The Fifth Elephant

have to cut firewood. Oh, the company has rules, and then they put three young men in some lonely tower for weeks at a time and they expect them to act like clockwork people. See the trapdoor up to the controls? That should be locked at all times. Now you, Your Grace, and myself as well, because we are…are—”
    “—bastards?” Vimes supplied.
    “Well, yes…mmm…we’d have devised a system that meant the clacks couldn’t even be operated unless the trapdoor was shut, wouldn’t we?”
    “Something like that, yes.”
    “And we’d have written into the rules that the presence of any visitor in the tower would, mhm, be automatically transmitted to the neighboring towers, too.”
    “Probably. That’d be a start.”
    “As it is, I suspect that any harmless-looking visitor with a nice fresh apple pie for the lads would be warmly welcomed,” sighed Inigo. “They do two-month shifts at a time. Nothing to look at but trees, mmm.”
    “No blood, not much sign of a struggle,” said Vimes. “Have you checked outside?”
    “There should be a horse in the stable. It’s gone. We’re more or less on rock here. There’s wolf tracks, but there’s wolf tracks everywhere around here. And the wind’s blown the snow. They’ve…gone, Your Grace.”
    “Are you sure the men let someone in through the door?” Vimes said. “Anyone who could land on the platform could be in one of these windows in an instant.”
    “A vampire, mmm?”
    “It’s a thought, isn’t it.”
    “There’s no blood around…”
    “It’s a shame to waste good food,” said Vimes. “Think of those poor starving children in Muntab. What are these ?”
    He pulled a box from under the lower bunk. Inside it were two long tubes, about a foot long, open at one end.
    “‘Badger and Normal, Ankh-Morpork’” he read aloud, “‘Mortar Flare (Red). Light Fuse. Do Not Place In Mouth.’ It’s a firework, Mister Skimmer. I’ve seen them on ships.”
    “Ah, there was something…” Inigo leafed through the book on the table. “They could send up an emergency flare if there’s a big problem. Yes…the tower nearest Ankh-Morpork will send out a couple of men and a bigger squad comes up from the depot down on the plains. They take a downed tower very seriously.”
    “Yes, well, it could cost them money,” said Vimes, peering into the mouth of the mortar. “We need this tower working, Inigo. I don’t like being stuck out here.”
    “The roads aren’t too bad yet. They could be here by tomorrow evening—I’m sure you shouldn’t do that, sir!”
    Vimes had pulled the mortar out of its tube. He looked at Inigo quizzically.
    “They won’t go off until you light the charge in the base,” he said. “They’re safe. And they’d make a stupid weapon, ’cos you can’t aim them worth a damn and they’re only made of cardboard in any case. Come on, let’s get it onto the roof.”
    “Not until dark, Your Grace, mmm. That way two or three towers on each side will see it, not just the closest.”
    “But the closest towers are watching they’ll certainly see—”
    “We don’t know that there is anyone there to watch, sir. Perhaps what happened here has happened there, too? Mmm?”
    “Good grief! You don’t think—”
    “No, I don’t think, sir, I’m a civil servant. I advise other people, mmm, mmm. Then they think. My advice is that an hour or two won’t hurt, sir. My advice is that you return with Lady Sybil now , sir. I will send up a flare as soon as it is dark and make my way back to the embassy.”
    “Hold on, I am Commander in—”
    “Not here, Your Grace. Remember? Here you are a civilian in the way, mhm, mmm. I’ll be safe enough—”
    “The crew weren’t.”
    “They weren’t me, mhm, mhm. For the sake of Lady Sybil, Your Grace, I advise you to leave now .”
    Vimes hesitated, hating the fact that Inigo was not only right but was, despite his claim to mindlessness, doing the thinking that he should be doing. He was supposed to be out for an afternoon’s drive with his wife, for heaven’s sake.
    “Well…all right. Just one thing, though. Why are you here?”
    “The last time Sleeps was seen he was on his way up here with a message.”
    “Ah. And am I right in thinking that your Mister Sleeps was not exactly the kind of diplomat that hands around the cucumber sandwiches?”
    Inigo smiled thinly.
    “That’s right, sir. He was…the other sort. Mmm.”
    “Your sort.”
    “Mmm. And now go , Your