Men at Arms (Discworld 15)

'Is that a problem?'

'Well, it means the honour guard'll be a bit smarter, sir.'

'I've sent him on a special errand.'

'Er . . . can't find Lance-Constable Angua, either.'

'Sergeant?'

Colon braced himself. Outside, the bells were dying away.

'Did you know she was a werewolf?'

'Um . . . Captain Vimes kind of hinted, sir . . .'

'How did he hint?'

Colon took a step back.

'He sort of said, “Fred, she's a damn werewolf. I don't like it any more than you do, but Vetinari says we've got to take one of them as well, and a werewolf's better than a vampire or a zombie, and that's all there is to it.” That's what he hinted.'

'I see.'

'Er . . . sorry about that, sir.'

'Just let's get through the day, Fred. That's all—'

—abing, abing, a-bing-bong—

'We never even presented the captain with his watch,' said Carrot, taking it out of his pocket. 'He must have gone off thinking we didn't care. He was probably looking forward to getting a watch. I know it always used to be a tradition.'

'It's been a busy few days, sir. Anyway, we can give it to him after the wedding.'

Carrot slipped the watch back into its bag.

'I suppose so. Well, let's get organized, sergeant.'

Corporal Nobbs toiled through the darkness under the city. His eyes had got accustomed to the gloom now. He was dying for a smoke, but Carrot had warned him about that. Just take the sack, follow the trail, bring back the body. And don't nick any jewellery.

People were already filing into the Great Hall of Unseen University.

Vimes had been firm about this. It was the only thing he'd held out for. He wasn't exactly an atheist, because atheism was a non-survival trait on a world with several thousand gods. He just didn't like any of them very much, and didn't see what business it was of theirs that he was getting married. He'd turned down any of the temples and churches, but the Great Hall had a sufficiently churchy look, which is what people always feel is mandatory on these occasions. It's not actually essential for any gods to drop in, but they should feel at home if they do.

Vimes strolled down there early,' because there's nothing more useless in the world than a groom just before the wedding. Interchangeable Emmas had taken over the house.

There were already a couple of ushers in place, ready to ask guests whose side they were on.

And there were a number of senior wizards hanging around. They were automatically guests at such a society wedding, and certainly at the reception afterwards. Probably one roast ox wouldn't be enough.

Despite his deep distrust of magic, he quite liked the wizards. They didn't cause trouble. At least, they didn't cause his kind of trouble. True, occasionally they fractured the time/space continuum or took the canoe of reality too close to the white waters of chaos, but they never broke the actual law.

'Good morning, Archchancellor,' he said.

Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully, supreme leader of all the wizards in Ankh-Morpork whenever they could be bothered, gave him a cheery nod.

'Good morning, captain,' he said. 'I must say you've got a nice day for it!'

'Hahaha, a nice day for it!' leered the Bursar.