Vimes heard Carrot scrabble around in the gloom, and the sound of a key in the lock.
"I thought the Campaign for Equal Heights was running this place now," he said.
"It"s so hard to find volunteers," said Carrot, ushering him through the low door and lighting a candle. "I come in every day just to keep an eye on things, but no one else seems very interested."
"I can"t imagine why," said Vimes, looking around the Dwarf Bread Museum.
The one positive thing you could say about the bread products around him was that they were probably as edible now as they had been on the day they were baked.
"Forged" was a better term. Dwarf bread was made as a meal of last resort and also as a weapon and a currency. Dwarfs were not, as far as Vimes knew, religious in any way, but the way they thought about bread came close.
There was a tinkle and a scrabbling noise somewhere in the gloom.
"Rats," said Carrot. "They never stop trying to eat dwarf bread, poor things. Ah, here we are. The Scone of Stone. A replica, of course."
Vimes stared at the misshapen thing on its dusty display stand. It was vaguely scone-like, but only if someone pointed this out to you beforehand. Otherwise, the term "a lump of rock" was pretty accurate. It was about the size, and shape, of a well sat-on cushion. There were a few fossilized currants visible.
"My wife rests her feet on something like that when she"s had a long day," he said.
"It"s fifteen hundred years old," said Carrot, with something like awe in his voice.
"I thought this was the replica."
"Well, yes... but it"s a replica of a very important thing, sir," said Carrot.
Vimes sniffed. The air had a certain pungent quality. "Smells strongly of cats in here, doesn"t it?"
"I"m afraid they get in after the rats, sir. A rat who"s nibbled on dwarf bread tends not to be able to run very fast."
Vimes lit a cigar. Carrot gave it a look of uncertain disapproval. "We do thank people for not smoking in here, sir," he said.
"Why? You don"t know they"re not going to," said Vimes. He leaned against the display cabinet. "All right, captain. Why am I really going to... Bonk? I don"t know a lot about diplomacy, but I do know it"s never just about one thing. What"s the Low King? Why"re our dwarfs scrapping?"
"Well, sir... Have you heard of kruk?"
"Dwarf mining law?" said Vimes.
"Well done, sir. But it"s a lot more than that. It"s about... how you live. Laws of ownership, marriage laws, inheritance, rules for dealing with disputes of all kinds, that sort of thing. Everything, really. And the Low King... well, you could call him the final court of appeal. He"s advised, of course, but he"s got the last word. Still with me?"
"Makes sense so far."
"And he is crowned on the Scone of Stone and sits on it to give his judgements because all the Low Kings have done that ever since B"hrian Bloodaxe, fifteen hundred years ago. It... gives authority."
Vimes nodded dourly. That made sense, too. You did something because it had always been done, and the explanation was "But we"ve always done it this way." A million dead people can"t have been wrong, can they?
"Does he get elected, or born or what?" he said.
"I suppose you could say he"s elected," said Carrot. "But really a lot of senior dwarfs arrange it among themselves. After listening to other dwarfs, of course. Taking soundings, it"s called. Traditionally he"s from one of the big families. But... er..."
"Yes?"
"Things are a little different this year. Tempers are a bit... stretched."
Ah , thought Vimes.
"Wrong dwarf won?" he said.
"Some dwarfs would say so. But it"s more that the whole process has been called into question," said Carrot. "By the dwarfs in the biggest dwarf city outside Uberwald."