You did not just fire a crossbow at Feeney’s old mum.
Summary
The goblin harp performance moves Sybil to tears, and she tells Sam that she knows she was short with him before, but she does want him to pursue this murder, and to bring Willikins with him. Vimes does and collects Chief Constable Upshot as well, who was told not to help Vimes by one of the local magistrates—the very same one who told him to arrest Vimes earlier. They head to a turkey farm and meet Mr. Flutter, who Vimes corners and questions about the the death of the goblin girl. Flutter didn’t kill her, but he accompanied the man who did, Stratford. Vimes goes to the cellar, finds the Summoning Dark and gets the whole story from it. When he gives it to Flutter all laid out, he tells the man to turn King’s evidence. Flutter agrees. A few people from town gather to watch Vimes open the contraband tobacco they’re hiding on Flutter’s farm; the turkeys mask the smell of it. In the barrel, they also find Crystal Slam, and then many more of the drugs that kill troll kids. Vimes plans to send Flutter on to Ankh-Morpork as soon as he can and keep him locked up in Pseudopolis yard. Flutter tells him that Stratford claimed to be in with Lord Rust, and admits that they talked about Jethro being sent to see the queen, though Vimes isn’t sure what that means.
Back in Ankh-Morpork, Carrot and Angus go to visit Harry King and ask if any of the goblins working for him might be willing to talk to them. Harry points them in the direction of Billy Slick and his grandmother, the only goblins who’ve stayed in his employ. They ask Billy about unggue, but he doesn’t hold with any of the goblin traditions, and advises them to ask his gran (but only if they’ve got brandy on them). They grab some of Harry’s and meet Regret of the Falling Leaf—who is actually Billy’s great-gran. They tell her about the pot Fred found, and she explains that this sort of pot is created when a goblin mother is starving and has to eat her own infant to survive. She stores the spirit of the child in the pot until she can imbue it into her next child. Fred might die from being in contact with the pot, and she suggests they bring her more liquor and snuff before she’ll say anymore. Carrot and Angua send Cherry and Wee Mad Arthur to the tobacconist, who confirms that the cigar came from Howondaland. Wee Mad Arthur tells the group that he can get there and back in two days owing to a Feegle trick he learned; he jumps on an albatross and is off. Vimes wakes and briefly wrestles with the implications of listening to Summoning Dark in his investigations, wondering if it works for him, or the other way around.
Young Sam tells Vimes to come downstairs; Mr. Stoner, clerk for the magistrates, is there to issue him a Cease and Desist order. He’s also there to arrest him, having been named a temporary policeman after Feeney Upshot’s removal. Vimes refuses this outright and heads to the lockup, where Feeney’s mum is yelling at a gang of young men who’ve shown up. Feeney tells his mum to go inside and starts telling the young men off for upsetting his old mum. He also lets them know that he’s appointing Stinky as the first goblin constable. Vimes tells Mr. Stoner to run to Ankh-Morpork and throw himself on the mercy of the actual law, which is most certainly not what’s going on around here. He also finds out from Feeney that Flutter admitted several goblins were put on a ferry boat and taken away from here just the past evening. In Howondaland, Wee Mad Arthur finds a plantation full of goblin slaves who are being beaten and dying. He beats and chains up the guards before setting the goblins free. Vimes finds out more about the boat carrying the goblins from Flutter, a transport called the Wonderful Fanny, and decides he’ll have to set about catching it. He deputizes Willikins to look after the prisoner at the Hall while he’s gone.
Vimes and Feeney intend to catch up to the ship on horses, which Vimes is terrified to ride. Thankfully, Stinky shows up, insisting that he join them and making Vimes’s steed entirely amenable to the proceedings. It begins to storm heavily and Feeney explains that the river here, Old Treachery, is sometimes home to a “damn slam” where a storm pulls enough debris into the river to create a dam that eventually bursts. They find the Fanny, which is about to deal with a slam. The group dismount and jump aboard the barges. They meet a chicken farmer named Mr. False who is too afraid to go to see what’s happened because he heard screaming. Vimes gets weapons from the man’s toolbox, and they get to the next barge, which is holding the goblins—all weak, dying, or dead—with enough food for a long journey. They free them and find the captain’s wife and child being guarded by Mr. Brassbound, who turns against his comrades and offers to help. When Vimes makes it to the captain and finds Stratford, it turns out to be a bluff: Brassbound is Stratford. But Vimes had already guessed and handed him a useless weapon. Stratford is taken out by a branch that runs through the boat. Vimes then has to fight with both Sillitoe and his man Ten Gallons to get the goblins on board when they have to cut the rest of the barges loose.
Commentary
There’s a thing we’ll have to get into in the next time about recognizing sentience through art—which is simultaneously a lovely thought and also a horrible method of “proof” to require anyone to provide. We’ve only just started with the harp-playing, though, so I think I’ll bring that up in the final part.
The way that Vimes’ relationship with the Summoning Dark plays out in this book really does make me wish that Pratchett had the chance to write more Watch books because this arc seems like something he intended to build upon, and I’m incredibly curious to what end he meant to take it. There’s a question within this about whether Vimes can use the Dark to his own ends, or he’s an agent of it, which is fascinating on its own from a sort of mythological standpoint: What does it mean to be the servant/wielder of an embodiment of affronts to justice?
What’s more interesting is the fact that Vimes keeps using the Summoning Dark to get information on what happened, and there’s a very clear ethical difficulty in that: Can he trust its version of events? Sure, when he goes to Flutter with the information it provides, he seems to corroborate the story, but we know that this is a method police often use to coerce confessions from people. So we’re being given a problem through fantastical means that asks a very real question about how the police obtain information and interrogate witnesses. And as usual, the only reason we’re given wiggle room to trust it here is because Sam Vimes is—in the broadest sense of the term—doing The Right Thing. He’s trying to free an entire race from slavery—obviously this is what we want him to do.
But there’s the Summoning Dark. And we don’t fully understand its motivations or desires, if it can be said to have any. And it is imbuing Sam Vimes with power that he otherwise would not have. And you have to assume that Vetinari knows about this state (or at least suspects it) because how could he not? So there’s an acknowledgement that the stacking of power here is getting really off-balance, even if we’re glad that Vimes is here to sort a few things out. And I’m so glad that Pratchett does this, that he never imparts magical power without the acknowledgement—not that “all magic comes with a price” (sorry, I hate that trite crap), but that all magic in the world isn’t just a neat little energy drink that makes things easier.
I also must point out that this is the first book where Sam Vimes actually acknowledges that he does need rest no matter how much he would like his body to carry him forever beyond any sense of exhaustion. Granted, the rest he takes is simply sitting down next to Willikins for a moment, but I’ll take it. Apparently age has finally imparted that small bit of wisdom. (Well, that and age also forces you to take those lessons to heart, but let’s not go there right now.)
Sam Vimes also may hate that Vetinari put him in an oversight position on the Watch, but those are lessons he’s taken to heart too. Vimes is so good at delegating now that he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it: He sets up Willikins to take care of the prisoner; he accepts help and expertise from Feeney and Stinky as they offer it; and he’s always listened, but now he’s better at it. He extrapolates faster; his head is clearer; he’s working more efficiently. He levels up, and it’s easy not to notice it because we’re always so deep inside his head that we’re mostly just getting his self-loathing and worry. But it’s all there.
And he does have a knack for inspiring people to stand on their own two feet. Feeney Upshot is actually a pretty smart kid, but he had no chance of coming into his own before Vimes showed him that he was more competent than he felt. And that’s a particularly important skill for people in high-up positions to have—not controlling others, but empowering them to take responsibility for their own lives and work. Vimes just comes that way, he gets it intrinsically. Feeney already seems like a completely different person from when we met him.
This book is also scathing in reminding us that so many among us are comfortable thinking of entire groups as Not People. We get a plethora of moments where we’re casually told that no one cares about the goblins because they’ve simply decided to agree with the magistrates: The rich nobs said they’re vermin, so we’re all allowed to think it—and treat them accordingly.
Good thing we’re about to get that sorted.
Asides and little thoughts
- I cannot help the fact that my brain has decided that Stinky sounds exactly like Fidget in the The Great Mouse Detective. Things are more enjoyable that way, and I highly recommend trying out that voice in your head.
- Sometimes I wonder if there were further plans for Carrot, or if what Pratchett does with him was always the point: Carrot kind of finds his place, settles in, and grows like this huge steady tree. The Watch books center on Vimes because he’s always going to be the person who gets things done, but also because he has a capacity for change that Carrot largely lacks. I dunno, I just kinda love that about them.
- Love Mr. Sillitoe trying to get Vimes to use “port” and “starboard,” only to have Vimes reply, “Wouldn’t know about that, Gastric, never drank starboard.” Nerd.
Pratchettisms
The Street was talking to him even if it was in fact nothing more than a wide lane.
Mrs. Gumption would be very pleased about that and certainly more pleased than she was to be called a Gumption.
Meanwhile, on one astonished surreptitious albatross sat one hugely satisfied Feegle, who settled down in the feathers and began to eat a piece of the single hardboiled egg and two-inch slice of bread that were his rations for the tripe, while the universe rushed past them making a noise like weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
He held in front of him a scroll with a red wax seal affixed, the kind of thing believed to make a document official—or at least expensive and difficult to understand, which, in fact, amounts to the same thing.
At this point there was a roll of thunder, not really appropriate to the last comment, and therefore without occult significance.
There was so much water in the air and so little light left that the difference between the river and shore could only be judged by seeing which one you fell into.
Next week we finish the book!
Thoughts
At this point Vimes is much less a copper and more a crusader. He still wants the law to have the ultimate say but until then the rules are just suggestions.
The Summoning Dark is functioning for Vimes like Vetinari’s Dark Clerks. We accept it because we see it elsewhere.
You don’t mention that it was Willikins who used his illegal folding crossbow to shoot Feeney’s mum’s broomstick in half, inspiring Feeney and demoralizing the mob.
You mention that Vimes’s “head is clearer.” Perhaps it’s the country getting to him. Not to spoil the conclusion of the book but maybe Sybil was right that he needed a vacation.
Pratchettisms
This motherly advice was punctuated by Mrs. Upshot bobbing up and down so fast that she could have been harnessed to a sewing machine.
Flutter? He wasn’t even a henchmen – you needed a certain amount of tactical thinking before you could hench. (Vimes)
“Yes sir,” said Cheery. “I’m authorized to pay cash down.” Bewildereforce looked extremely bewildered. “What? Policemen pay?”
I’m too damn scared to tell Feeney I’m too damn scared. Hah, the story of my life, too much of a damn coward to be a coward. (Vimes)
Shoutback
The Zoons were first seen in Equal Rites when a Zoon family helped Esk get to Ankh-Morpork.
I figured out on this reread why I don’t really like this book
One big reason of course, is that we’re approaching the end. The other is that the book is full of character as loudly lecturing each other.
I might have found the pattern of lectures less irksome if Vimes in particular didn’t keep ending his sentences with the name of the person he was lecturing.
The book has a lot of lecturing but I think it was to make valid points about the inherent differences in the perspective of Vimes and Sybil and of Vimes and Vetinari. It continues in the next section but with a sense of ‘all’s well that ends well.’ Happily the next book is more of a traditional Pratchett romp before the inevitable Pratchett finale.
There was a comment on part 1 to the effect that the quality of Pratchett’s writing was visibly affected in this book. I’m not seeing the simple prose change — that may be my limited eye for prose — but the plotting is definitely simpler; normally there would be three or more threads going simultaneously, but here it’s Vimes almost all the time, with an occasional scene back in A-M.
In addition to Vimes learning to delegate (as our host notes), he also shows another sign of being a good manager: he now knows he was still learning (from Vetinari) when he thought he knew everything. Continuing to learn is good at all levels, but is IMO especially important for managers — one of their jobs is to understand what they have to learn so their team can deal with the oncoming train.
I’m not so sanguine about what could have happened with Vimes’s darksight (etc.) if Pratchett had lived longer; it’s getting to the point of being a superpower, which can wipe out the need for care in plotting and action. (cf the writer of the Wizard of Liavek
Pratchettisms:
…in A-M the mice and the cockroaches had decided to forget their differences and gang up on the humans.
Some people could be said to be as pleased as punch. Feeney could be said to be as pleased as Punch, Judy, the dog Toby, the crocodile and, above all, the policeman.
…Slap was generally considered to be a recreational drug, at least if your idea of recreation was waking up in the gutter not knowing whose head you had on.
He was a scallywag, a chancer, a ruthless fighter and a dangerous driver of bargains over the speed limit. Since all this was a bit of a mouthful, he was referred to as a successful businessman, since that more or less amounted to the same thing.
…while Mr. Slant would bow (rather stiffly) to the rich and influential, he did not like mistakes, and he did not like seeing the law being brought into disrepute by inept lawyers and laymen, believing that this particular duty should be left to senior lawyers, such as Mr. Slant, who could do this with care and panache and AM$300 per hour.
Vimes watched the young man’s face as he considered his meager options and found that there was no plural.
“They only happen very rarely when circumstances are right, sir.” Narrativium activated.
There’s a (referenced) character named Pelvic and a character named Gastric. Random anatomical terms don’t make for a great naming pattern.
I hope Flutter’s freed turkeys can fend for themselves. The breeds that mostly get factory-farmed here and now probably couldn’t, bred to be so loaded-down with breast meat that they can’t fly (or mate) and are prone to things like respiratory failure and joint problems. Flutter’s turkeys are probably not of that sort, though if he neglected and mistreated them as rumor and stench indicate, they might be vulnerably weak or sick. Local foxes and scavengers might eat well.
Flutter ‘invented new gods to swear to’ — deary me, that’s risky on Discworld.
“Oh, they say they can talk, but you know how the little buggers lie.” Kinda the opposite of people believing dogs can’t talk because a talking dog told them so.
“What is normal? Normal is yesterday and last week and last month, taken together.” (Vetinari, as remembered by Vimes.) This leaves a bit more room for optimism than the Wheel of Time quote which came to my mind when I heard that question: “Light, how the horror of yesterday became merely the uneasiness of today, once you grew accustomed.”
Pratchettisms:
‘[Flutter] appeared to be sweating turkeys.’
“And so, one at a time, we all become human. Human werewolves, human dwarfs, human trolls. The melting pot melts in one direction only.” — Angua’s thoughts
“Nice weather. Not much to do, unless you try to stroke one of the cats. They get kind of stroppy.” — Precious Jolson, on visiting Howandaland
‘And it’s quite easy for people to be jolly decent people when they can afford to hire thoroughly un-decent people” — Vimes
Looking back:
Early in this book, Vetinari told Drumknott about the unacceptability of lethal troll drugs to himself, Diamond King, and Vimes.
A book ago, Wee Mad Arthur discovered his Feegle roots in a side-plot that contrasted nicely with the grim central plot. Now this event, and specifically his learning of the craw-step which Feegles have used in previous books (I don’t remember just when) allows for an important and improbable plot point.
Precious Jolson was mentioned in Thud! when Colon called on her to break a dance-pole off its mounting so the entangled Mrs. Spudding could be removed from it. Cool that she subsequently joined the Watch at some point. Being presumably human (despite having “the muscles of a troll” even though trolls technically don’t *have* muscles), she’s the first explicitly-female human Watch member to be mentioned in a Discworld book.
Howondaland persons, places, and things have been mentioned throughout the novels and reference materials, as detailed on its L-Space Wiki page. But it appears that the only scenes definitely set there have been the gathering of a 1,000 elephants and Death/Bill Door’s temple-invading theft of the “Tear of Offler” diamond to give to Miss Flitworth in Reaper Man. The L-Space Wiki says that the Tezuman Empire we visit in Eric is “in Klatch, or by an alternative interpretation, in Howondaland.” But I don’t know what that means, especially because Howondaland is part of the continent (not the nation) of Klatch.
As far as the crawstep, I had to look it up. Here’s a synopsis for the forgetful. In the Tiffany books it allows the Feegles to enter someone’s mind, like in the battle with the hiver (and may play a role in the kelda’s soothings). Here it’s used to enter the albatross’s mind and suggest it should pick up Wee Mad Arthur and carry him to Howondaland.
I always assumed the odd quote was a reference to Asian versus African elephants.
Nah, the crawstep is how the Feegles travel between dimensions, including the dream realm that Tiffany was in. Arthur uses the crawstep to skip most of the distance between Ankh-Morpork and Howondaland
The crawstep is only good for dimensional travel, not physical travel. For example, Rob Anybody had to be physically present next to Tiffany’s body and had to have the other Feegles physically gather items from Tiffany’s past before he could crawstep into her mind to save her from the hiver.
As far as Wee Mad Arthur, remember that he estimated that it would take two days to get there and back. Plus he packed provisions.