Thud!

certainly hand over his body if it ever turns up…But you’re not going to try that, are you, because you need me. You know something about this cavern, yes? And whatever’s going to happen, you want good ol’ not-sharp-but-by-gods-he’s-straight Sam Vimes to tell the world…
    “No two cubes are alike,” said Rhys. “It is usually a word, but sometimes a breath, a sound, a temperature, a point in the world, the smell of rain. Anything. I understand that there are many cubes that have never spoken.”
    “Really?” said Vimes. “But this thing damn well gabbled . And whoever sent it out of the valley wanted it to be heard, so I doubt it only starts talking when a virgin’s tear falls on it on a warm Tuesday in February. And this one started chatting very smartly to a man who didn’t know a word of Dwarfish, too.”
    “But the speaker would want dwarfs to hear it, surely!” the king protested.
    “It’s a two-thousand-year-old legend! Who knows who wanted what?” said Vimes. “What do you want?”
    This was to Nobby, who had appeared beside him, looking with interest at the cube.
    “How did tha—he get past my guards?” said the king.
    “The Nobbs sidle,” said Vimes, and, as a couple of embarrassed guards dropped heavy hands on Nobby’s frail shoulders, he added: “No. Leave him. Come on, Nobby, you say something to make this thing start speaking.”
    “Er…‘say something or it’ll be the worse for you’?” Nobby suggested.
    “Not a bad try,” Vimes conceded. “A hundred years ago, sire, I doubt if anyone in Ankh-Morpork knew many words of Dwarf or Troll. Perhaps the message was intended for humans? There must have been a settlement down on the plain, with all those birds and fish to eat.”
    “Perhaps some more human words, then, er, Nobby?” said the king.
    “Okay. Open, speak, say something, talk, spill the beans, play—”
    “No, no, Mister Vimes, he’s doing it wrong!” Fred Colon shouted. “It was in the olden days, right? So it’d be old words, like…er…openeth!”
    Vimes laughed as a thought struck. I wonder, he thought. It could be. This is not really about words, it’s about sounds. Noises…
    Bashfullsson was watching the attempt with a puzzled expression.
    “What is the dwarf word for ‘open,’ Mr. Bashfullsson?” said Vimes.
    “In the sense of ‘open a book?’ That would be dhwe , Commander.”
    “Hmm. That won’t do. How about…‘say’?”
    “Why, that would be aargk , or, in the preemptive form, aork! , Commander. You know, I don’t think—”
    “Excuse me!” said Vimes loudly. The babble of voices stopped. He moved the cube close to his mouth.
    “Awk!” he said.
    The blue and green lights ceased their sparkle and, instead, began to form across the metal a pattern of blue and green squares.
    “I thought the artist knew no Dwarfish,” said the king.
    “He didn’t, but he spoke fluent Chicken,” said Vimes. “I’ll explain later…”
    “Captain, fetch the grags,” the king snapped. “The prisoners, too, even the trolls. All shall hear this!”
    The metal seemed to be moving over Vimes’s skin. Some of the green and blue squares rose slightly proud of the rest of the metal.
    The box began to speak. There was a crackle that sounded like Dwarfish, although Vimes couldn’t make out a single word. It was followed by a couple of loud knocking noises.
    “Second Convocation Hubland Dwarfish,” said Bashfullsson. “That would be right for the time. Whoever is speaking has just said: ‘Art thys thyng workyng?’ ”
    The voice spoke again. As the cracked, old syllables unrolled, Bashfullsson went on: “ ‘The first thyng Tak did, he wroten hymself; the second thyng Tak did, he wroten the Laws; the thyrd thyng Tak did, he wroten the World; the fourth thyng Tak did, he wroten ay cave; the fyfth thyng Tak did, he wroten a geode, ay egge of stone; and in the gloamyn of the mouth of the cave, the geode hatched and the Brothers were born; the first Brother walked toward the light, and stood under the open sky—’ ”
    “This is just the story of the Things Tak Wrote,” Cheery whispered to Vimes. Vimes shrugged, and watched as some of the bodyguards hustled the old grags in the circle, Ardent among them.
    “It’s not new or anything?” Vimes said, disappointed.
    “Every dwarf knows it, sir.”
    “‘—He was the first Dwarf,’” Bashfullsson translated. “‘He found the Laws Tak had wrytten, and he was