Free Fifth Elephant by Terry Pratchett

ninety-six percent of fiends.”
    “Good.”
    “They may perhaps verge on the diabolically difficult in places—”
    “That is not a problem. I shall use them forthwith.”
    Leonard still seemed to have something on his mind.
    “It would be so easy to make them archdemonically diff—”
    “But these will suffice, Leonard,” said Vetinari.
    “My lord,” Leonard almost wailed, “I really cannot guarantee that sufficiently clever people will be unable to read your messages!”
    “Good.”
    “But, my lord, they will know what you are thinking!”
    Vetinari patted him on the shoulder.
    “No, Leonard. They will merely know what is in my messages.”
    “I really do not understand, my lord.”
    “No, but on the other hand, I cannot make exploding coffee. What would the world be like if we were all alike?”
    Leonard’s face clouded for a moment.
    “I’m not sure,” he said, “but if you would like me to work on the problem, I may be able to devise a—”
    “It was merely a figure of speech, Leonard.”
    Vetinari shook his head ruefully. It often seemed to him that Leonard, who had pushed intellect into hitherto undiscovered uplands, had discovered there large and specialized pockets of stupidity. What would be the point of ciphering messages that very clever enemies couldn’t break? You’d end up not knowing what they thought you thought they were thinking…
    “There was one rather strange message from Uberwald, my lord,” said Leonard. “It arrived yesterday morning, apparently.”
    “Strange?”
    “It was not ciphered.”
    “Not at all ? I thought everyone used codes.”
    “Oh, the sender and recipent are code names, but the message is quite plain. It was a request for information about Commander Vimes, of whom you have often spoken.”
    Lord Vetinari went quite still.
    “The return message was mostly clear, too. A certain amount of…gossip.”
    “All about Vimes? Sent yesterday morning ? Before I—?”
    “My lord?”
    “Tell me,” said the Patrician, “this…message from Uberwald…it yields no clue at all to the sender?”
    Sometimes, like a ray of light through clouds, Leonard could be quite perceptive.
    “You think you might know the originator, my lord?”
    “Oh, in my younger days I spent some time in Uberwald,” said the Patrician. “In those days rich young men from Ankh-Morpork used to go on what we called the Grand Sneer, visiting far-flung countries and cities in order to see atfirst hand how inferior they were. Or so it seemed, at any rate. Oh yes…I spent some time in Uberwald…”
    It was not often Leonard of Quirm paid attention to what people around him were doing, but he saw the faraway look in Lord Vetinari’s eye.
    “You have fond memories, my lord?” he ventured.
    “Hmm? Oh…she was a very… unusual lady but, alas, rather… older than me,” said Vetinari. “Much older, I have to say. But…it was a long time ago. Life teaches us its small lessons, and we move on. The world changes.” There was the distant look again. “Well, well, well…”
    “And no doubt the lady is now dead,” said Leonard. He was not much good at this sort of conversation.
    “Oh, I very much doubt that,” said Vetinari, coming back to the present. “I have no doubt she thrives.” He smiled. The world was becoming more… interesting. “Tell me, Leonard,” he said, “has it ever occurred to you that one day wars will be fought with brains?”
    Leonard picked up his coffee cup.
    “Oh dear. Won’t that be rather messy?” he said.
    Vetinari sighed again.
    “Not perhaps as messy as the other sort,” he said, trying the coffee. It really was rather good.
     
    The ducal coach rolled past the last of the outlying buildings and onto the vast, flat Sto Plains. Cheery and Detritus had tactfully decided to ride on the top for the morning, and leave the duke and duchess alone inside. Skimmer was indulging in some uneasy class solidarity and riding with the servants for a