The Fifth Elephant

a Bull’s Blood?”
    “Is that the drink with the vodka? Because—”
    “No,” said Lady Margolotta quietly. “This, I am afraid, is the other kind. Still, ve have that in common, don’t ve? Neither of us drinks…alcohol. I believe you vere an alcoholic, Sir Samuel.”
    “No,” said Vimes, completely taken aback, “I was a drunk. You have to be richer than I was to be an alcoholic.”
    “Ah, vell said. I have lemonade, if you vish. And Miss Littlebottom? Ve don’t have beer, you’ll be pleased to hear.”
    Cheery looked at Vimes in amazement.
    “Er…perhaps a sherry?” she said.
    “Certainly. You may leave us, Igor. Isn’t he a treasure?” she added, as Igor retired.
    “He certainly looks as though he’s just been dug up,” said Vimes. This was not going according to his mental script.
    “Oh, all Igors look like that. He’s been in the family for almost two hundred years. Most of him, anyvay.”
    “Really…?”
    “Extremely popular with the young ladies, for some reason. All Igors are. I’ve found it best not to speculate vhy.” Lady Margolotta gave Vimes a bright smile. “Vell, here’s to your stay, Sir Samuel.”
    “You know a lot about me,” said Vimes weakly.
    “Most of it good, I assure you,” she said. “Although you’re inclined to forget your papervork, you get exasperated easily, you are far too sentimental, you regret your own lack of education and distrust erudition in others, you are immensely proud of your city and you vonder if you may be a class traitor. My…friends in Ankh-Morpork were unable to find out anything very bad and, believe me, they are pretty good at that sort of thing. And you loathe vampires.”
    “I—”
    “Quite understandable. Ve’re dreadful people, by and large.”
    “But you —”
    “I try to look on the bright side,” said Lady Margolotta. “But, anyvay—how did you like the king?”
    “He’s very…quiet,” said Vimes the diplomat.
    “Try cunning. He vill have found out a lot more about you than you did about him, I’m sure. Vould you like a biscuit? I don’t eat them myself, of course, but there’s a little man down in the town that does vonderful chocolate…Igor?”
    “Yes, mithtreth,” said Igor. Vimes nearly sprayed his lemonade across the room.
    “He was out of the room!” he said. “I saw him go! I heard the door shut!”
    “Igor has strange vays. Do give Sir Samuel a napkin, Igor.”
    “You said the king was cunning,” said Vimes, mopping lemonade off his breeches. Igor put down a plate of biscuits and shuffled out of the room.
    “Did I? No, I don’t think I could possibly have said that. It’s not the diplomatic thing to say,” said Lady Margolotta smoothly. “I’m sure ve all support the new Low King, the choice of dvarfdom in general, even if they thought they vere getting a traditionalist and got an unknown quantity.”
    “Did you just say that last bit?” said Vimes, awash on a sea of diplomacy and damp trousers.
    “Absolutely not. You know their Scone of Stone has been stolen?”
    “They say it hasn’t,” said Vimes.
    “Do you believe them?”
    “No.”
    “The coronation cannot go ahead without it, did you know that?”
    “We’ll have to wait until they bake another one?” said Vimes.
    “No. There will be no more Low Kings,” said Lady Margolotta. “Legitimacy, you see. The Scone represents continuity all the vay to B’hrian Bloodaxe. They say he sat on it vhile it vas still soft and left his impression, as it vere.”
    “You mean kingship has passed from bu—backside to backside?”
    “Humans believe in crowns, don’t they?”
    “Yes, but at least they’re at the other end!”
    “Thrones, then.” Lady Margolotta sighed. “People set such store by strange things. Crowns. Relics. Garlic…Anyvay…there will be a civil var over the leadership which Albrecht vill surely vin, and he’ll cease all trading with Ankh-Morpork. Did you know that? He thinks the place is evil.”
    “I know it is,” said Vimes. “And I live there.”
    “I’ve heard that he plans to declare all dvarfs there d’hrarak ,” the vampire went on.
    Vimes heard Cheery gasp. “It means ‘not dwarfs.’”
    “That’s very big of him,” said Vimes. “I shouldn’t think our lads’ll worry about that.”
    “Um,” said Cheery.
    “Quite so. The young lady looks vorried, and you’d do vell to listen to her, Sir Samuel.”
    “Excuse me,” said Vimes, “But what is all this to you?”
    “You