feeling that this marked the end of the entertainment for today. Then a distant shuffling was born in the heavy silence. It turned

out to belong to a very old woman who appeared, at first sight, to

be as dusty as the rocks she, presumably, sold. Vimes had his

doubts even about that. Shops like this one often looked upon the

selling of merchandise as in some way a betrayal of a sacred trust.

As if to underline this, she was carrying a club with a nail in it. When she was close enough for conversation, Vimes said, `I've come here to-'

`Do you believe in the healing power of crystals, young man?'

snapped the woman, raising the club threateningly.

`What? What healing power?' said Vimes.

The old woman gave him a cracked smile, and dropped the

club.

`Good,' she said. `We like our customers to take their geology

seriously. We've got some trollite in this week.'

`Good, but in fact I-'

`It's the only mineral that travels backwards in time, you know.' `I'm here to see Mr Shine,' Vimes managed. `Mr who?' said the old woman, putting a hand to her ear.

`Mr Shine?' said Vimes, confidence already draining out of him. `Never heard of him, dear.'

`He, er, gave me this,' said Vimes, showing her the two pieces of

stone egg.

`Amethyst geode, very nice specimen, I'll give you seven dollars,'

said the old woman.

`Are you, er, Pickles or Pointer?' said Vimes, as a last resort.

`I'm Miss Pickles, dear. Miss Point-' She stopped. Her

expression changed, became slightly younger and considerably

more alert.

`And I'm Miss Pointer, dear,' she said. `Don't worry about Pickles,

she just runs the body when I've got other things to do. Are you

Commander Vimes?'

Vimes stared. `Are you telling me you're two people? With one body?'

`Yes, dear. It's supposed to be an illness, but all I can say is we've always got along well. I've never told her about Mr Shine. Can't be too careful. Come this way, do.'

She led the way through the dusty crystals and slabs into the back of the shop, where there was a wide corridor lined with shelves. Crystals of all sizes sparkled down at him.

`Of course, trolls have always been of interest to geologists, being made of metamorphorical rock,' said Miss Pointer/Pickles conversationally. `You're not a rock hound yourself, commander?'

`I've had the occasional stone thrown at me,' said Vimes. `I've never bothered to check what kind it was.'

`Ha. Such a shame we're on loam here,' said the woman, as the sound of quiet voices drew nearer. She opened a door and stood aside. `I rent them the room,' she said. `Do go in.'

Vimes looked at the top few treads of a flight of stairs, heading down. Oh goody, he thought. We're going underground again. But there was warm light coming up, and the voices were louder.

The cellar was large and cool. There were tables everywhere, with a couple of people at each one, bent over a chequered board. A games room? The players were dwarfs, trolls and humans, but what they had in common was concentration. Unconcerned faces glanced towards Vimes, who had paused halfway down the stairs, and then looked back to the game in hand.

Vimes continued down to floor level. This had to be important, right? Mr Shine had wanted him to see it. People - men, trolls, dwarfs - playing games. Occasionally a couple of players would look up at one another, share a glance and shake hands. Then one of them would go off to a new table.

`What do you notice, Mister Vimes?' said a deep voice behind him. Vimes forced himself to turn slowly.

The figure sitting in the shadows beside the stairway was

shrouded entirely in black. He looked a good head taller than Vimes.

`They're all young?' he ventured, and added: `Mr Shine?'

`Exactly! More youngsters tend to come along in the evenings, too. Do take a seat, sir.'

`Why have I come to see you, Mr Shine?' said Vimes, sitting down.

`Because you want to find out why you have come to see me, 'said the dark figure. `Because you're wandering in the dark. Because Mister Vimes, with his badge and his truncheon, is full of rage. More full than usual. Take care of that rage, Mister Vimes.'

Mystic, thought Vimes. `I like to see who I'm talking to,' he said. `What are you?'

`You would not see me if I removed this hood,' said Mr Shine. `As for what I am, I'll ask you this: would it be true to say that Captain Carrot, while very happy to be a Watch officer, is the rightful king of Ankh-Morpork?'

`I have trouble with the term "rightful",' said Vimes.

`So I understand. It may well be that this is one reason why he hasn't yet chosen to declare himself,' said Mr Shine. `But no matter. Well, I am the rightful - excuse me - and indisputable king of the trolls.'

`Really?' said Vimes. It wasn't much of a reply, but the options at this point were limited.

`Yes. And when I say indisputable, I mean what I say, Mister Vimes. Hidden human kings have to resort to magic swords or legendary feats to reclaim their birthright. I do not. I just have to be. You are aware of the concept of metamorphorical rock?'

`You mean the way trolls look like certain types of rock?'

`Indeed. Schist, Mica, Shale, and so on. Even Brick, poor young Brick. No one knows why this is, and they have expended thousands of words in saying so. Oh, to hell with it, as you would say. You deserve a glimpse. Protect your eyes. I, Mister Vimes-'

A black-robed arm was extended, a black velvet glove removed. Vimes shut his eyes in time, but the inside of the lids blazed red.

-am diamond,' said Mr Shine.

The glare faded a little. Vimes risked opening his eyes a fraction, and made out a hand, every flexing finger sparkling like a prism. The players glanced up, but they'd seen this before.

`Frost forms quite quickly,' said Mr Shine. When Vimes dared to peek, the hand glittered like the heart of winter.

`You're hiding out from jewellers?' he managed, taken aback.

`Ha! In fact this city is indeed a very good place for people who don't wish to be seen, Mister Vimes. I have friends here. And I have talents. You'd find me quite hard to see if I wished to be unseen. I am also, frankly, intelligent, and intelligent all the time. I don't need the Pork Futures Warehouse. I can regulate the temperature of my brain by reflecting all heat. Diamond trolls are very rare, and when we do appear, kingship is our destiny.'

Vimes waited. Mr Shine, who was now pulling his glove back on, appeared to have an agenda. The wisest thing was to let him talk until it all made sense.

`And do you know what happens when we become king?' said Mr Shine, now safely shrouded once more.

`Koom Valley?' Vimes suggested.

`Well done. The trolls unite, and we have the same tired old war, followed by centuries of skirmishing. That is the sad, stupid history of the trolls and the dwarfs. And this time, Ankh-Morpork will be caught up in it. You know that the troll and dwarf population here has grown enormously under Vetinari:

`All right, but if you're king, can't you just make peace?'

`Just like that? It'll need much more than that.' The hood of the robe shook sadly. `You really know very little about us, Mister Vimes. You see us down on the plains, shambling around talkin' like dis. You don't know about the history chant, or the Long Dance, or

stone music. You see the hunched troll, dragging his club. That's what the dwarfs did for us, long ago. They turned us, in your minds, into sad, brainless monsters.'

`Don't look at me when you say that,' said Vimes. `Detritus is one of my best officers!'

There was silence. Then Mr Shine said, `Shall I tell you what I think the dwarfs were looking for, Mister Vimes? Something of theirs. It is a thing that talks. And they found it and I think what it had to say directly caused five deaths. I believe I know how to find the secret of Koom Valley. In a few weeks, everyone will be able to. But by then, I think, it will be too late. You must solve it too, before the war sweeps up all of us.'