'It's at Vortin's again, captain. But it's... sort of worse than that...' Behind them, the Skats and the Mohocks looked at one another warily. Then they picked up their weapons and edged away with care. It's not that we don't want to fight, their manner said. It's just that we've got better things to do right now, and so we're going to go away and find out what they are. Unusually for the docks, there was not a great deal of shouting and general conversation. People were too busy thinking about money. Sergeant Colon and Corporal Nobbs leaned against a stack of timber and watched a man very carefully painting the name Pride of Ankh–Morpork on the prow of a ship. At some point he'd realize that he'd left out the 'c', and they were idly looking forward to this modest entertainment. 'You ever been to sea, sarge?' said Nobby. 'Hah, not me!' said the sergeant. 'Don't go flogging the oggin, lad.'
'I don't,' said Nobby. 'I have never flogged any oggin. Never in my entire life have I flogged oggin.'
'Right.'
'I've always been very clean in that respect.'
'Except you don't know what flogging the oggin means, do you?'
'No, sarge.'
'It means going to sea. You can't bloody trust the sea. When I was a little lad I had this book about this little kid, he turned into a mermaid, sort of thing, and he lived down the bottom of the sea–'
'–the oggin–' ‘Right, and it was all nice talking fishes and pink seashells and stuff, and then I went on my holidays to Quirm and I saw the sea, and I thought: here goes, and if our ma hadn't been quick on her feet I don't know what would have happened. I mean, the kid in the book could breathe under the sea, so how was I to know? It's all bloody lies about the sea. It's just all yuk with lobsters in it.'
'My mum's uncle was a sailor" said Nobby. 'But after the big plague he got press–ganged. Bunch of farmers got him drunk, he woke up next morning tied to a plough.' They lounged some more. 'Looks like we're going to be in a fight, sarge,' said Nobby, as the painter very carefully started on the final 'k'.
'Won't last long. Lots of cowards, the Klatchians,' said Colon. 'The moment they taste a bit of cold steel they're legging it away over the sand.' Sergeant Colon had had a broad education. He'd been to the School of My Dad Always Said, the College of It Stands to Reason, and was now a postgraduate student at the University of What Some Bloke In the Pub Told Me. 'Shouldn't be any trouble to sort out, then?' said Nobby. 'And o'course, they're not the same colour as what we are,' said Colon. 'Well... as me, anyway,' he added, in view of the various hues of Corporal Nobbs. There was probably no–one alive who was the same colour as Corporal Nobbs. 'Constable Visit's pretty brown'
' said Nobby. 'I never seen him run away. if there's a chance of giving someone a religious pamphlet ole Washpot's after them like a terrier.'
'Ah, but Omnians are more like us,' said Colon. 'Bit weird but, basic'ly, just the same as us underneath. No, the way you can tell a Klatchian is, you look an' see if he uses a lot of words beginning with “al”, right? 'Cos that's a dead giveaway. They invented all the words starting with “al”. That's how you can tell they're Klatchian. Like al–cohol, see?'
'They invented beer?'
'Yeah.'
'That's clever.'
'I wouldn't call it clever,' said Sergeant Colon, realizing too late that he'd made a tactical error. 'More, luck, I'd say.'
'What else did they do?'
'Well, there's...' Colon racked his brains. 'There's al–gebra. That's like sums with letters. For... for people whose brains aren't clever enough for numbers, see?'
That one? The man's a wastrel! A cheat! A liar! They say he takes bri–'
'Thank you for your diplomatic input, Lord Rust,' said the Patrician. 'We must deal with facts as they are. There is always a way. Our nations have many interests in common. And of course it says a lot for the seriousness with which Cadram is treating this matter that he is sending his own brother to deal with it. It's a nod towards the international community.'
'A Klatchian bigwig is coming here?' said Vimes. 'No one told me!'
'Strange as it may seem, Sir Samuel, I am occasionally capable of governing this city for minutes at a time without seeking your advice and guidance.'
'I meant there's a lot of anti–Klatchian feeling around–'
'A really greasy piece of work–' Lord Rust whispered to Mr Boggis, in that special aristocratic whisper that carries to the rafters. 'It's an insult to send him here!'
'I am sure that you will see to it that the streets are safe to walk, Vimes,' said the Patrician sharply. 'I know you pride yourself on that sort of thing. Officially he's here because the wizards have invited him to their big award ceremony. An honorary doctorate, that sort of thing. And one of their lunches afterwards. I do like negotiating with people after the faculty of Unseen University have entertained them to lunch. They tend not to move about much and they'll agree to practically anything if they think there's a chance of a stomach powder and a small glass of water. And now, gentlemen... if you will excuse me.. .' The lords and leaders departed in ones and twos, talking quietly as they walked out into the hall. The Patrician shuffled his papers into order, running a thin finger along each edge of the pile, and then looked up. 'You appear to be casting a shadow, commander.'
'You're not really going to allow them to re–form the regiments, are you?' said Vimes. 'There is absolutely no law against it, Vimes. And it will keep them occupied. Every official gentleman is entitled, in fact I believe used to be required, to raise men when the city required it. And, of course, any citizen has the right to bear arms. Bear that in mind, please.'
'Arms is one thing. Holding weapons in 'em and playing soldiers is another.' Vimes put his knuckles on the table and leaned forward. 'You see, sir,' he said, 'I can't help hut think that over there in Klatch a bunch of idiots are doing the same thing. They're saying to the Seriph “It's time to sort out those devils in Ankh–Morpork, offendi”. And when a lot of people are running around with weapons and talking daft stuff about war, accidents happen. Have you ever been in a pub when everyone goes armed? Oh, things are a little polite at first, I'll grant you, and then some twerp drinks out of the wrong mug or picks up someone else's change by mistake and five minutes later you're picking noses out of the beer nuts–'
The Patrician looked down at Vimes's knuckles and stared fixedly until Vimes removed them. 'Vimes, you will be at the wizards' Convivium tomorrow. I sent you a memo about it.'
'I never–' A vision of the piles of unread paperwork on Vimes's desk loomed treacherously in his mind. 'Ah,' he said. 'The Commander of the Watch leads the procession in full dress uniform. It's an ancient custom.'
'Me? Walk in front of everyone?'