, marthter,” said Igor.
    “But why aren’t you—”
    Then it stole over Vimes that Igor was different. This Igor had both eyes the same color, and some of his scars were in different places.
    “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I thought you were Igor.”
    “Oh, you mean my couthin Igor,” said Igor. “He workth down at the embathy. How’th he getting on?”
    “Er…he’s looking…well,” said Vimes. “Pretty…well. Yes.”
    “Did he mention how Igor’th getting on, thir?” said Igor, shambling away so fast that Vimes had to run to keep up. “Only none of uth have heard from him, not even Igor, who’th alwayth been very clothe.”
    “I’m sorry? Is your whole family called Igor?”
    “Oh yeth, thir. It avoidth confuthion.”
    “It does?”
    “Yeth, thir. Anyone who ith anyone in Uberwald wouldn’t dream of employing any other thervant but an Igor. Ah, here we are, thir. The mithtreth ith expecting you.”
    They’d walked under an arch and Igor was opening a door with far more studs in it than was respectable. This led to a hallway.
    “Are you sure you want to come?” said Vimes to Cheery. “She is a vampire.”
    “Vampires don’t worry me, sir.”
    “Lucky for you,” said Vimes. He glanced at the silent Tantony. The man was looking as strained as Vimes felt.
    “Tell our friend here he won’t be needed and he’s to wait for us in the coach, the lucky devil,” he said. “But don’t translate that last bit.”
    Igor opened an inner door as Tantony almost ran out of the hall.
    “Hith Grathe Hith Exthelenthy—”
    “Ah, Sir Samuel,” said Lady Margolotta. “Do come in. I know you don’t like being Your Grace. Isn’t this tiresome? But it has to be done, doesn’t it.”
    It wasn’t what he’d expected. Vampires weren’t suppose to wear pearls, or sweaters in pink. In Vimes’s world they didn’t wear sensible flat shoes, either. Or have a sitting room in which every conceivable piece of furniture was upholstered in chintz.
    Lady Margolotta looked like someone’s mother, although possibly someone who’d had an expensive education and a pony called Fidget. She moved like someone who had grown used to her body and, in general, looked like what Vimes had heard described as “a woman of a certain age.” He’d never been quite certain what age that was.
    But…things weren’t quite right. There were bats embroidered on the pink sweater, and the chintzy pattern on the furniture had a sort of… bat look. The little dog with a bow round its neck, lying curled on a cushion, looked more like a rat than a dog. Vimes was less certain about that one, though; dogs of that nature tended to look a bit ratlike in any case. The effect was as if someone had read the music but had never heard it played.
    He realized she was politely waiting for him, and bowed, stiffly.
    “Oh, don’t bother with that, please,” said Lady Margolotta. “Do take a seat.” She walked over to the cabinet and opened it. “Do you fancy