"G"night."
"Sam... ?"
There was a snore from Sam Vimes. Sybil sighed and turned over.
Vimes awoke a few times, to the sound of thuds from downstairs.
"Snow leopards," he muttered, and drifted away again.
There was a louder crash.
"Moose," murmured Lady Sybil.
"Elk?" mumbled Vimes.
"Def"nitely moose."
Some time later there was a muffled scream, a thud, and a sound very much like the sound made when a huge wooden ruler is held against a desk and twanged.
"Swordfish," said Sam and Sybil together, and went back to sleep.
"You should present your credentials to the rulers of Bonk," said Inigo in the morning.
Vimes was looking out of the window. Two guards in the rainbow-coloured uniforms were standing stiffly to attention outside the embassy.
"What"re they doing here?" he said.
"Guarding," said Inigo.
"Guarding who from what?"
"Just generally guarding, mmph. I suppose it"s thought that guards give such a finished look to an important building."
"What was that you said about credentials?"
"They"re just formal letters from Lord Vetinari, confirming your appointment. Mmph, mmm... the lore is a little complex, but at the moment the order of precedence is the future Low King, the Lady Margolotta and the Baron von Uberwald. Each, of course, will pretend that you are not calling on the other two. It"s called the arrangement. It"s an awkward system but it keeps the peace."
"If I understood your briefing," said Vimes, still watching the guards, "in the days of imperial Uberwald the whole bloody show was run by the werewolves and the vampires and everyone else was lunch."
"Somewhat simplistic but broadly true, mhm," said Inigo, brushing some dust off Vimes"s shoulder.
"And then it all broke up and the dwarfs became powerful because there"s dwarfs from one end of Uberwald to the other and they all keep in touch..."
"Their system certainly survives political upheaval, yes."
"And then... what was it? A diet of beetles?"
"The Diet of Bugs, mmm. "Diet" being an Uberwaldean word for "meeting", and Bugs being an important town further upriver, famous for its pastries made from flax. Everyone came to an... arrangement. No one would wage war on any of the others, and everyone could live in peace. No garlic to be grown, no silver to be mined. And the werewolves and vampires promised that those things wouldn"t be needed. Mmm, mmm."
"Seems a bit trusting," said Vimes.
"It appears to have worked, mhm."
"What did the humans think about it all?"
"Well, humans have always been a bit of background noise in the history of Uberwald, your grace."
"It must be a bit dull for the undead, though."