The Baroness was staring down into the gorge. Keeping his eye on her, Vimes spoke to Detritus.
"Are you sure you"re werewolf-proof, sergeant?"
"Pretty much, sir. Anyway, I got the bow wound up again."
"Go into the castle and fetch the resident Igor, then," said Vimes calmly. "If anyone even tries to stop you, shoot them. And shoot anyone standing near them."
"No problem about dat, sir."
"We"re not at home to Mister Reasonable, sergeant."
"I do not hear him knockin", sir."
"Go to it, then. Sergeant Angua?"
She did not look up.
"Sergeant Angua!"
Now she looked up.
"How can you be so... so cool?" she snarled. "He"s hurt."
"I know. Go and talk to those watchmen hanging around on the other end of the bridge. They look scared. I don"t want any accidents. We"re going to need them. Cheery, cover Carrot and the lad with something. Keep them warm."
I wish there was something to keep me warm, he thought. The thoughts came slowly, like drips of freezing water. He felt that ice would crackle off him if he moved, that frost would sparkle in his footsteps, that his mind was full of crisp snow.
"And now, madam," he said, turning back to the Baroness, "you will give me the Scone of Stone."
"He"ll be back!" hissed the Baroness. "That fall was nothing! And he"ll find you."
"For the last time... the stone of the dwarfs.
The wolves are waiting out there. The dwarfs are waiting down in the city. Give me the stone, and we all might survive. This is diplomacy. Don"t let me try anything else."
"I have only to say the word - "
Angua began to growl.
Sybil strode towards the Baroness and grabbed her. "You never answered a single letter! All those years I wrote to you!"
The Baroness stared at her in amazement, as people so often did when struck with Sybil"s sharp non sequiturs.
"If you know we"ve got the Scone," she said to Vimes, "then you know it"s not the real one. And much good may it do the dwarfs!"
"Yes, you had it made in Ankh-Morpork. Made in Ankh-Morpork! They should have stamped it on the bottom. But someone killed the man who did it. That"s murder. It"s against the law." Vimes nodded at the Baroness. "It"s a thing we have."
Gaspode dragged himself out of the water and stood; shivering, on the shingle. Every single part of him felt bruised. There was a nasty ringing noise in his ears. Blood dripped down one leg.
The last few minutes had been a little hazy, but he did recall they"d involved a lot of water that had hit him like hammers.
He shook himself. His coat jangled where the water was already freezing.
Out of habit, he walked over to the nearest tree and, wincing, raised a leg.
E XCUSE ME .
A busy, reflective silence followed.