The Fifth Elephant

Detritus. “But I feel very diplomatic.”
    “Not the crossbow, however,” said Lady Sybil.
    “ She got her ax,” said Detritus accusingly.
    “Dwarf axes are accepted as a cultural weapon,” said Lady Sybil. “I don’t know the etiquette here, but I suppose you could get away with a club.” After all, she added to herself, it’s not as though anyone would try to take it off you.
    “Der crossbow ain’t cultural?”
    “I’m afraid not.”
    “I could put, like, glitter on it.”
    “Not enough, I’m afraid—Oh, Sam…”
    “Yes, dear?” said Vimes, coming down the stairs.
    “That’s just your Watch dress uniform! What about your ducal regalia?”
    “Can’t find it anywhere,” said Vimes innocently. “I think the bag must have fallen off the coach in the pass, dear. But I’ve got a helmet with feathers in it and Igor’s buffed up the breastplate until he could see his face in it, although I’m not sure why.” He quailed at her expression. “Duke is a military term, dear. No soldier would ever go to war in tights. Not if he thought he might be taken prisoner.”
    “I find this highly suspicious, Sam.”
    “Detritus will back me up on this,” said Vimes.
    “Dat’s right, sir,” the troll rumbled. “You distinctly said to say dat—”
    “Anyway, we’d better be goi—Good grief, is that Cheery?”
    “Yes, sir,” said Cheery nervously.
    Well, thought Vimes, she comes from a family where people go off in strange clothes to face explosions far away from the sun.
    “Very nice,” he said.

    Lamps were lit all along the tunnel to what Vimes had come to think of as Downtown Bonk. Dwarf guards waved the coach through after mere glances at the Ankh-Morpork crest. The ones around the giant elevator were more uncertain. But Sam Vimes had learned a lot from watching Lady Sybil. She didn’t mean to act like that, but she’d been born to it, into a class which had always behaved this way: You went through the world as if there was no possibility that anyone would stop you or question you, and most of the time that’s exactly what didn’t happen.
    There were others in the elevator as it rumbled downward. Mostly they were diplomats that Vimes didn’t recognize, but there was also, now, in a roped-off corner, a quartet of dwarf musicians playing pleasant yet slightly annoying music that ate its way into Vimes’s head as the interminable descent went on.
    When the doors opened he heard Sybil gasp.
    “I thought you said it was like a starry night down here, Sam!”
    “Er…they’ve certainly turned the wick up…”
    Candles by the thousand burned in brackets all around the walls of the huge cavern, but it was the chandeliers that caught the eye.
    There were scores of them, each at least four stories high. Vimes, always ready to look for the wires behind the smoke and mirrors, made out the dwarfs working inside the gantries and the baskets of fresh candles being lowered through holes in the ceiling. If the Fifth Elephant wasn’t a myth, at least one whole toe must be being burned tonight.
    “Your Grace!”
    Dee was advancing through the crowds.
    “Ah, Ideas-taster,” said Vimes. as the dwarf approached, “do allow me to introduce the Duchess of Ankh-Morpork…Lady Sybil.”
    “Uh…er…yes…indeed…so delighted to make your acquaintance…” Dee murmured, caught off-guard by the charm offensive. “But, er…”
    Sybil had picked up the code. Vimes loathed the word “duchess,” so if he was using it then he wanted her to out-dutch everyone. She enveloped Dee’s pointy head in delighted Duchessness.
    “Mister Dee, Sam has told me so much about you!” she trilled. “I understand you’re quite the right-hand man—”
    “—dwarf—” hissed Vimes.
    “—dwarf to his majesty! Please, you must tell how you have achieved such a delightful lighting effect here!”
    “Er…lots of candles…” Dee muttered, glaring at Vimes.
    “I think Dee wishes to discuss some political matters with me, dear,” said Vimes smoothly, putting his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “If you’ll just take the others down, I’ll join you shortly, I’m sure.” And he knew that no power in the world was going to prevent Sybil sweeping on down to the reception. That woman could sweep . Things stayed swept after she’d gone past.
    “You brought a troll, you brought a troll !” muttered Dee.
    “And he’s an Ankh-Morpork citizen, remember,” said Vimes. “Covered by diplomatic immunity and