In one movement the troll had the crossbow balanced on his shoulder and was sighting along the ma.s.sive package of arrows. Tantony went pale.

"Well, go on," said Vimes. "It was an order, Sergeant."

Detritus lowered the bow.

"I ain't dat fick, sir."

"I gave you an order order!"

"Den you can do wid that order what Boulder der Lintel did wid his bag of gravel, sir! Wid respect, o'course."

Vimes walked across and patted the shaking Tantony on his shoulder.

"Just making a point," he said.

"However," said Detritus, "if you can find der man dat kicked me inna rocks, I should be happy to get him a flick around der earhole. I know which one it was. He's der one walkin' wid der limp."

Lady Sybil drank her wine carefully. It didn't taste very nice. In fact, quite a lot of things weren't very nice.

She wasn't a good cook. She'd never been taught proper cookery; at her school it had always been a.s.sumed that other people would be doing the cookery and that in any case it would be for fifty people using at least four types of fork. Such dishes as she had mastered were dainty things on doilies. wasn't a good cook. She'd never been taught proper cookery; at her school it had always been a.s.sumed that other people would be doing the cookery and that in any case it would be for fifty people using at least four types of fork. Such dishes as she had mastered were dainty things on doilies.

But she cooked for Sam because she vaguely felt that a wife ought to and, besides, he was an eater who entirely matched her kitchen skills. He liked liked burnt sausages and fried eggs that went burnt sausages and fried eggs that went boing boing when you tried to stick a fork in them. If you gave him caviar, he'd want it in batter. He was an easy man to feed, if you always kept some lard in the house. when you tried to stick a fork in them. If you gave him caviar, he'd want it in batter. He was an easy man to feed, if you always kept some lard in the house.

But the food here tasted as though it had been cooked by someone who had never even tried tried before. She'd seen the kitchens, when Serafine had given her the little tour, and they'd just about do for a cottage. The game larders, on the other hand, were the size of barns. She'd never seen so many dead things hanging up. before. She'd seen the kitchens, when Serafine had given her the little tour, and they'd just about do for a cottage. The game larders, on the other hand, were the size of barns. She'd never seen so many dead things hanging up.

It was just that she was certain that venison shouldn't be served boiled, with potatoes that were crunchy. If they were potatoes, of course. Potatoes weren't usually gray. Even Sam, who liked liked the black lumpy bits you got in some mashed potatoes, would have commented. But Sybil had been brought up properly; if you can't find something nice to say about the food, find the black lumpy bits you got in some mashed potatoes, would have commented. But Sybil had been brought up properly; if you can't find something nice to say about the food, find something something to be nice about. to be nice about.

"These are...really very very interesting plates," she said, dutifully. "Er...are you interesting plates," she said, dutifully. "Er...are you sure sure there's been no more news?" She tried to avoid watching the baron. He was ignoring Sybil and his wife and was prodding the meat around on his plate as if he'd forgotten what a knife and fork were for. there's been no more news?" She tried to avoid watching the baron. He was ignoring Sybil and his wife and was prodding the meat around on his plate as if he'd forgotten what a knife and fork were for.

"Wolfgang and his friends are still out searching," said Serafine. "But this is terrible weather for a man to be on the run."

"He is not not on the run!" snapped Sybil. "Sam is on the run!" snapped Sybil. "Sam is not not guilty of guilty of anything anything!"

"Of course, of course. All the evidence is circ.u.mstantial. Of course," said the baroness soothingly. "Now, I suggest that as soon as they have the pa.s.ses clear, you and the, er, the staff get back to the safety of Ankh-Morpork before the real winter hits. We know the country, my dear. If your husband is alive, we can soon do something about it."

"I will not have him shamed like this! You saw saw him save the king!" him save the king!"

"I'm sure he did, Sybil. I'm afraid I was talking to my husband at the time, but I don't disbelieve you for a minute minute. Er...is it true that he killed all those men in the Wilinus Pa.s.s?"

"What? But...they were bandits!" At the other end of the table the baron had picked up a lump of meat and was trying to tear it apart with his teeth.

"Well, of course. Yes. Of course."

Sybil pinched the bridge of her nose. Most of her would not have considered Sam Vimes guilty of murder, actual murder murder, even on the evidence of three G.o.ds and a message written on the sky. But...stories did get back to her, in a roundabout way. Sam got wound up about things. Sometimes he unwound all at once. There'd been that...bad business with that little girl and those men over at Dolly Sisters, and when Sam had broken in to the men's lodging he found one of them had stolen one of her shoes, and she'd heard Detritus say that if he hadn't been there only Sam would have walked out of the room alive...

She shook her head.

"I really would like a bath," she said. There was a clatter from the other end of the table.

"Dear, you will have to eat your dinner in the Changing room," said the baroness, without looking around. She flashed Lady Sybil a brief, brittle smile. "We do not, in fact, have a...have such a, a device in the castle." A thought occurred to her. "We use the hot springs. So much more hygienic."

"Out in the forest?"

"Oh, it's quite close. And a quick run around in the snow really tones up the body."

"I think perhaps I shall have a lie-down instead," said Lady Sybil, firmly. "But thank you all the same."

She made her way to the musty bedroom, fuming in a ladylike way.

She couldn't bring herself to like Serafine, and this was shocking, because Lady Sybil even liked n.o.bby n.o.bbs, and that took breeding. But the werewolf sc.r.a.ped across her nerves like a file. She remembered that she'd never liked her at school, either.

Among the other unwanted baggage that had been heaped on the young Sybil to hamper her progress through life was the injunction to be pleasant to people and say helpful things. People took this to mean that she didn't think.

She'd hated the way Serafine had talked about dwarfs. She'd called them "subhuman." Well, obviously most of them lived underground underground, but Sybil rather liked dwarfs. And Serafine spoke of trolls as if they were things things. Sybil hadn't met many trolls, but the ones she knew seemed to spend their lives raising their children and looking for the next dollar just like everyone else.

Worst of all, Serafine simply a.s.sumed that Sybil would naturally agree with her stupid opinions because she was a Lady. Sybil Ramkin had not had an education in these things, moral philosophy not having featured much in a curriculum that was heavy on flower-arranging, but she had a shrewd idea that in any possible debate the right side was where Serafine wasn't.

She'd only ever written all those letters to her because it was what you did. You always wrote letters to old friends, even if you weren't very friendly with them.

She sat on the bed and stared at the wall until the shouting started, and when the shouting started she knew Sam was alive and well, because only Sam made people that angry.

She heard the key click in the lock.

Sybil rebelled.

She was large, and she was kind. She hadn't enjoyed school much. A society of girls is not a good one in which to be large and kind, because people are inclined to interpret that as "stupid" and worse, "deaf."

Lady Sybil looked out of the window. She was two floors up.

There were bars across the window, but they'd been designed to keep something out; from the inside, they could be lifted out of their slots. And there were musty but heavy sheets and blankets on the bed. None of this might have suggested very much to the average person, but life in a rather strict school for well brought-up young ladies can give someone a real insight into the tricks of escapology.

Five minutes after the key had turned, there was only one bar in the window and it jerked and creaked in the stonework, suggesting that quite a heavy weight was on the sheets that had been neatly knotted around it.

Torches streamed all along the castle walls. The ghastly red and black flag snapped in the wind. Vimes looked over the side of the bridge. The water was a long way down, and pure white even before it reached the waterfall. Forward and back were the only possible directions here.

He reviewed his troops. Unfortunately, this did not take long. Even a policeman could count up to five. Then there was Gavin and his wolves, who were lurking in the trees. And finally, very definitely finally, there was Gaspode, the Corporal n.o.bbs of the canine world, who'd attached himself to the group uninvited.

What else was on his side? Well, the enemy preferred not to use weapons. This bonus evaporated somewhat when you remembered that they had, at will, some very nasty teeth and claws.

He sighed, and turned to Angua.

"I know this is your family," he said. "I won't blame you if you hang back."

"We'll see, sir, shall we?"

"How are we going to get in, sir?" said Carrot.

"How would you you go about it, Carrot?" go about it, Carrot?"

"Well, I'd start by knocking, sir."

"Really? Sergeant Detritus, forward please."

"Sir!"

"Blow the b.l.o.o.d.y doors off!"

"Yessir!"

Vimes turned back to Carrot as the troll gazed thoughtfully at the door and began making extra turns on his crossbow's winch, grunting as the springs fought back. Their fight was unsuccessful.

"This isn't Ankh-Morpork, see?" said Vimes.

Detritus hoisted the bow onto his shoulders and took a step forward.

There was a thunk thunk. Vimes didn't see the bundle of arrows leave the bow. They were probably already fragments by the time they'd gone about a few feet. Halfway toward the doors the expanding cloud of splinters exploded into flame from the air friction.

What hit the doors was a fireball as angry and unstoppable as the Fifth Elephant and traveling at an appreciable fraction of local light speed.

"My G.o.ds, Detritus," muttered Vimes, as the thunder died away, "That's not a crossbow, that's a national emergency..."

A few bits of charred door crashed onto the cobbles.

"The wolves won't come in, Mister Vimes," said Angua. "Gavin will follow me, but they won't come, not even for him."

"Why not?"

"Because they're wolves, sir. They don't feel at home in houses."

The only sound was the squeak-squeak of Detritus winding up his bow again.

"The h.e.l.l with it," said Vimes, drawing his sword and stepping forward.

Lady Sybil untucked her dress from her underwear and stepped carefully across the little courtyard. She was somewhere around the rear of the castle, as far as she could make out.

She flattened herself as best she could against the wall when she heard a sound, and tightened her grip on one of the iron bars that had formerly graced the window.

A large wolf came around the corner, holding a bone in its mouth. It did not look as it was expecting her, and certainly wasn't expecting the iron bar.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," said Sybil automatically, as it folded up onto the cobbles.

There was an explosion on the other side of the castle. That sounded like Sam.

"Do you think they heard us, sir?" said Carrot.

"Captain, people in Ankh-Morpork Ankh-Morpork probably heard us. So where are all the werewolves?" probably heard us. So where are all the werewolves?"

Angua pushed forward. "This way," she said.

She led them up a flight of low steps to the door of the keep, and tried one of the doors. It swung back slowly.

There were torches in the hall, too.

"They'll leave us somewhere to run," she said. "We always always leave people somewhere to run..." leave people somewhere to run..."

A pair of smaller doors at the far end of the hall were pushed open. No handles, Vimes noted. Paws can't use handles.

Wolfgang stepped in. A couple dozen werewolves escorted him, fanning out around the room and sitting down...sprawling down and then watching the intruders with keen interest. down and then watching the intruders with keen interest.

"Ah, Civilized!" said Wolfgang cheerfully. "You won the Game! Would you like another go? When people have a second Game we give them a handicap! We bite one of their legs off! Good joke, hey?"

"I think I prefer the Ankh-Morpork sense of humor," said Vimes. "Where's my wife, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d?" He could still hear the sound of Detritus winding. That was the trouble with the big bow. It was only a quick-fire weapon by geological standards.

"And Delphine! Look Look at what the dog dragged in!" said Wolfgang, ignoring Vimes. He stepped forward. Vimes heard a growl begin in Angua's throat, a sound which could cause instant obedience in many of Ankh-Morpork's criminal population when they encountered it in a dark alley. There was a deeper rumble from Gavin. at what the dog dragged in!" said Wolfgang, ignoring Vimes. He stepped forward. Vimes heard a growl begin in Angua's throat, a sound which could cause instant obedience in many of Ankh-Morpork's criminal population when they encountered it in a dark alley. There was a deeper rumble from Gavin.

Wolfgang stopped.

"You haven't got the brains for this, Wolfie," said Angua. "And you couldn't plot your way out of a wet paper bag. Where's Mother?" She looked around at the lolling werewolves. "h.e.l.lo, Uncle Ulf...Aunt Hilda...Magwen...Nancy...Unity...The pack's all here, then? Except for Father, who I expect is off rolling in something. What a family-"

"I want these disgusting people out of here right right away," said the baroness, stepping into the hall. She glared at Detritus. "How dare you bring a troll into this house!" away," said the baroness, stepping into the hall. She glared at Detritus. "How dare you bring a troll into this house!"

"O-kay, it's all wound up," said Detritus cheerfully, hoisting the humming bow onto his shoulder. "Where should I fire it, Mister Vimes?"

"Good grief, not in here here! This is an enclosed building!"

"Only up until I pull dis trigger, sir."

"How very civilized civilized," said the baroness. "How very Ankh-Morpork. You think you merely have to threaten and the lesser races back down, eh?"

"Have you seen your gates lately?" said Vimes.

"We're werewolves werewolves," snapped the baroness-and it was was a snap, the words sharp and clipped as though they were barked. "Stupid toys like that don't frighten us." a snap, the words sharp and clipped as though they were barked. "Stupid toys like that don't frighten us."