"Ah, none other than Corporal n.o.bbs," said Lord Vetinari.

At this point n.o.bby would have given quite a lot to be anyone anyone other than Corporal n.o.bbs. other than Corporal n.o.bbs.

He wasn't sure whether, as a striker, he should salute. He saluted anyway, on the basis that a salute was seldom out of place.

"I gather you have withdrawn your labor," Lord Vetinari went on. "In your case, I am sure this presented a good deal of difficulty."

n.o.bby wasn't certain about that sentence, but the Patrician seemed quite amiable.

"Can't stand by when the security of the city's concerned, sir," he said, oozing affronted loyalty from every unblocked pore.

Lord Vetinari paused long enough for the peaceful, everyday sounds of a city apparently on the brink of catastrophe to filter into n.o.bby's consciousness.

"Well, of course I wouldn't dream of interfering," he said at last. "This is Guild business. I'm sure His Grace will understand fully when he returns." He banged on the side of the coach. "Drive on."

And the coach was gone.

A thought that had been nudging n.o.bby for some time chose this moment to besiege his once again.

Mr. Vimes is going to go spare. spare. He's going to go mental. He's going to go mental.

Lord Vetinari sat back in his seat, smiling to himself.

"Er...did you mean mean that, sir?" said the clerk Drumknott, who was sitting opposite. that, sir?" said the clerk Drumknott, who was sitting opposite.

"Certainly. Make a note to have the kitchen send them down cocoa and buns around three o'clock. Anonymously, of course. It's been a crime-free day, Drumknott. Very unusual. Even the Thieves' Guild is lying low."

"Yes, my lord. I can't imagine why. When the cat's away..."

"Yes, Drumknott, but mice are happily unenc.u.mbered by apprehensions of the future. Humans, on the other hand, are. And they know that Vimes is going to be back in a week or so, Drumknott. And Vimes will not be happy. Indeed, he will not. And when a commander of the Watch is unhappy, he tends to spread it around with a big shovel."

He smiled again. "This is the time for sensible men to be honest, Drumknott. I only hope Colon is stupid enough to let it continue."

The snow fell faster.

"How beautiful the snow is, sisters..."

Three women sat at the window of their lonely house, looking out at the white Uberwald winter.

"And how cold the vind is," said the second sister.

The third sister, who was the youngest, sighed. "Why do we always talk about the weather?"

"Vhat else is there?"

"Well, it's either freezing cold or baking. I mean, that's it, really."

"That is how things are in Mother Uberwald," said the oldest sister, slowly and sternly. "The vind and the snow and the boiling heat of summer..."

"You know, I bet if we cut down the cherry orchard, I'm sure we could put in a roller skating rink-"

"No."

"How about a conservatory? We could grow pineapples."

"No."

"If we moved to Bonk we could get a big apartment for the cost of this place-"

"This is our home, Irina," said the eldest sister. "Ah, a home of lost illusions and thwarted hopes..."

"We could go out dancing and everything."

"I remember vhen ve lived in Bonk," said the middle sister dreamily. "Things vere better then."

"Things vere alvays alvays better then," said the oldest sister. better then," said the oldest sister.

The youngest sister sighed, and looked out of the window. She gasped.

"There's a man running through the cherry orchard!"

"A man man? Vot could he possibly vant?"

The youngest sister strained to see.

"It's looks like he wants...a pair a trousers..."

"Ah," said the middle sister dreamily. "Trousers vere better then."

The hurrying pack stopped in a chilly blue valley when the howling filled the air.

Angua loped back to the sledge, lifted out her bag of clothes with her jaws, glanced at Carrot, and disappeared among the drifts. A few moments later she walked back again, doing up her shirt.

"Wolfgang's got some poor devil playing the Game," she said. "I'm going to put a stop to it. It was bad enough that Father kept the tradition going, but at least he played fair. Wolfgang cheats. They never never win." win."

"Is this the Game you told me about?"

"That's right. But Father played by the rules. If the runner was bright and nimble he got four hundred crowns and Father had him to dinner at the castle."

"If he lost lost, then your father had him for dinner out in the woods."

"Thank you for reminding me."

"I was trying not to be nice."

"You may have an undiscovered natural talent," said Angua. "But no one had had to run, is my point. I won't apologize. I've been a copper in Ankh-Morpork, remember. City motto: You May Not Get Killed." to run, is my point. I won't apologize. I've been a copper in Ankh-Morpork, remember. City motto: You May Not Get Killed."

"Actually, it's-"

"Carrot! I know know. And our our family motto is h.o.m.o Homini Lupus. 'A man is a wolf to other men'! How family motto is h.o.m.o Homini Lupus. 'A man is a wolf to other men'! How stupid stupid. Do you think they mean that men are shy and retiring and loyal and kill only to eat? Of course not! They mean mean that men act like that men act like men men toward other men, and the worse they are, the more they think they're really being like wolves! Humans hate werewolves because they see the wolf in us, but wolves hate us because they see the human inside-and I don't blame them!" toward other men, and the worse they are, the more they think they're really being like wolves! Humans hate werewolves because they see the wolf in us, but wolves hate us because they see the human inside-and I don't blame them!"

Vimes veered away from the farmhouse and sprinted toward the nearby barn. There had to be something in there. Even a couple of sacks would do. The chafing qualities of frozen underwear can be seriously underestimated.

He'd been running for half an hour. Well, for twenty-five minutes, really. The other five had been spent limping, wheezing, clutching at his chest and wondering how you knew if you were having a heart attack.

The inside of the barn was...barnlike. There were stacks of hay, dusty farm implements...and a couple of threadbare sacks, hanging on a nail. He s.n.a.t.c.hed one, gratefully.

Behind him, the door creaked open. He spun around, clutching the sack to him, and saw three very somberly dressed women watching him carefully. One of them was holding a kitchen knife in a trembling hand.

"Have you come here to ravish us?" she said.

"Madam! I'm being pursued by werewolves!"

The three looked at one another. To Vimes, the sack suddenly seemed far too small.

"Vill that take you all day?" said one of the women.

Vimes held the sack more tightly.

"Ladies! Please! I need trousers!"

"Ve can see that."

"And a weapon, and boots if you've got them! Please?"

They went into another huddle.

"We have the gloomy and purposeless trousers of Uncle Vanya," said one, doubtfully.

"He seldom vore them," said another.

"And I have an ax in my linen cupboard," said the youngest. She looked guiltily at the other two. "Look, just in case I ever needed it, all right? I wasn't going to chop anything down down."

"I would be so grateful," said Vimes. He took in the good but old clothes, the faded gentility, and played the only card in his hand. "I am His Grace the Duke of Ankh-Morpork, although I appreciate this fact is not evident at the-"

There was a three-fold sigh.

"Ankh-Morpork!"

"You haf a magnificent opera house and many fine galleries."

"Such vonderful avenues!"

"A veritable heaven of culture and sophistication and unattached men of quality!"

"Er...I said Ankh-Morpork Ankh-Morpork," said Vimes. "With an A A and an and an M M."

"Ve have always dreamed of going there."

"I'll have three coach tickets sent along immediately after I get home," said Vimes, his mind's ear hearing the crunch of speeding paws over snow. "But, dear ladies, if you could fetch me those things-"

They hurried away, but the youngest lingered by the door.

"Do you have long, cold winters in Ankh-Morpork?" she said.

"Just muck and slush, usually."

"Any cherry orchards?"

"I don't think we have any, I'm afraid."

She punched the air.

"Yesss!"

A few minutes later Vimes was alone in the barn, wearing a pair of ancient black trousers that he'd tied at the waist with rope, and holding an ax which was surprisingly sharp.

He had five minutes, perhaps. Wolves probably didn't stop to worry about heart attacks.

There was no point in simply running. They could run faster. He needed to stay near civilization and its hallmarks, like trousers.

Maybe time time was on Vimes's side. Angua was never very talkative about her world, but she was on Vimes's side. Angua was never very talkative about her world, but she had had said that, in either shape, a werewolf slowly lost some of the skills of the said that, in either shape, a werewolf slowly lost some of the skills of the other other shape. After several hours on two legs her sense of smell dropped from uncanny to merely good. And after too long as a wolf...it was like being drunk, as far as Vimes understood it; a little inner part of you was still trying to give instructions, but the rest of you was acting stupid. The human part started to lose control... shape. After several hours on two legs her sense of smell dropped from uncanny to merely good. And after too long as a wolf...it was like being drunk, as far as Vimes understood it; a little inner part of you was still trying to give instructions, but the rest of you was acting stupid. The human part started to lose control...

He looked around the barn again. There was a ladder to an upper gallery. He climbed it, and looked out of a gla.s.sless window across a snowy meadow. There was a river in the distance, and what looked very much like a boathouse.

Now...how would a werewolf think?

The werewolves slowed as they reached the building. Their leader glanced at a lieutenant, and nodded. He loped off in the direction of the boathouse. The others followed Wolf inside. The last became human for a moment to pull the doors shut and drop the bar across.

Wolf stopped near the center of the barn. Hay had been scattered over the floor in great fluffy piles.

He sc.r.a.ped gently with a paw, and wisps fell away from a rope that was stretched taut.