More Tales from the Guilds Ch. 09

"It is. In fact, it looks like a steady, soft, very deep—tone."

++++// "That would make sense. With the two cubes rubbing against each other eternally, having the Axle make vibration, a sound too faint for human (or dwarf) ears to detect is perfectly understandable."//++++

"You know, I believe we're onto something. Of course, it's so faint that detecting it through hundreds of feet of solid stone would border on the miraculous. But then, doing things that border on the miraculous is what wizardry is all about."

++++// "What wizardry was all about. After all, that's what led to the Wizard Wars. Now, not doing things that border on the miraculous is what wizardry is all about. It keeps everyone involved alive long enough to get to the next big dinner."//++++

Once again, Ponder regretted his inability to grow a beard. It would have been a nice thing to stroke thoughtfully in cases like this. Pelc had gotten around it by having an artificial one for public occasions or cold weather. Stibbons had tried it on once but one look in the mirror put an end to that idea.

"Quite so. Therefore, I'll put the graduate students in the HEMB onto the problem. Either they will come up with a way of detecting it at a distance or they'll blow themselves up. They knew the study was dangerous when they came here, after all."

*****

"Vice-Chancellor," Knöckleboan began, "before I began my studies here I remember the huge excitement when four thousand Umnian golems marched into the city and then buried themselves. Later I heard a story that Ms. Dearheart-Von Lipwig had found them buried in the wastes and brought them back. The bit that struck me most was that supposedly one of them had started to sing and that the song was picked up by a AM golem through the earth. That seems pretty sensitive to me. Do you think one could pick up the vibration of a buried Axle?"

Stibbons, who had been writing down the day's events in his journal stopped in mid-sentence and put down his pen. He stared at the wall with a faraway look in his eyes.

"The Umnians sang and the local golems heard it—all the way from Überwald. That's remarkably sensitive. I don't know how much louder the song was than the Axle's tone but if they were down in a dwarf tunnel . . ."

"Constable Dorfl is, I hear, the most senior Free Golem and most of the others defer to—uh, him?"

Stibbons nodded slowly. "Knöckleboan, you may have just earned yourself a doctorate. Write up a proposal with all proper references and annotations. I'll sign off on it and submit it to the Archchancellor for approval. And then, you take it to the Patrician! This could be the best thing to hit the University since the inception of Interluncheon Morsels!"

*****

In Commander Vimes office, Stibbons met with the Commander, Captain Ironfounderson, Adora Belle Von Lipwig and Constable Dorfl. After hearing the Vice-Chancellor read Mr. Knöckleboan's paper, all eyes turned to the golem.

"That Is A Very Interesting Idea," Constable Dorfl rumbled, "However, I Do Not Think That A Normal Golem Could Do It. I Suspect That It Would Require A Modification In Its Chem. Let Us Go To The Central Hub. I Will Listen. If I Can Hear What You Are Talking About, Well And Good. If Not, Modifications Must Be Made."

An hour later, the Vice-Chancellor, the Captain, the Constable and Adora Belle entered the Central Hub. All the humans heard was the grinding of the wheels and gears and the whoosh of the cables. However, the sonagraph still showed the tone on its screen.

"Do the other Axles give off the same note?" Adora Belle asked Carrot.

"I don't know," he replied, "I've never actually seen any of the others. I only heard about them second hand when other Dezka-k'niks came to visit my adopted father. But you bring up a good point. It will do no good to make it possible for a golem to detect this tone if the others all have different notes."

"Some One Of Us Will Have To Visit The Others," Dorfl said, "And Take One Of Those Boxes With It. We Must Measure All Of Them. How Many Are There, Captain?"

"I don't really know. His Lordship will have to ask the Low Queen."

The big golem moved over to one of the main drive wheels and after some contemplation, put the sole of his foot against the outside hub. He stood there easily on one foot as the hub turned against the sole of his foot. Then he put it down and came back.

"It Is Well Known That Commander Vimes Can Tell Where He Is In The City By The Feel Of The Cobbles Under His Feet. We Must Ask The Golem Sawyer-9 To Come Here And Try What I Just Did. He Is, After All, The One Who Reported The Umniam Golems' Song."

*****

Sawyer 9, as it turned out, had left the lumber business and now worked as a light trip hammer in Stronginthearm's forge. Since he had a 'holy day' coming, he agreed to examine the Axle. On the appointed day, he put his foot against the hub, waited patiently for a while and then reported back to Adora Belle.

"I Am Unable To Detect Any Tone Or Musical Note From The Axle. I Am Sorry."

The Head of the Golem Trust sighed. "I knew it was too much to ask," she grumbled softly, "but we did have to try. Thank-you Sawyer-9. Go back to the rest of your holy day."

Once the golem was gone, she sighed and turned to Dorfl. "What's the name of the newest golem we bought?"

"Schleger, Miss Dearheart. It Is At Igneous' All Night Pottery Getting A Voice. I Agree With You. It Would Be Ideal To Send To Überwald And Coppermine To See If All The Axles Play The Same Note, Except For One Thing—It Is Far Too Large To Fit Into A Dwarf Mine."

Adora Belle narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "Yes, yes it is. Still, Dorfl, during the fight with Meshugah, you were badly broken. Captain Carrot and Commander Vimes carried you to Igneous and you were reassembled. Might it be possible for Schelger to be either reduced in size or remodeled to fit in a mine?"

The golem officer's eyes banked and glowed brighter several times. "It Would Be Possible, But It Would Be Its Choice. Schelger Is A Free Golem Now."

Adora Belle nodded. "As it should be. We must ask. And if this doesn't work, it can always be put back to its original form. We can tell Igneous to save the unused bits, just in case."

*****

With steepled fingers and arched eyebrow, the Patrician looked skeptically at the Archchancellor. "And you think this approach has a chance of working?"

Ridcully sipped his sherry and returned the glance with complete equanimity. "Young Knöckleboan's paper makes a verra persuasive case. We know that golems, bein' made o' clay, are ver' attuned to the Disk and we have the Umnian golems because o' this relationship. Everythin' else beyond those facts is spec'lative but sufficiently logical that to not make the effort to prove th' case, one way or t'other, seems foolish."

"And," the Chief Priest of Blind Io added, "remakin' Schleger, who is already a free Person of Clay, is theologically much more sound than tryin' t' convince the priestly community to allow th' makin' of a new one in th' right size."

Vetinari put his hands down and turned to the golem standing quietly next to the other men. "And you agree to this?"

"I Risk Little. If I Am Able To Detect Axles Or Other Devices, I Will Make A Great Deal Of Money. With A Great Deal Of Money, I Can Free All The Other Golems In Ankh-Morpork And Beyond. It Seems A Worthy Endeavor. If I Cannot, I Am Remade And Nothing Is Lost."

The Patrician nodded. "Then I will instruct our ambassador in Schmaltzburg to open negotiations with the Low Queen. Once she approves, you may proceed. Hopefully, we will have answers within the year. Do not let me detain you."

*****

Melissa McGoldrick sat on the sofa in the Library with her chin in her hands next to Professor Pelc. "It's just not working, Professor. No matter how hard I try, how hard I concentrate, I just can't do any of the things the other students do. I can't light a candle, I can't make things levitate, I can't even make scarves fly out of my sleeves. It looks like I'll never be a wizard at this rate. What am I to do?"

Pelc patted her shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. "There, there. Wizardry isn't the only way in the world. The Librarian, Professor Emergent-Weatherwax and I have been discussing this. You might—well, how do you feel about wearing the color orange?"

"Orange? You mean as clothing? Well, I've been told it flatters me. Why?"

"Oh, that's so good to know. You see, since you are so happy here, some of us think you might want to take a look at another library? It's just that everyone there wears orange and . . ."

"Orange? Oh, you mean like those funny little monks that pop up now and again? What do they have to do with books?"

"Actually, quite a lot." A new voice entered the conversation. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Soto, Marco Soto. I'm one of those funny little monks from the Oi Dong monastery. And we have a great deal to do with books, which is why I've been detailed to take you on a tour. Normally, I'd have you pack a bag and get ready to travel but since you have such skill with L-Space, we can just go there, take a look around and then you can make a decision. Interested?"

Missy was skeptical. "What kind of books?"

A mound of orange fur stepped out from behind the orange robe. "Ook!" said the Librarian emphatically.

Missy's eyes widened. "How can they be the most important books in the Multiverse? More important than we have here?"

The Orang nodded. "Ik."

"That important? Phew. Okay, Mr. Soto, you have my attention. But I don't know where this library is so I'm not sure I can get there."

The Librarian winked, pointed a finger at her and motioned her to follow him.

Into the stacks, around a corner and down a corridor or two, the trio slipped into a 'space' between the end of one shelf and its joint with the upright. Then, out into another corridor but one gently scented with incense and echoing with deep-throated chanting. On either side were shelves full of books, but what books! Each volume was taller than a man, wide as his shoulders and bound in iron.

"Here," Marco stated with reverence in his voice, "are the Books of History. Whenever someone says, 'It is written . . .', it is written here. These books don't record History, they direct it. And we, as the keepers, make sure that History flows as it should. Sometimes, this is a lot harder than you might think. But here, let me give you an example. Lomphat, help me with this one."

Another monk brought up a trolley and used it to withdraw an obviously very weighty tome out of its shelf. Then he and Marco tipped it back, opened it to about two thirds of the way through and drew down a huge magnifying glass. Once she saw how small the print was and how thin the pages, Missy understood the precautions.

"Ook," the Librarian instructed, pointing to a passage.

Melissa leaned down, peered through the glass and read, "And on this day Melissa McGoldrick arrived from Unseen University. What? It knew about me? How?"

Marco shook his head. "No, it knows about you. The History Books know about everything. That's why we guard them so carefully. And we think they've been waiting for you."

Warily, Melissa laid her hand on the page—and sighed. All the worry, the anxiety and the loss she'd suffered for the previous three years flowed away. The books loved her, like nothing, not even in Unseen University, had. She lay her face down on the page and felt the warmth flow up through her cheek and through her entire being. A radiant smile spread across her face and she exhaled deeply. After a few minutes she stood back up.

"I—I guess it's a thing good that orange flatters me. I'll have to get my head shaved, won't I? Or can I go like Marco?"

Marco shook his head. "No, if you want to stay in Oi Dong, you'll have to shave. The hair that lives on me is what got me sent to Ankh-Morpork as a field agent. As the History nun, you'll need to go smooth."

"Oh, that's alright. Most of the time I feel that I can't do anything with my hair anyway. So what's the rest of Oi Dong like?"

Marco and Lomphat bowed and motioned her back down the long corridor and led her out the doors of the Great Library. Emerging into the sunlight Melissa stopped in her tracks, open mouthed. It was the most beautiful place, even beyond her wildest imaginations. Immaculately manicured lawns spread between cherry trees laden with fruit. Streams gurgled and rushed through the land and occasionally a trout would rise to take an insect that had inadvertently (and fatally) landed on the surface.

Wooden buildings, artfully spaced, stood on raised foundations and were covered by gently curved, tiled roofs that seemed to take up as much space as the structure beneath. Far away, in the distance, snow peaked mountains rose into a brilliant cerulean sky.

"It—it's perfect."

"Indeed it is," Marco told her, "the Order of Wen has a special relationship with Time and it's always a perfect moment here—always."

"And I can stay here?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sure the Abbot will agree. After all, he's been here for at least 800 years."

"Eight hundred years?"

"Yes, though he does have to reincarnate every ninety or so. Right now he looks about seven but his memories go far back and his understanding? He thinks in sixteen dimensions! Come, you need to see the Mandala and then I'll take you to Lu-Tze who will introduce you to the Abbot."

As they walked through the grounds of the monastery, Melissa remained entranced with the beauty and the evident peace of the place—until the passed an open door. From inside came the sounds of violent conflict. Shouts rang out amid the thuds of bodies hitting the floor.

"What's going on in there?" she asked.

"It's a dojo." Marco replied, "We are, after all, 'the Fighting Monks of the Order of Wen the Eternally Surprised.' Fighting is the discipline we use to perfect our skills at manipulating time. The men in there are practicing Okidoki, a style that emphasizes leaps and flying kicks. It's also very useful for field agents peacefully minding their own business when set upon by uncouth types with an eye to our begging bowls."

"May I learn it?"

"Oh, you'll have to. It's required, along with Shiitaki and Upsidazi. There is another style called Déjà Fu that turns time itself into a weapon but only one man has ever mastered it. It made him the reason for Rule One."

"Rule One?"

"Do not act incautiously when confronting little bald wrinkly smiling men!"

"Somehow that sounds like a very good rule."

Marco nodded. "It's especially apt around Master Lu Tze. The stories about him would be completely unbelievable if there weren't so many witnesses. The strange thing is that everyone has heard of him but very few have any idea who he is. He likes it that way."

In a few minutes they arrived a carefully manicured garden labeled "The Garden of Five Surprises". Marco carefully herded Missy and the Librarian between the tilting bridge and the venomous daisies and over to where a little bald, wrinkly man was smiling over a potting bench.

"Ah, Marco," Lu Tze called out, "come see. I'm getting glaciation on this one at last!"

"Glaciation?" Melissa asked.

"He cultivates bonsai mountains," Marco whispered, "Not a hobby for the impatient."

"Sweeper," he raised his voice, "this is Melissa McGoldrick. The one the Archchancellor told you about."

Lu-Tze turned and washed his hands, dried then and then extended one to the girl. "Welcome to Oi Dong. You've been to the Library?"

"Yes I have and I guess it was expecting me."

"To a degree, I'm sure it was. But I always double check with the Mandala so we'll go see what it has to say before I take you to the Abbot. Come this way."

They entered a large building that consisted of interlaced walkways over a huge pit of multicolored sand that slowly writhed in fractal patterns. Monks stood around in rapt attention until one of them looked up and waved.

"Ah, Sweeper! You're right on time. Look, here she is," and pointed down into the moving pattern. "There, just as you predicted, a tiny white star. And look how it's growing tendrils that spread across the Mandala."

Lu-Tze rolled a cigarette, lit it and turned to Melissa. "Well, that settles it. If the Mandala says you stay all that remains is the formality of having His Eminence give his blessing."

"Then I'm a nun?"

"You're about to be both a nun and the History Librarian. Blamedest thing I've seen this century. Good thing you look good in orange."

*****

On the platform of the Morpork Terminal of the Ankh-Morpork and Sto Plains Hygienic Railway with service to Überwald, Adora Belle stood next to the golem Shelger. As the chief executive of the Golem Trust and one who had a great affection for the ceramic folk, she felt a bit odd looking down at the top of its head. Normally Golems are about eight feet tall and weigh something approaching a ton. But for the purpose of entering a dwarf mine, Shelger had been reduced in size (with all the extra bits carefully boxed and labeled should the need occur). The two of them stood watching as other golems loaded a freight car with a number of sanagraphs.

"Are you going to ride with them?" she asked.

"There Is No Reason For Me To Ride In The Passenger Carriages And It Will Save The Trust Money. Besides, It Increases Security."

"Well," Adora Belle answered, "His Lordship tells me that the Low Queen has approved this venture. She will provide you an escort and some laborers. That way you can put a sonagraph next to each Axle in Überwald. And then are you going on to Copperhead?"

"I Am. I Have Been Given To Understand That The Low Queen Has Forwarded The Patrician's Letter Of Introduction To The Dezka-k'nik's There. It Is Greatly Hoped That This Experiment Will Be A Success."

"How long will it take, do you think?"

"That Will Depend On How Many Axles There Are. The Dwarfs Have Not Told Us Which Is Why There Are So Many Sonagraphs Being Loaded. Given The Travel Time And The Length Of Time The Vice-Chancellor Believes It Will Take To Record And Process The Tones It Is Unlikely That It Will Take More Than A Year. Then If He Is Correct And The Axles All Play The Same Note, My Chem Can Be Modified And I Can Begin Searching For More. There Is Much Excitement."

Adora Belle nodded. "Yes, there is. It could be the dawn of a new day. Stay safe, Shelger and have a good trip."