He pulled out his badge and held it up, advancing with an ingratiating smile.

"Just repeat this, Mister Skimmer," Vimes raised his voice. "h.e.l.lo, fellow officer, as you can see I am Commander V-"

A blade swung around. If Vimes hadn't stopped, he'd have walked into it.

Inigo stepped forward, leather case already open, one hand holding several impressive pieces of paper, mouth already framing some suitable sentences. A guard took one of the pieces of paper and stared at it.

"This is a studied insult," said Inigo, contriving to speak out of the corner of his mouth while maintaining a smile. "Someone wishes to see how you react, mmm, mhm."

"Them?"

"No. We are being watched."

The paper was handed back. There was a terse conversation.

"The captain of the guard says there are special circ.u.mstances and he will search the coaches," said Inigo.

"No," said Vimes, taking in the expression on the captain's white face. "I know when people are playing silly b.u.g.g.e.rs, 'cos I've done it myself."

He pointed to the door of his coach.

"See this?" he said. "Tell him this is an Ankh-Morpork Ankh-Morpork crest. And crest. And this this is an Ankh-Morpork coach, property of Ankh-Morpork. If they lay hands on it, that will const.i.tute an act of is an Ankh-Morpork coach, property of Ankh-Morpork. If they lay hands on it, that will const.i.tute an act of war war against Ankh-Morpork. Tell him that." against Ankh-Morpork. Tell him that."

He saw the man lick his lips nervously as Inigo translated. Poor sod, he thought. He didn't ask for this. He was probably expecting a quiet day on the gate. But someone gave him some orders.

Inigo said, "He says he's very sorry, but those are his instructions, and he quite understands if His Grace wishes to make a complaint at the highest level, mmm, mhm."

A guard turned the handle of the coach door. Vimes slammed it shut.

"Tell him the war will start right now," he said. "And then it'll work its way up."

"Your Grace!"

The guards looked at Detritus. It was quite hard to hold the Piecemaker nonchalantly, and he wasn't even making the attempt.

Vimes maintained eye contact with the captain of the guard. If the man had any sense, he'd realize that if Detritus fired the thing it'd kill them all, besides sending the coach backward at high speed.

Please just let him have the sense to know when to fold, he prayed.

Out of the corner of his ear, he could hear the guards whispering to one another. He caught the word "Wilinus."

The captain stepped back and saluted.

"He apologizes for any inconvenience and hopes you will enjoy your stay in his beautiful city," said Inigo. "He particularly hopes you will visit the Chocolate Museum in Prince Vodorny Square, where his sister works."

Vimes saluted.

"Tell him I think he is an officer with a great future," said Vimes. "A future which, I trust, is going to very soon include opening the d.a.m.n gates."

The captain had nodded to the men before Inigo was halfway through the translation. Aha... Aha...

"And ask him his name," he said. The man was bright enough not to respond until this had been translated.

"Captain Tantony," Inigo said.

"I shall remember it," said Vimes. "Oh...and tell him he has a fly on his nose."

Tantony won a prize. His eyes barely flickered. Vimes grinned.

As for the town itself...it was just a town. Roofs were steeper than in Ankh-Morpork, some maniac with a fretsaw had been allowed to amuse himself on the wooden architecture, and there was more paint than you saw back home. Not that this told you anything; many a rich man had become rich by, metaphorically, not painting his house.

The coaches bowled over the cobbles. Not the right sort of cobbles, of course. Vimes knew that.

The coach stopped again. Vimes stuck his head out of the window. Two rather scruffier guards had barred the road this time.

"Ah, I recognize recognize this one," said Vimes grimly. "I reckon that this time we've just met Colonesque and n.o.bbski." this one," said Vimes grimly. "I reckon that this time we've just met Colonesque and n.o.bbski."

He stepped out and walked up to them.

"Well?"

The fatter of the two hesitated, and then held out his hand.

"p.i.s.spot," he said.

"Inigo?" said Vimes quietly, without turning his head.

"Ah," said Inigo, after some muttered exchanges. "Now the problem seems to be Sergeant Detritus. No trolls are allowed in this part of town during the hours of daylight, apparently, without a pa.s.sport signed by their...owner. Uh...in Bonk the only trolls allowed are prisoners of war. They have to carry identification."

"Detritus is a citizen of Ankh-Morpork and my sergeant," said Vimes.

"However, he is is a troll. Perhaps in the interests of diplomacy you could write a short-" a troll. Perhaps in the interests of diplomacy you could write a short-"

"Do I I need a p.i.s.spot?" need a p.i.s.spot?"

"A pa.s.sport...no, Your Grace."

"Then he doesn't, either."

"Nevertheless, Your Grace-"

"There is no no nevertheless." nevertheless."

"But it may be advisable to-"

"There's no advisable, either."

A few other guards had drifted over. Vimes was aware of watching eyes.

"He could be ejected by force," said Inigo.

"Now there's there's an experiment I wouldn't want to miss," said Vimes. an experiment I wouldn't want to miss," said Vimes.

Detritus made a rumbling noise. "I don't mind goin' back if-"

"Shut up, Sergeant. You're a free troll. That's an order."

Vimes permitted himself another brief scan of the growing, silent crowd. And he saw the fear in the eyes of the men with the halberds. They did not want to be doing this, any more than the captain had.

"I'll tell you what, Inigo," he said, "tell the...guards that the Amba.s.sador from Ankh-Morpork commends them for their diligence, congratulates them on their dress sense, and will see that their instruction is obeyed forthwith. That should do it, shouldn't it?"

"Certainly, Your Grace."

"And now turn the coach around, Detritus. Coming, Inigo?"

Inigo's expression changed rapidly.

"We pa.s.sed an inn about ten miles back," Vimes went on. "Ought to make it by dark, do you think?"

"But you you can't go, Your Grace!" can't go, Your Grace!"

Vimes turned, very slowly.

"Would you repeat that, Mister Skimmer?"

"I mean-"

"We are leaving leaving, Mister Skimmer. What you do, of course, is up to you."

He sat down inside the coach. Opposite him, Sybil made a fist and said "Well done!"

"Sorry, dear," said Vimes, as the coach turned. "It didn't look like a very good inn."

"Serves them right, the little bullies," said Sybil. "You showed them."

Vimes glanced out and saw, at the edge of the crowd, a black coach with dark windows. He could make out a figure in the gloom within. The luckless guards were looking at it, as if for instructions. It waved a gloved hand languidly.

He started counting under his breath.

After eleven seconds Inigo trotted alongside the coach and jumped onto the running board.

"Your Grace, apparently the guards acted quite without authority and will be punished-"

"No they didn't. I was looking at 'em. They'd been given an order order," said Vimes.

"Nevertheless, diplomatically it would be a good idea to accept the explan-"

"So that the poor b.u.g.g.e.rs can be hung up by their thumbs?" said Vimes. "No. Just you go back and tell whoever's giving the orders that all our people can go anywhere they like in this city, d'you see, whatever shape they are."

"I don't think you can actually demand that that, sir-"

"Those lads had old Burleigh and Stronginthearm weapons, Mister Skimmer. Made in Ankh-Morpork. So did the men on the gate. Trade, Mister Skimmer. Isn't that part of what diplomacy is all about? You go back and talk to whoever's in the black carriage, and then you'd better get them to lend you a horse, because I reckon we'll have gone a little way by then."

"You could perhaps wait-"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

In fact the coach was outside the gates of the town before Skimmer caught it up again.

"There will not be a problem with either of your requests," he panted, and for a moment there appeared to be a touch of admiration in his expression.

"Good man. Tell Detritus to turn around again, will you?"

"You're grinning, Sam," said Sybil, as Vimes sat back.

"I was just thinking that I could take to the diplomatic life," said Vimes.

"There is something else," said Inigo, getting into the coach. "There's some...historical artifact owned by the dwarfs, and there's a rumor-"

"How long ago was the Scone of Stone stolen?"

Inigo's mouth stayed open. Then he shut his mouth and his eyes narrowed.

"How in the world world did you know that, Your Grace? Mmm?" did you know that, Your Grace? Mmm?"

"By the p.r.i.c.king of my thumbs," said Vimes, his face carefully blank. "I've got very odd thumbs, when it comes to p.r.i.c.king."

"Really?"

"Oh yes."

Dogs had a much easier s.e.x life than humans, Gaspode decided. That was something to look forward to, if he ever managed to have one.

It wasn't going to start here, that was definite. The female wolves snapped at him if he came too close, and they weren't just warnings, either. He was having to be very careful where he trod.

The really odd odd thing about human s.e.x, though, was the way it went on even when people were fully clothed and sitting on opposite sides of a fire. It was in the things they said and did not say, the way they looked at one another and looked away. thing about human s.e.x, though, was the way it went on even when people were fully clothed and sitting on opposite sides of a fire. It was in the things they said and did not say, the way they looked at one another and looked away.

The packs had changed again, overnight. The mountains were higher, the snow was crisper. Most of the wolves were sitting at some distance from the fire that Carrot had made-just enough distance, in fact, to establish that they were proud wild creatures that didn't have to rely on this sort of thing but close enough to get the benefit.

And then there was Gavin, sitting a little way off, turning to look from one to the other.

"Gavin's people hate hate my family," Angua was saying. "I told you, it's always wolves who suffer when werewolves get too powerful. Werewolves are smarter at escaping hunters. That's why wolves much prefer vampires. Vampires leave them alone. Werewolves sometimes my family," Angua was saying. "I told you, it's always wolves who suffer when werewolves get too powerful. Werewolves are smarter at escaping hunters. That's why wolves much prefer vampires. Vampires leave them alone. Werewolves sometimes hunt hunt wolves." wolves."

"I'm surprised," said Carrot.